Osric arrives back on the scene in the courtyard, to find more chaos than he could have ever imagined. The roiling mass of fleeing humanity and bloodthirsty demons nearly overwhelms his keen senses.
His eyes follow the fight of the dragon in the sky. He winces in horror as he realizes the battle would not go to the great protector of Kenabres. As the creature crashes down, and Osric feels the ground give way, he sees the magnificent creature look his way. Though he only gazes into her eye for an instant, he seems to understand that she intends to help Osric nods at her as he feels his descent begin to slow. Then, the blackness came...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Osric opens his eyes. Darkness. He moves his fingers, then holds his hand in front of his face. Darkness. He remembers his training, and utters a short prayer to Iomedae. The silver holy symbol hanging around his neck begins to glow as brightly as a torch. He sits up, and looks around him. Noticing other lights, he moves their way. He stoops down to get his bow. Unbroken. Never forget to be grateful for small blessings.
As he draws near he recognizes some of the people from up above. The older Ulfen man, tall and strong. The stern and commanding man who looks as though he's seen his share of trouble. The fiery dwarf, the strange cloaked man, and that warrior that had looked so familiar. He also takes notice of the other people. Especially the survivors.
Light! What do I say? These people don't need a sermon now, they need a miracle! No matter how small... I feared justice would finally befall the inquisitors here. I just needed more time to mend their ways. But for the whole city to suffer! Surely this can not be the Inheritor's way of teaching a lesson?
Osric strings his bow and sets and arrow to the string. Every one he carries bears a cold iron head. He stands near the center of the group, gaze darting around.
"I am Brother Osric Barnesdale, servant of the Inheritor. I swear that while I draw breath I will act as her sheltering hand to see us through this ordeal. I recommend that we get moving as soon as we're able. Are any survivors unable to walk?"
All Voren can do is watch in terror as the demons continue to come. As the dragon falls. As the realization that the crusader and child are most likely dead. All of this brings terrible memories. Of the Worldwound opening. Of Sarkoris falling. He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost fails to notice the falling sensation. He sees the dragon pointing at him. Then all went black.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
He wakes to the sound of voices. He gets up to see a few others. The dwarf, the horse man, two members of the church, and the man the dwarf was talking to at the competition. He looks to the new members of their group. He focuses his attention on the injured elf. "H-hello. My name is Voren. Are you all right? Is there a way I can help?" He tries to judge the severity of his wounds, taking out his healer's kit.
After he looks the elf over and hearing the dwarf point out the shiny thing, and the warnings of the moving thing in the spider corpse, he walks over to the shiny thing and begins searching through the rubble. All the while, the man mutters to himself. A scorpion comes out of the folds of his robes and onto his shoulder, moving as if consoling him.
The sound of low muttering draws Aurica's eyes from the spider's bloated corpse. She stares at the hooded figure.
She stares at red skin-- red skin, like that of the demon she had glimpsed climbing out of the chasm. Horns, like the goat-demon. Fanged teeth glinting in torchlight, like the pig-brute she had shot... A scorpion skitters over his shoulder, crawling, crawling, a hideous little thing of poison and malice--
My fault, he mutters beneath his breath. My fault.
Aurica's free hand balls slowly into a fist. Well. That's why, isn't it-- that's why she's not yet in front of Torag's forge, or Pharasma's Spire.
Because there's the matter of justice, and vengeance, to be seen to first.
She takes a step towards the mumbling tiefling, her middle-distance stare shifted wholly from the spider, to the cloaked figure.
Despite Reknar snapping for the rotund nobleman to be kept quiet, he continues to blubber and weep, rambling on and on to any who looked even remotely like they might listen to him about how much pain he's in and how this is all crazy and oh gods you have to get him out of here... He's Horgus Gwerm, he says as if that means anything to you, and that definitely means you simply cannot leave him. "L-Look! You're strapping crusader-looking types! I know you all just want to make a bit of coin in the end! If you get me out of here I'll pay you, you hear?! A—A thousand gold! No, one thousand five hundred! That's got to be enough for commoners like you, right?! Please!!"
Despite his pathetic bleating, Horgus appears to be generally unharmed besides a couple of scrapes and scratches here and there.
Horgus Gwerm is the last remaining member of the Gwerm family here in Kenabres. He's a heavy investor in the Truestone Quarry and is a shrewd businessman and moneylender with vast sums of capital at his disposal.
As Jens calls out to the young woman and Osric speaks of walking, she thinks for a moment, and then nods slowly. Using a nearby bit of rubble, she slowly and carefully drags herself to her feet—and yet, the moment she takes a single step on her right leg, she lets out an agonised cry of pain and crumples back to the ground again.
"Inheritor's mercy," she curses quietly, breathing slowly and deeply through clenched teeth as she recovers from the pain. Her leg looks pretty banged up; it's definitely broken, sticking out at a very awkward and unnatural angle, although thankfully there has been little in the way of perforation of the skin. "I... I don't think so. No," she finally responds, her voice deep and husky yet still distinctly feminine.
The elf, meanwhile, looks up as Jens calls out to him and Voren makes his way towards him as well. Now that his hands have uncovered his face, you can see that his face is a twisted mess of horrific burns, as if some brand had been diagonally drawn across his face. His eyeballs have been completely seared away, leaving behind empty, sunken sockets with half-functioning eyelids. The only upside is that the obvious heat of whatever struck him has cauterised the wounds, resulting in him at least not bleeding to death.
Voren is fairly sure this sort of wound is far beyond his ability to do much with—even if he had more than a first-aid kit with him, the damage is something that only magic would be able to regenerate. At the very least, the tiefling bandages up the elf's head to keep the wounds clear from dust or further injury.
As Voren works, the elf grits his teeth and attempts to locate the source of the various voices he can make out around him. "Who are you all then? Voren? Osric? I don't recognise the names. Are you crusaders? Do any of you have experience battling demons? Quickly now!" Despite his obvious injuries, he seems to be quite demanding in his questions.
Those keeping an eye on the spider corpse notice little difference, although as you get closer the movements in its abdomen become more furious and noticeable.
You find five other scales nearby, each providing you with similar images in your mind. One allows you to disguise your form completely; another protects you from magical elements; the third sanctifies a weapon temporarily; a fourth fills a heavily-armoured bearer with grace and agility; and the last allows messages to be sent safely across vast distances. However, you also realise that the scales become inert when you hold more than one at a time.
*****
Voren continues to search through the rubble for the source of the shine. Ayne stays on his shoulder, surveying the area. She stops at the sight of the female dwarf staring at the witch and taking a step towards him. 'Boy, we might have a problem. The female dwarf is staring intently in our direction.' The tiefling stops his search and turns to the dwarf. He becomes uncomfortable at her gaze. He rubs his shoulder, his sleeved hand running over the crow feathers sown in the shoulders of the robe. "Y-yes? M-may I h-help you?"
Finding the scales and finding himself in the air, Voren freaks, obviously not used to this. He comes back to the ground. He looks to the others, asking, "T-there's six here. W-which ones do you want? I-I c-can choose last."
Seeing the elf struggle, Voren says, "I've had experience with demons. But not in combat. I'm a healer. These wounds can only be healed with magic. The upside is that you won't bleed to death. I'm treating the wounds so that they won't be injured further. When we've gotten out of immediate danger, I'll be able to help further. But in the mean time, you must calm down and let me help you." He turns to the others. "Can anyone here help me? Healing magic? Knowledge in healing? Anything?"
Seeing the woman stumble, he turns from the elf to looks over her. "Don't worry. I'm here to help. Let me take a closer look at your leg."
Aurica keeps her eyes fixed on Voren, the noise of the various conversations drifting over her like birdsong in the forest. She pays them little heed, instead tracking the hooded man's every move-- watching as he draws things out of the broken stone.
Bits of silver. Silver stained with sapphire blood...
Aurica moves through the rubble, stones shifting beneath her feet, until she stands right next to Voren. Her answer to his question is much ruder than his words merited.
"Get your filthy, pit-spawned claws," she says slowly, deliberately, but perfectly audible to everyone else, "off the scales of Terendelev, and I'll give you the courtesy of a quick arrow through your traitorous heart."
Waking to darkness, Flynn lays still and quietly organizes his memories....
Hah! with the man's (Osrics?) help we got the old-timer to the surface. Telendrev!!! Fighting that huge Demon. Losing! But in defeat she saved me. The old man..... Saw him spin away into the darkness below, somehow missed by her spell....Demon's have taken the city. What about Io? Baraak? I need to get back to them! They are in...
" DANGER!!!!"
Flynn shouts as he wakes to reality and lunging to his feet, looks around wildly in the torchlight...
Raising his shield and drawing his flail, he advances toward the demonic looking man near the rubble.
" Whats your fault Demon? What have you done..." He starts only to stop when he sees the teifling helping the wounded....
" Iomedae! Help me clear my head!" He stands stunned in confusion for a moment...
" I can do minor healings once a day...Lady dwarf...Wait, he seems to be trying to help these people. Mayhap all isn't as it appears."
Hearing the dwarf's threat, Voren gives a startled yelp and backs away, still holding the scales. Ayne brandishes her claws and stinger, giving a clear warning to the redhead. "T-the s-scales? T-Terendelev? The silver dragon? I j-j-just found t-them. I-I wasn't doing anything wrong! A-and what kind of negotiation is that? I give you what you want and I get killed? Hardly seems fair. I'm offering you a scale. Each of these have powers. Powers that can help us get out of here! You wish to get out of here, yes? Then you'll need my help. I can see perfectly fine down here! If you want a scale, then tell me which one you wish for." He stammers out, wary of the arrows. 'If my hunch is right, then she might have cold iron arrowheads. Damn the weaknesses of these fey marks! Cold iron weapons do more damage to me.'
Looking to the paladin coming towards him, Voren gives another yelp. Then he notices something. "Hey! Y-you're the paladin that stuck up for me earlier! Against the two old men!" At the paladin's question and insult, Voren bows his head in sadness. "Earlier, there was a c-child. He was separated in the chaos. I g-guided him to the nearest crusader. They ran to the church for safety. B-but..." He stops, letting the others fill in the blanks. He gives out a few choked sobs. After a minute, he takes a deep breath. He raises his head, wiping the tears from his dimly glowing yellow eyes. "If you can, see if you can heal our elven friend. I need to work on the lady's injuries." He then turns back to the broken leg.
Aurica's lip lifts scornfully at the little scorpion lifting its tail her direction, and only rises further at the demon-man's words.
"It's not a negotiation, pit-born. It's a threat. And yeah, I'll just bet you're freely offering power-- did you curse them? Did you taint them?"
The dwarf's voice rises, hoarse and cracked. "Doing nothing wrong, he says! The damned Pit is stamped plain on him as a brand, and the city falls, and the Wardstone fails, and this demonspawn shows up graciously f%$*ing offering the scales of a creature he doesn't have the right to touch! Awfully bloody convenient!
"What'd they bribe you with, pitspawn!? What price did you take, to sell out my city, my home?"
Aurica is shouting now, eyes blazing and tear-tracks running down her face through the dust of the rubble. The logic of Voren's statements, or the evidence that he is trying to heal others, seems utterly lost on her right now. She looks a breath away from taking a swing at him, regardless of how foolish or justified it might be.
"A medic, huh?" The elf smiles approvingly, nodding his head (an act that kind of complicates the whole bandaging process somewhat). "An important role in war, even though it is not a combat one. You said your name was... Voren, yes? Excellent. My name is Aravashnial, a powerful wizard of some renown."
As Voren moves to assist the injured woman, she rolls her eyes at Aravashnial's pompous self-introduction, but otherwise happily rests back to allow the tiefling to inspect it. She seems to notice his red, scaly skin as he touches her, but doesn't react any more than a mild flinch of surprise. "Thank you," she murmurs, watching him curiously.
The leg is badly broken, and there's not much that Voren can really do about it. His best idea is to fashion some kind of rudimentary splint for her leg from the bits of snapped timber and frayed rope scattered around in the rubble around here. That and an improvised walking stick of some sort would have to do until they reached the surface. As he begins his work, Aravashnial continues to speak—and Aurica steps forward, trouble in her eyes.
"Right then! Some of you more able sorts—warriors or some such, I know you must be there—go explore the cavern. The rest can stay here and protect the injured. Voren, you shall be my eyes while I cannot see, and—" Aravashnial 'frowns' (a bit hard without much of a face—but his forehead knits disapprovingly) as a loud argument breaks out courtesy of Aurica, and his words fall on dead ears. He (obviously) can't place exactly what's going on here, but he's displeased that people are ignoring him while he's organising things. "Excuse me, young woman, I was not yet finished!" he protests, but then pauses as he listens to the outbursts. Aravashnial then gasps, politely covering his mouth as he does so. "Don't tell me... Voren, you are one of the demon-touched?!" Rather than outraged, the mage seems... intrigued.
"Ergh," Horgus grimaces visibly at the revelation of Voren's heritage, pointedly moving himself to be well away from him. "Disgusting! Why would the dragon have saved you? Oh, and you're really not doing a good job with that splint there," he adds as an afterthought, peeking out from behind Reknar's shoulder. "You're tying that knot there all wrong. It's got to be a round lashing, you hear?"
Voren might not hear Horgus' complaints over Aurica's shouting. Certainly, the dwarven ranger's outburst echoes quite significantly around the outer edges of the rocky cavern, more than enough to alert anything that might be nearby... such as the unknown beings within the spider's belly. As Jens and Reknar stand guard, there's a great and awful ripping sound followed by a putrid, vomitous, rotting stench as the enormous arachnid's "passengers" burst free of their confines to find fresh prey.
Three maggots writhe around in the rotting carcass of the giant spider, each as large as a hunting dog but three times as corpulent. Their skin is greasy and pale, and their circular mouths are filled with tiny, sharp teeth— Mouths that look hungry for human(ish) flesh! Horgus screams, his flushed face immediately paling at the sight of them.
No time for arguing now. Danger's afoot!
Initiative: Party | Maggots
OOC
As many of you have played with me before the combat style that I run is not going to be much of a surprise, but for those who haven't, here's a quick brief.I run a kind of block initiative. Groups of similar enemies will move together, and PCs in the same block can post at the same time. Whoever posts first gets to go first. (This is functionally equivalent to delaying, anyway.)
So, uh, the maggots rolled a 5 on initiative, so everyone, have at them!
Knowledge (nature) to identify.
Aurica turns at the disgustingly-organic sound of the spider's belly ripping open. For a heartbeat or five, she stares at the maggots uncaring-- worms. Worms, so what? She has a traitor to deal with, but, her training takes over at the sight of the hideous, hungry crawling grubs.
"Bloody big maggots," Aurica says, her words short, flat, and blunt. She shoulders roughly past Voren, to stand with her back to the cavern wall and reach for a red-fletched arrow."For a bent copper, tiefling, I'd send this arrow into you instead."
Spoken as she draws, nocks, and looses at the north-most of the maggots.
It's quite clear that her anger is coloring both her judgment and her aim. The arrow sails off into the darkness of the cavern's far wall, Aurica's sloppy, angry shot reminiscent of the failed arrows against the target in the archery competition.
"Bloody big maggots" indeed! Sums them up, really. The, uh, scientific name is giantus maggotus, though. Unsurprisingly, they're the larval form of the giant fly, and tend to do little more than consume whatever dead thing their mother has laid their eggs into.
The most notable thing that maggots like this do in terms of self-defense is regurgitating their last meal onto someone's shoes. It's not particularly dangerous, but it sure ain't pleasant.
All the conversation in the backdrop starts to grate on Reknar's nerves - It seems everyone has forgotten there is a spider or whatever it is writhing just in front of us... - he ponders.
He recognizes the Gwerm name, and retorts at the man, even if he does not turn around, his attention focused at the possible threat ahead of them - "Master Gwerm - we WILL make sure the area is secured, then perhaps there will be a moment to discuss your generous offer - two thousand and five hundred gold I believe I heard? For poor commoners like us?" - the man takes the opportunity to press the deal, and perhaps getting Horgus to both raise the value, and shut up all at once.
"But for now" - he adds - "Stay silent, or you will bring whatever bug may be crawling in this forsaken hole upon your head" - finishing with a warning.
When the commotion begins around Voren, he takes a look out of the corner of his eye, noticing his fiendish looks - Great... This is all we need - "Ladies and gents, perhaps we could take a moment from being at each others' throats and deal with the situation at hand? Or else, I'm gonna start thinking the the demons won't have to send anyone else into the city to wipe us out - we'll take care of killing each other" - he adds coldly - "Aurica, snap out of it! Your a dwarf, and we need you in these caves - don't you want to get back up top and check on your father? So, lets get moving then!" - his tone rises a bit, but he tries to keep it under check.
"And you in the shining armor" - he nods at Flynn - "You seem like a strappy lad - get in front and help lay down a defensive line to protect the wounded" - he growls, an eye on the man, and another on the huge shape just a few yards away.
"Voren, is that what you said your name is?" - he addresses the red skinned one - "Time to keep a low profile for now - I've fought alongside those of demonic heritage before - heck, I even met one that called himself a 'Paladin of the Inheritor' or whatever it was - died screaming that one, but he was as loyal as can be. But now... Everything is turned upside down, so give the folks here a moment to take it all in, and don't make any sudden movements" - he actually laughs at these last words.
"Now everyone just take a breather, gather those scales or whatever they are, and..." - Reknar's voice trails off when he hears the ripping sound, and is almost overwhelmed by the stench, just to notice the vermin coming out of the corpse - "There we have it" - he states, actually glad that they had found a distraction to keep everyone's minds from turning at each other.
Taking a step forward, he holds the spear out, imbuing it with some of that spontaneous arcane power Lucian insists he possess, and holds the line - "Keep those shots coming girl" - he urges Aurica, hearing the bow strung - "Any others that can attack from a distance, do so now. We'll keep them off you" - he adds.
"Just hold the line, will you?" - he grumbles at the massive Ulfen next to him.
"Y-You can't tell me what to do!" Horgus splutters as he nervously scampers to the safety of the back of the collapsed cavern. "I said one-thousand-five-hundred and not a copper more! And that's only if you can actually get us out of here!" He ducks down behind a small boulder, offering yet another quip as he does so. "And learn to aim why don't you?!"
Aravashnial shakes his head in disgust as the scene unfolds around him (not that he could see it). "What did I tell you! If you lot had just listened to me, we wouldn't be in this kind of trouble now! Look, now, get up and go deal with these... these... whatever they are!"
The young woman merely shakes her head at the sight of the ensuing chaos. "Sounds like you're in for a rough time with these guys," she murmurs quietly to Voren.
As the scene unfolds, Jens bites his tongue, trying to keep his Ulfen temper in check. Trapped in the gods-forsaken bowel of the earth with a pit-spawn, a dwarf with a disjointed head, two Iomedaeans, a whelp with a loud mouth, a crippled woman, a blind elf, and a noble who can't stop blubbering. Lady take me, I'll need all my will to make it out of here.
Part of him wants to cut Voren down where he stands, the old memories of the cracked Wardstone flooding his head, but when the tiefling begins sobbing, part of him softens. Look at him, Jens. He's barely a pup. Zuri wouldn't be much older than he is now- He pushes the thought back down as it begins to surface, as this isn't the time for such painful memories.
Alright. See to the girl's leg, you'll probably have to help her along. Make sure the dwarf's alright - get her to snap out of it. And for Pharasma's sake, get that noble to stop blubbering. The elf needs to brought to reality, too; this is a survival situation...
As his mind sorts through the mire of thoughts, he rolls his shield-bearing shoulder, limbering up the joint. "Gods, I'm too old for this," he mutters dryly, passing off his torch to someone behind him and drawing his sword.
With every one of Aurica's words, Voren flinches. However, her accusations of being bribed by the demons causes a rare scowl to form, showing his fanged teeth. "Don't accuse me of falling into their ranks! I hate demons! With every fiber of my being! You're not the only one who's lost their home to their filth!"
At Aravashnial's kind conversation, Voren smiles and says, "A pleasure to meet you, Aravashnial, wizard of renown."
As he tends to the woman's wounds, he smiles and says, "No thanks are necessary. Just doing my job to help. Now then, given the time and materials, this splint is the best I can do. I've fashioned you a walking stick as well. Now, you may need to rely on one of us for support. Is that all right? May I ask for your name, ma'am."
At Aravashnial's exclamation, Voren sighs and nods. "Yes. I'm a tiefling. But I'm not a pitborn! ...At least, I don't think I am. From what I know, pitborns tend to be stronger. More charismatic. But not all that smart. I, on the other hand, am more intelligent and I don't have much muscle. However, I'm not throwing that possibility out the window, so to say. That's why I came here. To find out who I am and who my family is, or was." He shakes his head before turning to Aravashnial. "I'll be more than happy to be your eyes. Anything to help."
Voren rolls his eyes at Horgus's words. He continues to fashion the splint as he says, "I don't pretend to know why Terendelev chose to save me. Only that she did and I'm thankful for it. As to the word 'disgusting', I consider that to be a compliment. Trust me, I've been called worse through my years. As to your advice, I've been healing people for a long, long time. So I can tell you that I know what I'm doing. Now, if I may ask, Mr. Horgus Gwerm, that you keep silent before we risk being in more danger? Thank you." He's completed the splint and says to the woman, "Is it secure? Any discomfort?"
It's obvious in his tone of voice that he's starting to get annoyed with Horgus.
Voren listens to the bard(?) and tilts his head at keeping a low profile. "Low profile? What do you mean?" He scratches his head in confusion before realizing that his hood is not securely over his head. He gives a shocked yelp before pulling it forward, his head once again obscured.
Hearing the ripping sounds, he looks over to see the creatures. He yells in surprise, putting the scales into one of his robe's pockets. He winces at Aurica's words and shoving. At the lady's words, he only remarks, "Got enough of this when my home was around. So, I should be used to it, more or less."
He makes several gestures and waves his hands, an invisible wind picking up. His eyes start to glow a burning white. In the air, the wind amasses together until a radiant celestial eagle appears, giving a powerful screech. Voren yells, "Attack the creatures! Protect us!"
Heeding its master commands, the eagle flies off and attacks the nearest worm, ripping at it its beak and talons.
Osric watches the scene unfold between Aurica and Voren. He looks on intently, as if trying to bore holes into their very souls with his gaze alone. Before he can speak, the maggots burst forth!
Osric nods as Reknar suggests ranged attacks. He calmly aims his bow and looses an arrow towards the beasts.
Momentarily taken back by the dwarven woman's ferocity, Flynn stands with his mouth gaping open like a fish...
" Oh thanks be to you Milady." He blurts out as the maggots break from the spider's body.
Spinning his flail he moves forward to stand by the others, also readying an attack if they approach.
Initiative: Party | Maggots
Status
Maggot (blue): dead
Maggot (green): dead
The group springs to action, everyman (and everywoman) preparing to defend themselves as the slithering horde of sticky, gooey grubs encroaches on their position. A couple of half-hearted arrows are sent in the direction of the vermin but sail harmlessly over...head?
The maggots slide onward, leaving a trail of semi-opaque goo behind them. Reknar stabs one through the gut as it comes within range, and the mess is cleaned up by Flynn (Jens and Reknar both tried to swing their weapons at the same time and wound up bumping into one another. Oops.) Reknar's ready for the second as it winds up becoming like a witchetty grub on a toothpick, ready for eating... ewww.
Only the third makes it through unaccosted, whereupon it promptly rears back and... vomits all over--
--Flynn! A stomach-churning mess of half-digested spider guts and glistening spittle is spewed all over the paladin. Groooosssss.
In the air, the wind amasses together until a radiant celestial eagle appears, giving a powerful screech. Voren yells, "Attack the creature! Protect us!"
Heeding its master's commands, the eagle flies off and attacks the last worm, ripping at it its beak and talons.
Voren's summoned eagle appears with a flash of light, lays into the maggot and rips it to shreds, and then promptly disappears.
So, uh, what was that argument again...?
Voren breathes a sigh of relief at the last maggot's death. He smiles before digging into his pocket, pulling out the scales again. He holds them up to the others and says, "Before something else attacks us, let's decide who gets which scale. Each one has a different power that could help us. Again, I offer to go last."
"I apologize, sir. I am not sure that I fully understand what you found. You say these are scales form the silver dragon herself? That they contain magical properties? Do you know what each of them does, or must we experiment?"
Aurica turns her head slowly to look at Voren again, and thoughtfully fingers another red-fletched arrow. Her eyes track around the group, moving from face to face, calculating, keeping in mind who has spoken up for him and who hasn't.
Ultimately she lets the arrow slide back into the quiver.
"So you all have no trouble working with him? Trusting him?" Aurica says flatly. "Fine."
Without a further word, Aurica moves off past the circle of torchlight, hunting her misfired arrow with her keen eyes. And also making sure there's no more surprises waiting in the spider's corpse.
She completely ignores Voren's offer regarding the scales.
She finds the arrow-- unusable, for it struck a rock and the impact snapped the shaft. She puts the broken pieces into her belt pouch anyway. Yndariel always said leave no trace of your passage....
Osric turns to the dwarf, face impassive:
"Indeed I do not. When you have been required to sit in judgement and weigh the heart of a living being whose very life is on trial, you sometimes find that mercy is wiser than pure justice. This man, devil-blooded or not, has shown himself to be far better than some to stand before the Inquisition."
"Has he now?" Aurica's voice calls back from the darkness near the spider's corpse, a cynical smile almost audible in her tone.
"What, you bind someone's leg and call up a pretty glowin' bird and that's all it takes? Gosh, didn't know it was that easy to win the trust of a judge. Not like demons ever lie, or play at bein' good in order to fool people, or nothin'.
"But fine. Trust him all you want. You can be responsible for him, Mr. Judge."
Jens slides his sword back into its scabbard, grumbling something about getting older and slower as he does so. That done, he places a large, hard hand on Aurica's shoulder. "Listen now, lass. None of us wanted to be down here, and I don't think any of us have exactly gotten off on the right foot. Now, I've seen plenty of demon-spawn in my time - I've trained a score of them, young men and women eager to shake off the prejudice of their blood. Demons took my home, as well, and much more - twice now, in fact. But Terendelev saved us all, and she saved him as well."
He pauses, thinking his words over carefully. "I, for one, will work with him. Do I trust him? No. As you said, it takes more than a fancy bird and a splint to earn someone's trust. But I'll work with him, for now, if it means getting out of here. And if you don't trust him, trust Terendelev's judgement."
Leaving Aurica to mull over his words, he makes his way to Voren. "Now, lad," he says gruffly, "what do you know about these scales?"
Voren breathes a sigh of relief at the last maggot's death. He smiles before digging into his pocket, pulling out the scales again. He holds them up to the others and says, "Before something else attacks us, let's decide who gets which scale. Each one has a different power that could help us"
"That makes sense" - Reknar nods, cleaning the tip of his spear from the gore of the maggots.
He was about to voice some of his opinions, but as it seems the others are already on it, he does not add a word, keeping an eye on the conversation, but moving a tad further, and closer to Aurica - "If he so much steps out of line, we skewer him, you can rest assured" - not adding anything further to the fuming dwarf, and returning to the others, mainly to the limp woman and the blind one.
"Well met, I am Reknar - there was no chance for introductions sooner, we were attacked by some sort of underground maggots - that is solved now, how are your eyes?"
Then turning to the girl, looking at her leg and walking stick, he adds - "Do you think you will be able to walk? Let me know, because if not, we will find a way to carry you - no one is left behind" - he states with a grim look.
"I've carried heavier people. I may be old, but my back is still strong," Jens offers, without taking his eyes off Voren. "If you can't walk, girl, I'll help you along."
Aurica listens to Jens and Reknar with her jaw clenching unhappily. The mention that Terendelev chose to save the damned tiefling...
She turns away, to face the darkness of the cave wall and keep an eye on those two entrances. That way, there's no chance anyone can see the hot tears squeezing out the corners of her eyes.
Saved HIM, but not my family! My mother, my father, my brother--
Intellectually she knows that there was no chance the dragon could have done anything for them. But 'intellectually' is a hard thing to manage when your world has crashed down around your ears.
She keeps her back to the others, staring fixedly at the tunnel entrances and raising a hand to brusquely brush away the stupid f#&~in' tears. Not got time for 'em.
They're wrong, she thinks, not to skewer that tiefling right now... but they're not wrong about the rest of it. Survival. That comes first. They've got wounded. Focus. Her family's probably dying and burning overhead right now, as the Storm Lord ravages the defenseless city--
She keeps silent for now, listening as names are traded around, status ascertained. Breathing drills, like Yndariel had taught her...
When there's a little lull in the voices behind her, Aurica says shortly, over her shoulder, "Name's Aurica. Got two tunnels leadin' outta here that I can see."
Voren shirks away from Aurica. At Osric's and Jens's questions, he says, "These are six scales from the silver dragon that saved us. Each one of these has a magical ability tied to it. The abilities of each scale are cloudwalking, as you saw before with me, the ability to completely disguise the user, reducing one's armor hinderance, increasing their speed, and protecting them against opportunistic attacks, the user becoming resistant to cold or electric based attacks, giving the user's weapon an alignment to good or the law, and casting whispering wind to others at great distances. However, these abilities aren't limitless and can only be used so many times a day. So, which do you want?"
At Osric's mention of the Inquisition, Voren freezes. He looks over to him, staring at him warily and taking a small step away from him.
At the two's introductions, Voren smiles (or at least you assume under his hood) and nods. "Reknar. Aurica. A pleasure to meet you both." His familiar crawls in his hood and across his face. "Oh. And this is my familiar, Ayne." He raises his arm and the scorpion crawls onto his hand. After a few looks to Jens, Reknar, and Osric, she crawls on his arm and returns to her perch on his shoulder.
He turns to the woman and gently helps her up into the arms of whoever's going to help her. He then moves closer to Aravashnial and allows the elven wizard to place a hand on Voren's shoulder for the witch to guide him. "So, which way do we go?"
Voren searches around, using his darkvision to his advantage. Ayne keeps an eye out as well.
Flynn gags in revulsion as he unsuccessfully tries to avoid the maggots spew.
" Ugh. That. Is. Just. Nasty. HUrlgh!"
He manages to get out before becoming sick.
"Ugmmm. Blech. If--if you can believe me young Aurica, I can test to see if Voren here is evil or not. Won't tell if he will betray us, but ...." He trails off.." If you don't mind of course?"This last directed at the young witch.
" I'm pretty sure of you, as actions usually speak louder than words..."
Osric's jaw clenches as the dwarf offers her retort, but he holds his tongue. He's heard far worse from those who should know far better then she than to judge a book by its cover.
"Quite so, I will accept responsibility for his actions. If I have taken a false measure of his character, then I too must suffer."
He listens to the others speak of being ready to kill at the first sign of "treachery". As if a disguised demon would even give them the chance! He'd seen calm, ordinary looking men who'd been found drenched in the blood of their own wives and children, every one a victim of demonic possession. Looking for an enemy in everyone was folly, when everyone could be an enemy! Besides, if this was a demon in disguise, why not play along in order to draw his plan out?
"I know little of this area. One passage is as good as another to me."
To the injured woman: "I can offer you some magical healing if it will mend your bones enough to travel."
Aurica doesn't participate in the discussion over the scales at first, keeping her eyes on the tunnels. And breathing slowly and deliberately, counting under her breath in the discipline drills...
She's not dead. The initial shock is starting to pass. She can smell the stink of the maggots, the copper of her own blood where her lip is split: she can feel sweat on her palms... she knows she's not dead. Somehow-- Terendelev's grace-- she and the others are alive.
What of Galna? What of Malkus, in his forge-- her father, lame, unable to even run at a quick clip to escape the city? What of Jormur? She knows her brother: he'd run to take the fight to the demons, in his fine armor, with his flashing axe and polished shield.
Dead on a demon's claws, all of them? Trapped in a crumbling city? They're probably all dead, already. She has no choice but to proceed as if they are.
Where's the logic in that? Where's the sense? Jormur's the heir. He's the important one. He's the one who ought to live, she's... she's just Aurica...
Aurica bites her lower lip until she can taste the blood again. It's grounding, after a fashion. It reminds her this is real.
Aurica moves to the mouth of each of the tunnels in turn, listening and peering into the blackness.
Taking a few moments to clean himself of the maggoty sludge, Flynn will look around and make sure there is no way to climb back up to the surface from here.
Seeing that it isn't possible he glances at the companions he finds himself with, noting the grumbly dwarf scouting ahead, and the rest in various states of readiness.
" Ahh. I am remiss in my duties..."
He says quietly as he approaches the lady with the broken leg."Excuse me Lady...?"He hesitates for just a moment, not knowing her name."I promised healing a while ago and never provided it. If you would sit for a moment I will do so now. My name is Flynn....O-of the Everbright Crusaders. A follower of Iomedae...."He trails off not knowing what to say really...
"Iomedae give me your aid..." He intones as he touches the woman's leg..
He rises and walks away without saying more...
Approaching Voren..." Ahh. MY...Friend? You said there is a scale of Terendelev that will grant a-an outlook or alignment to my weapon? I would take that one if I may? A weapon infused with the power of good will come in handy against demons. At least I have been told so, at any rate.."