Abelard can't see the apparent enemy Steave is addressing; he is about to move toward them when the crusader suggests that he hold back as a reserve, which makes sense.
"Easy, now" he says to the woman. Grasping his iron holy symbol, he offers a prayer up to Reymenda, his Empyreal patron. Lady, help me fulfil my responsibilities; this day and always. A pale glow suffuses his hand as he lays it on the woman's injured leg, hoping that it will be enough to fix the break. He has no idea what to do with the robed man - he knows for a fact he hasn't the power to restore eyesight.
Once the woman is able to move, Abelard turns to the merchant. "Let me see what we can do to fix you up."
Once that is done, he picks up his falchion again, hoping that its light provides some comfort to those who can see it.
Saito, perhaps suicidally considering his lack of an proper weapon, charges the nearest creature and brings his greatsword down on its head in a powerful overhand chop!
"Die!" He invite the creatures.
Hearing about evil out there, he starts getting angry, "Damn it, I can't help if I can't..." He's broken off as his hammer begins to glow with silvery moonlight. He walks forward to the enemy, striding with great purpose... and a little glee.
Voices batter the ears of the tall half-elf, and he groans as he raises his head. What in the Abyss happened? With a moan of pain as he holds his bruised ribs, he pulls himself to his feet. Brushing off his well-tailored coat, he looks around, seeing the light gleaming from a large sword in the distance.
Ho! Is anyone over there?
Another survivor! Yridhrennor's soul swelled! This was just like The Twelve Tales of Dantallon Alkaios! They were a band of nine survivors trapped in a cave after a horrific attack. Maybe they would walk through the Gates of Horn and Ivory! Maybe he could be the first person in two thousand years to the see the fabled Valley of the Lotus Blossoms. "Hello! Who's out there? I'm Yridhrennor Arahaelon, nephew of Riftwarden Cwmbhien Arahaelon!"
Theron's hammer began to glow as he advanced on the bloated halfling creatures. In full light, all could see that maggots squirmed on their pasty gray flesh, feasting in open sores. Their filmy white eyes held only malice.
Galin came to his senses, more rattled than the others by the fall, and came to his feet.
Unable to see the foes, Abelard kept his attention on the woman with the broken leg. He prayed to Reymenda and stopped her bleeding and eased her pain, but the leg did not straighten.
"Thank you," she said, looking warily at the foes that Theron's light revealed.
Shouting "Die!, Saito charged to Theron's side, swinging his greatsword high and bringing it down. He split the misshapen halfling in twain. Its body burst in a cloud of noxious gas. Theron only felt his eyes sting, but blisters rose on Saito's forearms. The creature's remains fell in a bubbling heap to the ground, still crawling with maggots.
Steave advanced last, warning the remaining creature off as he brandished sword and shield.
The misshapen thing snarled its defiance and launched itself at Saito with claws and jagged teeth. Two claws clashed against his warding, striking magical force that glowed briefly at the impact. Then the twisted creature lunged beneath Saito's blade and scratched across his wrist with filthy teeth.
2 claws, 1 bite for Saito, AC 14 with mage armor
Without their surrender or retreat, Steave has no choice but to eliminate the disgusting evil creatures. He strikes with his longsword.
Saito turns on his heel and, ignoring the blisters and wounds on his arms, brings his greatsword in a full circle arc at waist level to strike at the creature with great force.
Unable to see the foes, Abelard kept his attention on the woman with the broken leg. He prayed to Reymenda and stopped her bleeding and eased her pain, but the leg did not straighten.
"Thank you," she said, looking warily at the foes that Theron's light revealed.
Abelard nods to the woman. "All part of the service ma'am; don't fret, I reckon they've got it covered. Might I know your name? I'm Abelard Lassmar, Empyreal Paladin."
He moves on to the merchant, endeavouring to see what he can do to help.
Galin, hearing the sounds of combat, runs towards where he heard voices before, before spotting the fighting up ahead and sprinting in that direction, his saber unsheathed and ready for battle.
With a mighty howl, he swings his hammer wildly at the diseased creature. His eyes flare as he lets his vengeance out.
Yridhrennor walks across the rubble strewn cavern, his staff in one hand; his other, begins to glow with the same sickly greenish-yellow light as before.
"Domhan liom thíos, a chur faoi bhráid mo uacht!" The light coalesces into a small, sticky glob that ripples as it floats just above his fingertips. Yridhrennor flings the ball towards the remaining rotting monster.
Yridhrennor walked forward and conjured acid, hurling it at the surviving foe. He threw high, cautious of the other crusaders' vulnerable backs, and missed the creature entirely. His acid hit the floor in the distance, making a brief sizzle as it faded.
Theron howled and swung his earth breaker with all his might. He crushed the creature's skull and drove down into its chest before its body, like the last, fell and began to dissolve. Like the last, a burst of foul-smelling gas erupted from the corpse. The miasma worsened Saito's blisters and gave Steave a set of his own.
The maggots continued to feast on the remains even as they faded, a pool of them merging with the pool still glutting themselves on the first creature slain. They churned together, the horde forming the outline of a single giant maggot.
Galin stepped forward and saw the strange spectacle at Theron's, Saito's, and Steave's feet.
Back with the wounded, Abelard looked to the merchant. His practiced eye detected no more than superficial cuts, scrapes, and bruises for all the noise the man made.
Saito struck the growing mass with a sweeping blow, scattering it just as the maggots began to flow into one flesh.
As the noxious gas cleared and maggots dispersed, a faint, silver glow rose at six points on the debris-strewn floor of the cavern.
"Thank you for...whatever you did sounded like it needed doing." the robed young man said, sounding sincere. "I'm sorry to be a bother. But could someone bring one of those illumination magics over here? I can't see my hand in front of my face. If I could, I can help you with my own spells."
Breathing heavily, his hammer slumps to the ground as the fury leaves him. He nods to those he fought beside, acknowledging their courage. He will walk toward the one who called for light, bringing the hammer that glowed with the moon-wolf's light.
Breathing heavily, his hammer slumps to the ground as the fury leaves him. He nods to those he fought beside, acknowledging their courage. He will walk toward the one who called for light, bringing the hammer that glowed with the moon-wolf's light.
The robed man turned toward the sound of Theran's approach. Through the blood, the Clan could see that a gray film entirely covered his eyes.
"Yes, this is where I am," he offered helpfully.
Yridhrennor stoops down to examine the area the monsters left. "Curious. Falfaeren, come here, let's see what was trying to hurt us."
Yridhrennor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a heavily scarred book. "Let me see.. Ah! Yes! Here!" He points to a passage in the tome that only he can see. "Khisaiyah bint Shazarhrahar, claims in her Monograph of the Malign that these are the weakest and lowest of demonkind... Manes, she terms them. Fascinating! They burst into acid when they're killed! That explains what happened to Saito and Abelard! Isn't that..." He blanches and looks over at the blisters scarring the two warriors. "Oh.. um.. that's unfortunate. We'll definitely need to be more careful when dealing with them. She claims that they're immune to lightning and poison, but strong acids, fire, and even cold can harm them. I have... very little of that."
He stands up and walks towards the others, his nose still firmly planted in his book. Falfaeren sighs and flies in front of him, shooting occasional directions so he doesn't fall.
"Oh, dear.. they.. they apparently are very low in the hierarchy. They're mostly used for sport, slaves, and fodder in the armies." He looks to throw up, but he swallows his gorge and continues. "Fortunately, they're not very intelligent. Khisaiyah says they're nearly mindless. Well, that's something." He smiles and puts his book away, blushing as he realizes how insane he sounded.
[b"You'll have to forgive Yridhrennor, he sometimes forgets that normal people don't have intimate relations with books."[/b] Falfaeren caws and settles on Abelard's shoulder. "Not like you.. you clearly know how to do more than lift a book."
Yridhrennor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a heavily scarred book. "Let me see.. Ah! Yes! Here!" He points to a passage in the tome that only he can see. "Khisaiyah bint Shazarhrahar, claims in her Monograph of the Malign that these are the weakest and lowest of demonkind... Manes, she terms them. Fascinating! They burst into acid when they're killed! That explains what happened to Saito and Abelard! Isn't that..." He blanches and looks over at the blisters scarring the two warriors. "Oh.. um.. that's unfortunate. We'll definitely need to be more careful when dealing with them. She claims that they're immune to lightning and poison, but strong acids, fire, and even cold can harm them. I have... very little of that."
"No demon should be taken lightly," the woman with the broken leg said.
"A fellow scholar!" the blind man said, ignoring her. "I am Teofil Wintrish of the Riftwardens. Would you have a spare light of some kind?"
"Don't think you'll need it," The merchant said.
Teofil froze, horror rising on his bloodied face.
"I'm very sorry. But, I think you're blind. I'm not a healer. I've spent most of my life in the library, studying under my uncle, Riftwarden Cwmbhien Arahaelon. But, others.. others might be able to help you? In the stories and histories, people who are close to the gods can work miracles. I'm sure we can find someone to help!" Yridhrennor looks at Abelard, and then quickly looks away.
Galin walks over and looks critically at Teofil, then nods confidently, Yep, he's blind. I can't help you with that
Abelard looks reproachfully at the others. "Y'all are subtle, ain't you? Listen here, Master Wintrish - I'm sorry I can't help you: if I had the power to make the blind see, I'd have done it on myself a long time ago. What I can say is that I'll make sure of your safety, and do my best to get you to a healer. But please, for now, just trust me."
Turning his attention to the others as they return from the fight, Abelard notices Saito is badly blistered. Holding his holy symbol, he intones a prayer. "Blessed Empyreal Lady, I pray that you will heal this man, injured in the line of duty as he took the fight to evil and triumphed."
Lacking long-range sight, Abelard doesn't notice the faint silver glow on the cavern floor - someone else will have to investigate that .
Falfaeren flies over to the glowing patch of light on the cavern floor. "Hey! You forgot this! See, this is what comes from keeping your nose in your book all the time. You forget to look around you! I swear, you've the same amount of sense as a hatchling!"
Yridhrennor peeks up from his book and stares at the glow as though noticing it for the first time. Which, in all likelihood, is probably the case. "Oh! I wonder where that is. That's not supposed to be there, is it?"
"Unless the ground under cathedrals normally glows after people kill demons, I don't think so." The raven sighs and settles onto a rock.
"You're being very catty, you know that, right?" Yridhrennor pulls out a book and begins flipping through pages, all the while peering at the cloud. Somehow, he manages to keep his attention on both at the same time, like only a true scholar can.
"I've been nearly devoured by a vicious housebeast, swallowed by the earth, attacked by demons, and nearly burned alive! And, that was just this day!" Somehow, the raven gives the image of crossing his wings in front of his chest in indignation. "I think I've earned the right to be a little snippy!"
"Yes, but at least you weren't bored. Now, hush, I'm working."
The raven skoffs at the word "work" but lets it pass.
Saito thanks Abelard as his painful blisters fade and heal and looks around, noting each person who has fallen into the fissure alongside him.
"S&~%, what in the Nine Hells was that up there?" He asks of no one in particular. "Did the Demons of the Worldwound just break free of their wardings all together?"
Abelard gives a wry shrug. "You tell me - I heard an almighty bang from the direction of the Kenabres Wardstone, so I'd guess it's out of action, either permanently or just for the time being. Course, right now that don't make no nevermind to us - we gotta get back to the surface before we can start frettin' about Wardstones and whatnot. Anyone see a handy way out?"
Abelard does his best to ensure that the woman's broken leg is splinted and that she has something or someone to lean on (ideally a noncombatant). Same goes for the Riftwarden Wintrish.
He will move near the front of the group, although not on point, for obvious reasons. "Stay within 30 feet, if you would; farther'n that and I can't see you."
Steave surveys the remains of the demons and the rest of the cavern. Satisfied that the area is secure, he stows his shield and wipes the Abyss from his cold iron blade before sheathing it.
"Great strikes," he says and nods to Saito and Theran as he starts walking back toward Abelard. Steave pats Abelard on the shoulder, "thank you for protecting them, Abelard."
He takes one step away from Abelard so he doesn't shout into his ear and addresses the group, "the immediate area appears secure now but maybe not for long. My name is Steave Rojerz, a captain of the First Crusade, but I'm now older and weaker than I was. I believe our priorities are injuries, introductions, and inventory of material. It would be best if everyone was in the best health that they can be before we start moving. I don't have any healing magic, but I have some survival supplies in my kit. How about you?"
Steave slowly leaves the center of attention to allow others to introduce themselves and inventory their injuries and usefulness. He heads toward the body that previously 'rose up from beyond the hazy reach of his darkvision and sprawled on top of the heap of tangled bodies nearly as tall as a horse as if thrown.'
"Thanks." Saito replies to Steave's compliment. To the group he introduces himself: "Saito Samson; Wandering swordsmen of little consequence, 'fraid I don't have anything in the way of healing supplies."
Theran follows Steave, accepting the man's suggestions. "I an Theran, last survivor of Clan Silverlight. The elders had healing magic, but I am merely a warrior..." As has happened before, strange things happen. His shoulder rolls forward from an outside force, carrying his arm to Steve's shoulder. His eyes roll back as words slip from his lips. Moonlight races on the champions skin to the wounds, soothing the pain.
With a confused glance at his arm, he continues. "My hammer is made of the pure metal of the Earth, my spear is straight, and I have travelling gear."
"We are blessed." Steave replies to Theran's healing.
As an after-thought, he takes a torch from his backpack, lights it, and hands it to Yridhrennor.
Yridhrennor takes the torch, and with some trepidation, steps forward to address the crowd. "Um... Hello? I'm Yridhrenor Arahaelon, nephew of Riftwarden Cwmbhien Arahaelon..."
"You've said that before, elf. A lot."'. Falfaeren lands on his shoulder. "Say something knew"
"Oh. Um... Well I'm a Librarian. And, I can't do anything special. Not like you guys with swords. I'm uh... I learned a few spells, but I'm not that good." he quickly leaves the limelight.
Galin sheathes his saber, stepping up beside the rest and introducing himself in a clear voice, Galin Solatar, at your service. I have some divine magic handy, including a bit of healing if need be, but I'm certainly not specialized in healing. I prefer the dueling arts, and will gladly assist you in that regard.
Teofil remained still on hands and knees for a moment after receiving his news.
"Thank you all for telling me," he said. "Better to know than not. You...you should probably leave me here. I'll just slow you and be a liability if the demons come again. A head full of spells and no way to aim them make me as dangerous to you as they are."
"He's right," the merchant said, frowning. "Not the thing I want to say, but someone needs to. Too many hard deals in life and this is one. But I'd not leave a man to this without letting him curse my name. I'm hight Horgus Gwerm."
"Anevia Tirablade," the woman with the broken leg said, giving Abelard a weak smile as he finished splinting it. "I can walk, I think, but wouldn't lay any money on winning races."
As the others spoke, Yridhrennor considered the glows and consulted his library, mental and otherwise.
Steave examines the pile of bodies and quickly learns that they're all quite dead. Several clearly felt the bite of demonic teeth. He thinks the body that appeared to move was likely tossed by the demons before they came in reach of his sight.
From his new vantage point, he also sees a tunnel leaving the cavern.
Yridhrennor peers at the glowing cloud for a moment. "Falfaeren, try and help Teofil, will you?" He walks off towards the glow as the bird flutters towards Teofil.
'Here, Teofil, let me help you. I'm Yridhrennor's raven, Falfaeren." He sits on Teofil's shoulder. "I can be your eyes."
Meanwhile, Yrdhrennor walks towards the glow cloud to get a better look.
'Here, Teofil, let me help you. I'm Yridhrennor's raven, Falfaeren." He sits on Teofil's shoulder. "I can be your eyes."Meanwhile, Yrdhrennor walks towards the glow cloud to get a better look.
"Hello, Falfaeren. I really don't want to be a burden," Teofil said. "But promise you're not going to run off after the first worm you see?"
As Yridhrennor drew near, he saw that the glow originated from something about the side of the palm of his hand and shield-shaped. Coming up to it, he found a mirror-bright silver scale half-covered with gravel.
"Sir, I am a raven! I do not eat bugs! Only the choicest cuts for me! Or candy!" Falfaeren ruffles his feathers and pulls on the wizard's ear. "I'll see you through this. YOu can always count on a Corax!"
Yridhrennor gives a small grin as he hears Falfaeren helping Teofil. Perhaps this adventure would be good for the bird. "Amazing!" Gingerly, almost reverently, Yridhrennor picks up the loose scale. "I think I found something!" He examines it closely, turning it over in hands and watching how the torchlight plays on it's silver coating.
"He's right," the merchant said, frowning. "Not the thing I want to say, but someone needs to. Too many hard deals in life and this is one. But I'd not leave a man to this without letting him curse my name. I'm hight Horgus Gwerm."
Saito shoots the merchant an narrow glance. "Let's try not to leave anyone behind, hmmmm?"
Saito walks over to Anevia and offers an arm and shoulder to support herself on.
After Steave discovers the exit and nothing else interesting, he returns to the group, "I've found the exit to the cavern over here." He gestures toward the exit and concurs, "and we won't be leaving anyone behind."
Seeing the blind man as a mobile perch for the chatty raven, he moves toward Anevia and Abelard, "Let's find a crutch for you to use, m'lady." After they find something that can be used as a crutch for her among the debris, he heads toward Yridhrennor's discovery.
Saito shoots the merchant an narrow glance. "Let's try not to leave anyone behind, hmmmm?"Saito walks over to Anevia and offers an arm and shoulder to support herself on.
Horgus gave no response except to look shamefacedly away.
"Thank you," Anevia said, putting some of her weight on Saito's shoulder.
"Thank you," Anevia said, putting some of her weight on Saito's shoulder.
"You're welcome Ma'am." He tells her. He looks at Yridhrennor. "What did you find?"
Steave finds another scale just like Yridhrennor's, not that far away from the one the elf spotted.
Steave reverently picks up the mirror-bright silver scale and looks at it from a few angles. He wonders it if is from Terendelev the Ancent.
After Steave discovers the exit and nothing else interesting, he returns to the group, "I've found the exit to the cavern over here." He gestures toward the exit and concurs, "and we won't be leaving anyone behind."
Seeing the blind man as a mobile perch for the chatty raven, he moves toward Anevia and Abelard, "Let's find a crutch for you to use, m'lady." After they find something that can be used as a crutch for her among the debris, he heads toward Yridhrennor's discovery.
Yridhrennor holds the scale and book in both hands, somehow managing to not trip over his staff. "Steave, she can use my staff as a crutch. I'm not much of an up-front fighter." He hands the staff off to someone, never once looking away from his book, or the scale.
Abelard gives the merchant a narrow stare. "When I was 14, I cut my way out of a demonic ritual. Brung my friends out with me, too. I ain't accustomed to leavin' people behind. Ain't about to start now."
He nods. He's not one to labour the point. "Anyways, if we're introducing ourselves, I'm Abelard. Paladin, swordsman and weaponsmith, at your service." He bows, slightly, to Horgus. No point antagonising anyone.
He squints out into the dark, towards Steave and Yridhrennor. "Found anythin' of interest?" he calls.
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Steave reverently picks up the mirror-bright silver scale and looks at it from a few angles. He wonders it if is from Terendelev the Ancent.
Abelard gives the merchant a narrow stare. "When I was 14, I cut my way out of a demonic ritual. Brung my friends out with me, too. I ain't accustomed to leavin' people behind. Ain't about to start now."
The merchant looked guiltily at Teofil, who was busy rubbing his ear where Falfaeren had pecked.
"Anyways, if we're introducing ourselves, I'm Abelard. Paladin, swordsman and weaponsmith, at your service." He bows, slightly, to Horgus. No point antagonising anyone.
"Well, er, said," Horgus said.
Holding up his glowing hammer, he'll check to see if there's any stable way to climb up and out of the hole, or if they'll have to go deeper in order to escape. As he checks out the rubble one rock falls down the pile, tumbling an improbable way across the cavern.
He squints out into the dark, towards Steave and Yridhrennor. "Found anythin' of interest?" he calls.
"There are some silver dragon scales on the ground." Yridhrennor calls out to Abelard, "I... I think they're from Terendelev." He sighs and looks over at Seave. "We should collect as many as we can. Dragon scales can be very powerful components for spells, and I would hate for any of them to fall into demonic hands. Besides, she sacrificed herself for us. We owe it to her see that she is honored... all of her."
"There are some silver dragon scales on the ground." Yridhrennor calls out to Abelard, "I... I think they're from Terendelev."
Abelard chuckles. "Best collect 'em all so we can hand them back to her once we're done here!" The memory of good ol' Levvie turning out to be the ancient silver wyrm makes him smile.