"It begins." Rhok, whose eyes had been glazed over with boredom, is now alert and intensely focused. "Thunder and lightning are harbingers of fire, flood and devastation. We might want to get under cover."
Jod gives his cousin a concerned look, but looks around for something that might pass for "cover". "What do we need cover from? We could go over there - see where that lady in leather is leaning on the column?"
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The blond youth makes for the dark-haired woman by the pillar. As he approaches she says, "Hello, Sol. Come to watch the crusaders at play? Or come to ask me about a job? I told you, you need to talk to Irabeth. She's the actual member of the Eagle Watch."
As she speaks there is a sudden loud clap of thunder out of the clear blue sky. Lord Hulrun pauses in his speech. A few of the crusaders' horses snort and toss their heads skittishly, while the crowd murmurs uneasily.
A startled Sol looks up for the lightning before looking at the woman again. He sheepishly admits, "A little of both. You know Irabeth won't talk to me without an in. The crusaders are like a rich social club. You can't join without coin. The coin in this case isn't gold; it's training and gear and reputation and I've got none of that. C'mon, Anevia. Give me just a little help."
The dark-haired woman, Anevia, snorts. "Social club? You've got the wrong...."
As she speaks there is a massive explosion a few hundred yards to the west. On the wall facing the river, where once stood one of the keeps defending the approaches from the Worldwound, there is a column of orange fire. Chunks of stone are still falling from the sky and a hot blast-wave filled with grit and smoke washes over the assembled warriors in the square.
Aravashnial gasps, horrified, "The Kite! By the gods, the wardstone!"
A giant figure blinks in existence in the air above the plaza. A creature of roiling darkness, incandescant flame and crackling lightning, it spreads its colossal inky wings and flings its arms wide. One hand clutches a saw-edged sword while a fiery whip curls in the other. Its voice booms out across the city.
A host of demons begins to appear, flickering out of thin air on the ground and above the plaza, as the Storm King's army launches its surprise assault. They begin ripping into the crowd with teeth and claws, attacking crusader and bystander indiscriminately.
"Mulluq, the Storm King has returned. Now is the time to prove your nature. We must help in whatever way we can."
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The dark-haired woman, Anevia, snorts. "Social club? You've got the wrong...."
Sol colors. Why does no one understand metaphor?
As she speaks there is a massive explosion a few hundred yards to the west. On the wall facing the river, where once stood one of the keeps defending the approaches from the Worldwound, there is a column of orange fire. Chunks of stone are still falling from the sky and a hot blast-wave filled with grit and smoke washes over the assembled warriors in the square.
Aravashnial gasps, horrified, "The Kite! By the gods, the wardstone!"
A giant figure blinks in existence in the air above the plaza. A creature of roiling darkness, incandescant flame and crackling lightning, it spreads its colossal inky wings and flings its arms wide. One hand clutches a saw-edged sword while a fiery whip curls in the other. Its voice booms out across the city.
A host of demons begins to appear, flickering out of thin air on the ground and above the plaza, as the Storm King's army launches its surprise assault. They begin ripping into the crowd with teeth and claws, attacking crusader and bystander indiscriminately.
Momentarily frozen, Sol stares stupidly at the ruined tower and demon army ripping through the square.
"Thunder from a clear sky. That doesn't bode well Malluq."
Mulluq looks at the woman concernedly, "So, my assumption that it was to get everyone's attention toward the speaker is incorrect?" He looks around nervously. As he does so, his tail reaches up and grabs the heavy shield hanging off the back of his pack.
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Mulluq looks at Aravashnial in shock and horror, "The Kite, Master Aravashnial? This cannot be, what will keep the demons at bay?" His question answered with a resounding 'nothing' as The Storm King appears in the sky above the plaza and makes his declaration.
He turns and nods to Kira, "He has returned to finish what he started when he cracked the Wardstone. We must stop the oncoming horde, for the sake of the citizens, we cannot let them fall to the predations of the wicked." With that he rushes forward, to face the rush. He does not draw his sword just yet, but does strap his heavy shield to his arm. He keeps his hand on the hilt of his weapon, in case he must draw it in defense.
Jod grabs his cousin by the shoulder and pulls him toward the shelter they had just been eyeing.
"That tower - it was where the wardstone was kept. The demons are going to be able to come through the gap." And then... "I have heard of that one. They call him the Storm King, he attacked the city once before but wasn't able to destroy the wardstone. I guess he got the job done this time."
"Uh, yes, yes." Rhok lets himself be guided through the crowd. "If he can come here, the wardstone must be broken. And if the stone is broken, the demons of the Worldwound can enter our world at will. We are indeed doomed."
The happy-go-lucky youth gives his cousin a hard look. "Fine, we're doomed, but we are Kellid and we aren't going to go down without a fight. Prepare yourself, cousin, we're going to make sure some demons go back to the Abyss in smaller pieces than they came out of it."
"I've been preparing myself for this event my whole life. I have no intentions of just letting myself be swept along. Any process can be changed or stopped." Rhok carefully straps on his shield and draws his spiky club from its hip sheath; his hair seems to grow wilder and more tangled by the minute.
"Having said that, we stand no chance against that Storm King. We'll need some help."
"That's more like it. Say, that guy - the big one I pointed out earlier - do you think he thinks he can stop the horde by himself? Looks like he plans to stem the tide singlehandedly."
A silvery streak takes to the air. It expands rapidly into the majestic form of a gigantic silver dragon in full flight, wings beating rapidly as she climbs. Terendelev collides with the Storm King above the plaza, biting and tearing with her claws.
Below, it is mayhem. The militias are unprepared and not equipped to face a demonic onslaught. The invaders tear through them, scattering the formations and leaving broken bodies behind. The mounted crusaders cannot muster to charge, pressed this close together and with so many people crammed into the square. Instead, they are hemmed in, the horses shrieking as they are torn down and the riders yelling as they are crushed by their falling mounts or rent by the demons. The crowd of onlookers stampedes for the exits, and bodies are trampled underfoot. A mob of freakish things harries them as they try to escape, scything them down or pausing to feast horribly on still-warm flesh. More dance in the skies above.
On the steps someone yells, "Get inside the cathedral!" People begin to run for the great double doors. As they do so, hideous emaciated figures, horned and clawed and dripping blood-couloured ichor, appear among them. They leap and twirl, stabbing with spears and slashing with claws. One of the youths who was laughing a few minutes ago is casually disembowelled by one of the cackling horrors. As more flee for the sancuary of Iomedae's temple, the ground trembles. Cracks appear in the stonework of the great church and everyone is flung to the floor, some - Rhok, Jod and many of the others - tumbling back down to the square. Up by the cathedral doors the young family try to shelter from the attack, huddled down, the mother and father protecting their child with their bodies. But the tortured stone gives way and as the front of the cathedral collapses they, with many others, are buried in a shower of masonry. Through the dust, pushing its way out of the wreckage of the temple, looms a titanic creature, its roar a deep, elemental throb.
With a sickening thud, the dragon Terendelev crashes back down into the plaza. She bleeds from terrible wounds, one wing shredded. The balor lands beside her. He strides towards her and grabs her under the jaws. As he does so some of the riders mount a desperate, doomed attack, charging with lances lowered. Aravashnial screams, incoherent with rage, and runs at the balor firing his wand. But Khorramzadeh contemptuously brushes them all away with a single sweep of his blazing whip. The Storm King howls his triumph across the city.
The creature emerging from the temple picks up on its master's delight. The skinny merchant crawls about on the steps, scrabbling among the carnange, shouting, "My glasses! My glasses!" The creature steps forward, not even noticing as one huge foot crushes the merchant to paste underneath it. It raises its four fists in the air and pounds the ground. The earth bucks and twists and comes apart and a chasm, running fast like a crack in the ice of a frozen pond, runs down the cathedral steps and across the plaza. The ground disappears beneath Sol, Kyra and the others and they tumble in.
Terendelev watches with eyes like silvery orbs, streaked with blood from her wounds. Even as the Storm King raises his great sword, she extends a forelimb and her jaws work as she mutters a spell. Mulluq and Hannik and the rest find their fall turns from a headlong plunge into a gentle descent, buoyed up by magic. The dragon watches them, her eyes filled with compassion and sadness. Then the Storm King's sword hacks down, severing her head in a huge crimson gout.
With a rumble, the chasm closes. Instead of screams and demonic shieks, blood and fire, there is silence. And utter darkness.
Mulluq can only stare at the ceiling of darkness above, his normally low sense of self worth shrinking as he realizes he could do nothing. He was useless and ineffective, the goal of his mission here floated away just as he did down into the darkness of the chasm. He decides that now he would draw his blade and look for some evil, any evil, that he can run through with the freshly drawn blade. He calls out to anyone that would hear him, "Is anyone injured?"
"Landed light as a feather, actually. I can't see a thing, though. Who are you?"
He starts fumbling with his pack, looking for one of his torches and his flint and steel. He pauses, "Uh, there's no reason not to light a torch, right?"
"I'm here, Jod, and I'm OK. Physically, at least." Rhok mutters a simple arcane phrase, and a mote of light appears next to him. "Might as well light it up. Though the light might attract unwelcome attention, we're helpless in this darkness."
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"Who can tell whether there's reason or not in this darkness?" Sol chirps nervously. "I can provide us with light if you wait a moment."
His voice takes on a singsong drone and soon a halo of three lights appears around the room.
"Now what do we do?"
In the light while waiting for a reply, he busies himself looking about. He picks up his pack and shield and stumbles over uneven rocks to grasp his staff.
"That's better. A dark night is nothing like the dark down here, is there?" His voice trails off as he catches sight of the tiefling.
"Oh, hey. I'm Jod. I saw you take up your shield and charge to stop the demons before the ground opened up. Nothing personal, but I don't know many people that look like you do. Since we seem to be in this fix together, I have to ask, how did you come to be like that? I mean, did you catch something or what?"
In the plaza Hannik was so unprepared for what happened that she was unable to breathe, stunned. Just trying to get out of the way was about all she could manage under the circumstances and in the end that only managed to put her in position to be swallowed up by the earth.
As they softly land she lays on her back unmoving with her eyes closed, mind racing down a dozen trains of thought that she does not want to consider. Finally she sits up putting her back against a wall with her head in her hands and quietly asks, "Is it even possible to repair or replace a wardstone?"
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"Someone made them, so someone must be able to repair or replace them, Lady Hannik. But I'd say our concerns are more immediate."
Sol tugs on the staff, but it is held fast between two rocks. He tries setting a foot against the top rock and pushing the rock aside as he pulls. Then he tries levering the rock with the staff.
"Could I get a little help here?"
"Sure. The rock's not on your foot, is it? OK. Step back and hold teh staff, I will try to roll the rock aside so you can pull it free."
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"There."
"Sorry, yeah. I'm Jod Eastwind. My cousin," he points toward the other Kellid, "and I are of the Bearpelt following. We've never been down here before."
In the dim light from Rhok's spell, the group can see they are in a large cave, although its precise dimensions are unclear. Bodies are scattered about - those who fell while already dead, or those the dragon's magic could not save. The floor is covered with boulders and the air full of dust, from time to time they are pelted by showers of pebbles and grit dropping from above, and somewhere in the dark they can hear rock falls as the earth settles. In the light Rhok can see Jod, Sol, and Hannik, the strange-looking man Jod is talking to and the woman acting as his keeper.
"Over there. Someone's hurt. Sol, your floating lights, can you send them over there?"
The young man start working his way toward the edge of the light to see if he can provide aid.
"I'd say our concerns are more immediate."
"No, I think it is pretty damn immediate. If there is no hope for the wardstone then the crusaders will trying to help everyone retreat from the city and by the time we get back up top there may be nothing but demons in Kenabres. If they have hope, they may try to hold the city. We need a plan."
"There are all kinds of tunnels and caverns under the city. When my people first fled Sarkoris there was no room in the city and some of them began shaping and expanding natural caverns into an undercity. With any luck we can trace our way back to the top through the ruins. The natural caverns also lead to the Underdark though, so... we might want to steer clear of those if we can."
Hannik snaps a finger and her belt begins radiating a soft light in all directions. She gets up and heads toward the sound, "Hey! We're coming, hold on!"
Mulluq is somewhat surprised to hear so many voices indicating they are well enough, and then again when the number of magical lights popping into existence starts to multiply. He takes stock of what he sees amongst the survivors, before he is suddenly questioned about his appearance, not that he's surprised by it. "I came to be like this through cursed blood and vile birthright. My horrific exterior aside, I would ask that we limit this discussion until after we've helped any of the injured, as I would hate for this hideousness to stand in the way of offering aid." He answers about as brief as he ever has about his affliction, the need to help others being a much more pressing issue.
To the two young men, he adds, "Please do not think ill of me for disregarding the exchange of introductions, as I will do so when I feel there is time. I agree with Lady Hannik, the most important thing is that the Wardstone be restored to return the only barriar keeping the demonic hordes at bay. Overcoming them now will mean nothing if we cannot keep them from doing harm to the good people of Golarion."
He turns, looking around real quick, "Lady Valerious? Master Aravashnial?" he calls out to the others that were nearby when the great tragedy above took place. "Are you well? I have not heard from either of you." Suddenly he turns to where Jod indicates he heard someone needing aid, rushing toward the direction to lend assistance however he can.
Jod considers the big man's answer. "That's all well. It's just that I haven't met anyone like you. So... I'm Jod. If we are going to help these people, I need to know what to call you." When the opportunity presents itself, he will offer to shake hands or clasp forearms - he's not sure which the man is more comfortable with, after all.
"Strength, little sister." Rhok gives Hannik a ceremonial bow. "I often dream of Sarkoris. It is good to meet one of its daughters, no matter how dire our circumstances may be."
He straigthens up and looks around. "I am a healer. Let's find those that can be saved, and then get out of here. I am no engineer, but even I know that these creaking noises do not signify anything good."
Jod keeps up a running commentary as he gingerly works his way toward the groan he heard a bit ago, calling out directions for Sol's fancy lights as necessary. "A little closer to me, yeah. There might be some folks that are out cold. Can't even groan to let us know they are here. OK, that's great - over to my left? That's it. We will need to search. Might find something useful, too." He pauses and checks his gear. "I have my stuff. Does everyone have ... whatever they think they need? We might find some unclaimed weapons and such down here."
"I have what I need, we should get moving, I wouldn't want this to collapse on top of us. Any idea which direction we should head in?"
The group move towards the sounds of groaning, climbing and scrambling through the fallen rocks. There they find the dark-haired woman they saw in the plaza - Sol's acquaintance, Anevia. Her leg is twisted at a strange angle but she seems otherwise unharmed. The fat merchant is nearby, just groggiiy getting sitting up.
And in the dark a man calls hoarsely, seemingly alerted by the sound of approaching voices, "Hello! Who's there!"
Kira will give these three a look over to make sure they are ok.
"It's ok, we are friends. Are you injured?"
Kira looks Anevia over - her leg is clearly broken but, other than looking shocked and in pain, otherwise she looks alright. "Broke it when I fell," she grunts through gritted teeth, muttering thanks as Kira does basic first aid. The merchant seems to be unharmed, though a bit dazed.
Moving out into the dark towards the voice, Kira finds the elf Aravashnial staggering about. He turns towards her, fumbling about with his hands on the rocks, and Kira can see the top half of his face is an open wound surrounded by scorched flesh - his eyes seem to be gone. "Who is it? Who's there?"
Kira will take his hands and guide him to a seated position."Woah, careful. Here sit down. It's Kira, the mysterious Inquisitor. You are safe for the moment."
Jod aids Kira. "My cousin is a healer. Rhok, can you cure her broken leg?"
"Oh. Where are we? I can't see..." He moves his hands gingerly towards his face.
"Hey, no, you've been burned really badly, you can't see a thing and there's ruble everywhere. Sit. Now. Or I will have to hit you. Rhok? I think this guy may need you first."
"Yeah, don't try to touch your face. You're hurt pretty bad. There's nothing to see here, anyway - just a big dark chamber full of rocks."
"Perhaps I've died and have gone to Hell, and my punishment is to spend eternity with a bossy inquisitor," mutters Aravashnial snidely. "Odd, I didn't think I was that evil." He lowers his hands. "In a big dark chamber? I remember the Storm King. I was hit in the face - some fire from his whip, I think. Then I was falling, floating... So we are underground? These must be the tunnels and chambers under the city. I've heard about them, but never been here." He pauses. "What happened to Terendelev?"
"Nevermind where we are, how do we get out of here?" grumbles the merchant, who seems to have recovered his wits and made his way over. "And who are you people? I am Horgus Gwerm," he declares, as if everyone else should have heard of him.
Jod aids Kira. "My cousin is a healer. Rhok, can you cure her broken leg?"
"Yes, I should think so. Let me see... Hmmm." Rhok makes a small grimace. "Unfortunately, your leg is quite badly mangled. While I can take the pain away from the fractures, I can't quite restore it to full functionality. More powerful magic is needed for that. Until then, you'll have to walk with a crutch, I'm afraid." Rhok casts a healing formula on the prone woman before helping her sit up.
He moves on to the blinded wizard. "Damn. You're lucky to have kept your head on your shoulders. That'll be one hell of an impressive scar. Again, more powerful magic is needed to restore your sight. We'll be your guides until then. He casts another healing spell on the elf to close up the wounds on his face.
Finally, he turns to the dazed merchant. "How are you feeling?", he asks.
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Sol helps Kira as much as he can with the Anevia, but he is clumsy and nearly useless. He stays with the dark-haired woman when Kira moves on, but finds he doesn't have much to offer in the way of conversation.
"Perhaps I've died and have gone to Hell, and my punishment is to spend eternity with a bossy inquisitor," mutters Aravashnial snidely. "Odd, I didn't think I was that evil." He lowers his hands. "In a big dark chamber? I remember the Storm King. I was hit in the face - some fire from his whip, I think. Then I was falling, floating... So we are underground? These must be the tunnels and chambers under the city. I've heard about them, but never been here." He pauses. "What happened to Terendelev?"
"Nevermind where we are, how do we get out of here?" grumbles the merchant, who seems to have recovered his wits and made his way over. "And who are you people? I am Horgus Gwerm," he declares, as if everyone else should have heard of him.
He's almost relieved that Aravashnial's question gives him a purpose for speaking. Although he'd normally never dream of speaking to the mage, he seizes on the question. "Terendelev is dead, I think. He looked awfully torn up when he hit the ground. He saved us instead of defending himself."
The wounded seem to have plenty of help, so Jod starts poking around looking for gear that they might be able to use. "Sol, was it? Can you direct your lights over to this area? Thanks!"
He pauses, "Who is Terendelev?"
"Terendelev is dead, I think. He looked awfully torn up when he hit the ground. He saved us instead of defending himself."
He pauses, "Who is Terendelev?"
"The dragon," says Horgus flatly. "Not too sure why she sacrificed her life to save you, though, Aravashnial. So, which of us do you consider to be a cultist now?"
"Let's not start on this again, Horgus," groans Anevia, "Your name was cleared."
"After being investigated by your wife and the rest of the Eagle Watch, Anevia. My reputation is important to me - I am a businessman. I have worked for years to ensure I am well-known among my peers for my honesty and trustworthiness. Many might consider there to be no smoke without fire. His wild, unsubtantited accusations could have ruined me."
"Maybe we should just concentrate on getting out of here," mutters Aravashnial tersely.
Meanwhile, as the argument progresses, Jod notices a few flat objects, about the size of a human hand scattered about on the floor. They shine like mother-of-pearl in the lights. He also spots a large shadowy form, like a crouching beast, standing still and unmoving further across the cavern.