It is said that, "To those of whom much is asked, much is given." It's a comforting thought, until you start diving too deep into it. Given by whom? And why are these the ones who are asked? And ultimately, the most important question of all: when one is given much, what does that mean for the price that you will be asked to pay?
For several weeks, excitement has been building in Kenabres — Armasse is coming! Traditionally an opportunity for scholars and priests to come together to study the lessons of history from wars past, since Aroden’s death, this holy day has become more about training commoners in weaponry, choosing squires, and ordaining new priests. Over time, Armasse has grown to encompass jousting competitions, mock duels, battle reenactments, and other festival events. In Kenabres, the festival (which takes place on 16 Arodus) is eagerly anticipated, for it provides distractions from the horrors of being on the front line of a war that seems as though it has no end. 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 of St Clydwell. Clydwell was a champion of Iomedae who sacrificed himself to seal a horde of demons within an inescapable prison. The cathedral is a great stone building with a green copper steeple and stained-glass windows portraying the imprisonment of various horrific demons. In less celebratory times, wounded warriors are taken to the cathedral to be healed, and the priests of the cathedral perform blessings on crusaders about to venture forth. Although the Temple of Iomedae serves the everyday needs of the people, the cathedral is used for important services and gatherings like the one you are all attending now.
The four of you find yourselves standing next to one another amid the press of bodies on the edge of the cathedral's steps. You have managed to get good spots to observe the day's ceremonies, scheduled to begin at noon and now just minutes away.
The four of you find yourselves standing next to one another amid the press of bodies on the edge of the cathedral's steps. You have managed to get good spots to observe the day's ceremonies, scheduled to begin at noon and now just minutes away.
Don't attract attention. Keep tail tucked. Did she come to watch? Hasn't before, not since the rescue. Half-orc problematic. Paladins all around. Badge in hand. Don't look them in the eye.
Wearing a hooded cloak, Belgood watches the event anxiously through the stone bannisters. He stands as far from the half-orc as possible, so as not to draw attention to himself through association.
Always vigilant, Ellena came to the festivities in full gear. She looked around in abject horror when she realized who, or what, was sitting close to her. At the best of times, half orcs were brutal, and evil at the worst. And best not even to comment on the part fiend closeby. She made a point to scan both of them for evil as she settles into an open spot, next to another "hard" looking blonde human, this one with much shorter hair. "Greetings, I'm Ellena. Looking forward to the festivities?"
She was tall with a regal bearing. Her chain mail gleamed in the sunlight, and a huge sword made an occasional rustling sword as it rubbed against the armor. A prominent medallion with Iomedae's symbol was worn proudly on her chest.
Rashak was used to keeping his own company, as he was regularly shunned, both because of his heritage and because of the curse that people whispered about behind his back. He gave Belgood an amused glance. It seems that I'm not the strangest creature in town anymore. Well, that's a relief. Ignoring most of the people around him, he settled down to watch the ceremony.
She made a point to scan both of them for evil as she settles into an open spot, next to another "hard" looking blonde human, this one with much shorter hair. "Greetings, I'm Ellena. Looking forward to the festivities?"
The other woman looks at Ellena's face for a long moment, then takes in her well-groomed appearance and especially her Iomedeaen medal. Pursing her lips while she thinks for a moment, she finally responds, offering a hand in greeting. "Lyddy. I always look forward to this. Every year."
Lyddy has the attitude of someone that just doesn't care who is looking and especially not what they might be thinking. Her gear is well-cared for, especially the sword at her side, but her hair is slightly mussed and her expression is generally neutral, possibly bored. She does seem to know a lot of people in the crowd, though - she nods in acknowledgement of several and they respond in kind, including some influential folks.
She speaks up again to Ellena after a minute or two. "What order?"
Ellena raises her eye browns slightly. Another warrior!
"Everbright Crusaders. I've only been accepted for about six weeks now. And you?". Ellena was pleased that Iomedae's will had placed her beside another holy warrior.
Lyddy shakes her head. "I have yet to prove myself. Congratulations." There's not much emotion expressed in the sentiment. No enthusiasm, but no jealousy, either.
With a wry smile, she volunteers, "I will prove my mettle as an unattached warrior and they will see then."
There is a murmur in the crowd - in the distance, a flare of trumpets announces the approach of the first of the many Orders participating in the day's festivities. Marching up the wide colonnade that connects the Cathedral of St Clydwell to the main square opposite it, the marching paladins are splendid in their polished armor and perfect ranks, each squad lead by a mounted leader dressed in his or her finest and most extravagant mail.
Nearby, the leader of the city, Prelate Hulrun Shappok stands and strides to the podium at the top of the temple stairs. Although the Prelate is a warrior long past his physical prime - he is approaching his 60th year - he still carries with him a sense of great command and penetrating, terrible insight. Many in the city fear the powerful inquisitor and well-known witch-hunter, but far more are willing to accept the hungry pyres in exchange for strong leadership against the demonic hordes.
At the bottom of the stairs, the crowd has parted, and the parade of paladins has come to a crisp, perfect rest before the cathedral. Prelate raises his hand in benediction and
Your head is throbbing and you feel as though your entire body is one massive bruise. Your lungs are filled with choking dust, and when you open your eyes, only blackness meets them. In the shrouding void, you can hear the sounds of other creatures nearby, groaning, coughing and shuffling around.
In the shrouding void, you can hear the sounds of other creatures nearby, groaning, coughing and shuffling around.
"... nonoNoNoNO! Not again!"
Belgood scrambles in the debris for a few seconds, as though trying to decide between fleeing and helping the injured. Looking at the badge still clutched in his hand, he turns to the others and knocks frantically on the armor of the two humans to get their attention.
"You and you! You can heal, yes? Good. Come. They need your help!"
Shaking her head to get her bearings after the sudden change of scene, Lyddy thinks, a waking dream? It feels real. I... What did he say? Heal, yes, I can heal...
Roused from her stupor, she moves with the small fellow to the woman with the broken leg. "My healing gifts are not strong, but I offer them."
Ellena did not even have a chance to respond to Lyddy before something wrong had happened. Ellena heard much going on in the background as she attempted to shake the cobwebs loose from her head. All she could see was darkness, however.
The paladin pulled a torch. "Can any of you light this torch? Without light, I am useless in this awful darkness."
"Hold, Ellena. I will come back to you."
"Ellena. Put your torch away."
Rashak steps forth and tries to help Lyddy drag the woman to safety, while trying to determine what the spider is.
Ellena fishes around in the darkness, trying to find herself a torch, but can do little else in the impenetrable gloom. Nearby, though, the elf man sits up, moaning in pain and touching the burnt ruin that is his face. He frowns in concentration, clearing fighting past the pain, then murmurs an arcane phrase. There is a sudden flare of light, although it is gone in an instant. The elf frowns, grunting again in pain, and says, "Why... why did it not work?" in a tone of confusion and controlled suffering. You note that there is a carved wooden staff near him on the ground.
On the other side, the human merchant flinches away from the light, raising a hand to ward off the momentary glare. "Because your face looks like an overdone roast," the man snaps, staring in the elf's direction through the darkness. "Your eyes are gone, elf. Best get used to it." The elf gasps in horror, but the man ignores the reaction. Instead, he turns toward the spider shape, looking blindly in its direction. "More important, though, what the hell was that?"
The light is gone almost as soon as it appears, but lasts long enough for you to see a few things. There are a total of six other people around you, including Lyddy and the half-orc and tiefling you saw before. The other three include a human woman over which Lyddy, the tiefling and the half-orc are standing, an elf man whose face is a ruined mask of burn scars, and a human man in what looks like fine clothing, such as a merchant might wear. You are lying on the ground in some kind of cavern with rubble all around, and perhaps 20 feet away from you, there is some kind of squat, many-legged shape crouching in the shadows; you cannot see it long enough to tell what it is, but it is as tall as a man and as wide as a horse.
As soon as the light disappears, you hear the same deep voice - it seems to be coming from the direction of the elf with the burns - ask in confusion, "Why... why did it not work?" The voice is filled with pain. In answer, another man's voice, most likely the merchant's from the direction it is coming from, replies, "Because your face looks like an overdone roast. Your eyes are gone, elf. Best get used to it." The elf gasps in horror, but the man goes on, apparently uncaring. "More important, though, what the hell was that?"
"Probably not spider. Probably worse. Best to leave before it notices. Can you walk, elf? Better, can you run?"
"I... I cannot see," the elf replies. "I will need to be led, and I do not believe I could safely run."
Lyddy looks at her fellow sighted ones and speaks quietly. "Call me Lyddy. Fate has made us a team today. Can you tell - are we where we began? Are there imminent threats?"
In a slightly louder voice, she speaks calmly, "Ellena, gentlemen, if you can, crawl toward my voice. Light is not an option at the moment. Sir elf, there is a length of wood, a staff, near your left leg. Please bring it with you."
She casts about looking for something with which to splint the broken leg. Placing her hand on the woman's, she says quietly, "The leg is broken beyond my ability to repair, but it will heal with time. If I cannot find something to splint it, movement will be painful. You understand?"
Motioning to Belgood to lean in close, Lyddy whispers, "What is your name, little one? And what is probably not a spider?"
"What are you getting on about? Not a spider? And why can't we have light?". Clearly miffed by her inability to contribute, Ellena is in a less than pleasant mood. She does crawl to Lyddy's voice, however, trusting in her advice. For the time being, that is.
"This is more than natural darkness. A torch cannot pierce it and I have nothing better than his spell-light."
"Where are we? What matter of fiendishness is this? How can I help the situation?"
"If someone can tell me where to swing my sword, I can take out the spider, or not a spider or whatever it is, if it is a threat to us," Ellena barked. She was obviously not used to not being in control of the situation.
"What is your name, little one? And what is probably not a spider?"
Belgood peers deeper into the darkness, before offering an uncomfortable answer.
"Called b-b-Belgood. Demon-spider-thing blocks the way out, so aim your sword that way."
"What is your name, little one? And what is probably not a spider?"Belgood peers deeper into the darkness, before offering an uncomfortable answer.
"Called b-b-Belgood. Demon-spider-thing blocks the way out, so aim your sword that way."
"B-b-belgood, OK. If it blocks the way out, do you see somewhere else we may go? A bolthole it cannot enter? We have wounded that cannot be expected to outrun anything in the dark."
"B-b-belgood, OK."
There is an eye-roll that no amount of darkness can hide.
A bolthole it cannot enter?"
"Will look. Don't anticipate it."
"I didn't bargain for this" Rashak mutters to noone in particular as he draws his scimitar and traces a complex set of runes with it. Immediately a shimmering forcefield appears about him, and he relaxes ever so slightly.
"Yeah, well, neither did he," she points at the blinded elf, still keeping her voice low. "Can you guide him over here? We need a place to hide until we can develop a plan. Bububelgood is looking for another exit or a bolthole to hide in."
Ellena keeps crawling toward Lyddie's voice. "Can anyone cast a spell that creates light? I'm not able to help at all without some source to allow vision," Ellena requests.
Again keeping her voice low, Lyddy answers, "There is a good lesson in accepting assistance when you need it. Think of a candle flame in a window on a dark night. How far away is that tiny light visible? Everything in this chamber that can hear you will know exactly where you are if we product light. Are you sure you want everything in the darkness to know your location?"
"Besides, our blinded friend tried to bring forth light and it didn't work. It went dark again right away, did it not? Three of us can see and one is scouting a safer position. Patience, holy warrior. We will get you your light."
"When the spider poisons the whole group, don't say that I did not give fair warning, sister. Chances are that whatever exists in this dark can see and hear us well enough, whether or not there is a flame.
Blinded friend, please attempt to summon light again, if you would be so kind."
The reply has a definite tone this time, but she still keeps her voice low. "You're right. If you are going sit here and complain about your fear of the dark so loudly, it doesn't matter if we avoid light or not. Do what you will."
"My spell will not provide true illumination," the elf stage-whispers. "It is a brief flare, nothing more. I do not know whether it is working properly, though; I... I cannot see to assess its effects."
"I am many things, dear lady, including your better, but afraid is not one of them," Ellena icily responds to Lyddy.
She turns again toward the voice of the apparently blinded male. "I did see a bright flash of light for only a second. Are you saying that was your intent? If you could try again, I could evaluate whether or not it was successful."
"Sad how one can let their fear overrule their better judgment, like insulting someone that is trying to help. I'm sure our goddess understands and will forgive, as do I."
"A wonder you haven't been selected yet. For the life of me, I can't see why..."
Ellena considered saying more before she let out a sigh, thinking about her tenets. I will be temperate in my actions and moderate in my behavior. I will strive to emulate Iomedae's perfection..
She shakes her head and frowns. "Apologies to you. Sometimes my tongue is quicker than is called for."
Keeping her voice down, "No need. You've got sand and fire. They will serve you well." After a moment, she adds, "We can discuss my paladin status when we get out of here. Where did that little fellow get off to?"
Looking toward the half-orc, "What's your name, warrior? Can you see the little guy?"