After a short while in the Warm Respite, sampling the fine drink and fare, the trumpets blare, marking the start of the jousting tourney. The starting rounds are to begin, and many of you are not in the lists till some of the later rounds, but certainly scouting out the competition, or just taking in the majesty of the tourney is too tempting and you move towards the Clydwell Plaza, in the shadow of the Cathedral, and too your pleasant surprise are able to get places very near the front of the crowd.
You see the trumpeters with their long silver, banner draped horns blasting out the fanfare. Nearly a dozen of the trumpeters bellowing out a clear clarion sound. The listmaster announces the first two competitors and you watch as Sir Kuranith steadies his charger on one side of the field, readying to meet Sir Yasek Balron on the other. The flag is dropped for them to start...
Everything is dark. You're on your back. You take in a deep breath and find you have trouble breathing. Dust fills your mouth and nose, and your head throbs with a monstrous headache. After a moment, the ringing in your ears subsides and you can hear the sound of clattering rock, along with moans of pain. Feeling around you, you can feel rubble and rocks, along with softer items that you'd rather not identify and realize that your are covered in dirt, but seem otherwise unharmed...
"Tats, wake up. Come on, Tats, you've gotta get moving. Get up!" The melodious sound of Roj's voice in her head cuts through blackness and a high-pitched ringing. Checking her arms for damage, she finds only some minor cuts and bruises, so she peers into the blackness and the dust.
"Hello? Eez zere anyone elsssse down here? Zisss eez Tatsss. I think ssssomethink collapssssed. Eef anyone eez down here, sssay ssssomethink and I vill come to you."
Tats stands and locates her pack and tobacco pouch. Satisfied that she's in one piece, she begins looking for others.
Jens wakes with a groan, sitting and hearing a small landslide of rubble tumble from his massive frame. He removes his helm with heavy hands, checks the back of his head, and the fingers of his gauntlet press against a tender spot. A cut? A bruise? No way to tell in the dark.
He pulls the helm back on, setting it firmly into place, and hears a woman calling out in the black. "Ho there!" he calls back, his booming voice echoing in the darkness. "Stay there; I'll come to you. There's no telling whether the ground is stable."
He stands and feels around. One hand closes around the strap of his pack; he shoulders it gratefully and rummages for a torch. He produces one and his flint and steel, and a few moments later, a weak flame sputters into life. He finds his sword, fallen from its scabbard, as well as his shield. The arrows from his quiver were clearly scattered, but he finds most of them.
Finally, he picks his way over the rubble making his way towards the strangely-accented female voice. Was it Brevic? Irriseni? It was strange where one's mind went under such strange circumstances. Finally reaching Tatyana, he gives a sigh of relief. "Are you hurt?" he asks, holding the torch to inspect her face. "How did we get down here?"
What just happened, I was just eying that gorgeous man in that sexy little get up and now I'm here, wherever here is. Iolana sits up carefully, she feels around for her equipment and, finding it all within reach, she begins to stand. Just as she reaches her feet, she hears the strangely accented voice of Tats, and the deeper one of Jens. Seeing the torch light she calls out, "Over here, give me a moment and I will come to you." Humming a lilting melody, and with a few quick, twirling, steps, a group of four lights begin dancing and bobbing around her, illuminating her surroundings as she makes her way to Tats and Jens.
Oh my head. I haven't had a headache this bad in half a century. Wait, Hasheth! Hasheth are you here? Claylyth pats herself down gently, looking for the viper. He keeps close to her for her warmth, it isn't exactly summery this close to the Crown of the World. She finds the snake curled up on her chest. It pokes its head out of her shirt and she feels great relief. It isn't like she hasn't lost pets before. They come and go in the blink of an eye for her, but she hasn't grown callous just yet.
She hears voices and tucks Hasheth back into her shirt. She took to sewing a small interior pocket for him years ago. Rubble, dust, difficult to breath. Bodies, dead, people speaking, survivors, I survived something. A cave in? Wait, buildings don't cave in that easily. I can't be in the Respite, this place doesn't feel right. I need... more information.
Claylyth stands and checks herself thoroughly for any wounds.
"I see your light!" She called into the darkness."I am Madame Claylyth, I think I heard Tats as well? I shall head toward your light!"
Claylyth's heart began to pound. She could feel it thrumming. She was scared, but she could feel her eyes burning with zeal for the first time in decades. An old adage Aunty Amoret used to say flows through Claylyth's mind. Nielen sofema iltem veris zel heri iaa. "Never lament that you live in stern days."
Coming to, Piousa first checks to see if she can feel and move her toes. And as she begins to sit up, some lights begin to illuminate the area. "Oh... That was not pleasant... Are we in the sewers?"
Slowly getting to her feet, Piousa looks around at the others present. "Is anyone hurt?"
Jens looks over the others as they come towards the light, grateful to see that nobody has suffered more than superficial wounds. "I'm Jens," he says by way of introduction. "Jens Varmodsson." He gives a nod of familiarity to Piousa. "It looks as though that blessing of yours came in handy, lass," he mutters grimly, looking around the cavern. "Does anyone know what happened? My memory isn't what it used to be. I remember calming Alfsígr, watching the joust, and..." He trails off, peering into the darkness. "Gods willing she's alright, wherever she is," he mutters.
"Wherever we are, it's best we go about getting out. I've been in worse situations than this, but not by much. What skills do you all have?"
As you start to come around and the haze of what happened to you starts to clear, you start to put the pieces together. The two knights lowered lances but neither started their charge when a bright light shone from the west, as if the sun we re rising from the wrong direction. The knight's shadows 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 fro m the crowd-Kenabres's greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, who had until that moment been attending the opening ceremony disguised as a human. Above, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A humanoid shape three times the size of any man, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripped a flaming sword and whip. The creature's identity was immediately obvious: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres.
As the ground continued to shake and disgorge demons into the streets, you all worked as fast as you could to get people out of harms way. Jens reacted quickly and pulled a child out of the way of a falling statue, handing the child to his grateful father. Piousa and Claylyth reacted quickly and pulled down sections of the wooden rail, allowing knights and their horses through to attack the demons before they could get into the crowd. Iolanni used her music to calm the crowd and get them moving towards safety, and Tatyana used her blade to cut free some of the other horses that were tethered there for the joust. The horses were led out by a large mare, with a blaze stripe, but sight of them was lost. 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. Although you were able to toss a few more people away from the opening rift to safety.
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.
"We... We were saved by Terendelev, weren't we? Oh, oh no! The Wardstone!"
Piousa stares up towards the sky, though she could not see it. But her fear of what could happen was occurring. "What should we do? Can anyone see a way up?" Looking over at Jens, she nods. "At the very least, you're safe. The Starsong smiled on us both..."
"Zat Vos Madam Claylyth? Eet eez good to hear your voice. Eef vot I saw in zee sssky eez vot happened, zen I think zee city eez een trouble." Tats keeps trying to get her bearings in the darkness, staring out into the void and trying to avoid looking at the torch lights and magic. "I can help. Call me Tatsss, for now. My trainink eez een sssvordplay, vith sssome sssmall magicssss assss vell. I can alssso lie and pretend to be one of zee attackersss, if zat eez needed. Firsst thingssss firsst, zough. How do vee get out of here, and vere zere ozer survivorssss?"
"Lass, I was there when the Wardstone was cracked. Khorramzadeh couldn't destroy it the first time, so I'm sure it's fine." Jens seems convinced in his tone, though he continues to peer worriedly into the darkness, old eyes squinting in the gloom. "Terendelev... She's a different matter." He shakes his head as he hoists his shield. "I know few creatures that can survive decapitation, and sadly, dragons aren't among them. Her legacy will live on in those of us who swore oaths - oaths to protect others as she protected our city."
He bows his head a moment before breathing a deep sigh, the dragon carved into his shield's boss glimmering in the torch light. As the questions start to rise, he sighs again. "I can't see a way up, so I suggest we go forward. I'm good with a blade, better with a shield, and better yet with my horse, Desna willing she's alive. As for other survivors..." He takes a deep breath before shouting into the darkness, "Hullo! Is anyone else down here?"
"Iolana Torlinni, dancer, singer, and woman of many talents at your service." Tears in her eyes as she remembers what happened, Iolana dashes them away, "Oh gods no, thrice cursed demons. I don't know where we are either other than down, maybe below the city? As for other survivors we had better look, I'll send my lights out to help look." The dancing lights begin drifting around the area to aid in the search for survivors.
Not again. No. NO! K-kenabres has fallen? So many will die... but... we survived. We can still fight! Even if it means I die... I've lost everything. M-maybe Korkra can barricade the doors, and Lyla knows some healing... maybe I can dare to hope this time.
Claylyth makes her way to Iolana's light and aids in the searching for other survivors while also seeking a clue as to where they were.
You slowly get used to the light, and looking around you you almost wish you hadn't. The ground is filled with reminders of the parade grounds above, pieces of statuary that you recognize, and pieces of the cathedral form large piles on the ground, and to your revulsion, you see limbs and worse from people that weren't as fortunate as you mixed into the rubble.
Soon however, you realize that there are at least a few others who survived the fall as well.
"Hello?! There are lights? Gods, my eyes! I can't see, please someone show me where you are." A voice calls from the Northwest
Another voice from the north calls out "Here, over here *groans* I think my leg is broken though."
A third voice calls from the south, "You there with the lights, over this way. Hurry, I require your help, now."
Jens takes in the gruesome sight stoically, no emotion showing on his face. As the other voices start to call out, he gives a decisive nod and quickly tassumes command of the situation. "Piousa, come with me. Hope you know how to set a broken leg. Tats, Claylyth, take this and go towards the blind one." He tucks his torch under his arm and lights another, passing it to Tats. "Iolana, take your lights and go to the other. Regroup on me as soon as you can. Let's go, quickly." With that, he nods to Piousa and starts heading towards the voice with the broken leg.
"Alright Jens, heading that way now." Iolana heads in the direction of the last voice to call out, being careful to watch for other survivors or dangers. When she reaches the person who called out, "Are you alright?"
As Jens starts issuing commands Claylyth's eyes narrow at him. Not that he could see that in this light.
Don't get used to telling me what to do human. She thought.
"Come along Tats." She said. For the first time in a very long time Claylyth takes the ribbon that permitted her ponytail out of her hair and shakes her hair free. It flows behind her into the darkness. She gently wraps the ribbon around her wrist, and when they find the blind survivor Claylyth whispers soothing words to the forsaken soul and wraps the other end of the ribbon around their wrist. "Your world may be dark friend, but your world is not yet the Boneyard. Sharti tra fanil niffi orisa. Where the tree falls, the seed grows. You will be alright."
Will we be alright? We've no knowledge of any other survivors and a demon horde raping and pillaging Kenabres above us. Not much food, less water, and no safety. Poor Terendelev. I remember you coming to my defense one day, many years ago. Telling the guard that I was no witch and had the right, as any other, to continue operating my business. The way you looked at me. I think you knew you cunning old wyrm.
"Very vell, Madame Claylyth." Tats follows Claylyth closely, eyes moving from body to body along the cavern floor and tail twitching in agitation.
"Ve vill help you, friend. Zat issss a good trick, Madame, vith zee ribbon. I vill keep an eye out for problemssss ahead, you keep our new friend from stumblink too much. Ve should get back to zee ozersssss-if our friend can valk safely, zat eez. I vill take zee lead."
Tats chooses not to touch the blinded person, unwilling to panic him or her more, and unsure of what he or she's already seen. She keeps an eye out for deadfalls or other unstable areas to guide the blinded person-and Claylyth-around and heads for Jens.
Claylyth and Tatyana approach the blind man and see that the Elven man has horrific burn marks across his face, almost as if something lashed and burned his eyes. When Claylyth starts to tie the ribbon, he grabs her wrist, more panicked than demanding, and once he realizes what she's done relaxes. "Leashed like an animal..." he chuckles ruefully and manages a half way brave smile, "Thank you." He touches hands lightly along Claylyth's arm to her face with a sigh of relief once he recognizes that she's not a demon of some sort. "I am Aravashinial." He smiles a little more at the elvish, "Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn. A star shines over the time of our meeting. Both of you?"
Iolana works her way over and sees a man dressed in some finery, furiously brushing himself off, he looks up as you approach, "Finally! Get those lights over here." He investigates his clothing, and gives up with a sigh of disgust, "Ruined! Varisian silk and velvet, do you realize how hard this is to get here? Wait, you're a magic type, right? Can't you use some kind of magic to clean this up?"
" A different star shone over my friend Tats' birth. She's a crusader. I run the Warm Respite in Old Kenabres. Both of you can call me Claylyth. Formality seems a bit far removed from this particular hole in the ground."
Seeing an elf relieves Claylyth almost as much as it does Aravashinial. Elves are rare this far north, maybe 40 all told in Kenabres. As she guides the elf carefully over the rubble she makes small talk. Asking about his job, and whether he has ever been to Kyonin, distracting him from the excruciating pain of his burns.
"Both of usss vot? Oh! Elfssss? No, my name eez Tatyana. I am not an elf, jussst a voman vanting to help. May I call you Arava? Zossse lonk elf namessss trip me up sssso badly."
Tats navigates around a large piece of rubble toward Jens and Piousa's torch, gesturing to Claylyth to follow carefully.
Looking at the man she has been sent to help, Iolana is more than a little annoyed at his attitude but bites her tongue for now, "All things considered, shouldn't you be a little less concerned about your clothes? Still, I understand the desire to look ones best so I suppose I can help." Iolana humms a bar or two and makes a dramatic flourish finishing with a snap of her fingers and the man's clothing become as clean as she can make them.
Aravashinial follows the ladies as they head to Jens and Piousa, "Thank you for the kindness. I fear with the lack of my eyes I may not be much help. We should gather everyone together though and look for a way out."
Once Iolana casts her spell, the man looks down at his clothing, "Well, it's a start anyway. I'll remind you that this clothing is very hard to come by, and worth more than you probably make in several months of...doing whatever it is you do. Now, let's see about getting me out of here. I'll need whatever other help you have. He listens to the others, "Hrmph! Anevia I might know you'd try something that would only slow us down. Leave those that would make things slower. I need to get out of this place now."
"Jenssss! Jensss Varmodsssson! Vee haff zee blinded elf. Madame Claylyth made a guide for him vith a bit of ribbon-" Tats stops talking as she sees the damage to the survivor's leg.
Looking at the man in disgust, Iolana barely retains a civil tone, "How dare you give orders to your only hope of getting out of here, I'm not leaving them behind, nor will I leave you." She takes a moment to collect and calm herself, "I'm sorry if I sound a bit harsh sir, it's been a stressful day for all of us." She smiles at him, "I am Iolana, traveling performer at your service, and you are?"
Claylyth instantly dislikes this entitled pomp. Many had come through her business before, but this guy has the gall to act like this now?
"Pardon me fine and illustrious gentleman, but did it ever occur to you that perhaps acting so entitled and pompous around a group of people you do not know who are obviously A. Magical, B. Heavily armed and armored, and C. Perhaps not in the best of moods might not be wise? Stay your tongue inside your mouth and walk with us no matter what speed we choose."
Iolana's apology irks Claylyth. The man is scum, why should Iolana apologize to the dregs of society like him?
Piousa steps over and helps the others to there feet and looks them over to see if they are fine.
After checking them out, if any are in need of healing, she speaks up. "Poor things... Let's see if there is anything I can do for you."[/dice]
[b]"Let us see if there is any way out, seeing as we all want to see the stars again. But some should look past there own clothes..."
Jens and Piousa you see a woman dressed in leathers, who looks to be a capable sort, with a bow and a quiver that still retains a few arrows. Her leg is severely broken, and even with healing, it would still take time, or magical healing that none of you are capable of yet before it was fully functional again. The Elf looks to be in the same shape. His eyes look as if they were burned away in a failed attempt to decapitate him.
Piousa, while looking, you see a sheen of silver amidst part of the pile of rocks, mostly buried in the dirt. Moving to inspect them you see 5 spade sized silvery scales lying in the dirt.
"Vell, I think ve may haff a difficult road ahead of ussss. Unlesss ve vant to abandon zessss sssurvivorsss here, vich I think vould be vronk, eef not zee logical think to do."
Though not trained in the healing arts, Tats takes a knee to help splint the woman's broken leg with some rubble. "Vot eez your name, misssss? I am Tatssss. Pleassse do not judge vot I am by vot I look like. I vould like to help vith your leg, eef you vill allow eet."
"We leave no-one behind," Jens confirms with a nod to Tats, his tone suggesting the matter is not up for debate. "The able-bodied among us will help those who can't make their own way." He allows Piousa and Tats to work on the leg, electing not to touch the woman - after all, being manhandled by an enormous northerner wouldn't put most folk at ease.
"When the leg is splinted, we move on. And if there is concern about her slowing us down-" He glances pointedly at the rotund noble "-And if the lady permits, I will carry her myself." He crosses his arms across his large chest, his scale armour flexing over the muscles.
Claylyth rolls her eyes at Jens. I will never understand why human men need to prove they're in charge all the time. They very rarely are. Sure, some of the time, but definitely not all of the time. Definitely not right now.
"Out of curiosity, Jens, can you use any sort of magic? It would seem a few of us can, if not have already." Claylyth's eyes trail from the dancing lights over to the small leather-bound spellbook bouncing against Tats' hip.
"Agreed. Now, let's try to fashion something for this young woman here... What are these?" Pious bends down, lifting the 5 silver scales off the ground. "Jens, what do you make of these?"
"The arcane arts aren't exactly welcomed where I come from, lass. When you have witches fighting for your eastern border, you quickly learn the danger of such things. I learned to swing a sword and ride a horse as soon as I could walk, and they've served me well. No, the only magic I've wrought was bringing two children into the world." He pauses, then adds, "And don't think my old eyes don't see yours turning skyward when I speak. They might not come down again someday."
When Piousa points out the scales, he raises one eyebrow, lifting off his helm for a better look. "Could they..." he murmurs, taking one in his hand and turning it over. "Could these have been Terendelev's?" he asks, his voice mingled reverence and sorrow.
Splinting the leg proves to be fairly easy, and Piousa and Tats make quick work of it together . The woman looks up at you both, "Thank you. I am Anevia, I wish we could have met under different circumstances." She works at getting up, still obviously in a great deal of pain, and still bleeding from her injuries, but appears to be game to move on. "I'll try not to slow us. I think even with the injuries, I could walk with a crutch of some sort.
The nobleman grunts in derision, "That'd be something you don't see everyday. A crutch, using a crutch."
Aravashinial snaps back at the nobleman, "Silence yourself, Horgus. I see you still are only good for two things, belittling those who appear your better, and counting money." He then turns his face towards Jens, and all of you see just how horrific the wounds are on his face. Deep burns cover the top of his face, and his eyes are not just injured, they've been seared away completely. [b]"You there, I suggest that you explore the cave, while the rest of us take stock of our belongings and get ready to move."[b]
Upon further examination, the silver objects do prove to be scales from Terendelev. Piousa, as you take up all five, you don't notice anything peculiar about them, but Jens, as you pick up just the one, you take in a sharp breath, as emotion rolls over you.
can be used to cast resist elements-but only against electricity
or cold. )
Realizing that Horgus really is an ass as she suspected, Iolana ignores him for now and goes to look at the scales that were found, she reaches out to touch one of them, seemingly without thought. She bristles a bit at Aravashnial's peremptory commands, but remembering who he is and what has happened to him, she holds off on the retort hovering behind her lips.
"Perhapssss I could do zee ssscoutink? I can see een zee darknesss, a gift from my father... Ooh! Zossse are pretty. Vere did you find zem?" Tats reaches out and picks one up, tossing it from hand to hand somewhat carelessly before passing it to her tail and looking at it closely, watching the patterns of light on it. "Vould you like me to go vith you, Jensss, or perhapsss by myssself?"
can be used to cast resist elements-but only against electricity
or cold. )
Piousa, seeing her fellows experiencing something, quickly hands one over to Claylyth. "What is going on?"
can be used to cast alter self. While disguised, the target gains
a +4 bonus on all Bluff checks made against evil creatures. )
{Cloudwalking: Three times per day as a standard action, a scale can be used to cast levitate. A pillar of roiling clouds rises below the levitating object or creature, growing and shrinking with the target's altitude. This pillar is 5 feet in diameter (regardless of the target's size) and provides concealment (20% miss chance) to any creature or object wholly contained within.)
Falling to her knees, a single tear falling from her, she holds the scale close to her. She knows that Terendelev died bravely for what they loved: Kenabres.
"Did... Did anyone else experience that?" She rises back to her feet, if somewhat shakily.
"I did Piousa, she was a truly noble soul and may she find her rightful place in the afterlife." Iolana gives Piousa a hand to help her stand, she seems emotionally stunned by what she saw when she touched the scale.
"Y-yes, I felt that too. I-I..." For the first time in a long time words fail Claylyth. Her heart aches for Terendelev. That champion of Kenabres, almost as intrinsic to the city as the stone it was made of. The shining of the sun upon her scales. Even when she returned, tainted by the demon's rage, she was magnificent. Claylyth had admired Terendelev, even if she didn't agree with the dragon's ethics.
If even she can fall, what chance do the rest of us have? Wait, no, I can't let myself think like that now. Aravashinial needs my help. I won't a fellow elf down. Not like this. There will be time for grieving later. After we've secured the safety of the injured.
"I think that might be a good idea Tats. Just do not go too far. Jens, Iolana and I won't be able to see you once you leave the torchlight."
Jens glances at Horgus over the crutch comment. This one's going to be nothing but trouble. He allows Aravashnial's 'order' to roll off his shoulders, ignoring it for the moment.
His gauntleted hand clamps over the scale as emotion washes over him, his head bowing, a vein standing out on his thick neck. His hand shakes a moment, before he finally relaxes, turning the scale over once and tucking it inside his gambeson.
"These scales are her final gift," he says softly, squeezing Piousa's shoulder. Poor lass. She seems overwhelmed. "Treasure it. Her last act in this world was to save us, and we're going to make the most of it." He glances down at the enormous shield in his left hand, at the silver dragon carved into the boss. I will honour my oath, Terendelev. As you protected us, I will protect them.
"Alright, Tats. Be careful. Be on the lookout for food, water, anything we can use. Somethng for Anevia to use as a crutch, as well. And if anything moves, come back at once, alright?"
"Very vell, I vill return shortly." Tats steps out into the darkness, tossing her dragon's scale from tail to hand and back again and allowing her darkvision to take effect.
Walking through the rubble and ruin on the cave floor, Tats rolls a rose-flavored cigarette, but doesn't light it. "You know, Tats, you never were the most skilled at observation. Remember when I got that ring for you, and I left it on the table? Took you three days to notice it. Hope you can do better this time, my love. Anyway, I know why you wanted to leave. Your father's been telling me how appetizing that leg-broke girl looks. He wants to know if you're hungry yet." Ignoring Roj, she lights the cigarette and peers out into the cavern, looking for long boards to be used as crutches and for other supplies, as well as for the demons.
Tatyana starts to move deeper into the cave, her darkvision showing the layout of the cave in black and white. Every once in a while she catches the fall of dirt from above, and the distant squeaks of bats echo off in the distance.
The ceiling and far walls of this vast cavern recede into darkness. On one side, the wall has collapsed in an enormous mound of rubble-here and there the arms or legs of victims who didn't survive the fall protrude. In the back of the cavern, a disturbing shape looms. Nearly the size of a horse, what appears to be an immense black spider crouches silent and still on the ground.
"Well, they did say to report back if anything moved, but I'd rather not if that can, Tats."
Tatyana works her way back to the party, finishing her cigarette as she goes. Zis cavern eez huge. I vosss not able to find many useful suppliesssss, because zere vosss a large...no eet was monstrous and hideous...eet vosss a sspider asss large assss zee chargerss zee jousstink knightsss had. I did not sssee any ozer vay out. How are zee ozer survivorsss?" "CAN WE FEAST? THE GIRL IS GOING TO DIE SOON!" Heeding her father's voice, Tats reaches into her bag and pulls out her trail rations for the day, mindlessly shoveling them into her mouth. "Be sssilent, father. Please."
As everyone prepares to move along, Iolana looks at Jens since he has been taking charge, "Shall I keep my lights up for now? It will save the torches for later should we need them. I just have to recast them every minute or so which shouldn't be a problem since our pace'll be slowed regardless."
When Tats returns with her news, "A giant spider?" Her voice quavers in disgust, "I hate bugs." She gets her bow out so that she can avoid closing with the thing if they have to fight it.