Mulluq'Tar watches as the others gather, then turns and follows Cruroar into the temple. "I know she said we cannot help, but my arm is yours if you need it. Torag is friend to Iomedae, I see no reason she would not be willing to allow me to try and make up to you what I took away in the killing of that thing. Sadly, I know very little of your god's teachings, or where I could be of assistance."
"Thank you for the help but lets hope it is unnecessary. Torag should hear me." With that Cruroar prepares himself, he grabs his Holy Symbol and using the powers given to him by Torag he starts to pray.
A few hours' work of simple cleaning and setting things in order, as well as the recitation of a prayer of protection, do wonders for the altar. As Cruroar slaps his hands together in satisfaction, an air of peace falls over the temple, and from here, even the outside doesn't seem so dark.
Because Cruroar and Mulluq still have much work to do when Isilma wraps up her tale, there is almost...stale, dead air around when she finishes. Horgus merely grunts, crosses his arms, and sits, resolved that okay, sure, if he has to, he'll sit through this.
Aravashnial waves a hand about, apparently trying to pat Isilma on the head. "An excellent retelling, young one."
Anevia had been listening raptly and with almost childlike fascination. When nobody else offers up anything, she stutters for a moment. "Oh, uh, yes, a wonderful tale! I suppose....my turn, huh?"
She thinks for a moment.
"Ah! I have a good one. It's not a folk tale, but rather one from my own life. You see, I've been a mercenary for quite some time, although I've been working less and spending more time with my beloved lately. You'll see, I'll explain. Anyway, a few years ago, a man claiming to be a Desnan scholar hired me to retrieve a few sacred items from old shrines in the River Kingdoms. Not one to turn down well-paying work, of course, I took the job and went to the shrine he indicated. Well, apparently, the employer wasn't the most truthful of souls, and so had put men there to ambush and kill me for some nefarious purpose. They overwhelmed me and captured me, and they were looking a bit too eager to use their bone saws on me. Anyway, they were closing in when out of the blue, a battle yell and a flash of steel rang through the air. A paladin of Iomedae happened to be nearby, and slew the bandits single-handedly. She, of course, turned down payment, but allowed me to accompany her on her travels when she left."
She pauses for a moment. "Moral of the story, I guess, is that you should be careful who you trust, but that life brings in amazing things sometimes, huh?"
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Isilma smiles at the praise. Despite her uncertainty, she hadn't needed to ask for help once! Tinwë would have been proud too. She considers getting up to still Aravashnial's wildly off the mark hand, but he puts it back in his lap when Anevia begins her story. Isilma looks into Anevia's face, the better to listen.
* * *
"Yes," she says, nodding, when Anevia finishes. She sounds a little hoarse. "In the bloodiest times, there are kind people." She blushes. "I know not why I said that. But," she ventures, "did you and your friend ever part, or was she yet in the city when..." She trails off. What a thing to say!
After Cruroar and Mulluq are finished he walks back into the previous room. "The work has been done Lady Isilma and Torag has heard our prayer, the Shrine is restored to its former glory. We can leave when everyone sees fit."
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"We shall go now," says Isilma, taking Aravashnial's hand and getting to her feet. Her knees and back feel stiff from sitting so long, and she is still a little hoarse, but after what she said to Anevia she would feel awful doing anything but speeding the group along. Besides, Horgus would complain. "They await us on the surface."
Anevia seems to grow dark when Isilma asks if she was in the city. "Yes, she was...all the more reason to get up there quicker, eh?" Shaking off her dark spell, she stands up with Isilma and beams, standing on one leg as she awaits direction.
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While at first the tales of the others were enchanting to her, as the minutes wore on, Lysbeth began to realise that it was only a matter of time before she, too, would be called on to tell a story. Fear of not knowing what to speak of got the best of her, and she stopped even being able to pay attention to what the others were saying. Eventually she just got up and muttered that she should check on the others, before very quickly departing the scene.
As Cruroar and Mulluq cleanse the temple, with no need of any help from her, Lysbeth sits down on a bench, looking around and noting how similar, and yet completely different, it was to where she grew up. She wondered how the Monks were fairing with the chaos above, and hoped that Brother Magnus was alright. 'I'll be back soon.' she promised, knowing that no one could hear it.
She tries not to cry, knowing how much it will smear her makeup, and still not feeling that she can completely trust the others. They are too different, and it is a time of great fear and uncertainty. She shook her head as she followed the others out of the Shrine, wondering if she would ever be able to tell anyone.
Returning to the others, Lysbeth's face was a mask of resolve. She nodded agreement to Isilma, announcing "We should be off", before moving towards Anevia to help her walk.
The temple to Torag freshly cleansed, the group sets out again, up the tunnel that's found on the other side of the temple. The tunnel continues for a long time in the dark, and with a blind man and a crippled woman, the procession continues slowly. Idle chatter is scarce, with the tension of the situation keeping people mostly quiet. After about forty minutes of hiking up a slight incline and a stone switchback in the deep, the party comes to a cavern entrance.
Stone figures are carved into the walls of this cavern. Each depicts a different crusader clad in armor and wielding weapons, but their carved stone features contain expressions of sadness.
Mulluq'Tar leads the way as they travel along the dark caverns, the 'bag' held aloft by his tail, as he carries his sword and shield in hand. After a short distance away from the temple, he dumps the remains of the undead before continuing on. As they come across the statuary, he turns and looks to the others expectantly, his knowledge mostly limited Iomedae and her enemies from the outer planes.
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"What is it we have found?" says Isilma, dragging Aravashnial behind her to the relief-adorned wall. "Carvings of weary men and women, wearing armor, carrying swords. Commendable likenesses I am sure, down to the crests on their shields. But I do not recognize them." She changes her grip on Aravashnial's hand laying hers on top of his, then guides it carefully to one of the crests so that his fingertips lay lightly on the stone. She begins to trace the outline of one of the crests. "Do you, Atya?"
At the mention of a location of note and the asking of his opinion, Aravashnial practically jumps forward (of course, tripping on the uneven ground below) to answer. "Of course I would know! I...erm, unfortunately can't exactly see it. Describe them to me."
After receiving a description of the statues and their crests, and stroking his hairless chin for a moment, he speaks up again. "They must be statues of the First Crusaders. Long have I held a theory that unprepared and corrupted Crusaders fled underground following particularly destructive battles. There have long been rumours of deformed humanoids down here, and I believe that the deformities originate from this Abyssal corruption. These must be...monuments."
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"If there are people living down here," says Isilma excitedly, pointedly ignoring the way Aravashnial characterized them, "they may know a way to the surface. We must seek them out!" She looks around the cavern for some marker to tell them which way to go, but sees that there are only two exits: the one they came in, another near the reliefs. "I mean, we must continue as we were, but alert for any more signs."
Mulluq begins to look around suspiciously at the mention of deformities from Abyssal corruption. "If they are Abyssally corrupted, do we want to seek them out? They may be wicked spawn like myself. I have concerns."
Mulluq nods at the truth, there is only one way to go. He grips his shield and sword, and continues to lead the way forward. He stops periodically to find signs of evil ahead.
Creeping forward into the cavern, Mulluq sends out his senses. Nothing around him or ahead gives off the telltale signs of evil, but as he gets farther into the cave, a reedy and rough voice calls out from ahead in the tunnel.
"Stop righ' there! Whataryoo doing in me palace?"
The gruff voice snorts. "I can help you to your graves, if you take another step, lady! I won't let you take me in!"
Lysbeth peers into the darkness, searching for the source of the voice. "Sir, please. I can assure you that we mean no harm. We certainly shan't force you to come with us." She takes a deep breath and bites her lip, hoping that being honest is the right course of action. "We have wounded. We... were in something of a cave-in, and are just trying to get home."
Mulluq listens as they plead with the voice for aid, scanning ahead into the darkness with his demon's eyes. He looks for signs of evil once again.
There is a small pause after Lysbeth explains the situation. "Wounded, hm?" the gruff voice muses aloud.
Mulluq's evil detection spell reveals the aura of an evil creature just as the creature creeps into view. It's a dirty dwarf wearing a brown cloak and with tangled and dirty hair. As he creeps forward, he shouts, "Then you can't defend yourself so well, can you?" and a shield of purple force shimmers from his hands to coat him.
Mulluq - 20
Isilma - 19
Millorn - 19
Lysbeth - 9
Mulluq glares in fury, "You will harm no one, for I defend these wounded!" With that he charges toward the dwarf casting spells. He makes short work of the distance between them and pushes with a powerful thrust right into the midsection of the dwarf.
Cruroar looses a bolt at the other dwarf from his hand crossbow, but the bolt goes wide and clatters against the cavern's ceiling.
Mulluq charges forward with a righteous fury, driving his sword right into the heart of the cruel dwarf. Impossibly, though, despite the grave injury, the dwarf still stands. He looks hatefully up into Mulluq's eyes, spitting out the words "Filthy demonspawn" along with a mouthful of blood.
Isilma's crossbow bolt flies dangerously close to Mulluq as it pierces the dwarf's magical armor and his flesh. He staggers back a step, but the hateful gaze doesn't leave his vision.
His gaze flits back and forth, behind Mulluq, past the others, and fixes on Aravashnial, who is standing cautiously behind Isilma. The dwarf growls, "No one wins in a battle of attrition!" before raising a hand a loosing a pair of purple bolts at Aravashnial.
The bolts find him without fail and, slamming into the injured wizard, send him toppling to the ground unconsciously.
Mulluq sees him focus his attention on one of his charges, and refuses to let this man cause further ill will. He draws his blade out in a sweep, dragging it through the flesh of the man. "Not... on... my... watch!"
Lysbeth's eyes blaze as she fires a bolt off from her crossbow, which goes nowhere near the Dwarf.
Falling unconscious, injured gravely by another sword slice delivered from Mulluq, the dwarf doesn't manage to get the missiles off after all. The hateful dwarf hits the ground hard, bleeding out.
As he is ahead in the cavern, Mulluq sees just behind a little bend a small and filthy camp. A small campfire and a well-used bedroll, along with a few utensils and tools, sits near another cave opening in the far wall of this cavern. Just beyond this camp-cavern is another tunnel, but sloping up and away.
Aravashnial takes her hand once again, giving it a reassuring squeeze while at the same time not quite looking right at her. "I am unharmed, little one. And you?"
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"I am not sure, Atya," says Isilma, returning the squeeze. "I feel like the fight was my fault. I wanted the people living down here, the people you talked about, to be helpful. So I did not listen to what he was saying or react in time to calm him." She could have done it too. She had the spell ready, sitting buried in her mind. But she had gone for her weapon instead. She swallows.
"But there is more. When we were fighting, and he was saying those awful things about you, and Anevia, and Mulluq, I felt betrayed. I wanted him to hurt for it. I do not want to feel that way...I am not allowed..." Isilma hugs the elf close, burying her face in his chest. Gone is the confident self-assuredness she had projected earlier. No longer is she trying to bond with the others or wring good cheer out of their situation. She seems, for the first time, less a princess of House Edasseril and more a scared little girl.
Aravashnial puts his arms around the little elven girl, setting his head on top of hers. "Shush. We are merely in a bad spot. Whatever stress you feel is not your fault. I would be surprised if a young person such as you weren't freaking about."
He cracks a little smile. "I mean, think about it. We're stuck in a cave with no one but each other for company. Anyone would be in distress."
Anevia walks over to put a consoling shoulder on Isilma's shoulder while Aravashnial continues. "We can't let ourselves dally, however. We have a duty to those above to make it back to the surface."
Mulluq is ashamed of his outburst, when even a wicked man willing to harm the wounded can look down on him as the demon he is, it reminds him of his place. He couldn't help himself, as soon as the dwarf had threatened the injured, his fury had taken hold of him. He silently agrees with the assessment that they should hurry.
The wicked dwarf is outfitted with a few things of note, and his camp has some stuff of value to the delvers.
He carried two potions and two scrolls, as well as his spellbook, in addition to a dagger, a fine cloak, 8pp and 7gp.
In his camp can be found several days worth of food (if somewhat unpalatable food) and a marble statuette of a humanoid throwing a spear.
Mulluq looks over the things briefly, considering the only thing he finds useable for their current situation are the rations. He grabs them and is ready to move on as soon as everyone else is as well.
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Isilma smiles at Aravashnial's small joke, pulling her head away so he can see before remembering the futility of the gesture. Worse than futility; he must have thought she wanted him to let go, because he does just that. This and his words, meant to be comforting, show Isilma that they have yet to really understand one another. She reminds herself that she came here to escape being understood all too well.
"What you say is true," she says. "We must reach the surface...and we must make the most of every opportunity." She turns her gaze back on the body of the dwarf and the items Mulluq has laid alongside. He must have lived her for some time before the demons came. She picks up the book and begins leafing through the pages, hoping to find a map or a sure method of staving off the dangers of this place.
The potions, the scrolls, the book and the cloak all radiate magic.
Leafing through the pages, Isilma finds that the dwarf was a wizard and that this is his spellbook.
1st - color spray, mage armor, magic missile, detect secret doors, grease, shocking grasp, silent image
0th - All
Lysbeth stands frozen, waiting for her heart rate to slow back towards normal. When it finally did, she walked slowly over to the corpse of the Dwarf. "What makes them act like that?" She muttered. "So many of us have come so close to such darkness and evil, but turned away rather than embrace it." She shuddered, thinking how the Wizard would have easily killed all of them, and for nothing. Without raising her eyes, she asked another question. "How do we fight such rampant violence and lust for chaos?"
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"Common things," says Isilma, closing the book and putting it in her pack to study later. "Fear, pain, neglect and jealousy all can sow evil, chaos and confusion." The words come quickly to her, like a familiar litany, but her voice quivers as she speaks them. She thinks back to before the fight, and surprises herself by remembering the dwarf's words. "Probably fear in this case. He imagined we wanted to 'take him in.'" Isilma leaves the second question hanging. She does not know how to answer it. She had only been able to reject those feelings with help, and shepherding others is a mystery to her.
Mulluq'Tar sneers at the corpse of the dwarf as he speaks, "The why, does not matter as much as how we stop it. The only way to fight evil in the world is through the strength of conviction and an unyielding determination to see cruelty and hate expunged from the world. Faith in the Gods of Good and following their guidance and sending them our prayers. Most of all, we fight it by convincing ourselves that we will not stop until all has been made right." With that said he makes to head out.
Moving onward to this cave's exit, the party finds a tunnel that slopes upward sharply. Hammered into the floor and walls of this sloping tunnel are many pitons that make it much simpler to climb the tunnel.
Anevia has to be babied while climbing, but Aravashnial mumbles something reassuring to Isilma and casts levitate on himself. He waits a moment for the others to start climbing before floating up the tunnel, using the pitons that he finds to keep himself to the cave floor but using the spell to keep himself from having to find them to pull himself up.
The climb is easy for everyone else.
After reaching the top of the tunnel, as it levels out, the tunnel continues forward into darkness.
Following it, it curves through the earth with little incident or interest. After about 30 minutes of walking (slowly, of course, to compensate for the broken leg and the blind man), the tunnel opens into a large cavern, about seventy feet across. Cylindrical rock formations along the walls arch up to make a domelike chamber, but the walls and floor are riddled with cracks. At the center of the cave, a stone tower that may once have reached the fifty-foot-high ceiling has collapsed onto its side.
A pair of creatures, humanoid but hideously deformed, pick about the tower stopping here and there to call out or dig into the rubble. Occasionally a muffled voice responds.
Upon seeing them, Horgus immediately drops to his haunches. "Monsters!" he breathes out. "Quick, kill them so we can continue on!"
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Seeing Anevia struggle to get up the cliff, Isilma passes her hand over Terendelev's scale. The woman rises beside Aravashnial, seemingly supported on a pillar of billowing bluish-gray cloud. Isilma wafts a puff of the vapor over to herself as she climbs and breathes it in. It's cold, but moist and soothing after the dusty, dry air of the caverns.
The air at the opening of the cavern seems even dustier than the air below, as though it something had stopped it from settling. And so it has not. Isilma hiccoughs, partly from the dust catching in her throat and partly from the sight of the people kicking it up, and the realization why. She wants to call out to them, but cannot. Then Horgus says his piece.
"Nay," she says, and shakes her head. "They might be dangerous, but they are also busy. We could walk by. But I think we should not, because they look busied with extracting someone from under that rockslide." Her voice steadies as she speaks. Her confidence is growing again. She cups her hands, scale still palmed, around her mouth and calls out to the duo milling around the tower.
"Are you in need of assistance?"
At Isilma's call, one of them turns to look up. With the upper body of a slim humanoid, the legs of a goat, and a split face (half horned lizardfolk and half attractive elf) he is a strange sight. He straightens up, leaving his compatriot to continue digging while he addresses her. "That depends on your intentions." he responds, in strangely-accented Common. "If they are ill, please move on. If they are good, please, we are in a predicament. The tower has collapsed and our friend is trapped. We lack the strength to remove him."