For several weeks, excitement has been building in Kenabres—Armasse is coming! Traditionally an opportunity for scholars and priests to come together to study the lessons of history from wars past, since Aroden’s death, this holy day has become more about training commoners in weaponry, choosing squires, and ordaining new priests. Over time, Armasse has grown to encompass jousting competitions, mock duels, battle reenactments, and other festival events. In Kenabres, the festival (which takes place on 16 Arodus) is eagerly anticipated, for it provides distractions from the horrors of being on the front line of the war. Smiles on faces normally marred by downcast eyes and furrowed brows do wonders for city morale in the weeks leading up to the event.
Armasse is a citywide celebration, but the majority of the event, including its jousting matches and other entertainments, takes place at Clydwell Plaza, just west of the cathedral.
Armasse officially begins at noon, with the blessing of the festival by Lord Hulrun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathers in Clydwell Plaza, where you are looking forward to finding a decent spot to see the Lord Hulrun give the opening speech.
A Kelish woman, olive skin and short, unkempt black hair, enters the Plaza, following a large, bulky young man. Her attire consists of leather breeches, a simple cloth tunic over which she wears an old chain shirt, and a red cloak, it's hem embroidered with golden thread. A scimitar hangs from her waist, and she carries a battered buckler. From a silver chain around her neck hangs a silver symbol, depicting a winged female figure, her arms outstretched and her raised head surrounded by a fiery halo.
Suryani sweeps her brown eyes over the crowds, a few specks of gold glittering in her irisses. Peculiar, how these people can be so cheerful in such a desolate place. Still, it's hopeful to see such things still exist, even here.
The woman adjusts her backpack that's cutting into her shoulder, and looks towards her brother. "Timeon, are you sure about this? You've never actually fought a demon, and now you want to join this crusade? I have to agree with our parents, that's foolish!"
Aladir slowly makes his way through the square, doing his best to avoid being bumped into by all of the people around. Having sold all of the jerky he had brought with him, he is now simply enjoying the festivities...in his own way, of course. He doesn't seem interested in all the partying and celebrating himself, though watching other people enjoy themselves is a source of great amusement.
A brown cloak is draped over his shoulder, the heat of Arodus beating down on all those gathered despite their position in northern Avistan. It hadn't taken long for the sun to warm him beyond the point of needing the extra garment. If he wasn't trying to be sneaky, there was really no need for it, anyway.
His sensitive ears pick up the sound of a young Keleshite woman speaking to a larger man named Timeon, apparently her brother from the direction of their conversation.
His attention wasn't on them for long, though; he wasn't just keeping an eye out on all the party-goers for no reason. He was also keeping his senses aware in case any pickpockets decided to try and make a mark of him. A human saying he'd heard was that it takes a thief to catch a thief...and he was certain intending to see the truth of that through.
Kart wandered through the festival air in a foul mood. It seemed that many of the Crusader recruitment offices were closed for Armasse and that meant a whole week of no one to pester to cause his papers to move forward. Kart didn't much like the idea of Armasse anyhow, What kind of person requires a holiday to learn to fight. It seemed silly. In Kart's own village every man, woman and child already knew what to do when demon's or their forces attacked. I suppose in places like this the walls are generally enough to keep an attack at bay.
The young Kellid kept himself out of the way of the people in their garish and occasionally gaudy festival clothes. He felt drab and uncouth next to them with his leather jerkin over his long sleeved green tunic. The symbols of his people and his profession glittered at his wrists and throat, made of gold and silver. Kart had resigned himself to suffering through this celebration. Perhaps if he distinguished himself in one of the competitions or duels he could manage to stop the receruiters from losing his paperwork.
Archery isn't my forte, but I'm better than many, and father taught me that draw that stretches the bow. I'd likely be better in the duels though, I wonder if I can use my own weapon. I'd be much worse with something different than my own claymo-
His thoughts were interrupted as he bumped into a bulky young man followed by his sister. "My apologies sir, I didn't intend to hit you, I was just lost in my own worries." Kart extended his hand, his strange bracers obvious against his red skin. "Kart Vorlesh, God-Caller of the Widowknife Tribe."
The main events for Armasse were still awhile away, but there were other festivities that had already started. Rows upon rows of merchant tents were open selling funnel cakes, glo-candies and magically chilled sorbets. Fie was bounding through these tents, dashing from one to another and surrounded by a ring of children as she bought candy for them.
Over here! Let's try some of these! She eventually emptied her pockets of sweets to the younglings and sent them scampering away. She walked with a broad smile toward the mercantile area, glancing at the new autumnal colours. Her hands picked out leathers and cloths she couldn't afford, sighing wistfully. The things she could make if she had more gold!
Fie will spend the hour eating far too many sweets and eying trinkets.
Sir Manfred stood cheering the parade of Jousting contestants and envied them mightily. Unfortunately, no knight would risk someone else riding his mount in the dangerous world of jousting, and without a mount of his own he was reduced to the lancing (hitting targets at speed) or the melee contests with the ground pounders.
Since the main events wouldn't take place until after the big Armasse ceremony at noon, he spent his time admiring the mounts the various horse breeders were putting up for sale to the cavalrymen with better means than him.
He stopped at a forge where a couple of dour dwarven smiths were forging a masterwork longsword as a demonstration for the crowd.
In a few minutes, he would go visit the shrine of Iomedae triumphant and then see the noon ceremony...
"Oh, pardon us sir," Suryani apologizes profusely. She then looks the man over for a moment, and asks him, "Are you here to join the crusade as well? If you don't mind, would you have a talk with my brother here? Because for some reason, he's insisting on getting himself killed in this god-forsaken place," the woman says, throwing a mild glare at her brother.
"Oh dear, where are my manners," she adds after a moment. "I'm Suryani, and this is my brother, Timeon, who's being a stubborn fool at the moment."
"I am indeed here to join the Crusades." And have been trying for a week now. Kart thought, keeping the sneer from his face. "It is wonderful to meet you Suryani and Timeon." Kart tasted the foreign names as he carefully pronounced them. So flowery. He considered his answer before beginning to speak to Timeon. A God-Caller is a voice of wisdom for his tribe. He must speak only with consideration.
"Timeon, for what reason do you wish to join the Crusades?" He asked carefully. "My reason is simple. My people were driven from their homes and my society was almost destroyed entirely. I wish to rectify this. I wish to drive the demons from the lands of my people and to bring the land of Sarkoris back from the ashes, greater than it ever was before."
"Hush now little sis, I'll be fine, don't you worry about me," the big man smiles as he shakes Kart's hand. "I'm here to rid the world of these foul creations, offcourse."
Rolling her eyes, Suryani throws her hands up in the air, huffing, "You are just impossible, I give up! You're not some kind of hero, Timeon, up until a week ago you'd never even been out of Taldor!"
"Then I see no reason he is acting foolish." Kart says, his smile widening. "After all, I'm quite ready to help rid the world of them as well, and the Crusaders will not place your brother in any danger until they believe him ready to handle it." Kart turned a bit toward Suryani. "I for one look forward to calling him my brother. What of you Suryani? What are your plans within Kenabres?"
"Kenabres welcomes stout hearts, and few are born with a sword in hand." The voice belongs to an athletic young woman in a gleaming chainshirt. "Pardon my intrusion,but I couldn't help overhearing. Gianetta Hessex, at your service." she bows deeply, the wide smile never leaving her face.
Suryani blinks for a moment, then looks Kart up and down. This man doesn't really strike me as a crusader, but I suppose it takes all kinds. "I'm only here to escort my brother, I'm leaving again tomorrow, wether or not he's coming along," she speaks up louder, to make sure her brother heard her.
"Anyway, do you know exactly what this festival is all about? I have to say I wasn't expecting people to be quite so... cheerful around here," Suryani says as she looks around the Plaza with a slightly puzzled look.
"Oh, good morning," Suryani says to Gianetta. "I'm Suryani, pleased to meet you. Are you from around here? she asks. Kart notices that the young woman didn't bother to introduce her brother this time around, obviously miffed at this stubbornness.
"Kenabres has been my home of late, my parents made the pilgrimmage to Mendev to chronicle the deeds of the assembled crusaders. I was born on the Crusader's Road." Gianetta beams.
"Armasse is to keep us from forgetting the lessons of the past. To pass down tactics and lessons from old battles so that they may not be lost. If things are a little raucous, well...you can't fault folk for blowing off steam." She looks to Kart Vorlesh and adds, "Sarkoris knows, the rest must learn."
"Yes." Kart says, his eyes a little downcast. "Sarkoris certainly knows." His eyes rest on the symbol for the god of his tribe, dishonored since the witch had opened the door to the Abyss.
"My apologies Gianetta. I am Kart Vorlesh, a God-Caller of the Widowknife Tribe. A pleasure to meet you. This is Timeon, whom I have just had the pleasure of meeting myself." Kart forced a smile and offered his hand to shake. "I understand that Armasse is a day of learning for the common folk but... do you ever wonder if so many not knowing their place during a problem would perhaps be detrimental to the safety of the city as a whole?" The dusky kellid casts his gaze about, settling several times on people in fine clothes who seemed out of shape or lazy. "I've had an assigned duty in case my village was attacked ever since I was large enough to carry water to the men."
Aladir continues making his way through the crowds that are packing Kenabres for the celebration of Armasse, though he pauses when he hears the discussion about the meaning of the holiday.
"A day of learning? Hmph..perhaps long ago, when Aroden still lived. Now the only people who remember it for what it is are the followers of Iomedae. Pretty much everyone else treats it as an excuse to get drunk and lose their minds for a week."
Gianetta shakes Kart's offered hand, her grip suprisingly strong, "There are just as many guards on the wall during Armasse as any other time of year, no one forgets where we are."
Fie, striding by, pauses and thrusts a handful of slightly blue-glowing candies at Aladir. Wait until you see the tournies! Don't be so melodramatic, we rarely have cause to celebrate here! Here, have a candy.
As you push forward so you can be near the podium where Lord Hulrun will open the festival in thirty minutes, you see crusaders, clerics and mercenaries from all over the campaign represented in bright colors displaying their orders, as they march into Clydwell Plaza and setup their banners.
Among them you can easily spot the Everbright Crusaders, staying well away from the alcohol and gambling stands, as well as the Order of the Fire Lance, the Order of the Sunrise Sword and finally the Eagle Watch. As you watch everyone around you, you start to notice various crusaders giving the Eagle Watch a wide berth, but not out of respect.
You can also see a single banner proclaiming the Riftwardens, but no one stands vigil by the standard. Rumors have been circulating for years that a small group existed in Kenabras, and whispers have started like wild fire at the appearance of the banner!
Fie tries to push to the front of the crowd near the Rifwarden flag, bouncing on her heels to try and get a look and wondering aloud. Huh, no one there? What's going on with that?
Suryani looks around eagerly, curious to see all the sights. She's hardly ever seen so many crusaders and soldiers in one place before, and she's quite excited, even if she doesn't want to show it. "Riftwardens? I've heard of them before, who are they?"
Suryani tries to find out a little more about these Riftwardens from the crowds.
His curiosity getting the better of him, Aladir follows Fie and Suryani to the Riftwarden banner, looking up at it curiously. He decides he wants to know more, as well, finding the nearest passers-by so he can inquire about the Riftwardens of them.
Kart takes the offered candy and looks at it with trepidation before putting it in his mouth. He immediately yelps and jumps. "It shocked me! Are these magical candies? Why in the world would one use the god's magic on magical candies?" The big man considers, his jaw working. "Though I suppose they are enjoyable after the immediate shock. A bit like raspberries." He turns to watch the orders go by.
"Never heard of them." Kart seems uninterested, scanning the ranks of the knights. "I'm more curious as to why that Order of knights is singled out. Are they special? Have they done something wrong?" Kart knows his people skills are less than stellar, so as much as he'd like to know he keeps his own counsel when it comes to asking the crowds.
He scans the people he now keeps counsel with, his eyes darting over them. Timeon seems a fine sort, though from his sister's comments perhaps in need of some training. The crusader, Hessex, is obviously an Iomedaen. Pretty voice too... pretty quite a lot actually. That elven woman has so much hair it's shocking. I would think perhaps an elven thing but the man doesn't... perhaps it's cultural.
"I've never met an elf before. Is it true that your people live hundreds of years?"
Know Local to see why the Eagle Watch crusaders are given a berth.
Taking his place among the onlookers, Sir Manfred wondered at the lack of personnel at the Riftwardens banner; and what was the deal with the other knights avoiding the Eagle Watch? This was very strange. But the ceremony was about to start and he was eager to see the celebrant...
"The Riftwardens? An order of wizards I believe, tasked with closing dangerous planar gates. A topic of great interest at the Worldwound."
Aladir turns his attention to Kart at the inquiry. "Never met an elf before? That's hard to believe...my people are spread pretty far. But, yes, it's certainly true that we tend to be very long-lived. I am 124 years old, myself." he answers.
At Gianetta's theory, Aladir again stares at the banner thoughtfully. "If you're right about the Riftwardens, it seems very strange that there would be no one by their banner. Closing the Worldwound has been the ultimate goal of every crusade that has ever been launched. Maybe the locals know something we don't know?"
"I've never met an elf before. Is it true that your people live hundreds of years?"
Hundreds? Pft. We live for thousands! I remember the Starfall.
She flashes him a cheeky smile and laughs. Well, not really. But we do tend to live longer lives. My family's been here at the border since the Worldwound first opened. Military bred we are! Ooh-rah!
Just before noon, an elf in robes holding onto a quarterstaff walks over to the Riftwarden banner and posts himself next to it, as if he was in charge of the banner. While he has white hair, you think that it is his natural color rather than a sign of old age.
Lord Hulrun, the aged Inquisitor, steps up to the dais where the opening ceremonies are about to begin. He is clad in shining and resplendent armor. He clears his throat, and the crowd quiets down. Just as he is about to speak, a bright light shone from the west, as if the sun were rising from the wrong direction. Hulrun’s shadow fell huge and distorted across the cathedral’s facade. A moment later, the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air and earth, along with a violent tremor. To the west, the fortress known as the Kite—the location of Kenabres’s wardstone—had vanished. In its place, a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning, and smoke erupted into the heavens.
A moment later, a powerful roar accompanied a welcome sight rising from the crowd—Kenabres’s greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, who had until that moment been attending the opening ceremony disguised as a human. Above, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A humanoid shape three times the size of any man, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripped a flaming sword and whip. The creature’s identity was immediately obvious: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres!
As the ground continued to shake and disgorge demons into the streets, the dragon and the balor lord clashed above. The fight was over in a few harrowing moments, as the balor cut deep into Terendelev’s body, swooping down to strike the dragon and arresting her charge. A few more blows, and the titanic duo spiraled downward toward the crowd. The sight of the dragon smashing into the facade of the Cathedral of St. Clydwell is one no witness would ever forget. At that moment, a titanic demon erupted at the far end of the plaza, reducing several buildings to ruins as it smashed into this world. The rift it created shot across the plaza, and this time there was no escape—it opened below your feet, angling away into darkness.Even as you fell, the dragon noticed your plight.
Though she saw death standing over her, she seized this final chance to save a few more souls. After she uttered a few arcane words and stretched out a bleeding talon, you felt her magic take hold of you, slowing your plummet into the darkness as if you were feathers falling into a pit. Yet the fall remained as inexorable, and as you drifted downward into the depths, the last thing you saw was the Storm King standing before the ancient silver dragon, his sword lashing out and cleaving full through her neck. As her severed head fell, the rift above you slammed shut, and the light of the world above was gone.
After a few moments, the sounds of rocks clattering, coughing, and moans of pain, as well as the choking smell of dust, become apparent as your senses seem to return, but it remains pitch black. As you feel around in the darkness, you realize that your bodies are covered in dirt and filth.
Suryani looks up at the aged man, curious as to what he was going to say. When the loud crashing explosion engulfed the square, she ducked down her head and closed her eyes in shock.
Time seemed to slow down as the huge dragon took to the sky, and Suryani watched them battle, her mouth hanging agape. She felt as if she was in a dream, only those were usually not plagued with demonic creatures of this kind.
As the dragon came crashing down into the cathedral, she covered her mouth with her hands, and started backing away slowly. The whole square was filled with people screaming, fleeing, and dying, and she wasn't sure if she tripped, or if someone knocked her over, but moments later she was on the ground, trying to crawl away from the approaching rift.
Drifting down slowly into darkness, Suryani felt as if the world opened up to swallow her whole. Now, she's blinking her eyes, thinking for a moment she's gone blind, before she realizes it's just the darkness surrounding her.
"H...hello? Is anyone alive?" Startled at the seemingly booming noise her voice makes in the silence, she lowers it. "Timeon? Are you here?" The woman coughs and crawls to her knees, gripping the silver amulet around her neck and casting a quick incantation on it to shed some light.
The Wardstone! Her hand flying to her sword, Gianetta took a step towards the Kite before the world erupted in chaos. As the crowd of screaming onlookers surged around her like stormy sea, her ears were filled with a dragon's cry. Terendelev was there. The brief flash of hope was eclipsed when she recognized the other figure in the sky. "By the Inheritor..."was all she managed before a panicked vendor bounced off her back and sent her to the ground.
Someone, Timeon she thought, helped pull her to her feet in time to see Terendelev crash into the cathedral. And then she was flying into darkness as the very ground gave way beneath her.
Her eyes opened to nothing. A voice had roused her, "I'm here..."she coughed, turning towards the sudden illumination.
Aladir looked as the white-haired elf moved to stand himself beneath the banner of the Riftwardens, as if standing guard. Before he could sate his curiosity as to who the elf was, though, Lord Hulrun stepped up to the dais, intending to announce the official opening of Armasse.
Before he could speak, though, chaos erupted throughout the plaza. There was too much to see, too much noise and too much running and shouting, to be fully aware of everything that happened in the next few moments. It was clear, though, that Kenabres was being lost to the hordes of the Worldwound, even as it was quickly clear that Terendelev was entirely outmatched by the Storm King.
Aladir watched in horror as the mighty silver dragon fell beneath the fiery sword of the balor lord, unable to tear his eyes away from it. That is, until the ground beneath their feet crumbled and he felt himself begin to fall. Self-preservation kicked in and he tried to turn and run, but he knew in his heart it was entirely futile.
Suddenly, he felt the whisper of magic around him, his fall immediately slowing to no faster than a feather's would be. Turning to look, he saw Terendelev's talon stretched out toward them all, blood dripping from the tip as she spent her last living breath protecting them. And then they were in darkness.
He squinted his eyes, normally-keen elven senses trying to pick up even the smallest bit of light to see by. He heard people calling...other survivors. And then a light shone in the darkness. He slowly rose to his feet, picking himself up and trying to pick through the rubble in the dim light, hoping to find other survivors.
"By the gods...Terendelev saved us...she cast a spell on us before she fell. We all owe her our lives. Who else is here? Who else was saved by the silver dragon's magic?" he said aloud, some to himself and some to the others, before he called loudly into the cavern they had apparently fallen into, "Hello?! Is anyone alive out there??", hoping to draw the attention of any other survivors, while he dug through the rubble.
The Kite disappeared and Fie immediately gasped, her quick mind making the connection. The wardstone! The subsequent chaos sent her spinning amidst a few other crusaders who had come to enjoy the festivities. She rapidly tried to pull her crossbow out of her bag and crank it, intent on doing something helpful. She gets a single bolt off at the balor as it crashes Terendelev into St. Clydwell's. She cries out before plummeting into the darkness.
Fie winced, rising herself up and blinking at the light coming from the woman's holy symbol. Bloody demon scum! F+*%! She immediately looks up to see how far they fell and if she can climb back up, her blood boiling to get into the fight.
Is anyone stuck under rubble? Search the area, hold that light up high woman! And thank you for it. Fie's gaze turns to the rocks below her, her scrawny form dropping the excitable demeanor of earlier to turn deadly serious. She scrambles amid the rocks, pulling out anyone she can find.
No need to shout too loud, brother elf. Let's sort the injured if there are any. Terendelev's magic has surely saved most of us any injury though. We have to regroup and get back to the fight!
Swimming to consciousness, Sir Manfred could taste dirt; and the metallic taste of blood. He realized that he was face down in some rubble.
What? Where am I? And what... happened?
Then, he remembered. The red flash as the Kite fortress vanished in a blast of fire and lightning, the assault of the demon lord, the attack of the silver dragon, the fight crushing the cathedral... A crack opened under his feet and he had fallen... But the dragon had looked at him and done something, right as the demons sword came down. Is that why he was still alive?
A sick feeling came through him. If his peril had not distracted the dragon, would she still be alive? He felt like weeping.
Then he seemed to hear muffled, echoing voices. There were other survivors!
Slowly, he climbed to his hands and knees. There was resistance at first, but then some rocks clattered as they slid off the shield on his back and it became easier. He staggered to his feet, but he still couldn't see anything.
"Hello?" He rasped out.
Then he thought he saw a flicker of reflected light off in the distance...
Aladir, hearing Sir Manfred's raspy voice, quickly hopped over the rocks and rubble between them, the light from the spell enabling him to easily see the human standing there. As he approached, he spoke a word of warning so as not to scare him with a sudden appearance.
"Here. Several of us made it through the collapse, all thanks to Terendelev. The great dragon saved our lives in her final breath. Are you injured? Can you walk?"
"Injured?" Manfred felt around, looking for blood or broken bones. He sighed with relief.
"No. I believe I have scratched my forehead and bit the inside of my cheek. Otherwise I am just sore all over. For combat purposes I am unhurt. And yourself?"
He looked around.
"I cannot see anything but a few flickers. I am really hoping it's just dark and I'm not actually blind."
He paused.
"Why did she do it." He whispered, his eyes haunted. "Why did she save us and not herself?"
Kart doesn't pay much attention to the man climbing the podium. But his attention is immediately arrested by the excitement. Muttering a quick prayer to a long litany of gods he drew his bow, almost by pure instinct. His hope soared as the dragon appeared, only to be dashed as The Storm King came from the smoke. He fired one arrow, pleased to note that at least one other person in the crowd did the same, but his arrows were no match for the demon's skin and magic. The young man turned, trying to find another target that he might actually help against, but found instead the massive rift opening under his feet. Kart threw himself to one side, his chest slamming against the edge, but unable to gain any purchase. Tears came to his eyes as he saw the dragon's final gesture.
After falling through the darkness he landed fairly comfortably, and then was immediately struck in the back by rocks from some part of the cieling coming together. Bruised in half a dozen places, his eyes stinging from the dust and unable to find his bow, Kart was incredibly reassured to hear the voices of the others and see the light. He coughed several times before managing "Here! I'm here! I'm alive." He checked himself for injuries. His legs had been pinned a bit by a rock, but a bit of squirming and scraping got himself out. He felt a gash on his chin, caked with dust, but it was minor, superficial. "How many of us made it?"
"I'm... I'm here," Suryani stammers in response to Aladir. "I'm alright I think," the young woman says as she stands upright, clutching her sore knee where she fell in the plaza.
At Fie's outburst, Suryani just looks at her, unbelieving. "Get back in the fight? Are you insane? There was no fight, that was a massacre!" Suryani snaps, as she blinks her eyes rapidly to fight back tears. She looks up to see how far they've fallen, holding her holy symbol out in front of her, but the weak light streaming from it is barely enough to light the cavern they're in.
She then whirls around, panick rising in her gut, as she starts walking around, "Timeon?! Are you here? Are you okay?" Grabbing Kart by the hem of his tunic, she asks, "Have you seen my brother? He was just with us, did he fall as well? Did the dragon save him too?" You can tell by the panic rising in her voice that it's all she can do not to burst into tears.
Narrowed eyes flash at Suryani. There may still be people alive, I feel a duty to save any if possible. Although you are right..I doubt any of us, even combined, can face the Storm King.
The elf walks around, staying in the light given off by Suryani's spell. Thank you for your magic, human. If your brother is down here we will find him. If he is not..well, let us quickly get to the surface and save some lives, eh? Fie lets out a laugh, her typical smile returning to her face as she pokes at rubble looking for any other fallen people. If none are to be found, she'll start exploring the chamber.
If you'd please, shine some light here. Let us see where we are and how to escape.
Stumbling over rubble in the dark, Manfred unwound his sheathed bastard sword from his swordbelt. He used it to probe ahead of him as he slowly made his way over to Suryani's light.
You hear a cultured male voice "light... quickly.... If one of you is a cleric send help, as I am sorely wounded!".
And a second male voice, "light? What light? It is still pitch black down here."
And finally a third voice, female, "augh. A rock fell on my leg. I think it is broken."
As you look around by the light of a spell, you see that you are in a cavern along the western edge. There is rock rubble from the rift that opened above, however the rift that you fell thru has apparently closed up overhead. There are a total of nine folks alive here. There are several bodies of folks that you do not know.
"Timeon saved me from being trampled, but I lost sight of him in the confusion." Gianetta offers weakly.
Aladir moves in the direction of the nearest voice to him (which, by my reckoning of the map, is the female voice). It doesn't take him long to get to the source of the voice. "Broken? Certainly going to make it difficult to help you get out of here. I am Aladir Cyruthion. Let me take a look at your leg..."
As Aladir looks at the women's leg, she grits her teeth and lets loose a small yelp of pain. "Argh."
The second male voice belongs to the elf that you saw standing at the Riftwarden banner. There is an open welt across both his eyes and his face is a mass of burns. "Light. Someone light a torch or sunrod."
The first male voice, belongs to a human male dressed in fine clothes. "Quickly, a cleric over here. Do you know who I am?" he haughtily says to the group. "I am Horgus Gwerm, and I demand you help me now."
Gianetta lights a torch and seeing that Aladir has the woman tended to, goes to the next closest voice, the blinded elf.
"Sir, I am afraid you have sustained a rather severe injury. Try not to move, there is a priestess near." She soothes him as best she can.
Suryani starts checking the bodiies to see if any of them is her brother, but stops when the pleas for help start.
She swallows, and forces herself to regain some measure of composure. "Yes... I might be able to help a little," she says. Moving over to the wounded people, she closes her eyes, and softly says, "Let the healing light of your radiance mend these people's wounds, oh Golden One," still gripping her holy symbol, and a blue radiance streams out from her, impossibly fast.
She then goes to each of them, checking their wounds and condition, trying to smile uncomfortably. "I'm afraid I'm not very used to these things..."
Once he is within the light of Suryani, Manfred searches his pack to find a torch, then uses his flint and steel to light it.
Approaching the male voice, he asks; "Master Gwerm, are you injured?"
Know local on Horgus Gwerm.
Heck, two more for the elf and the woman: ,
Do we have anything we can use as a splint to help her walk? Fie walks over to the elf, clasping his shoulder gently. Brother, we have light but your eyes have been terribly marred from a demon's fire. Let us find a way to the surface and see what if we can find a cleric with powerful healing.
She will try and help the elf stand, leading him to a wall to lean against. I will guide you when we move on, do not fear.
Fie looks to Aladir and Suryani taking care of the wounded. As it looks like they have that in hand, she'll start exploring further. Does someone have a torch or a sunrod? Take care of the wounded, I will look ahead slightly. No worries, I shall not go and get myself in trouble..not yet haha! The young elf grins at the group.
I'm Fie, Fie Gemblossom, by the way.