For several weeks, excitement has been building in Kenabres-Armasse is coming! Traditionally an opportunity for scholars and priests to come together to study the lessons of history from wars past, since Aroden's death, this holy day has become more about training commoners in weaponry, choosing squires, and ordaining new priests. Over time, Armasse has grown to encompass jousting competitions, mock duels, battle reenactments, and other festival events. In Kenabres, the festival (which takes place on 16 Arodus) is eagerly anticipated, for it provides distractions from the horrors of being on the front line of the war. Smiles on faces normally marred by downcast eyes and furrowed brows do wonders for city morale in the weeks leading up to the event.
Armasse is a citywide celebration, but the majority of the event, including its jousting matches and other entertainments, takes place at Clydwell Plaza, just west of the cathedral.
Armasse had always been one of Serena's favorite festivals - if that was the right word to describe any celebration so close to the Worldwound, however gaudy. Even the kindest interpretation couldn't shake off the martial interpretation of things... or the fact that she had a very limited amount of true participation. "Sorceresses shouldn't be putting metal on," they said. "You have trouble lifting heavy things, much less a pack of soldier's gear," they said. All of which was... admittedly true.
She was healthier and more agile than many casters her age, but her strength was below-average at the best of times. The city officials, in their martial wisdom, had told her to hang back and focus on improving her magic. If she could stop being such an apprentice (...and that was a fair description...) she might be able to make a real contribution to the war efforts. Until then, as a "future asset", she was to stay out of trouble and help in other ways.
As vexing as that was, it hadn't stopped her from going out on a daily basis to encourage people and help keep morale up. In a city the size of Kenabres, one girl could only do so much (even if she was charming as all heck, thank you very much), but small efforts put together could have great effects.
For now, though? She'd cast Light on a small rock and was making it swoop around for the entertainment of some children. She'd always had an affinity for flashy spells, and making people happy with her magic was one of her favorite things... even if she did occasionally get a dark look from the inquisitors as a result.
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Vance entered Clydwell Plaza with his head high and a healthy smile across his broad jaw. The light of the Arodus morning lit the facade of the cathedral to the west of the square. He took in a deep breath and straightened himself before he entered the morning fray of the Armasse festival.
Clean-shaven, with a freshly painted sword in a sunburst on his shield, Vance walked the edge of the crowd at first. He'd grown up on the outskirts of town, and raised by a disenfranchised veteran of the Third Crusade before being made an orphan by the Fourth. He'd learned to love the people of his adopted country, yet it was only at Armasse that he saw beyond the superficial love that he'd been raised to have.
Tall, handsome and silent, heads turned to smile at the young man in his freshly groomed garb. The shy and distant young man simply smiled and nodded in return, attempting to hide behind his politeness.
Iolaire lead the children across the square, doing her best to stop as many of her orphaned charges as possible from racing off into the delights of the festival. "Tobias, Amy, get back over here! We can get candy apples later." In a desperate attempt to keep her wayward charges together she starts herding them towards the young woman with the enchanted pebble. Thankfully the bright, rapidly moving lights promptly distract the children, and their shouts draw their peers in until the woman has a large crowd of children oohing and aahing in appreciation.
Taking a deep breath Iolaire crouches down behind the children, her wing-tips dragging in the dirt as she lowers herself. Crouched on her heels she's barely higher than her charges and without her long, braided hair and wings she could easily be mistaken for one of them. The armor, which Father Selwin had insisted she wear, clunked loudly - and two of the children turned round and ssshhed her loudly. "Sorry!" she whispered with a wide grin, holding a finger to her lips and waving an apology to the sorceress at the front of the group.
Zora smiles at the small sack of gold she had attained as she walks along in human form. So distracted by getting ready for the mock joust, most of the crusaders' gold was left completely unattended. Sir Gerand in particular still hadn't learned his lesson.
Zora stops as she sees a few of her younger orphans gathered around a performer. They looked happy as they watched the simply magic tricks, a thing Zora was grateful for. While the older members of her group were using this distraction to their advantage, the younger kids were sent away to enjoy themselves. Behind the kids was a strange woman with wings. The local gathlain, if Zora had to guess. Though she hadn't met her, the woman's unnatural appearance often circulated the rumors of the youngest kids.
A call from a nearby merchant distracts her, and Zora walks over to see his goods. Picking out a few treats with her recently attained gold, Zora then walks on as she chews on a rather fine piece jerky. Bitey would really enjoy this. Wonder where he is today.
Balthasar stood at attention with his squad, the banner of Mendev held high. Though the smaller form of the banner upon his back would mark him out as the standard bearer, on this festival day the full regalia was to be shown. A breeze lightly ripples the banner, and the sun glinted off his highly polished parade armor - not as protective as normal crusader armor, but still functional. From his position near the Cathedral, he surveyed the crowd, wondering which of his family members was out there, and where. He hoped they saw him - after all, the standard bearer was an important position in every unit.
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Arianna closed the front door of the house as she left reaching her hands up to pull the cowl of her cloak over her face once again.She sighed to herself surveying the festival atmosphere of Kenabres. Was it time for Armaisse already?
Turning to walk down the street, Arianna paused to look back to her childhood home. Her mother was in poor health but the healers which would see her didn't think that it was life threatening. "Or they just want to get ride of me." She thought to herself wryly, not sure she could really blame them.
Now that she'd seen her mother, the smart decision would be to leave town right away but something in her didn't want to leave right away. Perhaps nostalgia to see the city of her youth or just a desire to see it during a celebration and not preparations for an endless war. Either way she wound her way deeper into the city rather than towards the exit. She kept to herself as much as possible keeping her head down. It'd be best to not be noticed.
Bitey comes bursting around a corner in the market square, whole turkey barely smaller than the wee beasty held precariously as he jogs along. Moments later a pack of Kenabrian war hounds comes bounding after, all slavering jowls and piercing howls. The wee goblin makes the mistake of looking back and slips along the cobblestone and tumbles over a stair, trying to stuff as much bird in his mouth as he can before he hits the ground.
Seconds later the hounds desend upon their quarry, ripping and tearing and all manner of teeth gnashing. And from the middle of the barking pack the sound of a lone and strangely indignant[b]"Bork, Bork, Bork."[/ b] can be heard as Bitey loses what is left of his meal.
The goblin had become a fixture of the kennels over the last few months, insisting that he was a nail dog and belonged with his pack. It took the war hounds some time to adjust to the goblin, especially as he seemed to be stealing their shed hair and attaching it to his armor and clothes, but they soon accepted him as one of their own when he proved he could growl and nip just as good as the rest of them. It had taken even longer to convince the kennel master that he was not going to eat the pups. Bitey insisted dogs do not eat their young, no matter how tasty.
The sudden barking of the hounds grabs Zora's attention. Found him. Already knowing who would be causing it, Zora heads over to find Bitey licking his fingers as a pack of dogs finish off some meat.
"Seems you've lost your feast," Zora comments, discretely tossing him some of the jerky. "You heading to the cathedral for the main event?"
Bitey gives Zoranda a mournful look as he watches the last of his meal go to the pack.
"Pack give good chase, earn good food... but Bitey still hungry. Maybe find food at big praying place?"
"Alright, that's it. Armasse."
The first one since Thrall is oficially ordained. Trying to recall what was the origin of the festival, he can only remember something about old Aroden. He should have paid more attention to his lessons.
He has always been a more action guy, though. Even today, among all this feasting atmosphere, he's tense. Ready to act if a problem arises. That is, after all, his job. That is why he was assigned to Clydwell cathedral. Or that is what he wants to think. The alternative, that he was sent here because some of his officers couldn't stand having a mestizo around, is too depressing.
Walking around in his shiny armor - polished by himself to the ocasion - he tries to evade those thoughts by enjoying the different activities. Hundreds of people can be seen doing the same: children mesmerized by a sorceress doing tricks with light while their tutor goes crazy trying to maintain some order, warriors of all sort who make him think about his tribal origins... and there we are, back to gloomy thoughts.
Decided to wear a smile despite his head trying the contrary, he approaches one of the stalls and buys something to throw into his throat - the best way of leaving problems aside for a while.
"Gimme one of those onion pies and a cider to put it down... please" he asks while looking for some coin in his purse.
"That's one of the few upsides to them. They'll usually give out free food, at least on a holiday," Zoranda encourages him. "Something about the 'gods watching us closer' on days like this."
"Can we please go get some free food... PWEASE PWEASE PWEASE? I be good, can we can we?"
The little goblin beams a wide smile that is more sinister and creepy than the intended child like innocence that was meant to be conveyed.
Iolaire turns and has to resist the urge to smile. The tales of the 'goblin who thought he was a puppy' had rapidly become legend among the children on Kenabres, which meant that Io had been told the tale in at least seven different versions by five different children. Still, seeing that there was in fact a goblin and he did appear to be covered in dogs hair confirmed that at least some of the children's babbling had been correct.
She fishes in her pouch and when the goblin's eyes catch hers she lobs the small, sweet fruit across the short intervening distance - aiming for the goblin's mouth
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With the city as busy as it was, the trick wasn't necessarily to go unnoticed so much as it was to go unremembered. She blended in and moved with the crowds taking time to enjoy the city at peace for a change. Her eyes fell briefly on a group of children gathered around a single woman performing simple magic tricks and smiled to herself, wondering if she'd ever been so captivated by simple tricks.
Her reverie wasn't long to last however, as she noticed the children's guardian nearby and was further snapped as she lay eyes on the goblin and his companion. Her heart skipped a good second as she recognized Zoranda with the goblin. Perhaps one of the few people in all of Kenabres who'd be able to recognize her at an instant. Almost immediately she tugged her hood further up and over her features to keep them from view before attempting to slip in behind a crowd of people that'd lead her on past.
How many meals does he get from people like this everyday? Zora wonders. The children are staring in amazement at Bitey now, though all behind the Gathlain.
"You're starting to draw a crowd now. Let's go on and get some food before you end up being petted by every kid in town," Zora says, turning to go.
Zora pauses, though, as something catches her eye just at the edge of her vision. Was that...? No, it can't be. Arianna left town awhile ago. Why would she be in town? I must be seeing things.
Bitey deftly leaps in to the air, catching the lobbed piece of fruit in between his lips and barely chewing before sucking it down with a sickening slurp. Landing in a crouch he begins scratching behind his ear with his right foot and says rather loudly, "Bork, Bork." as if trying to imitate the sounds of dogs. Panting, with tongue lolling from between grotesque lips he makes a mockery of a true hound.
"Ooh ooh, Zo Zo get Bitey a whole roast pig... you promised a whole roast pig for Bitey if he was good. I members dat so good... Bitey like pig, specially when it still has the apple." Bitey did not remember that Zoranda had not promised any such thing, but like a little child lost in his own narrative he could not be convinced that it had not in fact happened just that way. "Yes Yes Yes you did, two whole pigs for Bitey, Yep Yep!" The little goblin gleefully started pattering on towards the mass of people and the vending carts.
"Well, I have some gold left to spend, I guess," Zora mutters, still gripping her small pouch of pilfered gold.
Following him to a vendor that is actually selling chicken and not pig, Zora decides not to point it out and trades what's left of Gerand's gold for two chickens. "Here's two, but you have to behave the rest of the day," Zora orders, handing him two chickens, feathers and all.
Guiding him with a hand on his back, Zora pushes him along toward the cathedral. Despite all the food intake he's had, Zora knows it won't keep him for long. Those Iomedaen priests better have something to offer.
Walking through the streets of Kenabres, Aria couldn't help but be amazed at the number of people. Only coming to town when she needed to, and even then sticking to the outskirts, Aria had never seen so many people in one place at one point. "Why are there so many people here?" She mutters aloud.
"For Armasse of course," some townsfolk replied as they were running through the street.
"Is it already Armasse? I've been so lost in grief I must have lost track of time." Aria thinks to herself. She cannot believe the wonders in the street. On one corner there's a magician doing tricks for children and on another... Aria rubs her eyes not believing what she sees... a goblin dressed as a dog that no one is surprised by. Shaking her head, Aria continues down the street following the flow of people toward the cathedral. As much as the wonders of the street amaze her, she can't shake the feeling of something pulling her or calling her
Balthasar's commander, Sir Loras, came by then to inspect the squad. Though Balthasar was already standing at attention, he stood a little higher and held the banner high. Sir Loras looked over the squad before saying, "The festivities are going to start soon. Make sure you do Kenabres, Mendev, and Iomedae proud - and keep an eye out for trouble. Remember, there is never safety so close to the Worldwound." With that, Sir Loras continues his rounds, inspecting the regiment, as the crusaders stand tall.
Armasse officially began at noon, with the blessing of the festival by Lord Huirun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza quieted as the aged inquisitor took the stage, clad in shining, resplendent armor. You were all lucky enough to have a place near to the front of the assembled festival goers. Lord Huirun cleared his throat, but just as he was a bout 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 easily 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.
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You come back to yourself in a hard place. An utterly dark place.
You are in a tall cavern, clearly the remnants of the crevasse that swallowed you whole. There are a dozen people laying around here that seem to be stirring. There are dozens more, if not hundreds, that will never move again strewn among the rubble.
Serena groaned, feeling her entire body aching more than she'd even known it could. She'd never gone through rough daily marching, or any truly strenuous exercise... in part because she seemed to have a natural level of health about her that was unusual for sorcerers. Speaking of, there was one thing she had a habit of doing when it was dark around her...
In, and out. In, and out. Slowly, she forced her breathing to relax, and the throbbing pain in her body started to slow. A moment later, a flickering glow appeared on the stone beneath her left hand as she cast a spell of Light to push the darkness back. "Is anyone... hurt too badly to move?" she asked, looking around to see what she could and hoping she didn't snap her own neck in the process.
"Zo Zo, Zo Zo... Zo Zo, wake up. Come on, wake up. We in danger. We need to move now. You move now Smell Like Fur Crafty Eyes. I say you move." Bitey nuzzles Zoranda trying to get her to move, once she shifts he will run to see if anyone else is alive, chattering the whole time.
As the light flares to life, Bitey scurried in a different direction from the caster lady. Obviously she must be ok.
Aria groans as her eyes flicker open. She takes stock of her own body, looking for injuries. "I appear to be okay ... nothing but superficial scratches..." She thinks to herself before a thought flashes through her mind "WHERE'S MY BOW?!?" Aria turns and searches, quickly finding it and calming. She then takes stock of the area around her for the first time as a voice calls out.
"I'm ... I'm okay," Aria calls back, "but I think others may not be..." She then makes her way to any bodies she can find and checking to see if any assistance can be given.
Groaning in the darkness, Balthasar lay on...whatever it was he was laying on - stone or dirt, perhaps - while he attempted to regain feeling in sore muscles enough that he could stand. He had managed to get himself into a sitting position when a woman created a small glow, like that of a torch, allowing him to see at least a bit. Looking about, he spotted shadowy outlines of others who appeared to be regaining consciousness.
Fortunate to find that his equipment pack had landed nearby, Balthasar pulled out a torch and struck sparks from his flint and steel until the pitch-coated cloth caught fire. Leg muscles protesting, he then stood and held the torch aloft to add to the light from the woman, who's light appeared to originate from a stone. A wizard or sorcerer of some kind, then. He also saw a human woman moving about to check on others, as well as...was that that Goblin that thinks it's a dog? All the people above who died, and it survived? Surely Pharasma had a twisted sense of humor.
His memory of what had happened in the square outside the Cathedral becoming more clear, Balthasar closed his eyes to hold back tears. He'd spent his entire life training to fight the forces of the Worldwound, and now Kenabres was likely fallen. An ignominious start to any Heimrin's military career. Okay, Balthasar, no time to grieve. First, assess the situation. Then, determine a way back to the surface. Remember, demons don't rest, and neither can you. Opening his eyes, resolve hardened, he looked about for his unit's standard, and the flag of Mendev. As he did so, he asked the woman, "Miss, have you any magic for healing as well?"
"Healing would be good... for others." Serena said after a few moments. She ached, but she was pretty sure her body was mostly intact, and she staggered up to her feet as she caught her breath. Much as she hurt, triage was important - heal the most-in-need first, and anybody with aches and pains could deal with it until later. (Pleasant? No. Better for the group? Yes.)
A moment later, she picked up a rock and transferred her light spell to that, providing a more portable source of illumination. She slowly turned around, trying to ensure that everyone still alive had as much light as possible. Added bonus? Anyone too hurt could still be see-
Urp. I did NOT want to see that.
Your meager lights disappear into the darkness without hitting a natural wall. There are some columns of stone nearby, literal tons of rubble, and more bodies than you care to think about, but that's about it.
Among the rubble someone cries, Help! Help, I say! I've been wounded!
The voice is male, and you soon find a man with salt and pepper hair (receding slightly) and rich clothing. You quickly dig him out from the rubble and find him to be just as wounded as the rest of you: not seriously.
As you dig, another voice pipes up. Well met, everyone! I haven't had a fall like that in a long time. Now, let's get organized. Who here has any formal training? An aged elf (so a very old person indeed) stumbles out from behind a chunk of stairs. Also, I shall need someone to be my eyes.
A third survivor emerges from under a flagstone just then. The rock slides down to the ground with a mighty THUD. She grimaces as she pulls herself up out of the hole the rocks had made for her and says, Aravashnial? Is that you?
The elf turns toward the noise, Ahh, Irabeth's wife. I've forgotten your name.
Anevia. She huffs.
At Aravashnial's comments, Serena hurried over. "Serena. I'll guide you." she volunteered, feeling the pull - as always - to be the light for those who didn't have it. Literally and metaphorically. The recruiters were fairly certain that had something to do with whatever had given her magical energy in her blood.
What she didn't have was formal leadership experience. She was diplomatic enough to encourage most people to go along with her ideas, but if there was someone with formal training, it would be better to let them take the lead.
Aravashnial's face is a mess of angry burns and his eyelids look oddly flat, as if the eyes themselves are gone. His blindness is definitely not a preexisting condition.
In spite of what must be incredible pain, however, he is standing straight. Serena? Ok. Do you have any military training?
"No." she answered, a definite note of unhappiness in her voice. "They said to come back when my magic was a little more developed." Magic was a great boon for any attacking or defending force, and often helped to turn the tide in Mendev's favor. That... was mostly limited to more experienced casters, though. Mage Hand and Prestidigitation weren't turning the tide of battles anytime soon, and her most powerful spell had an inconveniently short range.
Aria sighs despondently as she finds another dead body. "I had hoped more would still be among the living..." About to give up, Aria sees a group starting to form and moves toward it, hoping together they may find a way out of this ... place. As she approached, she hears an ask of formal training.
"I'm sorry, I have no formal military training, but I am a skilled game hunter."
Aravashnial nods. Your name?
Slightly embarrassed that she forgot to give her name, Aria quickly responds, "My apologies, I am Aria, Aria Dros"
Iolaire pulls herself from the rubble, her fey eyes picking out much of the cavern even in the relatively dim lighting of the sorceress's light spell. "I'm Iolaire, from the Shelyn Orphanage. Who's down here? Are there any children? I was trying to get them to safety when the ground opened." Hearing the conversation and recognising one of the names she hurries over to Anevia. "Anevia, are you all right? Where's Irabeth?" She asks, concerned for news of the Iomedean paladin who was one of her good friends.
Still searching through the rubble for the Mendevian banner, Balthasar pauses to look at the speakers. He'd heard of Irabeth, one of the more storied crusaders, and that she was married to one of the army's scouts. This must be her. He looks at Aravashnial - who was something of a scholar and wizard, although his family had never dealt with him directly. "Balthasar Heimrin, Standard Bearer, 4th Kenabrian Infantry," he replied to the question about military experience, knowing that in doing so he was likely setting a rather high bar for himself to clear.
Finding his Mendevian banner, he lifts it from where it fell. The flag was now dirty and slightly tattered, the pole it was on broken clean in half, but the only time the flag didn't come away from a battle was when no one was left alive to carry it. He was still alive, so he was keeping it with him. Anchoring his torch in between a pair of rocks, he took some rope from his pack and set about creating a travois that he could use to mount the flag upon his back, where all could see it. As he did so, he looked to the man with rich clothing.
Anevia shrugs. She remains seated on the lip of the hole she crawled out of.
Continuing to work, Balthsar waves the Shelynite over and quietly says to her, "Anevia seems to be in a great deal of pain. Perhaps you should see if she needs any healing."
The man is Horgus Gwerm, a successful merchant that specializes in supplying the crusades.
Upon hearing a proper report Aravashnial calls, Excellent! We are fortunate to have someone from such a distinguished lineage here! Round them up, lad. We need to secure the perimiter and take stock. What rank do you hold?
Continuing to work, Balthsar waves the Shelynite over and quietly says to her, "Anevia seems to be in a great deal of pain. Perhaps you should see if she needs any healing."
Iolaire nods and makes her way back over to Anevia and looks her over carefully. She starts at the legs, alerted by the fact that her normally active friend is still sitting down, in a situation where she'd normally be up and about immediately.
Her leg, specifically her left femur Aria notes as she comes to assist, is crushed. You can heal it, mostly, but stronger magic than you have will be needed to heal it fully.
Balthasar sighs. There it was - distinguished lineage. He'd been identified as a Heimrin, and now the expectation was that he would get everyone out of here. If anyone didn't make it, everyone would be understanding - although he was sure someone in his family would say Silas could have gotten everyone out alive. If he did get everyone out, no doubt they would say Silas would have done it quicker. Being from a crusader family wasn't as incredible as people though it was. It's hard to stand out when you constantly find yourself in the shadows of giants.
Hefting his makeshift travois with the banner onto his back, he picked up the rest of his equipment and stood straight, a look of determination on his face, and said, "My current rank is infantryman - I'm afraid you're stuck with the youngest Heimrin soldier in this underground cavern."
Moving over to Horgus, Balthasar says, "Lord Gwerm, we should gather everyone together. Would you mind holding this torch and moving over to where Aravashnial and the others are gathering?"
A good perimeter would be... nice to have, actually. She could conjure up magical armor if she needed to, but frankly, it was better to stay as far from trouble as she could. Doubly so if she was going to keep supporting this elf - something she didn't mind doing, but which did drastically reduce her mobility. "All right, we're going over this way - be sure to tell me if something hurts more than it should right now." she said. As she guided the elf forward, she moved her glowing stone around a bit, trying to see what else was in the cavern.
What! Horus exclaims. I can't carry that! My hands are Shaking! I would deep it in an instant! What kind of Helmren are you, anyway?, suggesting I do such a thing.
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A large rock atop a pile of rubble shifts, slightly at first, and deep grunt that sounds distinctly human. The rock tumbles off the top of the pile, pushed by a wooden shield. Then, a gloved hand appears, as a young, dark haired man covered in loose dirt tunnels out from the pile.
"Hey," he lifted a hand from his knees between breaths to gave a casual wave to the sorceress bearing the Light. "Thanks for the light ma'am.
"Vance," he stood and bowed like a proper military man, though he spoke like little better than a ruffian. He gave the young sorceress a nod before bounding off to the shine of Balthasar's armor. "Hey sir! I can take that torch."
Vance nods to Horus and Balthasar, taking the torch and waiting for anyone who needs help.
Zora groans as Bitey shakes her, but takes a moment longer to finally get up. Zora's had a lot of falls and tumbles before, but few were so dangerous. Well, I'm alive at least, Zora thinks, before blanching at the sight around her. Which is more than most of the others. I'll need to find No'Nose and see who all was affected after this...if there is even a city left to return to.
Picking herself up off the ground, Zora snaps her fingers and summons four will-o'-wisps that begin to dance around her. Uncomfortable being in pain while a human, she shifts back into Kitsune form and heads over to Bitey to stop him from shaking one of the children who wasn't responding. "It's too late for them, Bitey. We need to focus on getting out of here."