Yridhrennor continues peering into the room. Be careful, there is another caster in the area..
Falfaerel lands on his shoulder. Im staying by you!
[dixe=Perception for casting]1d20+9[/dice]
Feeling annoyed at missing the last attack, he leaps onto the table to get around to attack the new creature.
Galin stepped up to Anevia's side and his rapier found a soft spot to pierce the beetle through, calling out as he did "Anevia, get back!"
"A man could get mighty tired o' this. Mighty tired indeed." Abelard nonchalantly stepped in and skewered the beetle. It melted away just like the last. With its death, silence suddenly fell over the Tirablade home.
Then a man's voice, rough and crazed, called out from the room's northwestern corner
A half-orc holding a ranseur appeared suddenly, the faint dregs of a spell falling off his body as he shoved the weapon through a window and knocked the shards of glass away from himself.
"Stand and fight, Vagorg!" Anevia cried back, taking a half-step toward him before her wounded leg buckled.
Galin moves towards the man, scowling, If we kill you, are we finally done killing things in this godsforsaken house?
Theran will jump on the table once again. From high ground he smashes down on the new threat.
Steave closes on the guy moving between him and Anevia and takes a swing. The crusader tags him under the chin.
Abelard walks past Galin and swipes at the magicker. He has something of an animus against those who summon fiends, and his concentration is off as a result.
Arglwyddi y ddaear a'r awyr , taro fy elynion gyda'ch nerth! The eldritch words spill over Yridhrennor's tongue and once more a ball of yellow-green liquid fills his cupped hand. He hurls the ball through the air at Vagorg.
Galin scowled, "If we kill you, are we finally done killing things in this godsforsaken house?" He stabbed Vagorg with his blade.
Theran lept on the table and struck downward, battering Vagorg's shoulder.
Steave moved Anevia back again and gave the half-orc a hard punch to the face.
Heedless of Vagorg's ranseur, Abelard pushed forward. His courage cost him, as the polearm came down and cut deep across his shoulder. The crusader pushed through the pain, but his righteous wrath brought haste to his strike and Vagorg saw it coming in time to parry.
In the doorway, Yridhrennor conjured a sphere of acid and hurled it at the half-orc. The spell grazed Vagorg and carved a small crater in the Tirablade's ceiling.
Cursing, the cultist slashed at Anevia above the crusader's heads. She ducked under the blade.
crit
Galin strikes again at Vagorg,
Arglwyddi Ddaear a Dŵr yn dod allan eich pŵer cyfriniol, ac yn ddall fy ngelynion! Yridhrennor's fingers flick in the air. They call up flakes of dust and water from the ruins and mix them together. His hands knead the growing mud into a ball the size of a child's heart. Then, as he calls out the final word of his spell, he hurls the ball of mud at Vagorg.
Understanding that the attacker has violently personal reason against Anevia, Steave attempts to solve it without a death. He jumps on the polearm wielder and wrestles him to the floor.
Theran will hold to see if the attacker gets out of Steave's grip. While he does this he clenches his jaw to avoid describing all of the traits of Steave's ancestry and the various parasites they carried.
Galin pierced Vagorg's forearm, drawing a fresh cry of pain. Yridhrennor incanted another spell, his conjured mud flying off to splatter on the Tirablades' wall.
Then Steave leaped on Vagorg, knocking the man's polearm away and wrestling him to the ground. Vagorg howled in rage and struggled against the crusader in vain.
yeah no
Wrestling the intruder to the ground, Steave attempts to pin and subdue him. "Surrender, or I'll knock you out."
In due course, Vagorg is subdued, disarmed, and thoroughly tied up.
Along the way, Anevia explains who he is:
"My wife caught Vagorg down in the River Kingdoms, where he planned to burn down a whole village in Xoveron's name. He tried to get out of it by saying half-orcs had to stick together. She turned him over. There's plenty of cultist scum around. He was nothing special. Looks like he got loose and took it personally. Couldn't be his fault, could it?"
Steave arches an eyebrow at Anevia's summary. "Why did he want to kill you, though? What could he have taken personally? What do you want to do with him?"
Steave arches an eyebrow at Anevia's summary. "Why did he want to kill you, though? What could he have taken personally? What do you want to do with him?"
[dice=Sense Motive]1d20
"My wife captured him. I'm sure he'd rather have her, but I was here."
"Abelard, do you want to be the judge again? Do you want to hear from the accused before passing judgment?" Steave suggests to move things along.
do we have to? Wouldn't it be more humane to simply kill them and be done with it.. Falfaerel scoffs, preening his feathers from his perch on the eleven wizard's shoulder. Things are far more straightforward amongst birds.
But, they must be given a chance to atone, to see the error of their ways, and at least ask forgiveness. They must have the hope of forgiveness.
False hope! It's even more cruel than just killing them outright. You have no intention of soaring this man's life, why go through the formality of pretending to weigh his case?
Because he could prove sincere in his intentions! He could, possibly, regret his life, and seek redemption. No one is so far gone into darkness that they cannot be returned to the light! I have to believe that, or fighting these demons away means nothing. People are desperate and desperate times often call for desperate measures. Sometimes, desperation breeds hopelessness and despair. Would you be so strong willed against the forces of the Abyss? Yridhrennor grips his staff tightly, for once, not shying away from a debate. We must show mercy, or we are no better than they!
mercy has its limits. Falfaerel flutters away to stand at a bookshelf while Yridhrennor stands beside the others.
Ill hear his case if no one else will
"The bastard was ready to kill my wife for his crime. In our home, no less! Don't bother yourselves, I'll do it myself if anyone can spare a blade," Anevia said.
Galin shakes his head, You will not, until we have heard him defend himself.
Abelard nods at Yridhrennor and Galin's words. "They got the right of it. We ain't judges in that sense. I'm not greatly inclined to let a cultist go, but we ain't here to right every wrong that's ever been done. Them as just wants to get by ain't our concern. Them as does evil, on the other hand..."
He waits to hear whatever defence Vagorg might offer for his actions.
"If you're going to kill me, get it done. I'm not going to beg," Vagorg said.
Abelard shakes his head, wearily. "Hasn't there been enough killin' out there? Enough chaos that you can see its true form, see it ain't somethin' we should be sidin' with? What's it gonna take, for you to pick the right side?"
revenge never solves anything. It only leads to violence and ore pain.
"Vagorg, we seek justice not to assist suicide. If you seek redemption, we would listen." Steave supports Abelard.
"Justice? Heard that one before," Vagorg spat, utterly unmoved.
With Vagorg unrepentant, Abelard executes his sentence. Anevia let it happen, but clearly had to fight the urge to do something to the body.
With judgment rendered outside the house to avoid a mess, Steave asks Anevia, "now that your home is secured, will you be coming with us or staying? I strongly advise staying with us, because your house is not sustainably defendable. If you want to come with us, we can help you gather some of your personal belongings from inside."
With judgment rendered outside the house to avoid a mess, Steave asks Anevia, "now that your home is secured, will you be coming with us or staying? I strongly advise staying with us, because your house is not sustainably defendable. If you want to come with us, we can help you gather some of your personal belongings from inside."
"You're right," Anevia said. "And there's nothing for me here now. If Irabeth's alive, she must be somewhere she's needed. It's who she is."
Yridhrennor sighs at the bloodshed, even sniffles a bit I'm sorry this couldn't have worked out better. I really do hope we someone can be redeemed. I have to believe that.
"Right. Let's go." Steave leads to the next destination in the traveling salesman solution.
Galin nods, We'll redeem someone. Not everyone is this bad, but the ones who are have to be put down.
The crusaders set out again, dispatching several small groups of demons as they went north through the remains of Kenabres. They come to Defender's Heart, the stone bulk of Kenabres' largest inn, and find it standing. A chasm reaches almost to its walls on one side, but barricades guarded the other approaches. On them stood hard men and women fairly bristling with arms. Yridhrennor's keen eyes spotted a few archers hidden on the roofs of nearby buildings.
No one moved to attack the crusaders. They simply watched, weapons ready, as the distance separating them dwindled.
. Steave hails the fortified inn.
. Steave hails the fortified inn.
The guards gave Steave and the others hard looks until one spotted Anevia. That immediately resolved any doubts and they were passed quickly through the lines. Within the building, they found scarcely an open space with all the weapons, armor, and crusaders about. The entire place pushed near to the edge of chaos, but somehow retained its grasp on good order. In the center of it all stood a muscular half-orc woman in heavy armor: Irabeth Tirablade from the Armasse festivities.
On seeing Anevia, she rushed to the woman and embraced her fiercely. They held each other for a moment before the half-orc reluctantly disentangled herself.
"You brought my wife back to me. Thank you all," Irabeth said.
Yridhrennor smiles and pats Falfaerel on the head. See! We did something good today'1 It's not all doom and gloom! I know we will be victorious!
Abelard smiles easily, his first for some time. It's good to be reminded of why they fight - against chaos and evil, yes, but for good things too; like love and companionship. "All part of the service, ma'am." He looks around. "So, what's the story here? Is there a plan, other than 'wait it out'?"
Steave nods to Irabeth and replies, "Steave Rojerz reporting for duty." He has yet to earn back his rank of captain. His fighting skills have still not returned, and his body aches with old age.
"I am Theran, the last of Clan Silverlight. With my family dead, I can either drink myself to death or fight the evil things polluting this world. And I have no whiskey." He shrugs at the foregone conclusion.
Galin nods, Our pleasure. What can we do to help now that we're here?
Irabeth took all the introductions in turn, giving Theran's a grim nod.
"The wardstone is gone; Kenabres is lost," the half-orc explained. "We have word that the others are weakened and the demons have tested them, but nothing as we have had here. But we aren't lost. The Queen's army must come to our relief. We need only hold until then, protecting all who we can, and be ready for them."
"Still, I'd best hear anything you can tell me about what you found out there. We haven't had many new arrivals. If there's anybody out there that would be safer here, they're welcome to what space we have. Failing that, I wouldn't ask more of you -Anevia is more blessing than I'll ever deserve- but you've proved you can survive out there and that's better than I've seen in the past few days. There might be more you can do for us once you've had a good rest."
In the absence of the other story tellers, Steave clears his throat and attempts to tell of their travels. "When Terendelev fell to the Storm King, her last act was to save us when we dropped into a chasm. Below the city, we followed our noses and found a village of mongrelfolk that they called Neattholm. The exit to the underground ran through a den of demon cultists. The leader had this note on her." Steave hands her the note.
"After we defeated them, we've fought our way across town. We returned Teofil to the Blackwing, and Lord Horgus to his manor. Finally, we were ambushed by a half-orc called Vagorg at your home just before arriving here."
He looks to his companions and asks, "did I miss anything important?"
Irabeth listened attentively to all the party had to say before speaking again.
"The First Descendants are welcome news. We'll need every hand we can get. I'll send a party down to meet them and sort out organization."
"The reference to Yaniel's blade in this letter must mean the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth are at work. Even in better times, we could not take them lightly. Their spies are everywhere, and it seems they are still at work. I should have known, somehow."
"You can't see everything," Anevia told her. "Remember how Vhane had everyone fooled for decades. And no more of how you should have him and don't deserve your knighthood. You revealed one of their oldest traitors amongst us." It sounded like something Anevia had said many times before.
"He's still loose," Irabeth said. "This," she held up the letter, "Must be his. Not for the initials, of course, but them and the Drezen reference? It's as good as proof that he betrayed the city. ...cities now, I suppose."
"This all bears looking into, probably best before what I had planned. We don't have much here, but I can write you a letter of credit drawn on the knighthood's accounts in Nerosyan for a reward if you'll see to these safe houses. Probably the cultists are gone, but they might've left something behind that reveals their further intentions."