Dawn breaks crisply on the 16th of Arodus. At several points around the city, a call goes up from Sarenite worshipers to welcome another dawn to Kenabres. As the sun rises, it casts the shadow of the city across the Sellen into the tainted lands of the Worldwound. The greatest of these shadows come from the Kite, the great stone shield that guards the Wardstone of Kenabres, and the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell.
Soon excited murmurs fill the city, for today is Armasse, the great festival day. Clydwell Plaza begins to fill with stalls and shopkeepers setting out their wares, along with pavilions and fenced areas where new soldiers in the Crusades will be inducted and receive their first training. As the sun warms the city, the air is filled with happiness and excitement. Most of the residents are released from normal duties, although all are required to be present in Clydwell Plaza by noon for the traditional blessing of the festival by Lord Hulrun.
Reinnwulf gawped at the sights around him as he took in the Armasse preparations. The throngs were heavy, though he had almost gotten used to them by now. What still amazed him was the intermingling of races. He has seen such a thing, in part, in other places, but here it was even more so. Human and goblin, orc and dwarf, elven, tielfling, and a half dozen others, all crammed together for the sole purpose of battling evil.
It was refreshing, honestly. Too often, he had seen the same crowds of people ignoring the evil among them, and choosing not to oppose it. The paladin from the previous night was right - a good man should oppose evil, honor his ancestors, and strive to make the world a better palace for his children.
Reinnwulf moved to a vendor's stand and haggled for a bit of dried fruit and a meat pie. The pie was hot, scalding his tongue, and he nearly choked on the flaky pastry, but it was well seasoned with salt and wine, with bits of potato, beef, mushrooms, and onion. He happily ate the pie while he walked.
Allysen wakes with a start. Her heart races and her breathing is shallow as she takes in the cramped room she had paid for with her singing the previous night. Her dreams were, thankfully, rarely haunted by nightmares.
Last night was different.
She wraps slender, pale-skinned hands around the silver butterfly that hung from her neck as she choked down her terror. The terror fought, though. She couldn't remember a dream feeling so real, and this one was all the more terrifying because of it.
She was kept prisoner in a dank cell, tortured day in and out, for how long, she didn't know. Her tormentor mocked her pleas for mercy and demanded that she scream louder. The pain was unrelenting and her mind filled with madness.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was when she finally saw her tormentor's face, for it was her own sneering face that she saw.
Allysen curls up into a sobbing ball at the memory. She knows that some deep dark part of her longs to be that person, and that terrifies her. Her lips move in a breathless prayer to Desna for her protection, strength, and most of all, kindness.
After all, kindness was the only reason she was alive.
---
Some time later, she emerges from her room, dressed, armed, and armored. A hood and scarf cover most of her face, save her dark, sapphire-flecked eyes. Other tieflings would walk openly, letting their deeds speak for them. Allysen had done nothing worthy of boasting, she felt, so she hides. The inn keeper bids her farewell as she leaves for the festive streets of Kenabres.
She wanders those streets, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the Armasse festival. Vendors hawk their wares, drinks, and foods. Performers entertain on every street corner. And warriors test their mettle in mock combat. The nightmare is forgotten in that joyous atmosphere. Her spirits are high as noon approaches, and she approaches the Saint Clydwell Cathedral. Today, it was turning out, is a good day after all.
Having spent a majority of the evening in prayers, Ozgo wakes late in the morning to a surprise. As this is a holy day and a holiday, he has been released from regular duties and is allowed to visit the city and partake in the festivities.
Not having much knowledge of the area, he stands about the steps of the cathedral looking vaguely lost and out of place. He has gathered his armor and weapons, unsure what the customs are, and looks about in wonder at the city before him. He begins to move, then hesitates as he tries to decide where to go first.
Nenthil had risen with the sun, giving a prayer to Sarenrae before pouring over his spellbook. Once finished he dressed himself in the Keleshite robes of white, red, and gold he had gained in far off Solku. Along with the rest of his gear, checking the hidden sheaths up his sleeves in particular. Their gifts ready to be delivered at the proper time in an instant.
He often wondered if such deception ran contrary to Sarenae's teachings, then again their was no need to deceive the righteous. Only those of ill intent would suffer the surprise. Filling his empty hip flask with water, he took the time to admire the symbol of his goddess upon it, capping it close and placing it with in his robes. He did not think himself so favored that it would become holy water, yet devoted enough to think it would taste sweeter.
Once he left his lodgings he chose to walk the streets. It had been many years sense he left Kenabres much less attended Armasse. Still he had not forgotten the reason for his departure or his return. There were things to be done before the festivities of the day and coming night could be enjoyed.
Weyland steps into the early morning light, polished and gleaming from head to toe. For today was Armasse and if ever there was a day to shine, this was it. seeing one of the new arrivals looking a little lost, he steps down to join him.
"Good morrow, friend Ozgo. I hope that this Armasse finds you well. Come, let us enjoy the spectacle and put on a bit of a show ourselves. It's always good for Iomedae's faithful to be visible on festival days and on Armasse even more so."
"Ah Weyland! Many thanks, I was not sure of where I was going to, being new to the city! I would be most appreciative of having you as a guide."
Ozgo and Weyland head off into the city to explore.
After making his way to the Gate District, he paid his respects at the temple of Sarenrae. Glad that the goddess had a place of worship in Kenabres, something he had never paid much attention to back in his younger days. Still he felt the need to resupply somewhat, otherwise he could find himself lacking funds come the morrow. So close to the WorldWound made him feel a need for plentiful ammunition as well.
Finding a merchant dealing in arms and armor was a simple feat, the more scholarly supplies took slightly more effort. With a touch of shame he diverted his eyes from the well made scimitar he spied at the smithy. Sarenrae's favored weapon and symbol of the faithful was beyond his expertise, for he only knew the most basic weapon forms. Perhaps one day he could find a magical solution, he reminded himself that such things did not effect his faith. Leaving with the bolts for his personally favored weapon, a masterfully made crossbow of dark woods native to the Mwangi Expense. He picked up some sheets of rice paper to replace his exhausted supply before completing his shopping. He wondered if he should stop by Blackwing or make his way to the festival grounds.
As Allysen roams the town, she spies Nenthil and nearly runs into one of the paladins that are about when she her head swivels around in surprise. She mutters an apology before moving out of the way and finding the strange man again.
She'd seen many of the heaven touched in Kenabres, and more than a few tieflings as well. This man is something new. His skin, his hair, and his eyes reminded her of fire. Fire that didn't just burn, but danced and capered about in to a song all of it's own. She watches the flames dance in his hair as a smile twinkles in her eyes.
It is now that she realizes that she had gotten closer, much too close as a matter of fact, to the man and was bare inches from his person. Her eyes widen in shock as she realizes how rude she was being. After a couple of steps back and bowing her head to hide her eyes, she manages to stammer out a greeting.
"Wh-well met, s-sir. I hope this d-d-day finds you well!" Her voice is muffled some by the scarf about her face, but it's pleasant, almost enticing despite (or even because of) the stammer.
Having been approached, closely to the point of detailed examination, he kept an awkward half smile before she spoke. He could only tell it was a she from the voice and vaguely from her size and shape. Her eyes, the only real detail he gleaned, gave her away as a non human. He ruled out elf as well, she lacked the ears among other features. Dwarf, Halfling, and half orc equally so for a number of reasons. That left a great deal of options if one took the less common races into account. Pushing his curious nature of her race aside he took a slight bow.
"Well met in turn madam. Every day is a blessing if I could be so bold. Allow me to introduce myself, Nenthil Wardcaller formerly a local of Kenabres, recently returned. May I be honored with your name in turn?"
The woman returns Nenthil's bow with a flourish of her own. She looks up and a hint of color can be seen under her eyes.
"I'm Allysen. I've been in Kenabres for the last six years. Singing to lift everyone's spirits and trying to help in any other way I can. I have to agree that every day is a blessing, and precious one at that."
The twinkling smile comes to her eyes once more, curiosity overcoming caution.
"I apologize for earlier. I have never seen someone like you before, like a flame brought to life. is that an affection, picked up on your travels, or is it something that has always been so?"
He keeps himself from laughing, few were so straight forward with their questions about him.
"Well I developed it slowly from around late childhood. Before then I looked like most Kellid's. My skin did change shades slightly sense I went so far south, that may or may not revert. But everything else is just how I am now. Clearly I had a outsider in my family tree, where I do not know. A Peri if I remember right, I couldn't give you details without access to a library specializing in planar lore mind you. I would venture a guess that my changes are not done, but that is just a guess. Anything else your curious about?"
His eyes give away a bit of his bemusement.
Reinnwulf watched the people moving by as he finished his meat pie and started looking for an ale cart to wash it down with. So many vendors crowded the streets and squares, each shouting his or her own wares. It was madness, and yet and oddly comforting madness, though the press of bodies seemed far too dense than possible. He found a couple of weapons vendors and an armor smith, a general goods cart, and a perfumery of all things before coming across a wagon loaded high with large barrels. A few quick words and a coin later, Reinnwulf's mug was filled to the brim with a foaming ale. It was a bit bitter, and tasted too strongly of the juniper berries used to hasten the aging, but it was wet.
He keeps himself from laughing, few were so straight forward with their questions about him.
"Well I developed it slowly from around late childhood. Before then I looked like most Kellid's. My skin did change shades slightly sense I went so far south, that may or may not revert. But everything else is just how I am now. Clearly I had a outsider in my family tree, where I do not know. A Peri if I remember right, I couldn't give you details without access to a library specializing in planar lore mind you. I would venture a guess that my changes are not done, but that is just a guess. Anything else your curious about?"
His eyes give away a bit of his bemusement.
"What's it like down south?" Allysen asks almost immediately. Her eyes sparkle like a star-filled sky. Even through the scarf covering her face, the beaming smile is obvious.
Then her cheeks flush again, darker than before, as she starts to stammer again.
"S-sorry, I j-just like finding out new things. Most of the time I keep to myself, so I'm not really used to talking with other people."
Careful! You are revealing too much. You don't know who this man is.
The light in her eyes dims a little as she stands there, somehow managing to squirm despite standing still.
He rubs his bare chin for a moment.
"Well being a bit of a scholar myself, I can understand that. In fact I was considering a visit to Blackwing, do you know it? Planer lore is my specialty, while I am well versed in a number of religions and lore of the natural world. Outside of that my knowledge is limited. As to the south, it depends where you go. Some places are all sand and sun, while others are wet hot jungles of endless life. Yet that is far south in Garund. You seem to speak just fine by the way."
He had deliberately left out any inclination of his magical knowledge or ability. Mages were common targets of everything from mere thieves to corrupting cultist, frankly he lacked the ability to deal with most threats on his own. Such was anonymity his best ally.
"T-thanks. I know a little bit of everything, not really interested in studying one thing intently."
She is silent for a moment. Her hand covers where her mouth should be.
"Blackwing, you said. I've heard of the place, but never visited. Just never a place that I wanted to go. Wizards tend to not like me very much anyway."
"It is a library first and foremost, a museum second. I would think anyone interested in knowledge would give it a visit at least once. I can not say if their will be mages or not but truly I do not see how they would influence anything. Unless the mage in question is the owner, which seems a decent sort if I were to judge."
He gives a slight smile.
"If nothing else it is a chance to see demonic specimens without fear. Then again it may be ill advised if your not strong of heart or stomach in some cases. So I leave it to you."
Personally he found the place fascinating, but he could understand how some feared demons with no desire to understand anything more then the best ways to kill them. Truth be told he had no small amount of hatred for the demonic, but he did not allow that to diminish his love of knowledge or impair his understanding.
"Oh, sorry. I have a little talent at magic."
Allysen makes a gesture with her hand and mutters something under her breath. A moment later, she spreads her hands to reveal a miniature swarm of butterflies.
"Never studied a single spellbook to do things like that. Personally, I think they're a wee bit jealous."She says with a giggle as the butterfly swarm disappears in a flash of sparkling lights.
"As for things demonic, well, I see enough of that when wounded men and women come in. I'd just as soon not get any closer than I have to."
Something about her manner changes when Nenthil mentions seeing demonic specimens. Her dark eyes dart to the sides for a second, but she doesn't seem to even be aware of the reaction as she replies.
Nenthil's expression remains neutral during her magical display.
"Anyone who judges another for what they are born with, simply lessens themselves and all that they are. Talent and one's nature can only take them so far, without effort their can be no growth of any kind."
He lets out a breath as his expression lightens.
"In that case I will be making my way back to Old Kenabres to attend the festivities at Clydwell Plaza. If your headed that way I would welcome the company. I am no adventurer yet I may have a few stories of my travels."
"I... I would love to." Allysen answers, "If you run out of stories I can always tell a few." she adds.
Darkness.
Pain.
The taste of dust and blood.
Rocks clattering and moans of pain slowly press through a ringing in your ears. Jabs of stone in odd places, and the cool press of earth in others. Thick air catches in the throat.
Pain all over.
Darkness presses in close around you.
Time seems to slow. All eyes turn as the two figures spiral from the sky. The demon pumps his powerful wings, turning the two forms. The silver dragon lets one last blast of icy breath burst forth into the demon's face as she turns. The two slam into the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell. As the dragon staggers to her feet and the demon raises his sword high above her, a titanic demon surges into the world through several buildings at the far end of the plaza. Its passage opens a rift that races across the ground, spreading wide like a gaping maw as you tumble.
Your eyes turn to the East, and you catch the eye of the silver dragon there in the ruins of Saint Clydwell's. She murmurs a few words and stretches a claw toward you, even as the demon's sword begins to descend toward her. You feel something catch hold of you, slowing your fall. The last thing you see before the world blacks out around you is the dragon's silver head falling from her neck, the fiery sword steaming with her blood.
Time seems to slow. All eyes turn as the two figures spiral from the sky. The demon pumps his powerful wings, turning the two forms. The silver dragon lets one last blast of icy breath burst forth into the demon's face as she turns. The two slam into the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell. As the dragon staggers to her feet and the demon raises his sword high above her, a titanic demon surges into the world through several buildings at the far end of the plaza. Its passage opens a rift that races across the ground, spreading wide like a gaping maw as you tumble.
Your eyes turn to the East, and you catch the eye of the silver dragon there in the ruins of Saint Clydwell's. She murmurs a few words and stretches a claw toward you, even as the demon's sword begins to descend toward her. You feel something catch hold of you, slowing your fall. The last thing you see before the world blacks out around you is the dragon's silver head falling from her neck, the fiery sword steaming with her blood.
Time seems to slow. All eyes turn as the two figures spiral from the sky. The demon pumps his powerful wings, turning the two forms. The silver dragon lets one last blast of icy breath burst forth into the demon's face as she turns. The two slam into the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell. As the dragon staggers to her feet and the demon raises his sword high above her, a titanic demon surges into the world through several buildings at the far end of the plaza. Its passage opens a rift that races across the ground, spreading wide like a gaping maw as you tumble.
Your eyes turn to the East, and you catch the eye of the silver dragon there in the ruins of Saint Clydwell's. She murmurs a few words and stretches a claw toward you, even as the demon's sword begins to descend toward her. You feel something catch hold of you, slowing your fall. The last thing you see before the world blacks out around you is the dragon's silver head falling from her neck, the fiery sword steaming with her blood.
Time seems to slow. All eyes turn as the two figures spiral from the sky. The demon pumps his powerful wings, turning the two forms. The silver dragon lets one last blast of icy breath burst forth into the demon's face as she turns. The two slam into the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell. As the dragon staggers to her feet and the demon raises his sword high above her, a titanic demon surges into the world through several buildings at the far end of the plaza. Its passage opens a rift that races across the ground, spreading wide like a gaping maw as you tumble.
Your eyes turn to the East, and you catch the eye of the silver dragon there in the ruins of Saint Clydwell's. She murmurs a few words and stretches a claw toward you, even as the demon's sword begins to descend toward her. You feel something catch hold of you, slowing your fall. The last thing you see before the world blacks out around you is the dragon's silver head falling from her neck, the fiery sword steaming with her blood.
Time seems to slow. All eyes turn as the two figures spiral from the sky. The demon pumps his powerful wings, turning the two forms. The silver dragon lets one last blast of icy breath burst forth into the demon's face as she turns. The two slam into the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell. As the dragon staggers to her feet and the demon raises his sword high above her, a titanic demon surges into the world through several buildings at the far end of the plaza. Its passage opens a rift that races across the ground, spreading wide like a gaping maw as you tumble.
Your eyes turn to the East, and you catch the eye of the silver dragon there in the ruins of Saint Clydwell's. She murmurs a few words and stretches a claw toward you, even as the demon's sword begins to descend toward her. You feel something catch hold of you, slowing your fall. The last thing you see before the world blacks out around you is the dragon's silver head falling from her neck, the fiery sword steaming with her blood.
Coughing, Reinnwulf raises himself to a sitting position. Around him, the air is dark and filled with choking dust. He puts his left hand down to steady himself and is relieved to feel the shaft of his hunting spear. At least he had not lost that, nor the pack on his back. Moving carefully, he pulled a torch from his pack. The flint and steel in his belt pouch were easy enough to use, though the first few sparks were nowhere near the paper-wrapped pitch coated head of the torch. After a few tries, though he got it burning. Spear in one hand, and torch in the other he looked about.
Ozgo slowly come back to his senses. The darkness about him has him confused at first.
I was at the Plaza. The bells were ringing...the Dragon and Demon! By the goddess, what is going on!
He raises up onto his elbows when he notices a spark in the distance. A second spark flashes, and then a third before a flame blossoms from the dark. As his eyes adjusts, he realizes the fire is a torch, and that he is not the only one down here...wherever here is!.
"Hello! Who is there? Are you ok?", he calls out softly into the gloom.
Getting up he assesses himself for wounds and damage, but by the goddesses luck he is unharmed. A muttered blessing and a pure white light springs forth from his holy symbol; banishing the darkness in a 20' circle centred on himself.
"I am Ozgo Kisovir, Crusader of Iomedae." he announces to the figure with the torch...and any others his light may have uncovered.
"I am well, Ozgo Crusader, thanks be to the silver dragon. I am Reinnwulf of the Silverwolf Clan. It is good to see I am not alone down here. Perhaps others survived as well." Reinnwulf began to look for other survivors, while keeping his spear to hand in case of danger.
Ozgo nod his greeting to the man, glad not to be the only one trapped down here.
He too begins to sift through the wreckage to locate any survivors.
Nenthil had no need of light thanks to his blood but he quickly noticed others that did. Picking himself up and checking his condition he scans the area.
By the goddess what disaster had fallen. The Storm King Khorramzadeh had attacked Kenabres again. No doubt their would be great death.
He shook his head, focusing on the here and now. It seemed their were at least two survivors besides himself. Taking a moment to whisper a word and make a gesture he dispels the layer of dust on himself before speaking.
"I am apparently fine."
He steps into the radius of the light.
The twin lights push back the darkness a short ways around each of you. You appear to be in some sort of underground cavern. The wall behind you is composed of rubble, leading down to the area in which you find yourselves partially buried. You can see a total of eight intact persons including yourselves, although there are more bodies and pieces of bodies that can be seen buried in the rubble and scattered around.
Ozgo will go to each of the intact bodies and ascertain their conditions.
Allysen manages not to whimper in fear as the memories of the disaster above played out in her mind. Three times she'd almost been crushed, and three times she'd been lucky.
Desna, I hope you're smiling on me.
She hears voices and sees light, but hesitates, unsure of how the others would react. Especially if they found out her true heritage.
"Even in the darkest night, the stars still shine."
Four butterfly shaped lights appear in her hands and spread out to light the area around her. She tries to block out the horrors in the rubble behind her, knowing that breaking down now would do no good.
"I'm alive, and uninjured. I don't suppose you know the way out?"
She stands and dusts herself off, managing not to wince when she slapped a tender bruise on her shoulder. She was more annoyed to find that her tunic's sleeve had torn and the knees of her trousers were torn out. She adjusted the hood of her cloak and the scarf over her face to make sure that they would stay in place. She sees one of the others, not Nenthil, his hair wasn't that interesting, bend over a body she just now noticed.
She's by the man's side a moment later. Her eyes dull, even in the light. She looks around to see who else may have survived.
Apparently not everyone under the rubble is dead and with a groan an a clatter of tumbling stones, Weyland drags himself free. Stumbling into the light, he looks a mess. His armour, gleaming all but a few moments ago, is scratched and dented and he is coated in sweat streaked dust. Glancing around at the small group of survivors, he says,
"Weyland, Paladin of Iomedae. Glad to see you made it Ozgo. We will need every warm body possible to push back this attack."
"Is this it? If so, let's not tarry. There must be a way back to the surface, and we are need there.'
"There are a few others." Allysen answers, her lights fly out to where the paladin stands, illuminating the area around him.
"We're lucky. We're still alive and only a little worse for the wear."
She looks down at the cavern floor, her voice soft.
"Do we even know if there's a town to save up there?"
Personally he did not like paladin's, at least none so far, he found them to be single minded and inflexible. Something that all to often was used against them. Still his goddess taught to give all a fair chance, even if his more cynical nature was against it.
"You sir may leave if you wish but as this is not a man made tunnel. You may simply find there is no way up, at least not a direct one. Moving about below ground without regard is dangerous to say the least. That being said I see no point in rushing, I do not speak for others but I do not consider myself a vital defender of the city."
He takes a moment to study the others as well as himself. While his clothes showed signs of damage from the fall, they and the rest of his person were blatantly clean compared to the others. Something he mentally kicked himself over before he spoke once more.
"I think it best to search for more survivors. I would not like to think I left someone who could yet be helped behind."
With that he looks around, he did not have the sharpest vision but the darkness did not effect it.
As the group spreads out to search for more survivors, the extent of their luck in surviving the fall becomes more apparent. Crushed bodies are visible in the rubble, limbs extending from the mass of stone and earth. Only three of those who haven't yet stood appear to be more or less intact. One human woman with her right leg pinned under a large stone, a male elf with horrible burns across his face, and an older human man in fine (excepting some wear and tear form the fall) clothing. As you watch, the woman begins to moan, raising one hand to a gash on her forehead.
"Care taken in travel is not unwise. We should be careful here, as we were spared when others died. The silver dragon gave her life to spare whom she could. We should not throw that away in haste."
Looking around, Reinnwulf spotted the glint of silver in the rubble, and moved towards it. Then, he noticed the few figures that were not dead, or in pieces, and moved to help the injured instead. Treasure could wait until after.
"Hold, lady, and I will move the rock." Reinnwulf planted the butt of his spear under the rock on the lady's leg and carefully levered it off, trying not to damage the leg any more than it already was.
Ozgo go to the woman pinned under the rock and assists Reinnwulf in moving it.
Aid Other:
Nenthil does not aid the other men with their labor. He was well aware of his physical weakness and thought it best to stay out of the way. Instead he moved towards the elf to see the extent of his condition and offer any aid he could. At the very least make sure he was in no danger of falling rubble should the earth shift.
On his way he spots a bit of silver, that could wait for the moment.
Allysen moves to where the woman is pinned and tries her best to stay out of the way.
"I'm sorry it's not more, but this is the best I can do for now."
Once the rock is off her leg and she is free, Allysen begins to sing a verse in a soft, soothing tone.
"Wounds will heal and bones will mend,
As we follow the river of stars around the bend."
After casting the spell, she moves on to the elf. She's not very skilled in the more mundane healing arts, but she tries to see if the elf is still breathing.
Ozgo and Reinnwulf manage to lever the rock off the woman's leg without damaging her anymore than she already was. As she sits up, the woman says, "Inheritor protect you."
"Ah, thank you my good ... woman? Please, could you bring me a candle and a mirror? It's so dark in here I wonder that you can see at all." The elf sits up and begins feeling around himself.
The older man gives a snort and rolls over, almost as if he was sleeping. Unfortunately, a rock is rather in the way of his rolling, and he bashes his head against it. "What the ... What's going on? Where am I? Who are you ... you, people? What have you done to me? I demand to be taken back to my home this instant!"
Allysen's mind whirls about as she tries to find the best way to break the news to the elf that he didn't have any eyes to see with.
"Um, sir elf? Your eyes, well... Your eyes are gone. I'm not sure how you even survived what did that to you."
When the other man wakes up, she turns to him, only to realize that she must look like a bandit with her face, and most of the rest of her, covered up. Still, she had to do something to calm him down. She knew that panic was the worst thing to have break out when in a situation like this.
"As far as I know, nothing. Please stay calm. We'll need to keep our heads to have a chance to get out of here."
Nenthil takes a bit of the elf's clothes or any spare cloth to make a simple blindfold, which he cleans with his still active spell. Disguising it's use with the appearance of dusting it off by hand.
"Here for yours eyes, best not let anything get in there."
He places it in the elf's hands so he can do it himself if he wishes, otherwise he does. While at the other man's words he spares a glance.
"We are underground, no one is making it out of here this instant. You are welcome to try alone if it is your sole concern."
The man should count himself lucky to be alive much less uninjured. He focuses back on the elf.
"Are you hurt in any other way?"
"I think that everyone should just calm down. We are all in this together, at least for the moment, so why don't we all try to be civil. Now I don't want to unnerve anyone, but there seems to be something quite large and horrible over there just outside of the light. I think we should go investigate. Once we have addressed our immediate safety, then we can worry about the next step."
Weyland moves to go investigate...
Drawing his sword, Ozgo moves up beside Weyland.
"Let us go and see what this threat is."
"I hope it's longer than just for the moment, Weyland was it?" Allysen looks at the paladin, a faint twinkle in her eyes. "I think we'll be better off sticking together at lest until we find somewhere safe."
"How far is this thing you saw? I can get some light quite a ways."
As Weyland and Ozgo move toward it, the shape begins to resolve into an immense spider crouched on the ground.
The elf accepts the cloth from your hand and haltingly puts it around his eyes. "Well, that's ... um, yes. Thank you. Now, then, we'll need to get out of here. I've heard tell of all sorts of unsavory things in these warrens, so I'll need to know what everybody can do. Names, combat capabilities, experience, that sort of thing. You, girl, still here? Stick by me, you'll be my eyes."
He glanced over towards where the threat was, wondering why anything hostile would not have attacked while they were helpless. It all seemed a bit out of place to him. He answers the elf all the same.
"I am Nenthil Wardcaller, a bit of a scholar and fair shot with a crossbow. Other then that I would not be much use in a fight."
Studying the elf, he thought it best to leave out his very minor magical ability. He relied more on his weapon after all, bolts were in greater supply then his magical energy.
Taking out his crossbow and loading it in preparation. He notices the elf's effort due to his new condition. He thought it best to leave it alone for now, understanding that it was a way to cope with things.
"My name's Allysen. I know a little magic and how to use a bow, but other than that, I'm not much more than a singer." She answers the as she moves the lights closer to where Ozgo and Weyland were moving.
She swallows as she notices something odd about the spider.
"Uh guys, there's something in that thing, eating it."
She grabs her bow and an arrow. Her voice trembles a little as she calls out.