The Sun is out and bright this morning, the city is very busy as vendors are trying their wares early before the celebrations start for Armasse. The City guard and the Eagle Knights are out in force making sure that nothing happens prior to the celebrations. Lord Hulrun is in his chambers preparing his speech and polishing his armor to a shine.
what is everyone doing, there is about 4 hours till the celebrations.
Khaz walked through the city, excitement clearly written on his face. The dwarf was armored as a crusader, with heavy scale mail, reinforced by an armored kilt, and with a large axe on his back. He looked every inch a warrior. Ironically though, it was not the blood of enemies that he had just washed from his hands, but allies. For he was a healer, and was coming from the slums having just treated arriving refugees. The armor and weapons were as much to deter them from robbing him as to protect himself from outside dangers.
Finding himself in the square early, he ran his fingers through his golden beard. Four hours...he hadn’t planned this out well enough. Deciding there was nothing else worth doing while waiting, he wandered off in search of a drink.
Aerleth trudged out from the slums, his expression betraying his exhaustion. It was a regular habit for him to visit his old home among the urchins and vagrants when returning from excursions into the Worldwound. He would bring bags of fresh fruit from the marketplace, sharing them among the less fortunate citizens of the town.
"Today Armasse begins...Slipped my mind..." he mumbled to himself as he noticed the townsfolk hastily preparing for the festival. Though he was not particularly social, he enjoyed witnessing the opening celebrations for the annual week-long event. Seeing the joy and hope it brought the the downtrodden citizens of Kenabres warmed his heart. The ranger decided to stop off at the tavern closest to Kite for a quiet ale before the festival began, seeing as how he had a few hours to spare.
|Terry the thief|
Well, okay. Not dead. Not being hung. Becoming a foot soldier in this never-ending war. Is that a win, a loss, or a push? I think I'll take push . . .. Terry's contemplating the consequences of his life choices as he moves across the open space. He draws up short as he realizes he's run out of open space. Nearly walking into a wall can do that to a man's pacing.
Looking about, he sees the first members of what will surely become a roaring crowd, standing in front of an open tavern. Not a bad way to kill some time. He moves into the tavern and takes a quick look around. The room is already fairly full, as the tavern seems to be where many would-be celebrants are waiting for enough people to show up that they need to actually reserve their viewing spots.
Hesitating, Terry reconsiders sitting in here and drinking alone. He's alone enough in this city at this point without making himself that pitiful. He moves back out the door, and starts looking for a food vendor. Meat on a stick by yourself is far less depressing than drinking alone in a room full of people enjoying being together.
Lost in thought and looking for a drink, Khaz walked straight into Terry. An embarrassing mishap compounded by the fact that the paladin was covered in steel and had been walking at a brisk pace.
”Ach! Sorry, lad. Didn’t see you there. Ye alright? Mighty embarrassin’. Here, I see a table with room. Let me get ye a beer to make up for me trespass.”
As fate would have it, it seems like we’ve all decided to congregate at a tavern...
Carson is nearby on the same street with a few children and easily amused folks gathered around as he uses magic to produce flowers and small lights, putting on a bit of a show for the folks that were already looking to be entertained by something. It's definitely not a lead in to directing people to his godfather's wand shop to put a few gold down on a wand of Prestidigitation to attempt to replicate his results.
As the time draws closer and his small group of onlookers dwindle to go find places for the later festivities, Carson takes a quick duck into the tavern for a glass of the sweetest possible wine they had. He was still getting used to being an adult, and hadn't quite made it to the point of actually enjoying beer as it seemed he was supposed to.
Firinn and Rionnag sit side by side on the edge of the tavern's roof, watching the ebb and flow of people below. The tavern keeper had been wary at first, but when Firinn explained he had a six foot butterfly to think about the man was polite enough - thankfully a butterfly, even a midnight blue one, didn't put thoughts of violence into most people's minds.
Down below a ripple in the crowd followed a dwarf, well clad in steel and moving with purpose and near the tavern a scruffy man took advantage of five clear paces to stride back and forth, seemingly lost in thought.
"So this is Armasse?" Firinn mused, "Even after all these years I don't think I've ever seen it properly." Anyone seeing him up there, tankard in hand and talking to a butterfly would think him mad, but it helped - talking kept the memories at bay.
Down below the dwarf marches right into the pacing man, creating a new ripple in the crowd before they both walk under Firinn and into the tavern.
"Enjoy Armasse, friends!" Firinn salutes them, even though they won't hear it and settles back into his companion's shadow - even now he isn't entirely comfortable with this much sunlight.
Lorena is surprised that she was let into Kenabres at all, but here she is, and just in time for some kind of festival, it seems. As she wanders the streets, Lorena tries her best to blend in with the growing crowds around town, which is admittedly not very well. She's used to keeping her wings and tail hidden under her traveling cloak, but wearing a hood in bright daylight in a city would probably bring more suspicion, leaving no solution for the horns. As a result she's noticed strange looks and whispers from passersby, but she pays no heed; she's used to it. Oh well, it's not like I'm trying to hide anything, if I even have anything to hide...
As Lorena is looking for an inn that's not full and which looks as if it would be welcoming to her, she passes by a dwarf, full armor and all, walking into what appears to be a tavern. Been a while since I had a drink, I could use one about now...but, last time I did that, I barely escaped with my tail intact. She hesitates, glancing back and forth between the door and the street, then heads in. I'm going to regret this...
Aerleth arrives at the tavern just in time to see the heavily armoured dwarf barge into the scruffy looking man. He strolls past and through the door, making his way to the bar to order his ale. The brew is watery and bland, but he drinks deeply as he turns to survey the bar.
His eyes are drawn to a woman who must have entered just after him; her horns betray an otherworldly heritage and for a moment the hairs on the back of Aerleth's neck stand up. His hand instinctively drops to the hilt of his sword for but a moment before he forces himself to relax. "She's probably just here to enjoy the festival, same as everyone else. Don't judge a book by it's cover..."
About to take his seat, Khaz freezes when he sees the woman. His eyes narrowing he, quite obviously, says something in Dwarven, causing his eyes to flash gold. Detect Evil. His eyes returned to their normal blue, and he sat down. To Terry he said ”Pay that no mind, jus’ checked to see if the tiefling be evil. ‘Course she isn’t, wouldn’t be allowed in if she was. Now, about that drink. BARKEEP! A drink for me friend and I. Cold beers, if ye’d be so kind.”
Lorena can sense the entire tavern tensing up when she walks in. I knew this was a bad idea... Thankfully, nobody makes any particularly aggressive moves and the tension seems to slowly dissipate, though she still feels the occasional glance from the patrons. Looking for an empty table in a corner, away from prying eyes, she goes up to order a drink. Hopefully they serve tieflings here.
The woman doesn't detect as evil, it is still hard for Khaz and most of the city at times to remember that not all Tieflings are bad or out to cause violence. The bar seems to thin out a bit as it gets closer to noon. Peddlers walk through the crowd trying to hawk their wears just before the start of the festivities.
Terry finds a food vendor just outside and to the left when leaving of the tavern, taking his food and the Dwarves offer of free drink. A voice is heard from outside, the sun has just about approached it's zenith and the town crier is out to bring everyone into the square. Once everyone has gathered, Lord Hulrun steps out onto the battlements of the Kite, someone walks up to him possibly to magically enhance his voice.
Armasse officially began at noon, with the blessing of the festival
by Lord Hulrun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathered in
Clydwell Plaza quieted as the aged inquisitor took the stage, clad
in shining, resplendent armor. He cleared his throat, but just as
he was 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
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
Khaz moaned as he sat up. ”Oi! Is anyone hurt?” It was reflexive, and came out without thinking.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8
With the dust and darkness it was hard to see, but the dwarf still pulled himself to his feet. And only then did the reality of the situation hit him. The Ward Stone, the sacrifice of the dragon, the demons...he pulled his greataxe out.
Carson had never really undergone something so horrible, or even anything bad enough for this to have taken the place of as the most horrific event he's ever witnessed. But there would be time to process later. Time to process that many people he knew were likely dead. That he was very near to dying. That the only reason he wasn't was that the most beautiful creature he'd seen in his life had saved him. That he had seen the woman in front of him, one he'd seen in town before, turn into the dragon that did.
For now he draws his wand and gives a quick flick and an utterance of arcane word, bringing light into the area in the form of a few floating balls of blue fire.
"Hello, I um. I'm here. I'm alright. Physically, at least. We'll see about the rest in therapy later."
Firinn moves quickly as he touches down, both hands clenched around Rionnag as they fell. Sure footed and keen-eyed in the dark he scans the immediate area, looking away just in time as a young man conjures lights, before heading to the woman who called out. He does his best to keep his voice cheery and light.
"Hello there! My name is Firinn. You've had quite a fall there."
Her leg is broken, she will be limited in movement till you can see out some powerful healing magic. She will need a splint and crutch to move about."
Another 2 moans can be heard, a human male i laying just to the north of the party, a tall Elven man with a face of blood is laying just to the south.
His eyes were destroyed by something very hot, there are burn marks along his face where both eyes were.
The human male appears to have no injuries.
Seeing the injured, Khaz hurried over. In true dwarven fashion, he knelt down and calmly went about his craft.
Take 10 to inspect their wounds before treating them.
"ere now lass, nay worries. I'm a trained healer. An' I'll get to ye in a moment, elfling. Now then, let me see..."
Heal Woman: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
"Ye've got yerself a broken leg. I've seen worse, an' they were jus' fine. Here, let me splint that up. Keeps ye bones in place for good healin' and to stop any more damage. We'll make ye a crutch as, so we can get ye out o' here, ye ken? Now, hold still while I splint this up...an' there we go. I'll be right back, takin' care o' the others."
He then went over to the elf, who was lying face down. As he did so, he called to the others "If any o' ye could make the lass a crutch right quick, I'd appreciate it." He then knelt down and calmly inspected him as well.
Heal Elf: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
"Ach. Well, elfling, I've got good news an' bad. First, the bad. Ye eyes be burnt. The good news, is ye aren't the first person in the crusade to suffer this. There be spells for this. Here, let me do what I can to ease the pain an' protect what be left. We'll get ye to the surface an' to a church. Easy now..."
As he went to work, he thought to himself that it would take powerful magic indeed to return the elf's sight. But there was no point burdening him with that reality just yet.
And that left the human male, who was moaning not far away. He'd get to him as soon as he could, but taking care of the elf would take some time. He hoped that someone else had some medical training to help with whatever ailed him.
While he doesn't have any healing skills, he does have wood working ability, so Carson looks around to see if there's anything that can be used to make a crutch, as well as seeing if he can determine where they are.
Here's perception. Could you let me know what knowledges to roll to determine what we've landed in?
Leaning on her spear, Lorena slowly props herself back onto her two feet. She ignores the cries for help for now, looking around for a way out of the cavern or anything else of note, but her eyes are slow to adjust to the darkness from the sudden fall.
perception: 1d20 ⇒ 6
Firinn, seeing more experienced hands dealing with the medical and woodworking sides, moves across the cavern to join the woman with horns and tail. "We make quite a pair don't we?" He says wryly, extending his unsleeved arms, and showing the midnight-blue feathers coating his forearms.
"What can you see out there?" He asks, following her gaze into the darkness.
Take 10 for 17 on perception.
|Horgus Gwerm_ NPC|
The human male groans loudly, rolling over then standing up.
"Last time I attend that festival, waste of my time. I have orders to fill and things to do." The man looks around in the light, stopping short at seeing what is going on.
"Thank you for your medical assessment, I should be able to deal with the issue till we can get to Quendys. Tell me what is going on here, I need a full report so that I can lead us out of here." The Elf stands up with the help of his staff. "I need one of you to be my "eyes" and give me constant updates on what is going on." The Elves voice is hard.
It sounds like his injuries are more taxing on him then he is letting on, he just wants to sound like he is ok and wants to be in charge to not feel the effects of losing his sight.
Aerleth stands up, his hand moving quickly to assess whether or not he lost anything in the fall. He looks around the cavern, trying to ascertain where he is and find his bearings.
Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Dungeoneering: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
He draws his longsword, holding the blade in a relaxed grip with the tip pointed low in an effort to show that he means no harm to those around him.
Noticing the others stirring, he assesses the situation and attempts to take a measure of all the others who fell into the cavern along with him, at the same time he scans for any immediate threats.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (4) + 11 = 15
"The Dwarf must be a healer... Good."
Seeing the wounded elf groaning in a heap, Aerleth approaches and speaks in stunted elven.
"Mae govannen, mellonamin. Lle anta amin tu?"
Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 1
Khaz nodded approvingly at the elf’s words, though the elf couldn’t see it. He completely bought into it. ”Never let anyone doubt the resiliency of the elves. There is a woman here who has a broken leg, and we are getting her a crutch. You can help steady her, and she shall be your eyes. While your injuries pain me, I am glad to have someone of your caliber here. Wait a moment, while we bring you your eyes.”
1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17Wood working
1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29Know Dungeoneering
Carson picks up the support beam, shifting his wand between his teeth as he draws a wood carving knife to lop off the pointy bits before giving it to the woman.
"There we go, hope it will help for now."
He takes a look around, noting several things.
"Ok, we should still be below the square. We can't climb these walls. They're too steep. Does anyone see any way out? We might be able to feel a breeze..."
|Terry the thief|
Opening his eyes to the darkness proves futile. Futile enough to spawn a quick curse. Okay. Think. Pack. Bring the pack around. Open the flap. Okay, THIS should be a torch. Close the pack. Put it back on so you don't lose it. "Ah! Thank you for the light." He puts the torch back into his pack before looking around.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
"It was completely dark, so there's no opening left above us. We're trapped quite a way down. I'm not sure how fast you fall when ensorcelled like that, so I really don't know how far down we are. Wind from THAT way, so any hope for a way back out will be over there."
He stops and takes a moment to look at his fellow trapped rescuees. "Oof. Okay. I see the injured are being tended. It was Khaz, wasn't it? I'm not a trained healer, but do you need any help with the injured?"
Khaz looked up at Terry. ”Not at the moment, but thank ye. I’ve got it covered for now. I’ll call if needed. For now ye can help look around. Find a way out, or at least a way to go.”
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Diplomacy from helping the woman: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
Diplomacy from helping the elf: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Incase that helps influence their attitudes
Diplomacy (offering help to the elf): 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (11) - 1 = 10
"Lucky for you friend, my eyes are one of my best features. I'll aid you as best I can." Says Aerleth with a grin.
As Terry lights his torch and Carson finishes up making the makeshift crutch, the ranger nods in approval. "It seems as though there may be a tunnel to the east, though it looks like our way may be barred. I can feel a breeze coming through, maybe we can clear some of this rubble and find a way through?" he muses.
"Whatever our course of action, it's clear that we are going to have to work together to make it back to the surface. My name is Aerleth, I'm a tracker and if we're able to clear a path I'm certain I'll be able to navigate a way back to the surface." he introduces himself curtly as he moves over to cautiously inspect the large motionless shape on the ground to the east.
Still leaning on her spear, Lorena surveys the others from the side as they patch up the wounded - something she knows next to nothing about. If it were up to her, she'd leave the injured behind, but she's probably going to need the group's help to get out of here, and it seems like they want to bring everyone along.
Staying silent for now as they make introductions, Lorena walks over to examine the remnants of the rock slide. Perhaps there's a way through there?
Guessing that a giant pile of rocks can be seen without a perception roll for everyone with darkvision. Here's another in case I need one perception: 1d20 ⇒ 3
Totally ignored by Lorena... it hurts! :P
Seeing his overture ignored by the tiefling Firinn shrugs and lets out a series of sing-song notes, before drawing his bow (which survived the descent intact - thankfully) and an arrow and approaching the large black thing in front of the group, as Rionnag swoops silently overhead.
Firinn and Rionnag are going to investigate whatever this thing in front of us is.
Totally ignored by Lorena... it hurts! :P
Oh oops, didn't see that...err, I mean, yeah that's totally what I meant to do ;)
Lorena starts as one of the human-looking people starts singing near her, while walking away. Had he been trying to talk to her? She'd been too focused on the rubble to notice. Oh well, there'd be plenty of time for talk later, unfortunately. As they get closer to the giant blob in the distance, Lorena breaks her silence and calls out softly, not wanting to distract anyone: "Over here, I found something. Not a way out, though."
Take 10 :)
Firinn easily notes that the large spider is dead, but something is moving inside its throat. "Be careful! The spider is dead, but I think there's something inside. Be ready!" He waits a few moments for others to make preparations before loosing an arrow into the body, hoping to provoke whatever is inside the corpse.
Attack?: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
Lorena starts as one of the human-looking people starts singing near her, while walking away. Had he been trying to talk to her? She'd been too focused on the rubble to notice.
He has feathers instead of hair and all the way up his arms instead of arm hair - not that human looking! :)
***Before Firinn attacks***
Know. Nature: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14
The ranger approaches the writhing corpse with caution, his blade in hand. He raises his longsword and prods at the dead spider.
"It's dead... But something isn't right..." he muses, readying himself lest the beast lurch out to strike.
He has feathers instead of hair and all the way up his arms instead of arm hair - not that human looking! :)
Yes, hence "human-looking" and not "human". I'm guessing that apart from the feathers he looks normal. Lorena's concept of...human-ness, I guess?...is a bit skewed, which she's reminded of every time she looks in a mirror.
Lorena turns away as she sees weapons drawn and an arrow fired at the blob - apparently a spider corpse. Committing the location of the scales to memory, she grabs her spear, readying it in case something hostile appears.
|Terry the thief|
Firinn's arrow lands with a Thud into the Thorax of the body of the spider, after a moment 2 pale white bodies disgorge themselves from inside and move towards the party.
Initiative Aerleth: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Initiative Khaz: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
Initiative Terry: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Initiative Lorena: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Initiative Carson: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16
Initiative Firinn: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
maggot 1: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2
maggot 2: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (14) - 1 = 13
Initiative Rd 1
Lorena, Carson, Firinn <---
Terry, Aerleth, Khaz
The arrow will designate who goes
Lorena sees two white...things exiting the spider blob, but she's I'm guessing too far away to do anything about it. Clutching her spear nervously, she moves up near the rest of the group.
Just move, I guess.