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Thrall kneels before the Queen. He's not the one to give devotion just because of an artificial rank, but rather to the ones who earn it. The fact that the Queen is so quickly here, taking care of the situation, inspires confidence in Thrall. Her presence only confirms it - she's a born ruler, and good at it.
The orc in front of her has massive bulk, looking even bigger due to his full plate. Usually, a knight leans on his sword while kneeling, but Thrall's is so huge that he's had to set it aside. The few pieces of flesh that the armour leaves exposed show a greyish green colour characteristic of his mixed heritage. It's clear he's been cleaning his armour in preparation of his audience with the Queen, but some blood stains still remain.
"Yes, Majesty. My platoon was assigned to the mission as a distraction, and we were fighting some cultist while the Heroes of Kenabres entered the building. Then I felt like the time stopped. A golden light came from the building and bathed me, and the figure of an armoured lady came to me and smiled. She was to grant me a boon, she said, and certainly I felt powerful, burning with blue flames and filled with Divine wrath. I saw the past, I was shown the story of Kenabres from the beginning up till now, and how Terendelev played its part."
He stops for just a second then goes on. "Time resumed again and a terrible, fiendish scream could be heard all over the battlefield. The fight was active again, and I could feel the powerful boon of the Lady. I've always been a faithful of the Lord in Iron, but this was something different. Thanks to these gifts, I was able to create a gap for my platoon and we reached one of the commanding staff groups." As he relates this part, he revives the action inside him. "They were defending one of the Lieutenants, but I finally got to him and split him in two. I felt the strength of the silver dragon in me, and my sword cut through metal, flesh and bone alike. His corpse fell to the ground and his hand opened, revealing a silver scale. This one." He shows the scale on the palm of his hand, offering it to the Queen.
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Taedric cocks his head, clearly looking back at the door, then takes a breath. Knave will be fine on his own for a moment. He knows not to eat the livestock... or horses... or townsfolk... The gnome turns his attention back to the assembly, his mind trying to cope with recent events in a positive way, Came home to see my mother, and now I'm standing before a Queen... and then he takes a deep breath to steady himself, quickly drawing upon his natural feygift to clean himself and his equipment.
The blue-skinned gnome stretches himself up to his full height, revealing a himself to be massive, by gnomish-standards at least - almost looking dwarven if not for the lack of beard... and pale-blue skin... and wild indigo hair. Now magically polished, his breastplate shines almost as brightly as the gnome's silver eyes.
He bows, and as he speaks, etiquette lessons drilled into him over the first twenty-five years of his life take over, "I am the wayward, one might say prodigal, son of Kenabres. My father fought in the Fourth, and was there when Terendelev fought - and defeated the Storm King." He pauses, for a moment, his expression darkening before he simply says, "I was .... away from home for a decade, living a ... different life," ...one that I must atone for..., "before I heard the music of Shelyn, and in her song, realized that I needed to return."
"I arrived in town scarcely hours before the attack, and was making my way towards my mother's home when it happened. We - that is, Knave and myself - started rushing toward the commotion. When the quake hit, a building fell on us - I thought we were dead, but, thank the Rose, we fell through the ground into a cellar. It took hours for us to dig ourselves out, the whole time we could hear the screams of people being attacked - until, finally, we emerged to see this nightmare made real. Everything after that is a bit of a blur - striking in the shadows against undead and cultists, trying to save townsfolk and bring them to safety - which I also had to find. We stayed with the small pack of survivors we'd managed to rescue for a few days, unwilling to leave them behind while I tried to find the remaining defenders. It was during those explorations that I came across my mother's home, and it was there that I found this," he holds up the scale, "which I recognized as belonging to my father... or, something that he used to say was for me, when the time was right. But, it was different now, changed, somehow .... awake, I guess... and I could feel a power within it that wasn't there when I played with it as a child." ...or maybe it's me that's changed, and I wasn't ready for it before, like the rest of my birthright...
He shakes his head at the bittersweet memories, forcing himself to have a light tone, "In any event, to the specific question of the wardstone - we'd joined up with the others by then. They asked Knave and me to scout around - to try to provide warning of attacks from the flanks while the main group went forward. Let's just say that didn't work out well - we were being swarmed by undead and demons - and it was then, covered in blood and ichor that I heard a sound, a single beautiful note in the cacophony of combat and pain and suffering... the note grew louder, resonating within me, reverberating in my chest... and in that one moment, everything stopped save for the song - the combination of that one note, my heartbeat, my breath, Knave's low growl -- and I could swear that I heard Shelyn herself singing - and suddenly, I began to glow, my lance crackling with silver energy, and Knave and I moved as one, striking together in perfect harmony..."
He smiles at the memory, not realizing he's doing so, then adds, "..and then, the moment was over, and the sounds of the real world, the combat, the pain, the screams returned. Except... that note, that song, was still in me, and I could let it out, using the beautiful music to wash away the noise and the ugliness. Even with the new gift, the fight was terrible, downright ugly, but I survived - and got two other scout patrols to safety, too. And then I collapsed in my saddle and slept for two days straight, experiencing a whole host of fragmented visions and fever dreams... but, no offense, milady, but I believe those are mine alone."
He pauses, his confidence gone for the briefest of moments as he asks, "I hope, milady, that sufficiently answers your question?"
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Sapphiria is a slightly taller than average human woman who looks bright and upbeat in attitude, in spite of the recent carnage and devastation. For the audience with the Queen her traveling gear, mostly drab gray and light blue clothing consisting of a cotton blouse and skirt with stockings and ankle-high leather trompers, has been cleaned and made presentable. Her hair is blonde, just past her shoulders and brushed out, her eyes blue and alert. She has a sort of resting-smile that she naturally falls into and she seems attentive to the guards, courtiers, and other assorted people, rather than treating them simply as background set dressing for the court. Of course she does not carry her weapons or her baldric in the presence of the Queen, having handed to one of the guards a large darkwood shield embossed with a bronze symbol of Sarenrae on the front and a scabbarded falcata with a worn handle.
She curtsies deeply to the Queen and then places a hand over her throat and taps it twice. She opens her mouth but no sound comes out, only a breathy sigh.
Then she puts her arms down to her sides and lowers her head, like a performer preparing on stage. Then she looks up, her face a mask of confusion and concern, as she points off at some unseen horizon. She gestures as if she is looking at some invisible person standing next to her, shrugging, then pointing again, then lifting her hands and spreading them as if to indicate something or someone large. Her face becomes alarmed, eyebrows up and mouth in a small o-shape, then she turns and gestures as if waving for people to run past her to cover. She draws her nonexistent sword and stands her ground, swinging and hacking, then pauses and squints, shielding her eyes as she looks off into the imaginary sky. She raises her hands and links them at the thumb joins in the fashion of making a pantomime of a winged creature, shows it flapping its wings and circling and then suddenly drawing its wings in and falling from the sky.
As the winged creature falls out of the sky, confusion washes across her face, brows furrowed, mouth turned to a slight frown, eyes semi-squinted, then her head snaps up and her hands come up to either side, palms open and facing out, like confronting a great surprise. She twists her head side to side, her hair flailing about, then falls to her hands and knees. Pushing herself up onto one knee, then standing slowly, she pantomimes picking up a weapon and then strikes a heroic pose (in spite of their being no wind to blow her hair as she stares into the nonexistant distance).
Then she collapses back into a more "normal" stance and curtsies again to the Queen.
I always thought she'd be older...
As these three worthies step forward to declaim, and in one case 'perform', the events of their recent 'ascension' a smaller, slighter, even childish figure edges back, almost into the audience. Grubby, he looks (and ) as if the last bath he had was a fall in the nearest natural body of water & that couldn't have happened more recently than last spring*. No more than three stone (at most), the boy nervously casts about when he realizes all but most importantly her attention is now squarely upon him. Until properly bathed, it would be impossible to say either his complexion, or even his hair color.
"Ck-khahem!" He coughs into his left hand, inadvertently curled into a loose fist. Features brightening as though with revelation, he digs among the various tied-down scraps & knotted cast-offs that form his garb. "Oh! Yer be wantin' then!" He pulls out another scale, seeming match to those presented by the heroes before him. "I was just lookin' fer some sergent 'r' somesech ta deliver it to, mehbee a bit meal 'r' sommat fer me trouble..." His voice trails off as Galfrey's demeanor subtly suggests she is unamused by his mummery.
"ir kent nisht bashuldikn a iungerman far treyng." He mumbles sotto-vocce as his entire stance, demeanor & even attitude shifts, leaving only uncertainty as if what you saw before was simply a mask, a character in a play.
A casual jerk of his head towards the Gnome, the priest & the woman, " heroes."
"I'm not."
Stretching, broadly, he continues, "I'm one of those fellows you don't talk about." Eyes flicking from face, to face, to face, all across the assemblage, "Things happened, mostly bad. I survived. Honestly, not shure how, or why. az s 'shoyn gesheenish a plats fun shpet." He trails off, musing.
"That's been happening a great deal of late."
Thrall kneels before the Queen.
Queen Galfrey held up her hand.
”No, no Sir Thrall; we are not at court and strictly speaking, I was never here.” She looked around. ”I hope you understand.”Still, let us sit at leisure while you tell us your tale.”
She guided you into a side chamber where an old beaten up table that had clearly been used as a barricade at one point has been set up again, with chairs, a platter of food and bottles of wine suitable for a court function had been set up.
He shows the scale on the palm of his hand, offering it to the Queen.
The queen held up her hand.
”No Sir Thrall, I am certain that that scale, from the Silver Dragon Terendelev, was meant to be in your possession.”
The queen smiled at Sapphira’s performance.
”I believe I followed most of that.” She commented.
I. Speak. Gesture. She signed to Sapphira.
"Oh! Yer be wantin' this then!"
Again, the queen put her hand up.
”No young Grey. That scale came to your hand for a purpose. A Destiny if you will.A casual jerk of his head towards the Gnome, the priest & the woman, "They're heroes." "I'm not."
Queen Galfrey smiled gently.
”Young man, I am in a position where I have seen the greatest of heroes, as well as the most craven of traitors.” She said intently. ”You may not be able to see it, but for eyes that can see, you ALL blaze forth with a blue-white radiance; you hold the greatest of Good within you, I swear it is true.”
She hesitated a moment.
"But, you understand the implications of what has happend, I’m sure—the wardstones are all gone, but Iomedae has seen fit that YOU will be their replacement.
"I can think of no other reason that would explain why their power would have settled in your bodies and souls and didn’t merely fade into the ether.
_
"The demons will regroup and reorganize—we can trust their inherent chaos to make this period of regrouping longer than it otherwise would take, but we shouldn’t underestimate them. They’ll be back soon enough. Already I’ve had reports from along the front lines that small groups of demons are attacking fortifications and settlements along the southern border."
_
She leaned forward, looking intense.
"But what intrigues me most is that as our fiendish enemies are starting to mass in the southern reaches along the Riftshadow within the Worldwound, they have left several of their northern lairs relatively unprotected.
"In particular, the fiend Aponavicius has taken the bulk of her army from Drezen, leaving it only moderately protected as she joins with the Storm King in Iz to, no doubt, plot greater attacks on larger targets like Nerosyan, Karcau, and beyond."
_
She straightened up.
"The time is right to strike into their territory. Drezen was the first of our cities to fall after the First Crusade, and we lost more than our kin and our pride that day. We lost the Sword of Valor, a magical banner carried by the Inheritor herself during the Shining Crusade.
"If Drezen could be retaken—if the Sword of Valor could once again be held by the crusade... well, I trust I don’t need to explain how well that would affect morale.
_
"But with the attacks along the border, I cannot spare many to lead an assault on Drezen. And even if I could, a large army attacking the city would only draw Aponavicius back to defend the place.
"The obvious tactic is to send in a group of capable heroes with a modest but well-trained army to strike now, while the proverbial iron is hot. And this is why I have already done so."
_
"I have been seeking out those who have suddenly become more powerful, more heroic and more inspiring that were not present at the final destruction of the Wardstone fragment; namely yourselves. By sending you along with the rest of the Paladin army, we gain your power and abilities to aid in the assault against Drezen; for we need every sword arm, every arrow and every spell we can send."
_
She leaned forward.
"If we can retake Drezen and reclaim the Sword of Valor, not only will you silence the whispering of fools who would brand you traitors for destroying the wardstone, but more importantly, you would bolster the entire war effort with your heroism. And I fear we need all the bolstering we can get!"
"In brief; I have detailed three companies of armored knights, about a hundred crusaders in each, plus the Commanders detail, auxilliary forces like scouts, wagoneers and so on, perhaps a bit more than four hundred all told." She rattled off.
Then she smiled.
"Technically they would be called a Battalion; but I think you'll find that facing the foes you are they will be punching far above their weight class. I have no problem calling them an Army."
-
"Under Commander Irabeth, you will be part of the Command structure, leading troops where needed and forming a small but powerful unit for special actions needing something more powerful than a lance of knights."
-
"To give you a basic overview of Citadel Drezen, I can tell you that it was built during the First Mendevian Crusade as a strategic foothold inside the Worldwound.
"Dwarves chiseled it from of a rocky hill near the source of the Sellen River.
"And it held for well over a decade, withstanding almost constant war before a traitor turned the Sword of Valor over to the demons.
"We never found out who it was, but with the Sword of Valor’s protection gone, the demons overwhelmed Drezen in a night.”
She shook her head.
"As for the Sword of Valor, despite the name, it’s not a sword. It’s a battle standard—an artifact once used by Iomedae herself during the Shining Crusade.
"The church loaned the banner to the First Mendevian Crusade and allowed it to hang in Drezen, where it bolstered crusader morale and, perhaps more importantly, warded against demonic attacks, deceptions, and even teleportation.
“It is almost certainly still somewhere inside Citadel Drezen. At one point, it was held in a special vault, but our divinations have only revealed that the banner remains in the Citadel somewhere. Alas, the same wards that protect it against demons also hamper divination attempts—but we know it’s still in there, likely kept as a trophy.”
"The team that rescued the Citadel and dealt with the Wardstone fragment has already travelled through the worldwound with the Knights of Kenabres by secret paths, and is currently laying seige to the fortress itself.
"I will be sending you by a special transportation spell, as time is short and I need you there by today.
"Now, there is a little time before the ceremony, do you have any questions of me?" She asked.
Sapphiria gestures slowly.
<Drezen - dwarf-work - secret entrances?>
She sticks to simple words and spells out words as necessary with her hands so that the Queen can follow.
Taedric says, "I suppose if it's a trophy we needn't worry about the Sword-banner being disguised in any way. So, that's good." He looks up at the Queen and then nods as he sees Sapphiria's movements, "I was going to ask the same thing, actually. In fact, I was wondering if we'd have some sort of map, given that we once held it? Ideally, the walls will be wide enough that I can bring Knave in with us - with a map we could maybe plan for the best possible route."
Thrall negates with his head in response to the Queen's question. He's ready to go. After all, there's a group there, already, so they should know what's going on and will probably give Thrall a briefing.
"I am ready, Your Majesty."
Attentive both to their host's words & the others inquiries, Grey nods. Perhaps agreement, perhaps in query.
<Drezen - dwarf-work - secret entrances?>
The queen shook her head.
"If there were any, we have no records here of where they might be."Bear in mind that at the time it was betrayed and overrun, Drezen had not yet been fully completed. When you are on scene, hopefully you can get more information on ways and means to effect entry."
"In fact, I was wondering if we'd have some sort of map, given that we once held it? Ideally, the walls will be wide enough that I can bring Knave in with us - with a map we could maybe plan for the best possible route."
Queen Galfrey shook her head.
"What maps that we have are with the command team of the Knights of Kenabres. The fortress of Drezen is said to be very impressive; It is likely wide enough most everywhere to bring your 'Knave' with you."
"I am ready, Your Majesty."
The queen nodded and rose.
"Very well then. Everything should be in readiness now, come this way."
Queen Galfrey led you down several corridors to the Chapel of Iomedae. It is still damaged, but the debris has been hauled away and the walls washed of the filth that had been scrawled there.
Armored knights of the Crusader armies lined the walls at parade rest. There was a large Magic Circle inscribed into the floor in the middle of the chamber. The queen gestured for you to enter.
The Queen stepped forward and raised her hands.
"CRUSADERS! YOU HAVE HEARD OF THE HEROES OF KENABRES AND THEIR DEEDS TO LIBERATE THE CITY!
"HERE WE HAVE FOUR MORE TO ADD TO THE RANKS OF HEROES OF KENABRES!"
(The crusaders shout their approval.)
"IN RECOGNITION OF THEIR SUCCESS AND IN HONOR OF THEIR TRIUMPH, WE AWARD THEM THE RANK AND HONORS..."
She paused to sweep her sword from her scabbard.
"...OF KNIGHTS OF THE FIFTH CRUSADE!" She proclaimed.
(The crusaders cheer!)
One by one, she directed you all to kneel before her.
She took her sword and tapped you on each shoulder and then the top of your head.
Then she draped a silver chain with a jeweled medallion (a shield shape the size of your hand) around your shoulders.
The symbol is of a silver dragon scale with the icon of Iomedae in the upper left and the hammer of Torag in the upper right.
Then she drew you to your feet again, proclaiming; "RISE, SIR _______!" To the wild acclaim of the crusaders present.
Sheathing her sword, she approached you again.
"Now. I have arranged this transport circle to take you directly to where the Knights of Kenabres are encamped. If you have any last minute arrangements, take care of them now and then enter the Circle."
You note that several priests and wizards have started lighting incense
and blue candles around the circle.
Thrall steps into the circle and closes his eyes, ready for the magic to work but still secretly afraid that something goes wrong. He can't stop thinking about how far has he reached, and how many things more are to come.
Taedric bows his head, his mind racing, Father would have been so proud to see this... and mother... it's what she spent 30 years pushing me toward, even while pushing me away... He straightens up after the medallion is placed, and feels strange - as if the emotion of the ceremony, and its righteousness was washing away some of the stains of his past. It's been a long time since I was called 'Sir Taedric', and this time, at least I know I've been knighted in service of a true cause.. unlike last time... when, really, it was probably all a joke to Nastir... He takes a deep breath and releases some of that darkness, then simply says, "Thank you, milady."
The gnome raises his head and calls out in Sylvan, "Knave, it's time." With that, a large wolf stands from its place in the shadows, its fur almost as dark, save for some grey patches, including a diamond-shape over one eye, giving it the appearance of being masked. The beast is easily as large as any of the horses, and better equipped than most, its mail barding shining in the light. The wolf stops and looks at everything, a spark of intelligence in its eyes, before it reaches the gnome, who jumps and swings a leg over the saddle with a practiced motion before the wolf even stops moving. "Into the circle.", he says, and the wolf turns its head to look at him, then nods, and steps forward. Taedric reaches over and draws the lance from its sheath and says, "We're ready. And, if we can't all go at once, then we volunteer to serve as vanguard."
Sapphiria is next up, giving a salute to the assembled crowd before she, too, steps into the circle to join her new crusader knight companions.
Mandevs...
Scratching his neck ruefully at the others obvious delight at their enfranchisement, Grey leads forth a pack canine as clearly in need of grooming as he. "kum, soggi." As the two observe the bounds of the Circle, Grey perfunctorily swings himself up between the panniers before prodding his mount forward.
”The air shifts . . . Something is about to happen . . . “
There is barely enough room for all of you as well as your mounts and duffel bags, but you fit in... barely.
Queen Galfrey stepped back as the ceremony got underway. Silver motes of blue white fire traced the Magic Circles around you.
"Normally this would be impossible, with the rift widening as it is." She sotto voced to you. "But fortunately we have a beacon of holy power to guide on. The bearer of the holy sword, Radiance."
As the Knights of Kenabres get ready, everyone is startled when the sword Radiance explodes into eye searing light!
Queen Galfrey salutes you, all the crusaders about follow her lead.
"Gods be with you!" She said.
The runes snap to glowing light, one after another, until with a shower of blue white sparks, you are all WRENCHED into a very different place.
The bright flare from Radiance suddenly amidst their party momentarily caused his heart to clench. Whatever was causing that holy blade to shine so couldn't be good. He held aloft his holy Symbol of Sarenrae ready to unleash holy fire on what dark trick the demons were trying now...Only to blink at a small group of folk and their mounts who suddenly appeared in their midst.
Taedric, as soon as he's shifted in place, spins about with his lance in hand. "Knave, do you smell any demonspawn?", he asks while he scans, looking for danger. His mind starts catching up and identifying the people around him, and he laughs, though his guard remains raised as he says tentatively, "I believe we may be your reinforcements...?"
take yo. iz di kshya vos mir zol hobn gefregt.
Inexplicably, the very grubby boy on the equally grubby dog starts giggling maniacally.
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Suddenly appearing before Arthas and company, in a shower of blue white sparks, are two large wolves, a massively muscled half-orc, a cute girl and a couple of children. They are strangely clean and well fed looking.
Suddenly, the new heroes are standing on a flat surface of broken and decayed flagstones at night. The air temperature is suddenly chill enough for frost to form when they exhale. The sour gritty taste of the Abyss as well as the faint indescribable scent of undeath assault their senses.
Confronting them are gaunt and filthy figures, one holding a blazing sword. And you realize that you are being bathed in thin lunar light. Almost unwillingly you turn your eyes up to the sky, where the awful sight of the astral moon of Groetus hung huge in the sky, its very presence an oppressive weight on your minds.
Thrall opens his eyes and finds himself in front of some other people, suposedly the Heroes of Kenabres. He stays quiet, hoping the classical reaction he's used to after people check he's a half-orc.
An armored blonde woman appears in the shower of golden sparks, and staggers slightly - if the people and horses weren't so tightly-packed together in the circle she probably would've stumbled. Craning her head this way and that, she notes the war-weary onlookers outside the circle and, spotting Kelden, she lifts her shield - a large darkwood heater shield, metal-banded around the edges, with the facing embossed in brass with the unmistakable symbol of Sarenrae.
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He blinked at the strange sight before him turning his gaze just slightly to make sure the others noticed the entrance and his mind hadnt just went. They had all been under a lot of stress recently it wouldnt have surprised him.
"None of them are evil are they Sir Arthas?"
He whispered to the paladin even as he slowly let go of his holy symbol.
"Aid is always welcome against the darkness, They had set up a bit of an ambush here, but we dont have time to tarry, in half an hour every undead monster slain on the fields here will rise, unless we destroy the anchor point hidden somewhere here."
He informed the newcomers. He mentally kept saying the same little prayer over and over to Sarenrae that this folks were gold folks and not some crazy trick. There had been a lot of those recently. Also something Kankai had mentioned when she was rescued tickled in his mind. She had seen a small robed figure with the leader of the Schir. Small like a gnome or halfling. . .
He paused once more peering at the two 'children' while he fiddled with and filled the magical battleaspergillium they had gotten from Nabassu at the temple. He felt...strange sliding the scimitar away, but against the undead, this would undoubtedly be more effective.
"I am Kelden, cleric of the Dawnflower, Welcome to Drezen."
He finished and turned to head deeper into the cemetery They had to find the source of this undead scourge.
The blonde warrior woman is glad for the space as people start to spread out. She nods to Kelden and when he says dawnflower she bows her head and closes her eyes, touches her open fingers to her lips and then her forehead, and then looks back up to him. She gestures with her free hand to take in the rest of the group that appeared, makes a circling motion with one finger held up, then arcs that finger like an arrow traveling through the air and plants it in the middle of the palm of her other hand (which is still in the band for holding her shield). She turns the shield back up and pats the embossed facing with her free hand. Pulling at a leather lanyard around her neck, she pulls a silver holy symbol of Sarenrae out from under her breastplate and holds it forth as well. Then she points at Kelden, points at herself, and clasps her hands together as if in friendship or allyship (as best she can with one hand holding a shield, anyway).
At Arthas' warning, almost immediately followed by Radiance's sudden luminance and an unmistakable burst of energy that holds the feel of teleportation, Alorah instinctively moves to put her back to the armored warriors with her, her hands igniting with golden flames as she prepares for the demon assault.
As the moment never comes, the newcomers proving to be something far more welcome, though just as unexpected, the sorceress breathes easier, her body language shifting slightly, still wary, but less prepared for immediate violence.
"Her highness' timing never ceases to amaze." the woman says in a rich sonorous voice, emanating genuine mirth.
Even covered in grave dirt, scratches and bits of gore better left investigated, her appearance is one of a subtle yet overwhelming beauty. Her beautifully proportioned figure, reflects the near perfection of what must be celestial lineage, torn clothing displaying flawless tanned skin possessing an unusual irridescent sheen, made even more unusual in the wan unnatural moonlight and Radiance's fierce glow, highlighting tiny draconic like scales at her shoulders, elbows, and the backs of her hands in coppery gold.
Sharp jewel-like eyes reflect a multitude of shifting colors, thier pupils slit vertically, peering from a face devoid of any signs of age, yet still weary, as she studies each of the newcomers.
Dismissing the golden flames in her hands, she runs elegant fingers ending in nails the color of burnished copper, through her thick hair, black as midnight. The action drawing the eye to perhaps her most notable feature, the eerie iridescent blue birthmark in the centre of her forehead, an intricate sequence of swirling runic spirals, the symbol of the Seeker’s Spiral, pulsing softly with gathered power.
The situation upon arrival is clear - timing requires actions, not words. "I'm Thrall" is the Half-orc's brief introduction. "Let's go find this anchor point, shall we? I hate undead." He grabs his sword tight to reaffirm his words and nods, ready to follow the lead.
His fit of giggling finally easing off, the young boy rubs the tears from his eyes as his new-found compatriots make their hello's. Presenting a nugget of cured meat to his long-term boon companion, he indicates the hound should wait without the structure for his return.
A cursory observation of the graveyard notes that one vault seems particularly corrupted—the one you stand before. It is a mausoleum of dwarven style, blocky symbols and engravings, no windows and strong stone doors.
This solid stone building stands at the western end of the graveyard, and seems to be cloaked in rippling shadows even during the day, not that daylight ever gets all that bright in the Worldwound. Come to think of it, you also see that the building stands at the geographic center of the shadow covering the necropolis.
The massive stone front doors to the vault are locked. They are clearly of excellent Dwarven make; bronze or a bronze colored metal and uncorroded despite the age and infernal weather.
Taedric releases his breath, pleased to see it's not some sort of trap. "I am Taedric Starfell, Cavalier of the Sword, sworn to the Eternal Rose. And this is remarkable creature with the harlequin eyes is Knave. He's just learning to understand Common, so don't speak too fast if you have something you'd like him to do. Though it's probably easier to ask me to have him do it."
He then chuckles and says, "I don't think anyone likes undead, Thrall. Or, rather, I should say that liking undead makes you the sort of person that we're probably going to need to stop at some point."
"I guess you're right, yeah" Thrall laughs. "So, we're going in there, ain't we?"
As if in answer to Thralls question, he moved to the door of the crypt. He paused studying almost whispering the words to an simple incantation that let him study the magical effects swirling about the building.
"This crypt is desecrated with an unhallow magical effect, while we are in there and until we can dispell it, our foes will be harder to hit, negative energies will be stronger. My own ability to channel positive energy will be reduced. Summoned creatures will be barred from entering as well."
With a moment to steel himself he gripped his holy symbol before he spoke to his goddess Sarenrae casting a spell causing his Holy Symbol to come ablaze like the light of the son.
He attempted to push open the crypt doors to enter the place determined to stop the undead from becoming a problem.
As this new fellow relays clearly important tactical information, Grey draws out an evil (and surprisingly clean)-looking blade. "So, what yer sayin' is,
'it's bad in there'."
"Right, no fiddle-faddle."
"Yes, bad would be one way to put it, in layman's terms my abilities to weaken, destroy and outright end the threat of the undead monsters within will be severely hampered.So Try not to get struck, bit, or otherwise incapacitated by them."
He offered trying to sound upbeat and not nervous.
Sapphiria moves her holy symbol in a slow circle like a priest consecrating an area, then gestures as if sprinkling holy water and her eyebrows rise in a questioning expression.
"So Try not to get struck, bit, or otherwise incapacitated by them."
Clearly putting effort into not breaking into a smirk at the priest's admonition, Grey replies. ", we've not met before. I'll answer to Grey. I don't let anything strike, bite, or otherwise incapacitate me if I can help it. Tends to shorten my lifespan & I'm short enough as it is."