Mendev, a nation of holy crusaders fighting against the vicious forces of the Abyss.
Or, at least, that's the image it tries to portray. In truth, the crusades against the demons have taken their toll, growing more corrupt and slowly rotting away the soul of the nation. Though some still say the Fourth Crusade is strong and will be the one to push the demons back to the abyss, they are few and grow fewer everyday. The Fourth Crusade is dead. Morale is in shambles, and a seeping rot can be seen, though none seem to know neither the cause nor the remedy.
But all that is forgotten within the walls of Kenabres today. Armasse is here, with all of the games, contests, and festivity the holiday entails. Not all of the city celebrates, for even in this time, especially at this time, one must be ever watchful, though the gaily colored streamers and bright music that swim on the wind make it hard to remember that this is a city on the edge of disaster. Children scream and laugh as they chase each other through the streets. Couples kiss in shadowed alleys, or in the open in front of everybody. Bards, minstrels, dancers, and storytellers ply their trades. Most impressive of all are the stalls being set up for the joust that afternoon.
It's nearly noon, and many flock to Saint Clydwell's Cathedral to hear Lord Hulrun speak and officially open the festivities.
Tehina was making her way to Saint Clydwell's. She didn't care much for Armasse but the speeches by Hulrun tended to be good. Despite the man's history and age he was brilliant and always managed to motivate the people.
Today would be a day of fun and games for most but she no longer cared. After winning the knowledge contests several times in a row she had gotten bored with them and now she just watched while she enjoyed what had became the best part of Armasse to her; good food.
Karas made his way to the square. He seemed rather uncomforatble in his new outfit, a set of noble robes emblazoned with a crest denoting Terendelev's house.
Uhg, this thing is so stuffy. If it weren't for the fact that she asked I'd never have agreed to wear this ridiculous thing.
He wandered past the stalls and all the joy. It was nice. It's not often that he could wander about the city without the glares but on Amrasse no one cared. That suited him just fine.
Ulfgr wandered toward the cathedral with the group of bards and minstrels he had casually fallen in with at the beginning of the day. Drummers are relatively rare as traveling musicians go, so his particular brand of thunder had brought attention from the celebrating crowd and other jealous street acts alike.
Today he was in a fantastic mood. Beauty abounded, joy was pervasive, and Shelyn's blessing was obvious. He wears his silver holy symbol proudly, for today the goddess of beauty and art had her time where Seranae and Iomadae dominated the rest of the year.
"Colours colliding, clashing, couples kissing, crying for each other," Neile mutters to herself, practically mumbling into the woollen scarf around her neck. Twitch reaches up with one tiny pink hand, claws scratching the skin of her jaw, but she doesn't notice, her wide brown eyes staring at the scene before her from underneath her wide, floppy hat. She sits on a bench - rather, perches, crouching like a gargoyle, a gaunt figure in a coat several sizes too big, a bird on one shoulder and a rat on another, like some manner of unusual, living scarecrow.
She was invisble, after all. One of the vagrants, wandering the streets, the kind nobody preferred to pay much attention to. Despite the painfully obvious figure she cut, eyes were happy to gloss over her entirely. And that was fine.
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Bimbur had finally left the monastery after years of shelter in a closed, safe environment. The monks had never seen anyone with more natural talent for a bow. After many years of training it was time to see the larger world, and many portents of the wiser monks said that heading toward the Worldwound area was were the elder dwarf would find his destiny. He headed to what was to be a great festival in Kenabres called Armasse.
Bimbur wandered down a colorful street with red lanterns hung outside. It appeared a colorful group of Varisian ladies were practicing their dancing, hanging out of windows and turning in graceful moves the martial artist could appreciate. They obviously wore little clothes here, although the weather seemed a little chilly. A few festival-doers went in to visit a few of them in their parlor, and Bimbur noticed the elderly lady below was quite a good mother. Because she made sure the visitors were good matches for their daughters and nieces by making sure they had money. It appeared the visitors had to prove they were of means by showing they carried gold in their pouches.
A group of them waved the dwarf over, and an attractive red-head put her arms around Bimbur and pointed to her blonde friend and asked him if he wanted a 'Varisian sandwich'. Bimbur declined, as the monastery food was quite bland, and he wasn't ready to eat spicy Varisian food yet. He told them he would come back later as he had eaten earlier, but would return if he found himself hungry. After getting out of the hug, Bimbur was curious to see what the young girls carried, and he looked with surprise at the small whip he had palmed. He slipped it back into the young lady's gold belt and went on his way trying to figure out what it was for. There was no way it would make an effective weapon, it was much too small for that.
Rakeesh wandered through the festivities with a strange sense of purposelessness. He had spent the last several months of his life, and nearly the entire fortune remaining him, just to get to this point. He had little idea of what awaited him at the border of the Worldwound, but he had never imagined a festival.
Rakeesh cut across the chaotic swirl of the crowds, like a ship through choppy waters. He was jostled by the throng, but most who bumped him came off worse for the engagement. Nobody ever seemed to notice him until they crossed his path. They were never offended. Mostly they just stared confusedly at the slender, sickly looking man that had collided with such unstoppable force.
He tried to ignore the calls of the hucksters at the various games. But, the callers at the tournaments were shouting their assurances that winners could sign on with the crusader companies. That was a call he would have to give some consideration. Rakeesh was ready to walk into the 'wound alone, if necessary... that would certainly cut his penance short... but, he would not discount the idea of taking an army with him.
You awaken in darkness.
Pain from scrapes and bruises arcs through your body like lightning, but is soon crowned out by the thunderous headache you all have. Your ears ring, and dry dust scratches at your throat. As you regain your sense and recover you hear rocks clattering and coughing and moans of pain. You can feel rubble all about you, partly burying your arms and legs. The smell of dirt and dust chokes everything else, but you hope that you are only imagining the metallic tang of blood that seems to lurk beneath.
At the base of the wall you see nine others, all stirring, apparently alive, if worse for the wear.
Rakeesh hears the screams again, as his mother pleads for his life against the pitiless wrath of an Empyreal Lord....
When Rakeesh opens his eyes, the world is still dark. But, merely the mundane sort of darkness. He lets his eyes adjust and immediately laments doing so. The empty, dead eyes of the child are overwhelming. Within seconds, he can discern an entire mountain of death.
Other people begin to stir and move as he does. He stands and flexes bruised limbs, but feels largely intact.
"Are you injured?" he asks the closest living soul.
The closest living soul coughs and says, No. I'm good. Except for...
There is a grunt and a block of stone that must weigh hundreds of pounds flies to the side. There. Now I'm good. Anyone got a light?
The world is pitch black to Ulfr. He feels his way slowly out of the pocket that had been created by falling rubble.
Rakeesh cocked an unseen eyebrow as a chunk of granite large enough to crush a man tumbled away. He was rarely impressed by displays of strength, but there was no denying the power necessary to move such a boulder. He braced himself expecting half a giant to emerge from the rubble, and was only half dissapointed.
The man who did emerge was big enough for Rakeesh to believe there may have been some giant or ogre blood mingled in his distant ancestry, but not enough to count. Nevertheless, the man clearly possessed mountainous strength.
Rakeesh was not a deceptive person. But, his appearance was more than a little misleading. His lanky, slender frame did not give the sense of tremendous, otherworldly physical strength. Even so, Rakeesh had never yet met his equal among mortal men.
He reached down and grasped the man's forearm, pulling him to his feet. "I'm afraid I have no light. Besides," Rakeesh gave a silent prayer for the fallen, "you're better off not seeing the death and ruin surrounding you."
Rakeesh looks around for a clear spot to leadd the man, and others.
"I am called Rakeesh Sah Tarna, Sah Anun, Sah Hemet, Sah Knut."
A groan let out from the silver tiefling as he emerged from a pile of stones some as large as a man. His noble and crested robe was now stained with dirt and blood and in tatters revealing the chainmail beneath.
"Uhg, my head." he blinked a minute before his darkvision set in and he got a good look at his surroundings.
"Wh-what happened? Where are we?! Where are the people!? Weren't we at a party?! I-i-i..." his questions came rapid fire as his eyes darted around the cavern.
At the request for a light a pale, white light springs into existence, illuminating the features of a blue-skinned, black haired woman.
The casting came almost instinctively, bypassing her still groggy mind and the flashes from past lives that head come racing by only moments before.
Mere moments later she stands, the light still shining from her hand, while she casts some other minor spell, getting the dust out of her clothing. Once that is done she shines the light towards the others that seem to be stuck down with them. "Let's get moving, whatever happened we need to get everyone out of here safely."
A scream rings through the cavern as Neile awakens, finding herself in blackness. "Can't see, can't feel, can't move, suffocating, help!" she babbles, scrabbling in the dirt as she tries to pull herself free of the rubble. With great effort, she manages to clear herself, drawing to her feet hastily, as if the ground burns her. "Twitch! Gail!" she exclaims, frantically searching her pockets. She eventually finds the songbird hidden under her hat, chirping feebly.
"Shh, sleep. It's a festival soon. Need your strength," she murmurs, stroking the bird's feathers. "Mama keeps you safe." Twitch emerges shakily from the folds of her scarf, digging his tiny nails into the wool.
"Naughty boy, you scared your mama," she scolds. "Little Twitch, see where we are? Darkness imprisoning me, can't see. I'm cold. So cold."
When the pale lights springs into life, she takes off toward it immediately, scrambling through the rubble. She comes into the illumination, a skinny wisp of a girl wearing a heavy coat far too large for her, and a comically wide, floppy hat. Wide brown eyes stare at Tehina from under the brim.
"Your skin is like the sky," she says solemnly. "Where are we, blue girl? Where are we going?"
Ulfr grips the skinny arm when it's offered and hauls himself up. The strength in the arm was surprising. It was unusual for anyone to support him without a grunt or two, but there is no time for introductions.
The little light is binding at first, but his eyes soon adjust and the horror of the scene is revealed.
Ulfr. He responds simply to the skinny man's obscenely long name.
What gathers to the light, like sacred butterflies to a flame, was an assortment of individuals the likes of which Ulfr had never seen. A blue girl, the strong skinny one, and a half-lizard. The only normal one was a child.
It is to her he moves. The varied fetishes and totems on his clothes jingle slightly as he walks. It is ok, little one. he says. Take some breaths.
I should find my drum as soon as the panic had been subdued.
Several things happen all at once. As Rakeesh rights the man beside him, a few feet behind him a mousy girl starts screaming and thrashing through the debris and her own oversized clothes. As he turns to help, he starts as an abyssal tiefling crawls out of the ground from the same direction as the screaming.
Rakeesh draws an oversized broadsword, nudging the man beside him. "Demon-kin," he growls in warning.
Just then, a light flares from further in the distance. As the mousy girl goes scrambling towards the lantern bearer, Rakeesh readies to face the pitborn.
On the big man's comment a sigh comes from Tehina's sleeve and a small blackbird shuffle out, perching on the edge of the sleeve. "Thank you big man, I'll be fine." The birds'voice sounds shrill and chirpy.
Seeing the aggression from the angel-kin Tehina scowls before speaking to him in celestial.
"Your clothes are noisy," Neile giggles as Ulfr approaches. "Jingling, jangling, singing, ringing. They can hear you." She tilts her head to one side. "Ten and eight. Or ten and seven. All blends together, swirling, seasons shifting. Not little, but everyone looks it to you." She giggles again.
Turning at the sound of a growl, she sees a skinny man and a scaly man apparently about to face off, but her attention is drawn back to the blue girl when her black bird speaks. "Your bird can talk! Mine can't talk, but she can sing," She grins, lifting her hat and removing a small thrush. "Go, Gail. Sing."
At Rakeesh's shout he whirled to face him with a look of confusion
"Where!?!" his eyes darted around a moment, and claws glinted at his fingertips before he came to the revelation, "Oh me?! I guess technically. Um, do any of you know what in the nine lemon-scented hells happened? Last I remember it was Armasse and I was late for a speech."
He did not brandish his claws but stayed tense in the presence of drawn weapons.
Ulfr eyes the lizard man, now revealed as a demon-kin, carefully and keeps a hand close to one of the clubs at his side.
Then a bird speaks! This blue woman must be a wizard! He had met few enough wizard's among the Shoanti, but knew them by this trademark animal companion. He wonders if the little girl is a wizard to, but hooks his tongue. Such questions needed to wait.
Ulfr's hand remains near his right hand club as he responds, I remember nothing. I was performing near the temple, then this.
The elder dwarf quickly recovered from the fall and was getting used to his surroundings, examining the nine others in detail, when the light ruined his dark vision. He said: "Careful where your shining that light!!" He decides to provide some light, and the large pack probably held a stockpile of useful items.
Bimbur ruffles through the pack of the man with the club and retrieves a flint and steel and two torches. After a few strikes of the material, the dwarf gets a torch going and chain lights a second one.
He then extracts two more and closes the flap on the pack. He generously offers the two torches to Ulfr and Niele. Ulfr, because he was the original owner of the torch, and Niele because she seemed a little disoriented, he hoped the torch would make her feel better.
He grunts: "I'll find a way out."
"Why are we shouting, tall man?" Neile murmurs, tugging on Ulfr's sleeve. "They don't like it when we shout. It makes them angry." She shakes her head sadly. "I remember the drums. Sounds like rolling thunder. Was that you? Then there was this." She waves a hand to indicate her current whereabouts.
Turning her gaze on the demon-kin, she tilts her head to the other side. "Do they smell like lemon?"
Ulfe kneels to the girl's level. Who doesn't like the shouting, little one?
Neile turns to see a dwarf hand her a torch, and she blinks in confusion before smiling. "More light! More shadows now, though," she adds, waving the torch to demonstrate. Twitch climbs out onto her shoulder, pink nose sniffing at the pitch. "Thank you, little one," she smiles, patting Bimbur on the head.
Looking back up at Ulfr, she reiterates, "Not little. Ten and eight. He's little," she adds, pointing to the rat on her shoulder. "The dead, silly. They don't like the noise. It's why they don't speak. We shouldn't be shouting. We're alive."
Ulfr nods in understanding and thinks he recognizes this torch he's holding, but dismisses the feeling.
The Spirits. Yes. They are weak here, which may be why they don't talk, but I can make them dance.
Neile tilts her head so far to one side, for a moment it appears as if her thin neck may snap. "But they do talk," she says quietly. "I can hear them. They're curious about you. Reaching, whispering, wanting."
They talk to you? Ulfr asks, amazed. You are truly blessed.
Karas still looks somewhat confused but approaches the gathered survivors.
"Um... Maybe? I've never been there. It's just something I've heard." he responded to Neile
"Right... so noone remembers a thing and we're all suddenly in a dark cavern with a mountain of stone and bodies... Am I in a nightmare?" He posited while trying to pinch himself. "Who are you people?"
I am Ulfr. Skald and Shoanti Spirit Singer.
"That's what I'd like to know," a thready voice says as its owner, an elf with long, white hair stands. Where his eyes should be is a bloody gash.
"You don't remember that horror? The blood? The horde? The Kite?"
And with that, the memory of what happened begins to come flooding back.
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 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 several long moments, the elf speaks again.
"I am Aravashnial. I need to know everyone's names and what you are capable of if I am to best use you. I will also need someone to be my eyes," he says in voice that is used to command.
Ulfr rushes to help the honored elder. As I said, I am Ulfr, called Uggason. I wield minor magics and inspire people to heights of achievement they themselves did not feel possible.
As he did so his mind spun. How could he forget? How could he ever forget. As he lends his arm to the elf the weight of the loss his him and drains him of cheer. Without thinking he starts a quiet funerary chant in Kelid.
Rakeesh circles out, responding to the blue-skinned woman. "Возможно, вы знаете что-то, что я делаю не так. Но, когда я просыпаюсь в стигийских кошмар с извергами рядом, я могу сделать разумный вывод."
But, the dangerous standoff never materializes as the silver-skinned tiefling quickly concedes his nature, seemingly taking no offense. As more light floods the scene, the horror of their surroundings only seems to grow. Almost as a counterpoint to the grizzly surroundings, a veritable menagerie of animals seem to flood from the cloaks and hats of those gathered.
Moving into the light reveals Rakeesh more fully. Any who might have suspected his nature are surely disappointed in what appears. The pale, drawn expression, limp, dull grey hair and eyes, and overall sickly demeanor do not bring the glory of angelic blood to mind. Rather he looks like a man recovering from a serious illness, or having spent a long term in some lightless dungeon...
"As I said, I am Rakeesh Sah Tarna," he leaves off the remainder of his lineage and sheathes his sword. But, he never strays far from where the silver-skinned tiefling stands
Bimbur looked at the elf with disgust. He hated the dark elves with a cold, dark fury, but somehow the distrust bleeded over to the surface kind. All their singing and living in trees sometimes just made him sick.
Moving up to offer the blind elf a hand, Bimbur couldn't help but sort through every single possession he had of value as he helped the elf 'balance his load'.
He said with a smirk, "I am Bimbur, but a simple monk with the lowliest of bows, a shortbow. Let me help you balance your load. Your packs are all loose and disordered."
Unfortunately for the dwarf, the fact that he was basically ransacking the blind elf was obvious to all. Caught in the act, Bimbur quickly puts everything back.
The memory washed over Karas with all the glory and horror. He whispered, "No."
He trembled where he stood with tears washing over his face his volume slowly increased. "no no no No No No NO NO NO!"
He screamed and ran to the wall of rubble and bodies. He began clawing and scratching to climb the wall and failing in the loose stone screaming the entire time. "It can't be! She can't be! No, I don't believe it! No!"
Rakeesh holds a hand up to his temple as the painful memory floods back. He was not a native to Medev, but the sight of a demon striking down such an amazing creature was awful to behold. No sooner had the memory of the event returned than the tiefling goes into an absolute frenzy.
"I am strong enough to swing a sword," he tells the elf. "I have been trained in the art of killing demons. That capability is useful enough, I would imagine."
"What capabilities do you have that you plan to use, Master Aravashniel?"
"I am a practitioner of the Arcane. Even in my sorry state at the moment, I wield magicks that would leave the weak minded nothing but mere husks were they to attempt to understand them. Beyond that I am a scholar and knowledgeable on a number of subjects," Aravashnial says, pointedly ignoring Karas as he goes berserk.
After a few moments of useless attempts at climbing , Karas falls to his knees at the rock wall clutching something to his chest and sobbing.
How the memory of the dragon's fall had evaded her she did not know but once it returned she knew this would be one memory that would stay with her through reincarnation. If it ever came to that.
"My name is Tehina Muunokhoi. I do not know if you remember master Aravashniel, we spoke shortly several months ago. I asked you whether you knew more about my parents and what happened to them." She paused a moment to give the Elf the opportunity to dig through his memory, "I am a practitioner of the arcane as well, just not as experienced as you are."
"Not blessed. They won't stop." Neile lowers her head again, avoiding Ulfr's eyes. "If you make them dance, maybe they'll be happier."
She turns her head to Karas, still keeping her head low. "Maybe you should. Now I want to know."
When the elf speaks, she frowns, her brow furrowing furiously, memory working frantically through the fog. Then, eyes wide, she recalls the scene and drops into a crouch, clutching her knees and shaking.
"Why? Why me?" she moans. "They could have been quiet, they could have all gone away. Thunder and lightning, shadow and flame, blood, death, everywhere, oh gods it's all around me!" On her shoulder, Gail trills worriedly.
After a few moments, she stands shakily, rubbing her eyes with the heel of one hand. Tear trails run through the dirt and grime on her face, smeared around her eyes and pinched cheeks. She still trembles, but seems more composed as she draws Twitch from her shoulder, holding him carefully in both hands, close to her chest.
"Names. Yes. Everybody has one. Some more than one. Mine's Neile. Neile Vass." She forces a small smile, an apparent moment of clarity and lucidity settling over her. "I'm small, but I can fight. I have help. Lots of help." She turns to Ulfr, tilting her head again. "I wonder if we hear the same ones?" she muses, putting a finger to her lips thoughtfully. It seems such moments don't last long.
She looks to Rakeesh, walking up to him and reaching up to touch his face with one hand, turning his jaw. "You're like me," she says solemnly, nodding. "Too much strength for the body to show, so it all draws in."
She chuckles as she watches Bimbur rummage through Aravashnial's bags. "You won't find much here," she points out, gesturing to her own pack.
Looking back at Tehina, she says, "Your skin is blue and your eyes are white. Can your magic put your colours back in the right places?" There's the head-tilt again, and while the question is odd, there's no malice in her tone.
Having said this much, she picks her way across the rubble to where Karas kneels, sobbing. She crouches in front of him, tilting her hat back, staring at him with wide brown eyes that peer through mousy hair. After studying him for a few moments, she leans forward, wrapping her arms around him. "It's alright. People die all the time. Dragons have to as well. And she's gone, but we're here." She nods against his shoulder. "And you won't get out that way," she adds, her tone slightly scolding.
Tchirash wakes to the sounds of conversation, and a pounding in her head. Goddess no...not Terendelev She rises to her feet shakily with a groan. "Seems we're in a fix here. I'm Tchirash. She walks slowly at first and taking stock of any injuries. When she finds she has none, she moves with more confidence towards the elven mage, and the others. She places a shoulder on Karas' shoulder, "We'll get out, it just may take some time"
"We've got light for those that can't see" She nods a quick thanks to Tehina. "Let's make sure that there aren't any others left behind, and then start looking for a way out." She smiles a bit at Rakeesh, "I think you and I get the bulwark."
Tehina offers the troubled girl a smile, "My colours are in the right place, it is what I am and what I have been before." And hopefully will be again she added in her mind.
When the girl turns around Tehina makes a simple waving gesture and dirt and grime started to fade from her skin and clothes.
When the celestial-blooded woman appeared she just smiled, "Seem more survived the fall. I agree we need to get out of here, we need to figure out what happened above after the dragon fell." She feared the worst but there was no telling. Maybe the demons only wanted Terendelev gone.
"I am a practitioner of the Arcane. Even in my sorry state at the moment, I wield magicks that would leave the weak minded nothing but mere husks were they to attempt to understand them. Beyond that I am a scholar and knowledgeable on a number of subjects,"
Rakeesh could guess that in the elf's opinion, the "weak minded" were everyone not named Aravashniel. His dignity offended, a scathing rejoinder rose to his lips. But, before it could be uttered, the small girl in the oversized clothes stepped up before him.
She looks to Rakeesh, walking up to him and reaching up to touch his face with one hand, turning his jaw. "You're like me," she says solemnly, nodding. "Too much strength for the body to show, so it all draws in."
Rakeesh looked down at the young girl. He could feel the strange power behind her touch. "No, little one," he said sympathetically. "You are innocent. Why you are tormented I cannot say. But, my punishment is just and well earned." He offers Neile a sad smile. "Your strength is granted you. Mine has been left to me, when all else was taken away..."
"Let's make sure that there aren't any others left behind, and then start looking for a way out." She smiles a bit at Rakeesh, "I think you and I get the bulwark."
Rakeesh nods, surprised that another of celestial blood would so easily trust the demon-kin. "I will take the vanguard," he says. "Keep your eyes on that one, would you?" Rakeesh turns and begins edging along the wall, searching for an opening.
Rakeesh doesn't have to look hard to find the silver scales along the wall or two others that seemed to had survived, Pale woman with blood soaking the leg of her breeches and a somewhat portly man in the once fine clothing of a noble who groans in terrible pain.
Rakeesh ignores the silver scales for the moment, though he can guess their origin, and kneels next to the bleeding woman. He had no traditional training in the healing arts, but he knew enough to staunch blood flow.
"This woman needs more help than I can provide," he tells Tchirash.
Bimbur moves to the young lady and attempts basic first aid.
The dwarf looks around and fixes them all with a stern stare. "Many of you are young. F^%$, I have mugs and pipes older than many of you. I remember when I was young, always full of confidence and bravery. I don't want everyone to know we are coming before we get there tripping every trap and alarm. I am a trained skirmisher, I do not fight from the back. Do not let this cheapa$$ bow fool you, I can use it. I go in front quietly and scout, you follow behind about twenty to thirty paces."
He points to the dragon scales. "We have time to honor the sacrifice bravely given and take stock of our situation. We also have time to share our skills and talents so they are best used. Then we move out and get back to the surface, though these caves so make a dwarf homesick."
Bimbur raises a silver dragon scale as if in a toast. He passes other scales out as a patron at an inn would pass out small cups of liquor and raises his scale high. "To Tendelev, a silver dragon, with the courage to face a huge demon, and, apparently, our savior. May we honor your sacrifice by carrying on your fight and making you proud."
He looks at Karas and say sternly: "Buck up, if you were a dwarf, I'd smack you. If you turn out to be on the side of those demons, I will do much worse."
"How... noble of you," Rakeesh shrugs. He was more than willing to place himself at the forefront, between danger and these few. But, his penance did not require him to stop headstrong, kleptomaniacal dwarves from throwing themselves into danger.
More in spite of Rakeesh's help than because of it, the dwarf works to slow the blood flow from the woman's leg. "Rest easy, lady. You're not going to be left behind in this place."
Tchirash kneels down next to the woman and lays a hand on the woman's leg and another on the holy symbol around Tchirash's neck. Calling on the grace of Iomedae, her hand glows a yellow-white, and she does what she can to heal the woman's wounds.
As each of you is given a scale, you find that it has one of four powers.
a scale can be used to cast levitate. A pillar of roiling clouds
rises below the levitating object or creature, growing and
shrinking with the target’s altitude. This pillar is 5 feet in
diameter (regardless of the target’s size) and provides
concealment (20% miss chance) to any creature or object
wholly contained within.
Disguise: Three times per day as a standard action, a scale
can be used to cast alter self. While disguised, the target gains
a +4 bonus on all Bluff checks made against evil creatures.
Resistance: Three times per day as a standard action, a scale
can be used to cast resist elements—but only against electricity
or cold.
Sacred Weaponry: Three times per day as a standard action,
a scale can be used to cast align weapon, but only to make a
weapon lawful or good. Unlike a normal align weapon spell,
this effect can be cast on an unarmed strike or natural weapon.
Tchirash, Bimbur, and Rakeesh all look over the woman, she's badly hurt and though she smiles at the Iomedaean when her wounds begin to knit together, she still has a number of scrapes, bruises, and cuts.
"Th-thank you," she says wearily, "Is everyone else alright?"
"Oh yes, other than a brush with oblivion and an entirely too close view of the Storm King, I'm just dandy," Aravashnial answers sarcastically.
Karas stopped abruptly as Neille embraced him, a look of shock coming over him. Not many people showed care to him like that. He stammered "t-Thank you. I can't believe it. She trained me. She was akin to my mother and took me in when I was at my worst."
He sniffed and looked again at the scale in his hands, then ripped a strip of cloth from his tattered robe and tied the scale to it. Then it about his neck. He nodded and slowly stood to see the gathered souls again. "I am Karas Argentus. I can fight, and my wrath with make the damned Storm King quake as I wring the life from his thrice-damned neck. I will have my vengeance in her name."
As Bimbur accused him of being on the demons side his eyes flashed with anger and he walked to the other side of the group to get a better look at the cavern.