|WotR Game Master|
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 i6 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. You are in attendance near the cathedral's facade, and you've been lucky enough to get good a good spot to observe the opening ceremonies at noon.
Armasse officially began at noon, with the blessing of the festival by Lord Hulrun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza quieted as the aged inquisitor took the stage, clad in shining, resplendent armor. He cleared his throat, but just as he was about 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 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.
Your head throbs with a thunderous headache. Your ears ring. You're having trouble breathing. After a few moments, the sounds of rocks clattering, coughing, and moans of pain, as well as the choking smell of dust, become apparent as your senses seem to return, but it remains pitch black. Feeling around in the darkness, you feel rubble all around you, and realize that your body is covered in dirt and filth. Despite general aches and pains, you can tell that you are undamaged.
Gasping in shock at the sight of demons invading Kenabres, and her fall into the abyss, Sylvia fumbles about for her bow, making sure that it is still in one piece. Trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness, she whispers to herself, "Keep a hold of yourself, Syl. It won't do to lose it now."
Raising her voice in the darkness, she calls out, "Hello? Is there anyone else here?"
As the dust settles amidst the clatter of tumbling rocks and the sounds of individuals in pain, a faint light fades into being, growing brighter as it coalesces into a translucent halo around the head of a young woman. Human, by all appearances, she is clad in a delicate white gown, now torn and stained with rock and dirt. A light mace hangs from her hip alongside a few pouches, and the clink of delicate chainmail accompanies her movements.
She looks about the chamber, and raises her voice to speak. "Hello? Is... is anyone there?" As she gazes in the opposite direction of Sylvia's voice, it seems she has not heard the woman's call. She sets her jaw, and the light surrounding her intensifies until it approximates the brightness of a torch, seeming to grow stronger with its bearer's confidence.
Anarya manifests her halo spell-like-ability.
Stunned for a moment, Xantrius blinks and looks around him, his eyes adjusting to the grey-shaded world. He is able to pick out a few forms moving in the rubble before a sudden light spoils his vision. As his eyes re-adjust, he pulls himself to his feet, straightens his helm and shakes the dust off.
In a raw voice that sounds like he is gargling glass, he calls out "I am here. Is anyone hurt?"
After a quick look up to see if the ceiling looks stable, he turns back to the rubble and starts moving through the rocks helping the others to stand. He focuses on each one, measuring their life force to see who is in most need of aid.
Anarya turns at the sight of the shifting rubble, and quickly clambers over a fallen boulder toward him. She looks up at the armor-clad figure towering over her and bites her lip in consternation. "Are you injured?" She hesitates a moment before speaking again. "I can't tell what you are saying with your helmet on."
The vision played on the back of Baradesh's eyes. The Storm King striding into the city, the mortal defenders barely slowing the monstrous beast down. The mighty Terendelev striking the foul creature like a bolt of silver. The dragons bright blood as it spilled.
He could smell it, too. The metallic stench as the great dragon's life poured out into the plaza. The stench of the demons as they rose, and the more subtle smell of terror as the realization washed over the crowd that this was no illusion, no trick - the city was being swarmed under by the demon foes.
And he could hear the sounds in his ears. The screams of the terrified populace. The shout of the defenders as they tried to rally against the brutal, sudden shock of the assault. And the crack of the ground as it opened, swallowing Baradesh even as he moved to try and block the storm of demonic flesh washing into the city. Death was nothing, but failure unforgivable.
And finally the site of Tendelev, dying on the ground, hope lost...and the sensation of magic wrapping around, halting his plummet even as the blade of Khorramzadeh severed her head.
Baradesh Ironheart sat upright with a gasp, and looked up at the hole that been torn into the earth and then around at the cavern. His Darkvision was soon supplemented by the halo of light another figure cast and Baradesh nodded his thanks to the person as he rose to his feet.
"I am here also. Nae injuries of note. A few scrapes and bumps." Baradesh nodded to the glowing figure, his own helm not covering his face, and pointed at full helmed warrior. "He said he was unhurt, lady." Hopefully his thick beard would not obscure what he assumed was her ability too read lips.
The Stonelord glanced around again. He took a few slightly unsteady steps before his confidence in walking returned. Or maybe, simply, he was recovering from the shock of what had happened.
The images flooded the Paladin's mind and he felt...not shame. He had no retreated. His vows to Iomadae were intact and complete, although he'd need to clean himself when he could. He was covered in filth and dust, but his Goddess understood priorities - the wounded, safety and the way out were all higher priorities than his dust covered form.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
Anarya turns, seeing the dwarf as he rises. "Thank you, good sir," she replies. She looks around herself, peering into the darkness beyond her light's reach, finally catching sight of Sylvia. "Are you alright?" she asks. She approaches, holding out a hand to help the woman to her feet. As she does, she looks upwards, peering into the impenetrable blackness above. "Kenabres..." she whispers, worriedly imagining what it must be like in the city above.
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 18
Verene wraps up her transaction with the dried food seller with a smile and a final purchase: a small bag of the candied nuts that are seeing such a brisk business this holiday. Thamyris hops down to her wrist and tilts a bright entreating glance up at her face.
"Glutton," Verene laughs softly at her bird. "I just bought you enough dried cherries to keep you for months!" But the treat was for both of them, and he knows it. She pours a little pile for him into her palm, takes a few for herself, and wanders slowly through the crowds toward Clydwell Plaza. Perhaps she'll watch the jousts this year.
But it's only just noon, and Lord Hulrun has not yet given the benediction. Verene's smile slips away, but she watches politely enough as he prepares to speak. Then-- she staggers as the explosion hits. Fire. Terror. The screams of the crowd and the roar of the dragon. The realization of what it must mean turns her spine to ice. Slowly, she looks up, knowing with numb certainty what she'll see. Khorramzadeh, the Storm King, the monster whose face has haunted her nightmares since she was fourteen, has returned to finish what he started.
Transfixed, Verene does not attempt to run. There would be no point. Time slows as Terendelev smashes into the cathedral and she's falling, falling as if in a dream. The Storm King's blade comes down and she thinks she cries out - the same futile denial torn involuntarily from a thousand throats - but she can hear nothing over the roaring in her ears.
The blackness swallows her up, her thoughts narrowing with the vanishing point of light from above.
We are lost.
Verene comes to her senses slowly. Around, only stifling darkness - no, a glow appears. A beautiful woman all in white, haloed in light. For a dizzy moment she wonders if she's dead. But angels do not claim unbelievers when it is their time. A choked laugh scrapes from her throat; she covers her mouth before it can spiral into hysteria or a fit of coughing. Thamyris peeps indignantly at the motion - he's shaking and has all his feathers fluffed out, but impossibly, he's unhurt, as is she. "Easy, little one," she whispers to him automatically. "Easy. I'm here." The question is, how?
But she knows how. Terendelev... The thought is calm. Verene has used up all her shock, for today and maybe ever, but she shoves away the knowledge. It hurts too much. That mighty Terendelev would sacrifice her last chance, and therefore the city's last chance, for a handful of bystanders is the cruelest piece of nonsense in a day gone mad.
Cradling Thamyris's trembling form in one hand curled protectively against her chest, she stumbles to her feet, nearly tripping over her small pack, and scoops it up as she moves carefully toward the light, trying not to trip on the torn hem of her dirt-streaked gray robes. "I'm here, and uninjured."
Verene pushes tangled dark hair out of her eyes, and finds that her face is wet. Her voice, however, is steady as she looks around, noting the woman in white, the redheaded dwarf, the armored figure, and the woman checking her bow, and straining her eyes to make out anything more. "How far... did we fall?"
Perception, Verene: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
Perception, Thamyris: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
Turning to the dwarf, Xantrius nods and replies as he continues to move rocks in search of other survivors.
"Thank you. Have I not seen you at the training grounds? My name is Xantrius, I have only just joined the Crusade."
Lifting one stone, he is pleased to discover his shield, a little dusty but undamaged, and his pack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he thinks how fortunate it was that he had overheard a group of Hellknights discussing a thief that had been prowling the area who was proving to be maddeningly hard to catch, otherwise he might have left them in his tent outside of the city. These supplies could make a difference in getting them out of here.
At the woman's question, he states "I am not sure, but it felt like a long way. I am sure we shall find a way out, though. I feel that we shall not find ourselves in Pharasma's embrace this day!"
He looks around at the group and his voice booms out, "I know we have been though quite an ordeal, but we must put aside our shock and fear. The city has been struck a blow, yes, but I know others are still fighting above. We will get out of here and return to aid them!"
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Anarya's face is solemn as she turns her gaze back toward those she has found herself with. The dwarf. The knight. The mage. The scout. She looks at each face in turn before speaking, her voice wavering for a moment but growing strong as she continues. "We all seem to be unhurt. Terendelev... she saved all of us. Whether by the grace of the gods or the kindness of her heart, she saved us." Her expression is firm as she continues. "Let us make sure her sacrifice was not for nothing." She brushes dust off her robes before introducing herself. "I am Anarya, healer in the service of Iomedae. I apologize in advance if your words fall short of my ears - the gods saw fit to bless me with many things, but not the power of hearing." She clears her throat. "I can read lips, though," she says with a hint of pride. Her words, spoken uncomfortably loudly in the cramped chamber, hang awkwardly in the still air.
Slowly, Verene turns her head and takes a second, astonished glance at the armored figure, noting the black rose design on the shield now strapped to his back. Such a wildly optimistic assessment to go with that voice, but if he's a Shelynite, it figures.
Words rise to her tongue, as clear and sharp as broken glass: The wardstone is gone. Terendelev is dead. The city will be overrun in a matter of hours. With or without us, Kenabres has fallen.
But they are neither kind words, nor necessary, and so with a very great effort she takes a deep breath and says nothing. She turns her attention instead to the glowing young woman - Anarya. Of course she is one blessed. After she is done speaking, the itch to tear at Xantrius's hope and replace it with her own doubts has gone too. Verene turns her face fully toward the light and says gently, to both Xantrius and Anarya, "We can hope and do our best. I am Verene, a- translator. Give me a moment and I will help you."
She takes a second to smooth two fingers over the feathers of the drab little brown bird in her palm, then lifts him to her shoulder and digs in her pack for the lantern that would have lit her way home from the librarium tonight after the festival. It is unbroken, thankfully; she spares a thought also to be grateful that she brought her spellbook for her research. Verene lights the lantern with a little flint and steel striker, and lifts it high, peering around to help look.
Not rolling Perception again, as it's not really a different attempt.
Sylvia accepts the aid in standing, blinded as she is by the sudden light. Blinking to adjust her eyes, she looks around, curiously asking, "I remember. Terendelev rising... and falling. She saved us. But where are we? Under the city? Should we not hear something above us, or have we truly fallen so far?"
She looks around for other survivors, hoping, but doubt creeps into her as she continues. I should be thankful that I'm alive, but so many must have died! Is my life truly worth theirs?
Casting about in the darkness, she tries to get her bearings.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Baradesh glanced again at the tall man again. He did look vaguely familiar, but the city was full of crusaders. Relatively few of them lived long enough to gain fame, and fewer still that a new resident of the city would recognize him. Still, he nodded. "Aye, I am Baradesh Ironheart, servant of Divine Iomadae. Well met Xantrius."
"Well met, Anarya." Baradesh bowed to the woman in the formal style of Iomadae, as befitted another devotee, but making sure to finish his speech before bowing. The flaming sword on Baradesh's chest and shield noted out his own allegiance, if his words hadn't. "It pleases my soul to know the Inheritor likes me enough to add a healer to this group," he added with a smile.
He glanced over at Verene and bowed slightly, hand to chest, and added, "Well met, Verene. I dinnae imagine we shall have much to translate down here, in the earth, but I cannae say I am sad for your company. I canne help but think we shall need all our skills to escape."
Finally, he glanced over at the human who had not introduced herself. "I cannae say for sure, but the air has the taste of the deep places where we Dwarfs tend. The city..." Bradesh glanced up. "Terendelev was the most noble of warriors, and the one of the mighty, aye, but 'tis Kenabres. Ye cannae shake a stick without hitting Paladins, Inquisitors or Clerics of the lawful and the good."
Bradesh checked his gear - battered, dusty but sound enough until a smith could take a look. Still, he absent mindedly started wiping down the dust with a kerchief. "We fought the first war with nae Wardstone, and I cannae help but think it's loss will nae cripple so many servants skilled in the arts of demon slaying that something still stands above our heads. And if the city holds long enough, the Crusader Queen herself shall bring her fury."
The Paladin drew himself up - despite his short height his massive shoulders made an impressive show, and it felt reassuring to feel his own strength under the burnished steel of his armour. "But it nae matter if the hordes of the Abyss dance with armies of Hell above our heads - up is where we go for up is our exit. Can any see an exit to this cavern?"
As she stands awkwardly on the rubble, Sylvia brushes at her light blue blouse and white long skirt, laid over hardened leather strips. She adjust her shortbow on her back and checks the shortswords on her hips. Satisfied that everything is properly in place, she listens to Baradesh.
Nodding slowly, Sylvia seems comforted by the dwarves' words, "I pray you are right. I can't see any exits to the cavern, though. I can barely see my hand in front of my face!", she exclaims, holding her hand out in front of her at arm's length.
Moving forward in front of Anarya, she introduces herself, "I am Sylvia, neither a crusader nor a cleric. I'm not sure what aid I may be to any still up above, but I've been blessed with Desna's luck..."
Looking around the dark cavern, she mutters softly to herself, "Though it doesn't appear to have held up now, of all times."
Composing herself, she starts looking around again, "But I will help where I can. That is what I do for the people of Kenabres. I might not be a crusader, but I help where I can. Speaking of people of Kenabres, surely it wasn't just us that came down. Does anyone see any other survivors?", she turns back to the rubble and starts feeling around gently, grateful for what little light there is to aid in her search.
Anarya smiles at Sylvia's words. "I'd imagine it's not often one survives a cave-in with only scrapes and bruises. Perhaps you're luckier than you believe." She looks about. "You're right, though. That was a crowded street above, and I saw more than a few others saved by Terendelev's magic. Is anyone else there?" She calls out, climbing over some fallen rocks to bring her light farther into the cavern, looking both for survivors and an exit.
While still searching through the fallen rocks for any other people or objects, Xantrius moves closer to Verene.
"Despite Baradesh's words, I think I might need your services as a translator, Verene. I... prefer to keep my helm on, and I realize this makes it impossible for Anarya to know what I am saying. Might I prevail upon you to tell her that I mean no disrespect, and to let her know what I am saying when necessary?"
Verene nods to Baradesh in reply to his bow, then to Sylvia, as the dwarf greets each person and speaks bracingly of the city's capable defenders. She keeps the grim turn of her thoughts to herself. The First Crusaders did not have the Storm King to contend with. Only with great Terendelev's aid did we throw him back the first time, and that at a terrible cost. Without her... who can stand up to his might? Who will stop him from hunting down our leaders, while his legions ravage the ordinary companies? She stops the thought cold, as though by stopping it she can also stop the demons from reaching her family.
Seeing Sylvia's distress at the dark beyond their circle, her face softens. "Here," she says, reaching into her pack for a small white taper. She lights it in the lantern-flame, and holds it out. "It isn't much, but better than nothing if you would have your own source." After a small hesitation, she confesses, "I can work a little magic - little enough that I prefer to save it for other applications when a lantern or a candle will do just as well."
Verene listens to Xantrius as the search begins in earnest, turning an assessing gaze on him as he makes his request known. He is not the only person she has ever met who would rather hide his face whenever possible, but this is surely... extreme. "It is not a translator you need, sir," she says, not unkindly, "but I will repeat your words when necessary." She does not add an admonition to have courage or trust. That will come, or not, in its own time.
|WotR Game Master|
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.
In the solemn glow of Anarya's halo and Verene's lantern, a few others who had made it alive slowly come to their senses, adjusting to the light.
Anarya finds an elf with burns and a large gash across his face shifting out of the rubble. "Hello?!" he calls out desperately as his still-ringing ears catch voices in the air. "Are you demons? Here to finish the job?" He seems heavily injured.
Xantrius uncovers a pretty, yet capable, human woman who also seems to be heavily injured. A large boulder rests upon one of her legs, pinning her in plce, yet she seems unerred by her obviously excruciating circumstance. She eyes Xantrius warily as she takes in her surroundings and situation. "What are you looking at, lug?" she asks Xantrius curtly.
From out of the darkness toward Sylvia steps a portly man of obviously noble carriage. "Oh, lovely, I'm stuck in a hole with a bunch of ragtag heathens who couldn't even be bothered to stay behind and protect Kenabres." he says with mounting frustration and disdain. "And with these injuries, I'll surely die down here! Oh, what an ill fate to beset the glorious Horgus Gwerm. I'm doomed to die down here with you lot now, and it's all your fault! Doomed!" Despite his melodrama, he seems to only have suffered insignificant scrapes from the fall.
Anarya quickly kneels by the elf. "Worry not, friend. We are no demons, and you are safe. Here, you are wounded. Please, let me heal you." Wordlessly, she lays a gentle hand on the most severe of his burns as a soft white glow emanates from her palm, banishing the pain and injury. "My name is Anarya. Are you alright?"
Cure Light Wounds: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
She keeps a cautious eye on the spider from across the chamber, but knows her first priority is the wounded.
Too new a Paladin to have any skill or magic in the healing arts, Baradesh turned his attention to the portly man. The dust covered but fine clothes, the belly one wouldn't find on many working men and the wail about injuries he didn't seem to have suggested the man was either rich, noble or both. Inwardly, Baradesh sighed. He seemed like he was going to be a problem.
Outwardly, Baradesh smiled and approached. "Dinnae fash yerself, friend. I am Baradesh, a servant of Iomadae. My new collegue Anarya can take a wee peek at you once she has attended the others, but since ye can walk and see both I dinnae think ye need worry too much on the future of House Gwerm." Unless he had taken a particularly nasty blow to the nether, of course.
Making an obvious survey of the man's clothing, Baradesh added, "Ye are obviously of noble bearing, sir. Can ye tell about yerself and what you saw when we were above?"
|WotR Game Master|
This should help give you your bearings. You all should be able to view this.
The smaller yellow circle is Anarya's halo, the larger yellow circle is the normal light cast by Verene's lantern, and the large grey circle is the area of dim light cast by Verene's lantern.
Xantrius chooses to ignore the woman's rude comment and replies, "Do not move, I will try to free you without causing you any more pain."
He stretches his arms around the huge rock, braces himself, and starts straining his powerful muscles to lift it straight up. Staggering to the side, he drops it with a grunt, breathing heavily after his exertion. Turning back to the woman, he examines her aura to see how badly she is injured.
"It looks like your leg is badly broken. Verene, could you call Anarya over here when she is finished? She should be able to take away the worst of the pain, but I think we will still need to splint it."
He starts looking for pieces of wood or metal straight enough to be useful when his eyes fall on the dark shape at the far side of the room. Quickly drawing his sword he shouts, "Watch out!"
He starts moving towards the spider as he unlimbers his shield, watching for any sign of movement. It is very strange, they had been here for a while, yet this giant vermin had not attacked them...
When I try to view the map, I get a message saying "page does not exist"
Speaking softly to the finely dressed man, Sylvia draws a rapier, keeping the taper in the other hand, peering into the darkness and trying to make out the spider form in the darkness, "Stay here. There may be trouble ahead." She is relieved when Baradesh comes up and silently thanks him.
She moves up next to Xantrius, whispering in the darkness, "What do you make of it? I would think it would not have just sat there, waiting for us to organize ourselves before deciding to attack. I don't know much about spiders, granted, but it seems a little odd."
I get the whole "Sorry, the file you have requested does not exist." on Google drive with that link, as well.
|WotR Game Master|
The elf draws away slightly as Anarya touches him, but allows her to heal him. Some of the smaller cuts and bruises closed and faded, but he was still far from the picture of health. (HP 5/35) "I'm fine," he lied. "The Storm King could not take my life, but unfortunately he did take my eyesight," he said, trying to maintain pride. It was obvious that the burnt scars across his face were from the fiery whip of Khorramzadeh himself, and his eyes were gashed beyond mundane repair. "I am Aravashnial, a Riftwarden," he added. "Who are you with? I want names, ranks, and soforth. Do you have any experience with demons, girl?"
Horgus made a disgusted face at the dwarf. "You don't know who I am? You don't know who I am? Oh gods, just call me doomed, then, for I surely am! Why am I here with a cut-rate bearded midget dressed as a paladin? What jest of fate is this?" He seems obviously perturbed by the entire situation and is more worried about himself than answering Baradesh's question.
"Thanks." the woman says simply. While the pain of the boulder moving off of her leg was unbearable, she kept a stern and serious expression on her face. After an assessment of her situation, Xantrius can tell that she is quite injured. (HP 6/17) Not a word more was said as she watched Xantrius collect supplies for a splint before running off to handle potential danger.
As Xantrius and Sylvia approach the spider, they can tell from the sight and putrid stench of it that it has long been dead.
Xantrius Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22
Sylvia Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
They can hear a muffled chewing sound and see a bulge wriggling inside of the spider's abdomen.
Whoops, that would be because a space accidentally snuck its way in there. Here you go.
Edit: It did it again for some reason. It's adding a space in the url and I don't know why. Just delete the space between the x and K toward the end of the url.
Oh. Oh! That is disgusting!
Sylvia lays a hand on Xantrius' armor, halting him for a moment, "I think there's something... inside it. Careful."
Holding the taper up so she could see better, she waits for Xantrius to approach the spider's corpse before following behind him carefully.
Put the map in a URL tag and it won't insert a space. Click on the "How to format your text (Show)" button below the posting area to see how.
Anarya bites her lip worriedly, seeing how dire his wounds are. If only my light were stronger! she thought. No, don't think about that now. Do what you can for those you can reach. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. "I am merely a healer. I treat the crusaders' wounds, though I have not battled on the front lines." She looks to the others. "The others I have spoken with are Xantrius, Baradesh, Sylvia, Verene. Like you and I, we have all found ourselves here - seemingly far below Kenabres, in some sort of cavern." She looks over to the woman with the broken leg, then turns back to Aravashnial. "Can you move? I will guide you. There is another who needs my aid."
Can't access the map yet, but Anarya would like to move to where she can channel energy to affect both the elf and the woman with the broken leg. If she can, she will channel energy to heal both of them.
Anarya spreads her arms, letting a wave of light flow from her to soothe the others' wounds. She kneels beside the fallen woman and examines her leg. "I am Anarya. Please try to stay still for now. I will help find you a splint." She looks about for wood that could be used for such a purpose.
Channel Energy: 1d6 ⇒ 5
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 10
Verene's breath hisses between her teeth at the sight of the massive spider. Nothing that crawls should get that big. Shuddering, she thinks to feel for her crossbow for the first time. It seems to have been knocked askew in the fall, the bolt notched in the groove missing, but is still strapped to her back and the string still taut. She takes another bolt from her quiver and shoves it hastily into place. Only then does she pause and consider that if the spider were capable of moving, it would surely have already been attracted by their lights and voices.
"Thamyris, little brother, your eyes are better in the dark than mine. If that thing starts to move toward us, sing out," she says softly, and sets her lantern on a rock and the crossbow beside her on the ground so she can use both hands to help Xantrius move the boulder off the leg of the woman he discovered.
...Which he promptly does himself, without assistance or fuss. Verene winces at the sight of the crushed leg, though the woman herself seems stoic. She looks over at Anarya, tending the elf about ten feet away. It could often be inconvenient or dangerous, always needing to move next to her to get her attention when something has passed which she needs to know. I wonder...? Quick as the thought, she makes a little hand sign and mutters, "Mox."
With a small mental effort, she moves the cuff of Anarya's sleeve toward herself, almost too lightly to be called a tug, hoping to get her attention. If and when the healer looks over, she says, "Xantrius found another survivor, but her leg is badly broken. I think she could use your help, when you are able."
The dark-haired woman seems wary of them, or at least accustomed to concealing weakness even if it pains her; she likely would not appreciate sympathy. To her Verene says simply, "My name is Verene. I am not a healer, but there is one here who is. We will try to set your leg as soon as may be." She pauses awkwardly - it seemed less cold in her head - and her tongue, dusty, sticks to the roof of her mouth. An idea hits. "Would you like a drink of water?" She unhooks the waterskin from the side of her pack, and with another glance at the woman's closed face, takes a quick sip herself to show it is safe before passing it over. That done, she continues Xantrius' search for splint material, anything else that seems useful among the rubble, or more survivors. When Anarya is able to come over, Verene will assist her as best she can without training in setting the leg and tying the splint. (Or, if she can't for some reason, attempt it herself - but she would rather not, since she has no experience with properly setting broken bones and might well make it worse.)
Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Heal, untrained: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Oh also! I assume Verene can hear what Horgus Gwerm is saying, since he's making a bit of a fuss. Would a Knowledge (Local) check be in order to know who he is? Or the elf, for that matter?
Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29
Oooof course that's the roll that goes well...
Xantrius takes a quick glance back at Sylvia, sees that she has her weapon out.
"I see by the way you hold that blade that you are no stranger to its use. Good." he says quietly.
"Unfortunately, I do not see any way out back that way, so we are going to have to pass this corpse and whatever gnaws at it. Hopefully it will remain satisfied with its meal, but be be ready should it detect our presence and decide it wants desert. Let the others know about the danger, and tell them to get the wounded ready to move as soon as possible.
When it comes out, let it focus on me." his words come out quick and clipped like he is addressing other soldiers.
He takes a step forwards and breathes deeply, focusing on the corpse and ready to attack as soon as the enemy reveals itself.
Bradesh simply smiled at the insult. "Alas, I have only been in the city above for a week or so, good sir. And as ye surely know, Paladins tend to concern themselves less with matters of the cities finance, of which ye are obviously a master, and more with our own matters."
Hopefully the man would take the flattery - and lack of an axe to the knee - and calm down enough to be useful. Hopefully the suggestion that finances were vital to the city would help calm the man down by reminding him of how important he was, at least top side.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Anarya turns at the gentle tug, accustomed to having to respond to touch rather than sound. She smiles at Verene as she speaks, and attends to the fallen woman, helping to bandage her leg. As she does, she talks with the practiced ease of an experienced healer, hoping to reassure the woman that she and her companions meant well. "There are many of us down here, and several capable warriors among us. You look like a fighter as well. With luck, you should be able to walk, if you are careful on that leg." She looks up to Verene. "Verene, can you assist me? I need someone to hold the splint in place as I bandage her leg."
Heal w/ Healer's Kit: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13 (If Verene assists successfully, it will be another +2.)
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
"I'll try to help, of course," Verene replies, trying not to fluster despite her lack of experience in these areas. However, she keeps looking anxiously at the dark-haired woman's set face with each jostle of the injured leg, and her reluctance to hold too tightly ends up hurting Anarya's effort more than it helps.
I included an untrained Heal check up there in case it was needed, but if the GM will let me make another attempt specifically to assist, sure! And I didn't think to make a Diplomacy check earlier, so this can either be for Verene's words and actions before, or to help Anarya make a good impression of our collective trustworthiness.
Heal (Aid Another): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16
Whoops, sorry. Looks like it's going to take another attempt.
Not taking her eyes off of the undulating spider corpse, she slowly moves backwards a bit, calling out in a husky whisper, "Guys? Guuuys? Guys! We might have an issue up here. Xantrius thinks it best that we get the wounded ready to move as quickly as possible. But be careful around that thing!" she says, motioning to the spider husk.
She starts to move back to Xantrius before pausing, and calling back over her shoulder, "Can someone let Anarya know? I don't think she can hear me. Oh! And can someone help the Riftwarden around the spider, too? I think it's close to bursting..." Fumbling over giving orders, or even advice, she cautiously moves back up to behind Xantrius, ready to bolt or fight, if need be, if anything happens.
I've never worked with a team before... I hope I don't screw this all up!
She fumbles with the blue butterfly charm on her necklace, shifting from foot to foot.
"Burstin'?" Baradesh looked over the spider. "Why dinnae I think that qualifies as good news?" The bulky Dwarf nodded too Horgus, "If ye'll kindly excuse me a moment..." Keeping one eye on the potentially explosive spider corpse, he moved over to Anarya.
Baradesh lightly laid a couple of fingers lightly on the healer's shoulder. Once she turned, he murmured, "We need to be movin', I'm afraid. There's something moving in the spider beastie over yonder, and we wish to be going before it's done if possible." Baradesh glanced over at wounded woman and Riftwarden. "Do ye need assistance to move, friends?"
As he talked, Baradesh slid his shield onto one arm and readied his heavy bladed axe in the other. Whatever was in the spider corpse would not find him an especially easily digested meal.
Verene glances back at Sylvia to see Xantrius stalking toward the bulk of the spider, and Sylvia turning to follow him. As Baradesh speaks, she shakes her head in frustration.
She then raises her voice to reply to them both, trying to be clear and carrying without being over-loud, and keeping her face turned toward Anarya. "I doubt the young lady will be able to walk at all on this leg until it has at least been splinted*, and that may be several minutes yet. Cobbling a stretcher together would require at least as long and two able-bodied people to carry. We need more time. Are you sure you must approach the spider right now and possibly aggravate it?"
Somehow, though, she expects the protest will make no difference. Heart pounding, she looks from her crossbow to the woman's mangled leg to the blinded elf. Come on, think. Prioritize. Like Mother always says, 'Don't do nothing.'
*Heal: Take 10 or... common sense that you don't just walk away on a bone broken in multiple places, even with help? Also, I don't know how long Heal checks like this should take, but it seems like her actions have already probably taken longer than it would take Xantrius to simply approach the spider, so I'll leave it here for now.
|WotR Game Master|
Whew, you guys are FAST! Keeping me on my toes haha. Do try and be a bit more careful about doing too much while waiting for the results on something else, though. Not only does it skew the timeline of things, it gives me more and more to respond to each time, which builds this into a bigger post that takes longer and longer to write the more you try to do in one sitting.
I'm going to assume that by "takes a step forward" that Xantrius is only moving 5ft toward the spider corpse.
"Another?" Aravashnial asked. "Who else is down here that you haven't listed? Aside from... Mr. Gwerm, as I seem to hear." The elf looks slightly displeased as he mentions the name, but not in the way that one might think considering Horgus' crass treatment of others. Before he could get his answer though, he could feel some of his life pulsing back into him from Anarya's channel. (HP 10/35)
Soon after, he heard Sylvia's cries of caution. Standing up and dusting himself off, Aravashnial took a commanding posture and began barking orders. "Everyone stand back from it! Who among you is the most able-bodied? Those with physical prowess should head forward to find a way out. The rest of you should stay and tend to the injured. Also, I will need someone to be my eyes." He says this in a way that seems as if he would not take any alterations to this plan of action.
"Avenia," the woman gives her name in response, maintaining her stoicism. The strain against the pain lightens as her body fills with Anarya's healing energy. (HP 11/17) She obliges on the offer of water and seems at least grateful for the help in splinting her leg. It takes a few tries between Anarya and Verene to set the leg just right, leaving Avenia wincing at each botched attempt. After quite some time and some careful placement, however, the two manage to splint the leg.
Avenia braces against the rocks to stand up on her own, refusing any assistance. Once she is upright, she hobbles a few steps to give the splint a test, and a smile finally replaces her stonefaced expression. "Thank you so much!" her attitude seemed changed now that she was up off the ground and able to walk again. "I may have some trouble walking still, but this will do until we can make it out of here... Wherever here is."
Horgus scoffed at the dwarf's attempt at flattery. "Hah! Do you know who funds your crusades? Such impudence. I'm not sure what I expected from a bearded midget, though." Horgus continues to be crass and insulting, despite Baradesh's charming approach.
At the mention of spiders bursting, Horgus cowers off to the corner. "Feed the dwarf to it and it'll let us pass!" he suggested. While it seemed like a cruel joke, there was a sense of earnesty in going through with the suggestion.
Aravashnial is a conjurer of great renown in Kenabres. He has returned victorious from countless missions, and is known to have a dedicated interest in providing additional support fromt he Riftwardens to the crusades. He is also well-known as a conspiracy theorist, however, and was the first finger to point at Horgus Gwerm when rumors of nobles aiding demons for monetary gain were spread.
As Xantrius stepped toward the spider, he could hear the crunching much more clearly. Whatever may be inside seemed content with its current feast for now, though. The pulsating corpse was as disgusting to behold as it was to smell.
"Alas," Baradesh replied to Horgus as he glanced at the splint on Anevia's leg, hoping the thing would hold, "I am too stringy for any such beastie to find appetizing. More, of course, you may find a need for a good axe-hand further on. There are only so many to feed to the wee monsters that may be around, and who knows how many they are?" The Dwarf chuckled softly. "Otherwise, a fine idea. Mayhap we shall try it at some point."
Of course, Baradesh wasn't joking. His sacred vows to the inheritor included withdrawing only when he must, and only when his allies had already fallen back safely. As much as the man was obnoxious and self important, he was an ally down here. And if he was angry at least he wasn't panicking about being healed. Baradesh did not require the man like him, only that he played a part - even if such a part was only not panicking. But it was true - the man was probably more critical to the crusades than a single Paladin, and Baradesh intended to see him alive to the surface.
Turning to Anevia, Baradesh added, "Dinnae fash yourself to keep walking when ye cannae. I'll happily take your weight for a wee bit, or even carry you in a pinch. Ye cannae weigh much more than the sacks of rocks I carried as a youngling, to build both strength and Stamina, and they are nae bother to one such as I."
The Dwarf nodded to Verene as he moved towards the other close range fighters. "Your words were wisdom, friend Translator. Did I here ye right? That ye can cast some magic?" Baradesh nodded appreciatively. "Such skills are beyond such as I, so it always impressive to see those who can wield the arcane. Would you mind serving as our new friends eyes? Your knowledge of magic might help, and telling him what can be seen may help him remain calm."
|WotR Game Master|
Biting her lip, Sylvia's eyes keep darting to the Xantrius and the spider corpse, the group helping the wounded, and the unseen ceiling above. Having lived in town for a bit, she's likely heard of a few of the wounded.
Knowledege (local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23 Not going to beat Verene's roll, but at least Sylvia might have some of the same info.
We need to get out of here, and quickly! There are too many who need saved for us to continue to waste so much time down here...
Scratching at her arm, she speaks hesitantly in a low voice, "Can we... could we hurry up and look for a way out of here? This place gives me the creeps, and I'm worried about what's going on above..."
Xantrius takes a step back and speaks as quietly as he can to Verene, trying not to alert whatever is inside the spider, while keeping his eyes on the corpse the whole time.
"I know tending to her wounds will take time, but this place is not safe. It might be better to carry her elsewhere and make the splints where you can do so without fear of attack."
He remains on guard until Anevia declares she is ready to go, then gestures to the (north?).
"We should check in this direction, stay as far from the spider as you can."
As they start moving, he circles the corpse, staying between it and the group at all times.
"Rude," comments a small voice next to Verene's ear while she works, as Horgus continues to insult Baradesh and then make a spectacle of his own callous self-absorption. "Bad man. No heart."
"For some, fear and hardship bring out their worst selves," Verene quietly reminds Thamyris - and herself. "Others only shine the brighter against the darkness." (Anevia can probably hear and Anarya probably see this interaction, although to Anarya it must look like she's talking to herself and Anevia might be too distracted by pain to care.) "Now, if Sir Xantrius is watching the spider in case anything should happen, little bird, I have another favor to ask. Flit about and see if you can find my missing crossbow bolt while I am otherwise occupied. It should be somewhere around here, if the fall did not bury it."
Perception, Thamyris: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
When Anevia is on her feet with the spider still quiescent, Thamyris has returned, and they can breathe a brief sigh of relief as they prepare to make their careful way around the spider, Verene reflects further on the problem of Horgus Gwerm. Clearly, not being a traitor does not make someone a good person. Or what if his money somehow bought the verdict of his innocence? Either way, they are stuck with him for the foreseeable future, so someone must convince him to stop his needless antagonism. Perhaps Anarya could sweeten his temper, but it's unclear how much of his... charming personality she has observed, given the multiple distractions and demands on her time. And he might even mock her deafness as he did Baradesh's heritage. Verene's lips thin. She collects her gear, asks Anarya and Anevia if one of them would be comfortable guiding and helping Aravashnial for at least the first part of this walk, and makes her careful way along the edge of the wide chamber, the same way Gwerm took, until she has reached him. All right, what does he care about? Money, rank, self-importance, and saving his own skin, so far as I can tell; but he treats freely offered aid with scorn. So, pragmatism and bargaining, not ideals or fellow-feeling. Very well, I can work with that.
"Lord Gwerm," she begins, looking him straight in the eyes, "I'm sure you know better than most how a groundless distrust may weaken important ties and put many lives at risk. There is safety in numbers, but only if we are not at one another's throats for imagined offenses. All of us want to get to the surface alive and in one piece, and if we deal together we can help each other do that. Please, my lord. Help us help you."
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
Aravashnial looked disappointed that his bravado had gone unheeded. He scowled even further at the mention of Anevia. "See here," he chided, "If I'm to trust any of you, I'm going to be the leader here. You have to do exactly as I say, otherwise we'll never make it out of here alive! Take care of whatever that thing is now so it doesn't sneak up on us down the way." It was obvious that he wasn't taking no for an answer here. It seemed as if his self-important decisions were more for his own sake than anyone elses. He refuses to move when the others try to go around, and he keeps a tight grip on Anarya's shoulder, fixing her in place with him.
"Thank you, kind sir," Anevia replied to Baradesh with a warm smile. "It seems that Iomadae has seen fit to spare me once more," she added, gesturing to Baradesh's symbol. "My wife, Irabeth, will be ever grateful if we make it out of here, as will I of course. I can guarantee that your good deeds here will not go unseen." She hobbled over to Aravashnial, wincing with each step. "I can walk myself fine, just not too quickly. You'll have to slow down for me. I'll try to help this one along as well." She puts a hand on the one Aravashnial is using to grip Anarya and says "I'll be your eyes, but we must get going."
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19
Aravashnial softened, understanding that others were in danger as well. "Alright, but I'm still the leader, and you ought to heed my words." he said while sounding almost defeated. It was obvious that down here he would need to take a friendlier attitude towards the fellow survivors if he wanted them to listen to him.
"Oh, and what do you know, girl?" Horgus continued to be as antagonizing as ever. "I've yet to even be tended to, and yet you would march me into the front lines? Madness! I'll be killed sooner rather than later listening to you lot." He seemed to forget his fear of the spider bursting, and focused back on giving others a hard time. "No, I'll stay back and let you fools take care of the danger, and once the way is clear ol' Horgus is going to make his own way to safety. And you'll have none of my riches for it, either, so don't even think about a reward!"
Xantrius attempts to urge the group to move while keeping an eye on the spider.
"Aravashnial, I have heard of your wisdom from the time I spent in the Library, and we shall indeed heed your words. I would just prefer that none of you who are injured were nearby should there be more than one creature infesting the spider's body."
"Lord Horgus, I would think that you would be anxious to be away from danger. It would be safest for you if you would move away from this thing and let me handle whatever creatures it contains. I know, of course, that you realize the best place to be is not the front nor the rear, but the middle where you can be most protected!"
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
Sylvia continues to listen to the exchanges between everyone and Horgus. Having heard a little about him from now and then, she doesn't quite trust him, but it's obvious that she's more worried about whatever is inside the spider right now as she fidgets from foot to foot, keeping Xantrius between herself and it.
We should just leave that gasbag down here. All he'll end up doing is getting someone killed for his own greed. He's probably got his hands in on this attack on the city, too, I'd wager!
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
She whispers to Xantrius, "Did that thing just move again, or am I just losing it?" She raises the tip of the rapier towards the spider's corpse, and holds the taper closer to her body.
Bowing formally to Anevia, Baradesh smiled. "Nae need to thank me. It is an offer any with an able arm and legs would make, I'd hope, and one you can take up when ye will. I look forward to meeting ye wife and making her acquaintance." If nothing else, it was nice to not have someone shouting at him.
Baradesh nodded to Horgus. "I'd suggest ye remain, lord, for we dinnae know what is beyond yonder spider beastie. The fact it looks dead suggests something killed it, nae? Ye are more like to make it back to the surface with a plentiful supply of steel," he gestured to himself and Xantrius, "Magic," a nod to Verene and Anarya, "Or other skills." The Paladin hefted his blade. "There will be nae call for you on the frontlines, lord, but you'll be better defended with us than without. More eyes, more ears, and more defenders."
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
Turning, the Dwarf turned his eyes over the cavern one last time, hoping to spot anything else, be it an aid or a thread, before moving out of the cavern and leaving it behind.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
(Verene would have retrieved her crossbow bolt just after finishing with Anevia's leg and before trying to talk to Horgus.)
"I am truly sorry you feel that way, Lord Gwerm," Verene tells him calmly. In truth she would like to box his silly, self-destructive ears for him like a spoiled child and see if it improves his comprehension of words or his own situation. It surely could not worsen them. Make his own way to safety, alone? How did such a stupid man ever make any money in business? "I did not ask you to be 'on the front lines,' nor did I ask for any reward - just an even exchange of cooperation and mutual civility until we get to safety. For everyone has skills which may be useful to the-- hm." She frowns vaguely down at her dirtied robes, as though noticing them for the first time, and waves a hand at them absently. The dust and grime fall away as though banished by magic - which of course they have been.
Using prestidigitation, which is still in effect, to clean an object.
Verene looks thoughtfully at Horgus's filthy finery, letting the hint hang in the air a moment, and then turns away, saying, "Well, best of luck to you." She rejoins the Anarya-Aravashnial-Anevia group, takes a last look around the area where they fell, and follows Xantrius' directions regarding navigating around the spider corpse. As they walk, she passes a hand over her eyelids and mutters,"Ostendo."
Casting detect magic, scanning the chamber and paying particular attention to the spider corpse and the cave-in area. It's a bit macabre, but maybe someone who fell there had a potion or something that normal searching wouldn't reveal but detect magic might. I believe you can walk while detecting magic, as long as you spend your standard action to concentrate on the spell.
Having given her aid to the other two, Anarya makes her way over to the third survivor, bowing respectfully. "Thank you for your patience, my lord. If I may, shall I attend to your injuries? We must be ready for danger down here, and knowing you're safe will help us focus on any threats we face. I swear that we will protect you."
Diplomacy with Sacred Vow (+4): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27
If he consents, Anarya will do her best to make his "severe injuries" more comfortable.
Heal: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
|WotR Game Master|
Unfortunately, Baradesh already attempted diplomacy on Horgus before. However, I'll take that roll as an aid to Anarya's since the argument was quite convincing and Baradesh has given Horgus much more patience than he deserves. (Also because 29 is enough to move his attitude 3 steps).
With all attention turned on him now, Gwerm began to squirm. He was like a dog chasing a cart; he didn't know what to do with it once he caught it. "I'm sorry, you're all right." he admitted weakly, as if it pained him to utter the words of defeat. Yes, in that moment, Horgus Gwerm was wrong, and he knew it. While obstinate and entitled, he was a smart man who knew when the opposition was in his favor.
He blushed with a bit of embarrassment as the small, innocent girl tended to his insignificant scrapes as if they were mortal wounds. "Oh, uh, it's nothing the great Horgus Gwerm can't handle, I'm fine." he admitted bashfully. It was one thing to get salty with a tough dwarf, but this girl had somehow softened his heart. "Anarya, was it?" he asked with all the charm of a nobleman of his status. "Thank you. I promise a reward of two-thousand gold pieces to you if we make it to the surface. You have my word, as I have yours." It was almost night and day between this Horgus and the sniveling pile only moments ago.
Anevia and Aravashnial slowly made their way over to the group as well, with Anevia using Aravashnial as a crutch to lean on, and him using her as his eyes. He seemed disgruntled with this setup, but otherwise did not complain.
"Just take my advice into account and we'll make it out of here alive." Aravashnial says in response. While it was clear that he wasn't putting up the same fuss as before, it didn't seem like he'd be much help. There was still an aura of false bravado about his words.
"If you need my services, I'm at your will," Anevia added. She knew that her full support would be necessary if they were to get out of here unharmed. "I might slow you down, but I've still got a few arrows for my bow. I'm good with mechanisms as well."
The spider continues to bulge and wriggle from the inside, but nothing more.
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Verene looks sharply at Anarya when her voice momentarily takes on a strange resonant timbre while swearing to protect Gwerm. What magic is this? Does she even know she's doing it?
At least it seems to work. Verene hides a sigh of relief. No matter how foolish the man was, she would have felt responsible if he had struck out on his own and likely perished. And her concerns had been for nothing - far from reacting badly, Gwerm now seems in a fair way to becoming wrapped around Anarya's finger. Well, she is one of the blessed, after all.
When close enough to Anevia and Aravashnial, Verene gets a good look at Aravashnial's face for the first time, and shudders involuntarily. Even apart from the doubtless excruciating pain, permanent blinding was the single most crippling injury for a wizard. Though he might be an experienced hero of many engagements, when any spells Aravashnial had prepared ran out, he would be completely helpless to defend himself until his sight was restored. No wonder he wants to feel in control, poor man.
"Master Aravashnial, I'm Verene. Here, your throat must be bone dry - please, take some water." She gently takes his free hand and places her waterskin in it. "Forgive me for not attending your words earlier, but I thought one of the others trapped down here was in a fair way to splitting off on his own, and we most urgently need to stick together and help each other. I am a beginning student of magic myself, and know of you by your great renown as a conjurer. I know your experience and knowledge will be crucial if we are to make it out of here alive, and I will gladly guide your steps with my eyes and words, as you guide ours with your wisdom. It will not be instantaneous, however, so as far as possible, we must trust the tactical acumen of those who can most quickly and accurately assess a given situation. Do you not agree?"
D-diplomacy? I'll try using Prescience this time.
Prescience, 6/7 remaining: 1d20 ⇒ 8
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25
Ah, it was less than 10, so I'll just roll Diplomacy normally.
Verene will take over for Anevia as Aravashnial's guide as they walk, if Anevia prefers it or it seems to make her progress on the splinted leg any easier: tucking his arm firmly into hers and walking with slow, easy steps over the clearest ground while warning him of unavoidable obstacles. She also offers her shoulder to Anevia to lean on - "If it please you. Do not fear to topple me, I am sturdier than I look."
"This spider, now. It is about as big as a horse, all of it black that can be seen, and certainly quite dead. Yet its abdomen is swollen and rippling..." She describes it even as they (hopefully) leave the spider behind, hoping he will be able to identify it or its contents, or at least that the question will take his mind off the situation.
|WotR Game Master|
Forgot to add this in your searches earlier! This is better than never.
Glistening near Horgus' feet, Sylvia and Baradesh see five silver scales the size of a man's hand. It seems that he had kicked them up out of the rubble when he ran over. They are easily identifiable as the scales of the fallen Terendelev. Verene can detect that they emit various strong magical auras.
|WotR Game Master|
"I'm not quite certain how sturdy you do or don't look, madame," Aravashnial said with a soft chuckle, seeming less nervous than he once was. "I appreciate the assistance. You have the heart of a great arcanist. I'd say I could see it in you, but..." He trailed off, his joke seeming more like a grim realization than anything. "Thank you for your description. It sounds like the corpse is being eaten by some sort of detritivore, though I wouldn't be surprised if it had a taste for living flesh as well. A capable warrior could easily squash the nuisance and end its necrotic raid, though that is a risk I will let you weigh yourselves."