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"Since the first days of the Worldwound, Kenabres has answered the
call to action demanded by the coming of the fiends. We opened
our gates to refugees despite the danger. We tracked down demons
hiding in the guise of men and set them alight with righteous flame.
Still, the tide of fiends never ceases. They surge pitilessly toward our
shining border, that churning throng of creatures clamoring for
virtuous blood. Kenabres is the bulwark behind which we throw our
weight. The wardstone is our shield and also our greatest weapon. As
long as Kenabres stands, we will keep the demons trapped, and our
crusaders shall ride forth and put an end to their foul existence.”
—Onevere Worin, City Defender of Kenabres
For decades, demons have ruled the Worldwound. Fearsome fiends of every stripe — their mottled skin harder than iron, teeth like serrated blades, and eyes burning with Abyssal flames — roam the ruined lands that were once known as Sarkoris, leaving their mark wherever they go.
Four crusades have attempted to cleanse the land, but each seems to meet a worse fate than the last. Were it not for the line of magical wardstones along the eastern and southern borders, the demons would have long ago overrun North Central Avistan and beyond.
The Fourth Crusade hasn’t really ended as much as petered out, yet some refuse to accept that. Amid crippling shortages and record lows in morale among the crusaders, the Mendevian war effort teeters on the brink of collapse.
Some things are certain: the demonic occupation of the Worldwound is growing, and corruption among the crusaders is rampant despite all efforts at witch-hunting. There is a dwindling minority of paladins and priests maintain that the Fourth Crusade is still vibrant and alive, and that the turning point in the war is only a few days away.
They are more right than they know...
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.
Though Armasse is technically a city-wide celebration, the events that make up the bulk of what's interesting happen in Clydwell Square, just west of the Cathedral of St Clydwell.
From the Square, you can see the roiling black and red clouds that are pervasive over the Worldwound itself. But here, in this bastion of the crusades, the sun still shines.
It is nearing noon, the official start of Armasse. The blessing of the festival, by none other than Lord Hulrun, is an event that few miss. It is said that any crusader who stands within earshot of the Prelate during the blessing is gifted with good luck for a year and a day. True or not, it certainly couldn't hurt.
Kazul stood near the back of the crowd, nervously jingling his coin purse, his eyes scanning the crowd of guards and soldiers, as he pressed his back against a wall, careful not to damage the falchion strapped to his back. Always protect your flanks and rear! Funny how those years in the orc tribe had honed his senses. His wild black hair fell over his face, shielding his eyes from the sun. 7 sp?! That's all he had left?! Even staying at the poorest hostel in New Kenabres, he knew he would barely afford to stay no more than 3 more days. And that was without counting meals! Then what? He'd be out on the street, along with the rest of the homeless refugees in the district. To do what? Resort to crime to survive? Survival of the fittest? Funny, most people would think as a 6'1" half-orc, he'd know how to intimidate the commoners, right or rob them blind? He was the Bear after all! Kazul smiled, touching the tattoo on his chest of a grizzly. No, unfortunately, Kazul never learned those lessons from his former orc tribe. He was too busy staving off their assassination attempts as a half-breed. He wondered if any of them survived the ambush that night a year ago. Well, if you really thought about it, he only survived thanks to the Desnan woman. He never got her name. His keen eyes scanned the crowd. Maybe she'll be here today. And if not, I need a job and gold. Looks like the Fourth Crusade is calling! Hopefully, this Lord will tell me how to join. Suddenly, his stomach grumbled. And hopefully, very soon!
Lucille rides into Kenabres through the south gate and into an overwhelming throng of people. Bright pennants fly, the streets are swept clean, everyone seems determined to have a good time -- some sort of festival, she reckons. "Armasse" she hears someone say, whatever that means. But as uncomfortable as the crowded streets are, Lucille knows that she has stayed away from Kenabres long enough. She promised her father she would come here, tell the recruiters who her family is, and listen to their pitch. She never promised to join the Crusade, only to listen.
She made the promise to ease a dying man's regret at the things he had left undone, and because her face was known to too many of the wrong sort in Alkenstar. She would listen, and then she would leave, returning to the plains of Mendev, her conscience clear. She owed him -- and Mendev -- that much. But no more.
Everyone seems to be going to the center of the city, through several more walled gates, so Lucille does too. Rusty is restless in these crowds, and Lucille considers stabling him, but then she falls in behind several other horses, and he calms somewhat. Soon Lucille sees a tournament field for jousting, but she turns aside. The main event seems to be across the way, near a large church. Was that the Cathedral of St Clydwell her parents had talked so much about? She eases her way closer, dismounting if necessary, curious to find out what so many have come to see and hear.
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As the day begins to brighten, Seren flits about the crowds, smiling and laughing as she watches the mass of people. Some hard looking warriors mixing with apparently raw recruits, all to celebrate Armasse side by side. And for a country under near constant threat of demonic assault, even Seren knew that a celebration is just what the people need. A pity that the Ritual of Stardust hasn't taken off like I'd hoped. Far more merrier than Aroden's holiday.
But even so, she looks about, watching the folks move in either near chaotic fashion, only to be split like a log by the odd marching of a small group of warriors, both holy and otherwise. And even she enjoyed the holiday, since it allowed her an excuse to properly train with her starknife. When the thought crosses her mind, her hand falls to her deity's favored weapon. It was cool to the touch, as all metal is when not fired or used. But that it had to be made of cold iron sort of reminds her of where she is, and it sure wasn't near a fey.
She hears some folks singing off in the distance, and with a broad grin on her face, her hand leaves the starknife and she begins to bob and weave through the crowd towards it. It was most likely an Iomedaen Hymn, but it was music.
Fabian made his way through the crowd, using his finely-carved staff like a walking stick. Dressed in a scholar's robes, he looked a little out of place amongst the commoners and the warriors resplendent in shining armor, but then again, the dire needs of the Mendevian crusades have brought people from all walks of live. While the streets of Kenbares are perhaps not as cosmopolitan as the streets of Absalom, they were surprisingly so.
Armasse! His adoptive mother, a paladin of Iomedae herself, had always participated in the festivities of Armasse, and he had many fond memories of the festival growing up. Fabian made his way to the cathedral and the plaza where Lord Hulrun would be giving the blessing. He hoped to see his mother, later, participating in the tournaments and the jousting.
Having arived just 5 days ago Bollwerk has spent the days before Armass in preperation to be sent to the front. Armed with a letter of introduction, written by his foster-father, he found someone in the Iomedea Church to make the necessary arrangements.
In preperation of Armass he has spend the days in the St. Clydwell Cathedral in silent fast. Upon arrival he asked for permission to stand guard at the podium of Lord Hulrun, wich was granted, a high honor indeed. So on Armass he arrived with the others, with freshly polished armor and shield to spend the day as show of strength and faith of the Iomedean church.
Seraphyna listened to the caravaners rush about in organized chaos, trying desperately to have their wares on display before the celebration was truly underway and they missed their chance at the easy sales. She easily rolled from the top of the wagon, nearly giving the older woman she landed next to a fit. ”Sorry miss!” she squeaked before disappearing into the crowds. So this is Kenabres… I haven’t been here since I was a babe. Too much death and violence for my parents after they took me in. They’d be livid if they saw me now! she though, memories of all the talking to’s and punishments she’d been given over the years for scaring them half to death, Ok, I admit riding Bramzit’s mechanical dragonling might have been a bit dangerous, but it was FUN. she giggles as she filters through the city, taking in the sights and sounds of the pre-festival.
Overhearing that Lord Hulrun would be offering a blessing to the masses, the Halfling follows the steady tide of people making their way to the temple, and does her best not to get stepped on in the process. Sheesh, do people not look down?! I could be an oblivious child and get crushed under their stomping feet! Wouldn’t THAT be a great way to start Armasse!
Today is the day.
Dieter bolted from bed and threw on his clothes, racing down the steps in excitement.
Armasse, and the tournaments.
Parda, the house cook, was barely able to get him to swallow a few spoonfuls of porridge before he was out the door. She chided him for being in such a hurry.
Now is my chance to show what I have learned.
Dieter stepped into the cobblestone street and walked briskly, his rapier and buckler swinging at his hip. He was a tall, lanky figure in black leathers with white trim. His wispy white hair hung to his shoulders and fluttered in the morning breeze.
He made it to the crowds gathered in the square, and he strained to see the proceedings. His gripped the pommel of his sword expectantly. He had just arrived back home in Kenabres a few days ago, after having spent three years across the Lake of Mists and Veils in Brevoy, studying under the tutelage of the Aldori swordmasters. He was eager to show his prowess.
I hope Aunt Else and Uncle Friedrich have good seats.
Everything is BLACK.
Your ears ring, and your heads pound with a deep throb at every heartbeat. You can hear the clattering of falling rocks, as well as moans of pain. It's even difficult breathing, as a thick dust fills the air. You can feel that you are half buried in rubble, and covered in dirt and filth.
You are in a darkness so deep, it can only mean that - somehow - you are deep underground, and that you are - someway - still alive.
Huh? Am I dead? Dreaming? No! Focus! Kazul's eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness and allowing him to see. He groans as he tries to stand up, cleaning the dirt and grime off himself. When he is up, he checks he still has his weapons and backpack on him. He grips his head, at the massive pounding and ringing. After a few seconds, as the pain subsides, he calls out to the survivors, "Is everyone okay? We're deep underground, as far as I can tell. Does anyone need assistance? Can anyone remember what the hell happened?"
Sera swoons, the pulsing in her head drowning out all but the pain. She staggers back, bumping into something solid and unyielding. Stone? How? What’s going on? With even her lowlight vision not availing her, panic begins to set in. So dark! Am I dead? I didn’t think it would hurt this badly! Her fight or flight response kicking in, the Halfling begins to crackle with sparks, the air around her beginning to swirl oddly. In but a moment the effects mostly end, but left it its wake is a translucent, shimmering fleid of force around her tiny frame.
When she hears the orcish tones of another, she leaps back, scrambling over the rock and trying to look very, very small. Please don’t eat me, Please don’t eat me!
As you struggle to catch your breath, and make some sense of what happened, the memories come flooding back:
Armasse began precisely on the twelfth toll of bells of St Clydwell. Lord Hulrun, resplendent in his shining armor, took the stage to begin the blessing.
"Honored Guardian, faithful of Iomed..."
Hulrun's eyes grew wide as he looked across the Plaza. It was a look of fear as had never been seen on the old Inquisitor's face. As you turned to look at what in all of Golarion was happening, a bright flash came from the West, throwing the shadows of the crowds against the walls of the Cathedral in a gargantuan splash of darkness. A moment later, the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air, the shockwave tearing through the stalls and banners of the festival.
To the West, The Kite, fortress and location of Kenabres' Wardstone, had vanished.
Nothing could be seen through the vast pillar of fire, lightning, and black smoke that rose from where the Kite had been. All was silent for what seemed like an eternity. Then, with a powerful roar a welcome sight met you as Kenabres' greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, dropped her human guise and leapt into the air from where she was standing in the crowd.
Elation was followed by sheer terror, as yet another form appeared in the air, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A huge shape, three times the size of a man and wreathed in fire and lightning, crashed into Terendelev, arresting her charge. Wielding a flaming sword and whip, Khorramzedeh, the Storm King, had come to Kenabres.
Dieter experienced a mild floating sensation as his eyes were filled with eigengrau. The sounds around him seemed distant and muffled. Several long seconds of existential crisis ended abruptly as his memories snapped him back to reality. The city is being attacked. GET YOUR FAMILY OUT.
With a brief moment of focus, Dieter feels power flow through his body as a soft, white luminescence kindled around his head like a halo [Halo racial ability]. It shed soft light over his surroundings, enough for him to gauge his surroundings. He scrambled out of the debris. "Listen to me, everyone! The city is under attack and the Kite has fallen! Civilians need to evacuate NOW! We need to find a way out of this cavern to the surface. Find your families, take no more than what you can carry, and FLEE TO THE EAST!" Dieter starts scanning the cavern, looking for egress.
As the ground shook, great rents opened in the Plaza, disgorging demons into the midst of the crowd, while the dragon and the balor clashed above. The demon lord cut deeply into the dragon's body, bringing forth a shriek of pain and agony that surely will be with you until your dying days. Mortally wounded, Terendelev spiraled downward, the hateful Storm Lord continuing his unrelenting assault. The sight of Kenabres' - and maybe the Fourth Crusade's - greatest hero crashing into the façade of the Cathedral of St Clydwell is the stuff of every crusader's nightmares. It is an image burned into your very being.
There was no time to mourn, for even as you watched the dragon's end in horror, a titanic demon burst into Kenabres from below, destroying several buildings as it smashed into this world. A great rift opened at the far end of the plaza from the demon's feet, raced across the open ground, and engulfed you.
Even as you fell, the dragon noticed your plight. Locking eyes with you in her death throes, she managed a few arcane words and a simple gesture. Your plummet into darkness was slowed to the falling of a feather on a spring day. Yet that fall was inexorable. Your last memory was of Khorramzedeh standing astride the dragon, her severed head held aloft in a lightning-wreathed talon. The rift slammed shut, and all went dark.
No this can not be! Iomedea would not allow it. But still. Get up you worthless piece of flesh With a groan the massive tiefling stands up. Seeing the glowing person he climbs to him. "All that follow the gods of light, gather round. Everyone hurt or trapped, give us a sign, we will try to help you!" He then introduces him to the aasimar.
Lying on broken stones in the dark, Lucille's first thought was of Rusty. "I hope that fool horse has sense enough to get out of the city, before those damn knights draft him." Her second was for her gear.
"Daddy always said, Buy a Sunrod -- but did I listen? Of course not." She rolls into a seated position, then begins patting herself to see what survived the fall.
Lucille has her musket, thank Deadeye, and her pack, but just as she's started rummaging around for her tinderbox she realizes she isn't alone. A man begins to glow, and to shout orders. Lucille stretches and picks a path over to him, glancing about for anyone who might be trapped and need assistance.
"So that was a demon," Lucille says to the aasimar. "Bigger'n I thought." Then she gives a sidelong glance at the horned man next to him.
As the memories of the day's events took shape in his head, Kazul silently thanked the dragon for saving his life. My goodness..the refugees in New Kenabres! They won't stand a chance against those demon hordes. We need to get out of here quick.
Kazul stared at the man with the glowing light above his head. Cute trick! He doesn't stand out at all.. Kazul smiles, as he walks around the cavern, seeing if anyone needs assistance and if there is an obvious way out, using his vision and hearing.
When the torch and halo illuminate some of the area, Sera peeks out from behind her rock, only to “eep” and return to hiding. Angels and demons are meeting here, and there’s an orc trying to eat me. Wake up Sera wake up! This is clearly a nightmare, there’s no way this can be real. Silver dragons don’t just DIE, silly girl. Pinching herself till she bleeds, the young Halfling slowly begins to realize this isn’t a dream, and begins trying to muffle her sobs.
Fabian groans. As he slowly tries to remember where he is, and what just happened, he hears voices near him, and sees a pale glow from somebody else nearby. He pats the ground near him, panic rising, before his hands close around the familiar contours of his staff. Pulling it towards him, he grasps it, speaks a few arcane words, and light starts to glow from the end of his staff.
He stands up, pausing to make sure that his precious spellbook is still in his backpack. He looks around at the others, and makes his way towards the glowing Aasimar.
"Which way is East?" he asks in response to the man's call that they flee East. Fabian looks around the cavern. He tries to take stock of who else is present. "Did I... did everybody else see Terendelev fall?"
Fabian's voice cracks with the last sentence, the admission out loud that a terrible calamity must have befallen Kenbares.
At the sound of sobbing, Lucille turns her attention from the others and peers into the rubble. Spying a small form, she hurries over to a small girl, huddled and crying in the ruins.
"No need for tears, missie," she says softly. "We'll get you out of here, safe and sound. Are you hurt?"
As Lucille bends down to comfort her, she realizes that what she thought was a child was actually an adult halfling. Well, a young adult.
More stragglers were wandering into the aasimar's light, some with light of their own.
"Let's get you over with the others -- there's safety in numbers down here. I can carry you, if'n you can't walk. But it's better if you stand on your own two feet."
The cavern ceiling and far wall are beyond the range of your simple light sources. The walls and floor are of natural stone. You can hear the squeaks of bats echoing high above you. Grit and rock dust cover everything. Clumps of stalagmites cover the floor. Now that there is light to see by, you notice the arms and legs of those less fortunate than you protruding from the rubble all around you.
There are others making their way towards you.
Seraphyna instinctively recoils as her "hiding" spot is discovered, but is pleasantly surprised that its a normal person that has spotted her, and not some nefarious demon come to swallow her soul. "He..heads a little fuzzy." she says, rising to her feet, "Think it's safe over there? We just saw a dragon get killed by demons; and now angels, devils, and orcs are having a nice chat. I'm thinking I might stay hidden, grow a beard, and become a dwarf that never leaves his mountain."
"That's half-orc, halfling! Which means I'll only eat half of you!" Kazul laughs and continues on his recon of the cavern.
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By the Butterfly! What?! Seren sits up, looking about, straining her eyes to try and see about her. But the darkness around her is either magical, or she's way too deep in the ground for light to filter in. But as she begins to panic, the event of what had just happened crossing her mind, light begins to appear from nearby.
A human was holding something casting light about, and several others were nearby. Slowly, she stands and walks near to them. "Wha... What just happened? I'm not dreaming am I?" She's shaken, but standing, silently thanking Desna for the light. But then, what had the dragon said? 'Find them.' Maybe... Maybe these folks are them? "Did... You all hear anything before... Well, you know. The fight."
Bollwerk looks at the halfling shaking his head. "I don't know what you see, but I see survivors, trapped after a horrible loss in a cavern. I will mourn the passing of our silvery defender, but first I would like to help those who are trapped here. Then I want to fi d my way up to the city. Then I will try to find how this could happen. But first things first. Anyone injured? Anyone any idea where we are? And do not despair. We are alive."
Fabian looks to the tiefling, his eyes narrowing. "I will take you at your word, but I hope you know that most people who show the heritage that you show are not our friends here."
To everybody assembled, he says, "I grew up in Kenbares. I do not recognize where we are. If Terendelev, the silver dragon, has truly fallen, then it is a dark day indeed. I any event, the calamity we are in the middle of is not likely to be a small one. I agree with the demonspawn that we should tend to the injured, figure out where we are, and not despair. While hopefully we can make contact with the city's defenders, in the here and now it is up to us."
Fabian is a medium-short human of a slight build, wearing scholar's robes and a cloak, currently very covered with dust and dirt. His hair is sandy blond and shoulder length. He bears an ornately carved light-colored staff in one hand, currently with light shining from the end of it.
When Kazul turns his back to continue his reconnoiter, Sera peeks out from behind Lucille’s legs to stick her tongue out at the bear of a man. Having gotten closer to the group of people does a little to ease the Halflings mind, as she sees the ones talking are not true angels and demons, but are the plane touched she has seen in the past, al be it rarely together and chatting like long lost chums. ”Well, we should take a count of who survived, and who needs clerical attention to stay that way. I can’t help with that, most of my medical training consists of dunking someone’s head in a bucket of water to see if they wake up, and we seem to be out of buckets of water.” Sensing that her attempt to inject levity into the situation will fall on less than receptive ears, Sera heads in the opposite direction as Kazul, looking for signs of movement and listening for groans of pain.
"We are alive for now. There are demons slaughtering civilians in the streets above us. I do not know if these caverns are natural or if they were created by that monster's rampage. I don't even know if there is a way out, but we need to find one!"
Looking around the tiefling will finally look at the human with the scholars robes and say:"You are right. You should be weary. You can call me Bollwerk and by Iomedea, I will help you reach the surface or die trying. Now is anyone of you trained in the healing arts? I do see here a few bodies and would like to help them out or give them a final blessing to their journey to pharasmas throne."
"If you swear by the Inheritor," Fabian says to Bollwerk, "then you and I will not have a problem with each other."
Sera bites her tongue to keep from commenting as she continues her search, No wonder the crusades are so infested with corruption and demonspawn, all you have to say is Iomedea likes me and you get a free pass to trustville. I wish we had a good paladin around to check, I hear they can sniff out past evils just by looking at you.
Lucille looked glanced around the group that was coalescing. Three nonhumans who looked like they could handle themselves in a fight. Two humans that didn't -- though looks could be deceiving. And a scared halfing. Could be worse -- some of them might live.
She patted her head to make sure her hat was on straight, and the yellow feather standing proud, then she cleared her throat.
"They call me Sweet Lucille," she said at last, "I'm a farmhand from Alkenstar, just taking in the sights. I've been through a spellsquall or two, but don't know the city and never spent any time underground."
She shakes her head a few times, then fixes her gaze on the human who said he was a native.
"Y'all sure know how to throw a party, I'll give you that. I've cleaned up after brawls before, but never between a dragon and a demon. Is that special for the festival, or is that every weekend?"
EDIT:
"...no. No, it is not a regular event. Terendelev was the single greatest asset to the entire war effort against the Worldwound. And now she is... dead. Slain by a foul and mighty demon. If we have any hope of escaping this city alive, we must make haste. Now."
Dieter turns to Seren, the cleric of Desna. "What do you mean, if we heard anything? There were explosions, demonic howls, shrieks of terror - what exactly did you hear?"
"Dieter turns to Seren, the cleric of Desna. "What do you mean, if we heard anything? There were explosions, demonic howls, shrieks of terror - what exactly did you hear?"
"Just before I fell," Fabian says, "I thought Terendelev met my eyes and cast a spell. I did not have the time or the ability in the chaos to focus on what was happening and attempt to identify the spell, as I might usually do, but I suspect that the dragon may have done something to allow me to survive the fall. But I fear this may be my imagination, for of the people in Kenbares who were caught in that expanding rift in the ground, I am surely not one of the most worthy. Did anybody else have a similar experience?"
Seraphyna pauses in her search, hearing Fabian comment on something she had previously passed off as her overactive imagination. ”Was it a kind of finger waggle with couple of wrist flicks?” she asks, crudely pantomiming the gestures of the dying dragon. ”And did it make you float like a feather on a summer breeze, all this way and that? Cuz, I MAY have had a similar experience… maybe… if it wasn’t a panicked delusion.”
The Explosion behind me the cathedral in shadow.. " You are right I heard something, behind me, but I was watching the front, standing vigil.... and I swear to the inheritor, that I am true to her!" Bollwerk gently puts his holy symbol to his lips and kisses it.
Kazul stops looking around and looks at the party assembled. "I am Kazul the Bear..at least that's what I was called...before. I'm looking to escape this whole we've been dropped in and reach the city again. I left some associates up there who I am sure who need defending from the demons, surely loose on Kenabres' streets. That beautiful dragon is dead now....kind of hard not be without when its head is separated from its body, but it did look at me and saved me from this fall."
At the casual way Kazul remarks about the death of Terendelev, Sera pops like a firecracker, ”Maybe I’m new to the whole, last remnants of a destroyed city thing, but how can all of you just chatter on about what just happened lime you are reading a shopping list?” she exclaims, tears beginning to reform at the corners of her eyes, ”One of the linchpins in the defense against the worldwound just fell, hundreds are dead, Terendelev, a DRAGON, was slain without much issue, and everyone’s counting on their fingers like it’s a common everyday occurrence. A DRAGON people, DEAD, what the hells do we think we can do against something that killed a DRAGON. You can better believe I want to get out of here, so I can hightail it back to Absalom or Korvosa, not so I can take up arms and avenge my fallen comrades. You’ll just be another body on the pile!” Tears streaming down her face as all the held in emotion bursts forth, the Halfling just collapses as her knees give out.
Kazul looks flabbergasted. "What magic are you on, halfling? I never said I was going after the demon lord that just killed the dragon! You crazy or something? I said I was going to see if I could help the people in New Kenabres, assuming it is unoccupied or poorly defended. I can't leave them behind without having done everything in my power to see they're okay. I can sneak in too, as I am sure you can as well. Not all roads lead to direct combat. Then, I'll see where the path leads me. But none of that is going to happen till we get out of here! So you going to stop your mewing?? You might draw predators to us!"
Dieter narrows his eyes. "There is an army in the city. I doubt that the Storm Lord himself is hunting down every man, woman, and child. His foul minions, smaller and weaker, are the ones that worry me the most. They are the ones that will perform most of the killing."
”That makes it better? That there’s an army trying to kill everyone? Do you even listen to yourself?” Seraphyna yelps incredulously, jaw working to expound on her statement, but no words coming out.
Looking at the halfling Bollwerk looks pained, but says:"Do not think I do not care. I do! But my father once told me start with the problems now. And start. So I do!". With that said he starts to check the next buried person. Finding ity head crushed he speaks a quick prayer and checks the next.
Looking at the halfling Bollwerk looks pained, but says:"Do not think I do not care. I do! But my father once told me start with the problems now. And start. So I do!". With that said he starts to check the next buried person. Finding ity head crushed he speaks a quick prayer and checks the next.
The next body Bollwerk checks is an elven male. His face is a ruin of burns and his eyes have been destroyed by...something. Rolling him over to perform a prayer, the elf lets out a low moan. He's alive, but barely so.