Abelard nearly chokes on his toffee. He gives Saito a quick, reappraising look, noting the wiry musculature and the greatsword which he obviously knows how to use. Not a madman, then. Still...
"Listen, ki- what's your name? You seem nice an' all, it was nice knowin' you - but you go out like that, y'aint comin' back. Lucky to kill one demon, much less a powerful one. That big sword of yours - impressive, but you got anythin' made outta cold iron? Got holy water? Somethin' to see with when the dark comes for you? Armour?"
Turning to the elf, Abelard appeals to the scholar. "Back me up on this, please - tell him how bad that idea is."
"Saito Samson." He introduces himself. "I had hoped to pick up some Demon slaying tools along the way, but I am aware entering the Worldwound is a one way trip, one way or another."
From his vantage near the cathedral, Steave enjoyed the entertainment: jousting fools in motley, revealing acrobats, dueling minstrels, and rookie crusaders with a loquacious raven. He grimaced at the youth's enthusiasm on wanting to slay demons and remembered that idealism in himself a 100 years ago preparing for the first crusade.
Steave looked down at this gauntlet clenching and unclenching his fist feeling the weakness and pain. He still was not at fighting strength yet before the ice. Maybe the strength will never return, he wonders recrossing his arms to watch the festival revelers.
Turning to the elf, Abelard appeals to the scholar. "Back me up on this, please - tell him how bad that idea is."
"I... Uh.. That is... But... ". He peers at Saito. "Well.... You are young. But, how old are you? I've barely seen my one hundred and twentieth year. I had to beg Uncle to let me leave the library unescorted this year. He worries, you know. Blur I thought it was different with humans,".
Falfaeren steps flutters out and settles on Saito's shoulder. "Don't listen to them, kiddo. Sometimes, you just have to be kicked out of the nest. Keep a hatchling too long, and they never learn to fly. You don't want to end up like Yridhrennor over there."
"That is true. The nest part, not being like me. I'm rather fond of me.". He glares at the laughing raven.
"Fond of me, he says. No one who says that is... By the Gods! You're...". He holds up a wing in a human-like gesture, although he is asking Yridheennor to wait and let him catch his breath. The elf doesn't take the bait.
There are numerous examples of heroes who were very young and accomplished great deeds." He pulls out a rather thick book from one of his pockets and rifles through its pages for a bit. "Ah! Yes! Here it is! Jak Giantslayer was only 16 when he started his journey, and he ended up defeating an entire giant army with his friends. And then there are the Four Child Kings of Aslan. They became rulers of a small and very influential nation a thousand years ago or so after staying a powerful with who was terrorizing a... " Yridhrennor blushes again and pulls his cloak tighter about him, to hide his shame. "Sorry. I like books."
He peers at Saito. "Well.... You are young. But, how old are you?"
[b]"I'm twenty two." Saito replies. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, if I had a hundred years in which to just read books I would consider myself very blessed and you are still young by elf standards from what I understand. You have centuries with which to experience life and become a hero, if that is what you want."
"Twe-twenty two!? That's so young! I wasn't even off my mother's apron strings at that age!" Yridhrennor's eyes bulge and he looks at both Saito and Abelard again. He takes In Korina as well.
Falfaeran catches site of a blond crusader desperately trying to ignore the scene they're making. He gave a ravenly sort of grin as Yridhrennor's eyes widened in horrified realization. He took flight In a great burst of feathers and came to rest on a statue near to Staeve. "Greetings,noble Sir! Faelfaren Corvus Aarathrandriir Arahaelon Corvax, at your service." . He sketches a polite bow and takes a bite from his candy sword. "Can you help me with an argument I'm having with my elf? He seems to think that reading about the Crusades is as good as actually training for them. You seem to have the air of someone who's seen a bit of action. Would you please tell him he's a fool? And, that he is not the type of person who belongs in a war, much to my eternal boredom?". The raven finishes off his last piece of candy and caws over at Yridhrennor, who does his best to pretend that he doesn't know the talking bird.
"Twe-twenty two!? That's so young! I wasn't even off my mother's apron strings at that age!" Yridhrennor's eyes bulge and he looks at both Saito and Abelard again. He takes In Korina as well.
Saito shrugs. "I am an adult by human standards, though maybe that is indeed a bit silly, depending on your perspective."
"An adult? But you're.... You.... ". He looks with horror as Falfaeren talks to Staeve. "Why didn't I bond with the cat? Cats don't talk. They're respectable and polite. And... By the gods! What is he doing now!". He doesn't chase off after the bird, yet. He knows from experience that that will only antagonize the raven further.
This chatty raven seems familiar. I think it and his elf has a connection to the Riftwardens. I haven't been many places beyond their care these past several months to recognize anything else.
Steave nods to the bird and replies, "Well met, raven. Reading sharpens the mind. Training strengthens the body. Both are important but not as important as the will to stand and fight demons."
Steave points at his chest to emphasize, "It's the heart of a crusader that determines success. That and luck." He says with a wry smile.
"As to foolishness, we all play the fool some time in life. How does that settle your argument?"
"Well met! Hah! I like you." . Falfaeren hops from foot to foot on the statue . "I like you. You know how to speak to a distinguished bird such as myself. Clearly, you've had experience with talking with nobility, unlike certain librarian elves, who shall remain nameless.". The raven caws raucously and almost falls off the statue as he rolls about. "So, Crusader, whom might I have the pleasure of addressing?"
Abelard has followed the raven curiously, still not entirely convinced that it is real; he has heard about clever illusions and it seems clear that the elf is a wizard.
He is close enough to hear its conversation with the tall blonde man, and he notes the crusader outfit that he is dressed in. He nods at the speech: training and the will are critical. He is about to step in and make introductions when the raven does the job for him. Giving up his study of the bird, he walks over to the crusader. "Blessed Armasse to you. Name's Abelard. Don't believe I've seen you in Kenabres before?" This is not, exactly, a question: Abelard is sure that he has never seen the man before, but he carries himself like a veteran crusader. Interesting.
Yridhrennor sighs and slips his book back into his pocket, offering up an apologetic grin to Saito. "I...we.. should probably go after him. Falfaeren's likely to keep doing this until he's had his fill. And, it'll be just my luck that he'll pester the wrong crusader and end up with a sword in his gullet. The fool bird is more trouble than he's worth." He sighs again and follows after Abelard, intent on reclaiming his wayward familiar. "One day, I really am giving him to my cousin. Let's see how he likes spending his days in an apothecary's lab."
"Abelard!" The raven preens and and puffs his feathers before turning back to Staeve. "Good Crusader, this fine gentleman is my good friend Abelard. We've only just met, but he made Yridhrennor--that's my elf--embarrass himself, and that's always a good thing. He seems to think I'm a puppet, though. That's not a very good thing. Imagine, thinking a noble Corvax is some kind of marionette or doll fit for a minsrel's show." He ruffles himself, like a courtier adjusting his cape and clothes. "But, that's all behind us. And, don't worry, he's not at all simple. I know he might look it, but that's just because he's a human. He's no more simple than my elf is. A good deal less, I'd wager."
Heralds marched out of the cathedral and produced silver trumpets, each hung with a white pennant bearing Iomedae's sign. They sounded a fanfare and the din of the crowd ebbed away as Prelate Hulrun stepped forward. Light seemed to twist slightly about him, and he cleared his throat. It sounded as if he did so just at everyone's shoulder.
The Prelate parted his lips and words died upon them, as his shadow stretched huge across the facade of the temple. A bright light rose in the west, like a wayward sun. An instant later, as thousands of heads begin to turn and hands reach for blades, a tremendous roar splits the air. A giant, invisible hand swept through the crowd, knocking people off their feet as the earth shook and stones began to fall from the buildings about. Only Levvie, of all people, kept her feet.
In the distance, the huge bulk of the Kite, home of Kenabres' wardstone, had vanished. A brilliant plume of blood-colored flame, veined with lightning and wreathed in smoke, rose in its place. Above the clouds twisted in unnatural shapes and demonic faces leered within them.
For a moment, stunned silence filled the plaza. Dazed crusaders shook themselves and gaped as dead locusts rained from the sky, each glowing like fading coals.
Levvie fixed her gaze on the column of flame and roared, making a sound no human lungs could have produced. She swelled, gently easing those around her away as she did, bending on four legs as her skin gave way to mirror-bright silver scales and wings broad enough to shade much of the blaze spread from her back. All who lived in Kenabres knew her in this shape as their greatest guardian, save Iomedae herself: Terendelev the Ancent. The flames painted her body the color of bleeding steel.
A shadow appeared in the flame, thrice the size of the tallest human, roaring in answer to the dragon. Lightning crawled across his flame-wrapped skin as Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, stepped forth with his burning whip and blade. The titans had eyes only for each other, racing across the sky to clash high above the plaza.
The ground split open in dozens of places at once, spraying fire, lightning, blood, ash, and great clouds of locusts. Stunned people began to slid into them even as demons began to pour forth. Screams filled the air.
Yridhrennor wheels about him, panicked, as his entire world seems to upend itself in a moment's notice. Dazed, he sticks his hands in his pockets and sighs with relief at the reassuring weight of his books. Oh, good, they're alright. I don't know what I'd do if I lost my books.
Falfaeren alights on the ground beside him and pulls on the main's top ponytail. "Come on, you fool elf! Come on! Get up! We have to go back to your Uncle!"
Up. Yes. Up. I have to get up. I have to do something. I can... What can he do? He's no one. Just a librarian. Wait, he's a librarian. He's read, things! Frantically, he searches his memory for everything he knows about Khorramzadeh, Terendelev, and the Wardstone. He grips his staff in both hands and forces himself to his feet Falfaeren caws and stands on his shoulder.
Yridhrennor:
The wardstones must be renewed every year with ritual and prayer, but as long as they are and remain standing they block the taint of the Abyss. Demons cannot tread within the miles-thick barrier they create without suffering greatly. All but the greatest of them would be slain quickly. The wardstones reinforce one another and so extend their great ward all around the edges of the Worldwound. Should one fall others may endure but all would be lessened. For as long as they stand, they impede all teleportation within and through their warding.
Obviously something has happened to the Kenabres wardstone.
The trumpet fanfare interrupt Steave's introduction. He smiles at the raven and his new friends and turns to watch the show. And what a show it becomes.
When the screams start, Steave calmly looks around assessing the situation looking for innocents endangered, potential threats, and tactical advantage. His strength may not have fully recovered, but he was still a veteran crusader.
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Steave saw too many people to ever help at once. A few crusaders fought a desperate rearguard in an alley, children cowering behind them and vrocks circling overhead. Babau flickered about the plaza, slaying and gone in the same breath. Mobs of dretches clashed with youths barely old enough to take their crusader oaths. The ground heaved and a well-dressed merchant began to slide toward a fissure. Roars sounded above and a cold wind blew as Terendelev breathed frost on the Storm King, much of it flashing to steam against his burning body.
Steave opens his divine senses and of pure malice hammered into his skull. He reels, feeling the thick taint of the balor lord above and whatever happened in the Kite even with their great distance.
Saito looks stunned as all hell breaks loose around him. What surprises him most though is that the kind old woman he was chatting with was in fact an ancient dragon with gleaming silver scales.
"Huh, I knew she was pretty." He mumbles to himself under his breath.
Shrugging, Saito races forward to snatch the well dressed merchant and drag him back from the fissure before he falls in.
Yridhrennor sees Saito burst into action and it shakes him from his daze. "Falfaeran! Guide the children away from here. Find them the easiest way out!"
The bird caws and rushes off searching for a spot, and then quickly flying to talk to the children.
Meanwhile, the elf hurries to help Saito with the merchant.
Abelard looks around as the scene disintegrates into chaos at the arrival of Chaos incarnate; with his limited vision, he doesn't see the Kite disappear in a plume of fire, but he can hear it. He watches as the demons arrive; he sees Levvie revealed as the silver dragon Terendelev and the ground itself split open.
"Well, shoot..."
He sees Steave slump suddenly and realises that he must have opened himself up to the evil surrounding them; he has kept his own Sight well under control. He hurries over to the paladin and grabs his arm, holding him up, steadying him. "Easy there, now. No use to anyone if you let it overwhelm you. Deep breath. That's right. Now - where can we be of use?"
He looks around, but his vision is limited to 30 feet and so he (literally) cannot see the bigger picture. In which case he will focus on his immediate companions. He does his best to stay close to Yridhrennor and Saito.
Yridhrennor calls out Abelard and Staeve from his prone position with Saito. He stretches out his staff to, willing the merchant to grab hold. "Abelard! Help us! This man is too heavy for me to lift-no offense to you, of course. I'm just more accustomed to lifting pages in books, not people."
Falfaeren continues to guide children away to safety.
Ensuring that Steave is OK to stand by himself, Abelard moves swiftly to the elf's side and hauls the merchant up. "It's alright, I gotcha. Yridhrennor, you'll have to be my eyes for now - what can you see?"
Abelard is looking for a way out, or - failing that - a defensible place to make a stand. Despite the horror of the moment, he flashes a tight grin at Saito. "So, you said you wanna fight demons? Looks like you won't be havin' to go find 'em..."
Absolute Evil kicks Steave between the eyes causing his hands to rush to his face and eyes to jam shut. His head slumps in disorientation. Behind his hands, his visage is wracked in pain and tears stream down his face. After a few seconds, he takes a deep breath as the swirling nausea evaporates.
Steave blinks the tears from his eyes and tries to reassess if a few seconds had improved the situation of Kenebras going to the Abyss.
The shaking violent thrust pulls the Clan from his communion with his spirits. He uses the handle if his huge hammer to stand, and then turns it around to prepare for battle. He seems ready to wade in when words seem to spontaneously come from his mouth in a different voice, an older voice. "Wolf of the Sky hear my call. Give us strength to protect this youth so he can defend others." With that, the silvery forms of people coalesce around him, leaving his skin with a silvery glow.
While the talky bird and his man had pained his head with their chatter, he seems to have a couple of warriors nearby. He strides in that direction.
Yridhrennor smiles with relief when Abelard approaches. [i]Good! A crusader! He can take charge of the field/b]. His smile sours as Abelard asks him for his assessment. "Korramzadeh and Terendelev are fighting, the Kite has fallen. I have Falfaeren guiding the children and citizens to safety. A few crusaders are trying to fight back, but there are demons everywhere, and no one appears to be organizing their efforts.". He stumbles as the city is wracked by another tremor. "Per-Perhaps, we should try and do that? Organize a resistance?
Yridhrennor and Steave see crusaders fleeing the the plaza. Flames rise through the roofs of half the buildings around. The demons press ever thicker about and the ground continues to yawn open unpredictably.
The elf and Abelard together haul the thickset merchant clear of his fissure. He looks gratefully up at them and them for a moment before his face fell. A shadow passed over Clydwell Plaza and a horrible scream cut through the chaos of battle. Khorramzadeh and Terendelev spiraled out of the sky in a thrashing tangle, their struggle knocking free one of the steeples of the cathedral.
The Storm King gained the upper hand, thrusting his burning blade into the dragon's body. Frigid blood rained down for a moment, flashing to silvery patches of ice as it hit the churning ground, before the demon hurled Terendelev down on the cathedral's facade. Stone and glass gave way like so much sand. Terendelev raised her head, agonizingly slow, as the Storm King descended.
A thunderclap sounded as Khorramzadeh's feet touched earth. The ground about him erupted in rifts, tearing loose flagstones and hurling forth earth and fire in great fountains as newborn fissures raced across Kenabres. In an instant, rows of buildings slumped and began to fall.
For one awful moment, as the ancient dragon's pained gaze turned in the direction of Abelard, Saito, Steave, Theron, Yridhrennor, and the merchant, they seemed to hang in the air. Flame-lit gloom opened beneath them and the air itself tore, a purple-limned rift revealed the swimming visage of a great sea of shimmering green worms. Their stomachs lurched as they began to fall.
The Storm King's blade flashed, but even as it fell Terendelev somehow locked eyes with each of the imperiled crusaders and a cool fog rose from her nostrils to race across the plaza. It filled the rift in an instant, replacing the sea of worms with a fissure of mere earth and stone as the dragon's head came free from its bown and the balor roared in triumph.
All plummeted down, but a cool breeze wrapped about and slowed their fall to something they might survive as darkness closed around them. An instant later, the crusaders found themselves on solid ground again, flat on their backs, heads throbbing and ears ringing. Dust filled their lungs and rocks clattered in the distance. Grit covered their skin. Their eyes met a curtain of inky blackness.
Nearer on, the merchant that Abelard and Yridhrennor helped in the plaza sat up, taking a hurried inventory of his limbs. Just past him, a woman in leathers groaned as she tried to move a rock from atop her leg and a young man in gray robes groped about.
Steave stands trying to make sense of the situation. He unsheathes his cold iron longsword and calls out to the cavern, "Hail, the cavern. Who is injured?" He uses his Sight to look for demons and threats, especially among the heap of tangled bodies.
Yridhrennor looks on with horrified awe as he witnesses the end of Kenabres' most fabled defender. But, the horror is replaced with gratitude as she gives her life to save his own. He tumbles, through the air, terrified, but oddly comforted by the Silver Lady's sacrifice. "All will be well,' her eyes had seemed to say to him. And, that gentle loving gaze fills his mind now as he plummets into darkness.
The ground begins to close and Falraeren gives a loud squawk and darts into the narrowing chasm. "Elf! What have you gotten me into, now!" The ground closes with a boom, and Yridhrennor is lost in the endless night below the city. Only the infernal pecking of Falfaeren on his brow even lets him know he's alive.
"Ow! Stop that!" His books! Where were his books? Frantically, Yridhrennor's hands darts to his pockets. He only breathes again once he's sure the books are all there, and relatively unharmed.
The pecking continues. "Oh good, you're awake."
"Yes, I am, so you can stop hitting me in the head, now. It hurts enough as it is." He brushes the bird away from him, but the raven is too quick and dodges the blow easily. "And, keep your voice down. We might not be the only things that fell through the chasm."
"I'm doing this because you're the reason we're trapped underground in the first place! Stupid, foolish elf!" Falfaeren's voice is but a whisper, but it's filled with irritation all the same.
"Hush, let me stand, and we can puzzle our way out of her." The bird flaps onto his shoulder and Yridhrennor tries to stand. He winces as pain shoots through his side. "Ow. Alright, first. Abelard? Saito? Are you there? Crusader? Anyone?" His voice is barely audible in the cavern. Yridhrennor peers out into the dark, desperately trying to make out any shapes or hear any noise.
Steave stands trying to make sense of the situation. He unsheathes his cold iron longsword and calls out to the cavern, "Hail, the cavern. Who is injured?" He uses his Sight to look for demons and threats, especially among the heap of tangled bodies.
"Hello!? Crusader? Is that you? You don't sound like Abelard or Saito." Yridhrennor's voice is filled with relief, and barely restrained panic. "I am unharmed, but I can't see anything in this darkness. I feel a bit silly saying this, but I didn't think it necessary to learn how to create a light. A flame is always nearby, and the stars, or the Moon or... Ow!" A sound very much like a raven muffling a laugh fills the void. "Anyway, I don't think creating light would be a good idea. There might be all sorts of things down here that could hurt us. And, if they live down here, they probably can see in the dark. Then again, if they live down here, then they'd be attracted to our voices and... Oh dear." Yridhrennor's voice steadily begins to fill with panic.
What are all the nasty things that go bump in the Underdark, which Yridhrennor is imagining waiting to eat them all?
"Let there be light." A white, holy glow shines in the darkness, emanating from Abelard's 2-handed falchion.
He gives a wry smile, despite everything, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Always did have a hankerin' to say that, although I'd rather circumstances were otherwise. Anyways, we're alive, we're armed. Anyone hurt?"
"Aye, elf. It's me. Abelard is nearby as are others. Maybe this Saito is among them. Are you injured? I can light a torch in a minute after the area is secure." Steave continues to survey the cavern for threats and injured.
"Only my pride." Thanks to Abelard's light, Falfaeren flutters over to the Crusader and lands on his shoulder. "The elf's fine, too. He was too busy working himself into a panic over things that could be here to worry about to do since we are here."
Yridhrennor scowls at the bird and makes his way down off the pile of rocks he landed to come closer to Abelard and the Crusader. "Thank you for the light, Abelard." He smiles with relief, and seems much calmer now that he can see and walks over to the blind man. "Abelard, do you see Saito?"
Falfaeren sighs in resignation, turning back to Staeve. "There will be no living with him for the rest of the day. He'll probably start mooning over how this is just like one of those adventures in his books, shortly."
"Isn't this astounding, Falfaeren? It's just like how Bryn Mawr and Sarusan traveled into the Realm of the Mountain King!"
He smiles with relief, and seems much calmer now that he can see and walks over to the blind man. "Abelard, do you see Saito?"
Abelard shrugs. How quickly they forget. "Can't see much of anythin' beyond ten yards or so. Reckon if he's here, he'll see this here light and join us directly." He fervently hopes that is the case.
Suddenly spotting the injured woman, he hurries over. "Good day ma'am, lemme assist you with that." Passing his falchion/torch to the elf (with a muttered "don't drop it"), he does his best to lift up the rock from her leg.
Steave stands trying to make sense of the situation. He unsheathes his cold iron longsword and calls out to the cavern, "Hail, the cavern. Who is injured?" He uses his Sight to look for demons and threats, especially among the heap of tangled bodies.
Steave's divine sense fails to detect anything. Whatever threw the body on top of the pile must be beyond its reach, or not evil enough to register.
"Help me," the merchant said. "I can't see a thing and don't know what's happened. I may have broken something, but rest assured you will be richly rewarded for the trouble."
"Who's there?" the robed man said as he peered out. His eyes passed right over Steave, unseeing. He came up on his knees and groped toward the merchant. "No matter, I'll help you, sir."
"My leg is probably broken," the woman in leathers said. "There's a rock on it I can't shift."
The robed man turned toward her voice as Abelard's blade began to glow, revealing the large cavern to the others.
"Just...keep talking," the robed man said. His face was covered with blood, his eyes empty black holes. "If I can find my things I have a sunrod..."
Abelard reached the woman's side. With his strength and the benefit of more leverage, he moved the rock away with little trouble. The woman gasped as the weight left her leg, which had acquired a second knee of bone jutting barely shy of breaking the skin.
Holding back and watching for threats, Steave spotted two misshapen, bloated halflings shuffling along the edge of his darkvision, dragging a body between them. They seemed to have taken no notice of the noise or light.
"The cavern appears clear of demons. If you are injured, we will get to you."
As he was about to sheath his longsword, Steave cries at the two misshapen, bloated halflings shuffling along the edge of his darkvision, "Wait. Hold creatures!" He readies his shield as he determinedly strides toward them.
As the light shines forth, Silverlight stands again, he's getting annoyed at getting knocked down. He readies his hammer again. He looks over at the twisted things suspiciously.
Steave stands trying to make sense of the situation. He unsheathes his cold iron longsword and calls out to the cavern, "Hail, the cavern. Who is injured?" He uses his Sight to look for demons and threats, especially among the heap of tangled bodies.
Steave's divine sense fails to detect anything. Whatever threw the body on top of the pile must be beyond its reach, or not evil enough to register.
"Help me," the merchant said. "I can't see a thing and don't know what's happened. I may have broken something, but rest assured you will be richly rewarded for the trouble."
"Who's there?" the robed man said as he peered out. His eyes passed right over Steave, unseeing. He came up on his knees and groped toward the merchant. "No matter, I'll help you, sir."
"My leg is probably broken," the woman in leathers said. "There's a rock on it I can't shift."
The robed man turned toward her voice as Abelard's blade began to glow, revealing the large cavern to the others.
"Just...keep talking," the robed man said. His face was covered with blood, his eyes empty black holes. "If I can find my things I have a sunrod..."
Abelard reached the woman's side. With his strength and the benefit of more leverage, he moved the rock away with little trouble. The woman gasped as the weight left her leg, which had acquired a second knee of bone jutting barely shy of breaking the skin.
Holding back and watching for threats, Steave spotted two misshapen, bloated halflings shuffling along the edge of his darkvision, dragging a body between them. They seemed to have taken no notice of the noise or light.
Oh, that poor fellow's been blinded! "Falfaeren, go to that man an introduce yourself. Help get him to safety away from those ... things..."
For once, the raven doesn't complain and fluters off to the man in robes. "Happy Armasse, good sir. I am Falfaeren, the noble raven ally of Yridhrennor Arahaelon, nephew of Riftwarden Cwmbhien Arahaelon. He is, not me. He's just an elf. I'm a raven, the most majestic of all creatures. Now, it looks like you were injured, and we're going to help you. I know this is going to be a bit scary and.. very shocking, but please trust me. We have two crusaders here, and they'll try and do everything they can to help. But, first, follow my voice. We'll go slow and I'll move you to the other survivors. It.. yes.. it looks like they were injured, too, so our going will be slow. But, if we all pull together, we can do this."
Yridhrennor stares at his familiar in mild shock. The bird was never this polite. But, whatever insanity struck Falfaeren, he hoped it was lasting. The elf gripped his staff in both hands and boldly stood beside the Crusader (Staeve). "What are those things? His hands glow a sickly greenish-yellow color as he summons the energy for one of the few attack spells he knows, preparing to throw it once those bloated creatures draw near.
The two halfling-sized creatures drop the body in surprise at Steave's shout.
You are your avatars. The NPCs should be fairly obvious. Couldn't find a pic I liked for the foes.
always acts in surprise
Steave continues to determinedly stride toward the creatures that his Sight revealed to be faintly Evil. He says to the group, "Abelard, please stay with the injured. Protect them, and be our reserve."
To the creatures, he queries, "Evil creatures, who are you? Leave the body, and flee before my wrath."
Steave continues to determinedly stride toward the creatures that did not reveal to be Evil. However, rats were not evil either and needed to be killed. "Creatures, who are you? What are you doing with that body?"
Yridhrennor lets the spell fade from his hold. Greenish-yellow light dribbles from his fingers and evaporates in the air. Instead, before Steave moves towards the bloated halflings in the shadows, Yridhrennor places a hand on the Crusader's back. [
"Réaltaí thuas, a bhfuil solas treoir a thabhairt don díreach trasna na farraigí, foscadh agus garda an laoch uasal ina chúis!" For a brief moment, the cavern ceiling bursts to life as though it were the night sky, a million stars twinkling far above. The stars slowly fall into a shower of soft-glowing white light that fall upon Steave's shoulders. Soon, the crusader is covered in a soft nimbus of glowing white light.
"There, that should help you, a bit. He gives a small grin and firmly grips his staff.
Voices batter the ears of the tall half-elf, and he groans as he raises his head. What in the Abyss happened? With a moan of pain as he holds his bruised ribs, he pulls himself to his feet. Brushing off his well-tailored coat, he looks around, seeing the light gleaming from a large sword in the distance.
Ho! Is anyone over there?
Voices batter the ears of the tall half-elf, and he groans as he raises his head. What in the Abyss happened? With a moan of pain as he holds his bruised ribs, he pulls himself to his feet. Brushing off his well-tailored coat, he looks around, seeing the light gleaming from a large sword in the distance.
Ho! Is anyone over there?
Everyone else's, for context:
Abelard: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Saito: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
Steave: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Theron: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (19) + 0 = 19
Yridhrennor: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19 always acts in surprise
Bad Guys: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (20) + 0 = 20
Also he's on the map now.
Yridhrennor spoke the words of a spell: "Réaltaí thuas, a bhfuil solas treoir a thabhairt don díreach trasna na farraigí, foscadh agus garda an laoch uasal ina chúis!" For a brief moment, the cavern ceiling bursts to life as though it were the night sky, a million stars twinkling far above. The stars slowly fall into a shower of soft-glowing white light that fall upon Steave's shoulders. Soon, the crusader is covered in a soft nimbus of glowing white light.
"There, that should help you, a bit. He gives a small grin and firmly grips his staff.
The halflling-like creatures flinched back from the sudden light of Yridhrennor's spell and Steave felt a slight tension in the air between himself and the vile pair.
Bad Guys 20
Yridhrennor 19
Theron 19
Galin 16
Abelard 10
Saito 7
Steave 6
Saito awakens to find himself lying on a cave floor, his mouth filled with blood.
"Well that was bracing." He comments to himself as he spits the gore onto the floor and stands up. He casts dancing lights to give himself something to see by and looks around, assessing the situation.