Round 8
"There might be more on the way," Grasker will inform Beagan as he grabs his gear after providing the healing potion.
Grasker also moves up to the doorway and listens for sounds from father ahead, over the noise of arrows clattering into the walls.
Cole fires harmlessly, his arrows clattering safely in the distance.
Serra stabs the remaining mongrelman in the back, his star knife sinking deep. His eyes flare wide and he burbles a little, but he still ansers the question.
"Thorough...both, I swear it. Only Graf didn't finish. Only..."
Grasker listens at the door, but doesn't hear anything from the area beyond.
Round 8
His confession still on his reptilian lips, the last mongrelman slips to the ground in a heap.
Serra yanks out his starknife from the mongrelman, letting the body slump to the ground. His breath heaves, shaking both his girthy belly and his mighty hunchback. He not-so-daintily tiptoes back on his incongruous toes to avoid blood and fallen mongrel.
Serra takes one more deep breath and then lowers himself to coup de grace the mongrelman.
damage
"You've failed your parents for the last time. And your people will rejoice in your death."
Serra looks around to see if Cole or Jurin are hurt, then moves slowly back to his feet to address Jurin.
"I think we've taken the first barricade. Let us gather toge..." Serra's eyes trail off Jurin's face and down to Kastor.
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Jurin looks at the scrape on his ribs, nonplussed by the hit he took.
"Eli has two party goers back here, but you don't get to kill them Serra."
The older man shakes his head.
"You're too blood thirsty. Remember where that leads? No cake for you, that's where."
Serra sees Kastor too late. He gives Jurin a look, and tries to explain to Kastor.
*sigh*
Might as well explain.
"Stay right there, Kastor. You'll need to understand this if you're going to be knight. War isn't pretty and neither is being a knight," Serra says carefully to Kastor, making sure the boy is listening. "Some people think war and knighthood is all damsels and roses...well, no, war is hard. And decisions must be made. And sometimes a knight needs to make the tough decisions."
Serra points down at the mongrelman.
"This one here committed crimes against himself and his people, killing his own parents while they slept. As a knight, it's my job to deliver knightly justice to them," Serra snaps is fingers to make sure that Kastor is listening. "I don't like it any more than you do, Kastor, but if you're going to be a knight, you got to be willing to do what's right."
Serra pokes through the pockets of the mongrelman, looking for money, evil holy symbols, and items of interest.
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Satisfied that he's secured them well enough, Eli reaches down to grasp one of them by the neck, and tries to heal the least injured one.
With his hand still on the mongrelman's neck, Eli stares into its eyes, and menaces.
"You have survived, it seems. We are many, and you are one. You are alone here, facing the retribution for your part in the Traitorous Night. I offer you redemption, and the chance to bring about part of it by providing us information regarding all that lies beyond the barricades." You will, in effect, bring about yet another Traitorous Night, but this time, you will be on the right side.
"He plays the part of a bloodthirsty backstabbing demon worshiper a little too well."
Serra nods at Kastor.
"Now that's a good question, Kastor. See, some gods ask that the evil be given a chance to redeem themselves. Other gods, just call for righteous smiting of the wicked. Such choices are up to the knight and the god that calls them," Serra says, admiring his young squire's inquisitiveness.
Serra continues on.
"Now, I don't know Ely very well and if he feel religious obligations to save those other ones, I'll not stand in his way. That's between he and his god and his beliefs. So, no, Kastor, I'll let him decide what he wants to do with them. And when you're a knight, Kastor, you'll be making those decisions too."
Serra wipes off his starknife on the mongrelman's clothing, returning it to his belt. He rubs his mighty hump and looks at Jurin.
"Jurin, you remember the Othoe Wars...and the damage those that aligned with Othoe did to our home. Would you entreat to try to rehabilitate them?" Serra asks before realizing and remembering he was talking to Jurin. Instead, he re-phrases.
"Uh, what I meant to say, Jurin, is...uh, would you want to bake pizzas with those who used purple?"
Satisfied that he's secured them well enough, Eli reaches down to grasp one of them by the neck, and tries to heal the least injured one.
With his hand still on the mongrelman's neck, Eli stares into its eyes, and menaces.
"You have survived, it seems. We are many, and you are one. You are alone here, facing the retribution for your part in the Traitorous Night. I offer you redemption, and the chance to bring about part of it by providing us information regarding all that lies beyond the barricades." You will, in effect, bring about yet another Traitorous Night, but this time, you will be on the right side.
The mongrelman looks at Ely and smiles. "Do your worst, old man. Soon, the locusts will eat your eyes and the worms will claim your soul. I will not help you. Kill me and be done with it. I'll see you on the other side and we'll see who pays for what." He hacks and spits a gob of phlegm at Ely's eyes, daring him to send him on his way.
Conditions: Bloodied
HP: 3/22
AC: 18 (ff 16, t 13)
CMD: 13
Init: +3
Fort: +4 | Ref: +2 | Will: +1
Per: +0 | Know nature: +6 | Know planes: +6
Equipped: Shield & Sword
Calistria's Presto-Changeo Trick: 1/1
Dancing Holy Flames: 1/1
Flare Holy Flames: 1/1
Big R's Holy Flameball: 1/1
Call upon Big R to protect/rejuvenate mount: 1/2
Call upon Big R to send assistance: 6/6
Scale = 3/3
The Gnome brushes himself off and retrieves his sword, shaking his head to regain his wits about him as he listens to Serra’s comments about knightly behavior.
”Grasker, there are those from my home who would say some knights aren’t too different from other bloodthirsty folk. However, the knights I’ve personally met certainly weren’t backstabbing demon worshipers at all!”
Having little awareness of what exactly transpired while he kept getting knocked down, he can only judge by what he currently observers. ”It looks like Sir Serra has slit the front of their throats, so he doesn’t appear to be backstabbing type, either.”
Beagan tries to shake the remaining stars from his head, still getting his wits about him as he straightens the bright, battered beret on top of his leather helm.
”Yeah, Serra, righteous smiting is definitely necessary sometimes, I’m afraid.” He looks down with a mixture of disgust and sadness at the corpses of the blasphemous ones. ”But I would trust Eli to know what he’s doing, so maybe those cultists don’t have to die..." shrugging his shoulders "...immediately.”
"Do your worst, old man. Soon, the locusts will eat your eyes and the worms will claim your soul. I will not help you. Kill me and be done with it. I'll see you on the other side and we'll see who pays for what."
Eli pauses momentarily, letting the spittle drip down his face, before wiping it with his sleeve. "This is what you resort to. You respect only power. When you slew sleeping Neatholm, did that make you feel powerful?" Eli sounds as if he talks more with himself than with the mongrelman.
Frustrated with himself, Eli studies the amulet for a spell.
"Beagan? Where's Beagan? He should take a look at this carving."
Ely studies the wretch's holy symbol turning it this way and that before he's able to make out the Demon Lord it represents, Deskari.
Eli mulls over what kind of must follow Deskari.
Ely finds the answers to his questions only bring more questions. Normally, Deskari worshipers would be demons and denizens of the Worldwound, Sarkoris Kellid cultists, doomsayers, and worms that walk. Still, the young looking for a reason to rebel might latch on to whatever seemed the most likely to offend, and Deskari would certainly fit that.
Hearing Eli's wishes, the Gnome is happy to take a look, distracting him from the brutal reality of cultists being finished on the end of Serra's knife. Damn demon worshipers.
"Well, carving isn't exactly my thing, but I can usually shape and tan and stitch and brush, so let me take a look and see if I can figure out what they were trying to do..."
Beagan isn't certain, not used to working in 3-dimensions, but his training in painting serves him in good stead. He's fairly certain that the whoever was carving it was working on something very similar to Iomedae's sword.
Serra handles the stones, trying to recall words his mother had taught him long ago...his hands get caught in his armor, his buckler hits his mighty hunchback, and nothing happens.
Again you fail your mother...good thing she's not even here.
Serra holds the stones in hands, debating what to do.
Know (Religion) - different amulet
Know (Religion) - 1/2 carved
"This is weird, Eli. It looks like the Sword of the Shining Lady. You know, Aroden's Crier, the one that took his place. I think it's her sword. Why would a cultist be carving her symbol?"
Suddenly, Beagan feels a chill through his ripped and torn leathers. "Those who willing serve such ultimate pain and suffering, such evil, need to be stopped. Ended." Destroyed. "Were they going to desecrate it? Or was somebody not totally lost?"
Serra's justice doesn't seem quite so sure now. What would the Big R want? What is true Liberation? They were oppressors, right?
He mumbles... "I think these ovens are warming up, Jurin."
The Gnome hands the carving back to Eli, his attention switching to the symbol on his arm, his fingers tracing it as he softly chants to himself.
Serra will just have to take Ely's word for it as far as the first symbol goes, but once Beagan points out what he sees in the unfinished carving, he too can see Iomedae's symbol in the process of being carved out of the palm sized piece of wood taken from the unconscious mongrelman near Ely.
Eli turns to Beagan, grateful to look upon a kind face. "When you paint your symbol, master Beagan, I see reverence in its creation." Eli traces the half-formed symbol. "Look at its symmetry. There is no mockery in it. No deformity." Eli glances at Serra apologetically.
"I think you are correct, or should be granted the benefit of the doubt, Beagan. The unconscious one... we should talk with him as well."
Eli turns back to the conscious mongrelman. "It appears one amongst your ranks has his own doubts. He's right to have them. He likely knows that only demons and worms worship your Deskari. Twisted, hellish things. You have no place amongst its worshippers."
"Him? He is weak! Nothing! Like you are nothing! The worms will have us all, but only I will rise as one of them!He will make me over in his image and you will be nothing but dust." Baring his neck, he taunts the older man further. "Come on! You know you want to...Do it, if you dare!"
If I were younger, I would have no qualms at all granting you your wish, you misguided bastard. You would play quite effectively on that nerve. Your only mistake was sounding off on an old man's ears. An old man who has heard this more than he'd have liked.
"You will find it difficult to bait me into acts of self-degradation. But you persist, evermore. The quick end, the end without sense. Rashness. Viciousness. These are acts of demonkind." Eli rubs his eyes. "You have said enough. Now you will listen." Eli takes another strip of clothing, and gags the zealot. He then drags the mongrelman so that he is facing away from the other, preventing eye contact from silencing what needs to be said. "Jurin, can you make sure this one can not move?"
He turns to the unconscious one. Let's hope you're more reasonable with your life's value. He murmurs to himself, as if to clear his throat.
If the carver awakens, Eli gives him a moment to take in his situation, before introducing himself and the others. By each name announced, he hopes to establish the odds here.
He holds up the carving to the mongrelman. "We found this. To us, this means life. To your gangrel pack of traitors, this would have surely meant your death if you were found out. Will you speak with us, and try and make right what has been so wrong since that dreadful Night?"
"Jurin, you remember the Othoe Wars...and the damage those that aligned with Othoe did to our home. Would you entreat to try to rehabilitate them?" Serra asks before realizing and remembering he was talking to Jurin. Instead, he re-phrases.
"Uh, what I meant to say, Jurin, is...uh, would you want to bake pizzas with those who used purple?"
Jurin shakes his head.
"Bake with purple? Serra you're not making any sense. Did you bump your head? That'd be three lumps, three lumps is two lumps too many for you Serra. Besides, don't you think all people should be given a chance? Maybe if Nimeon had judged your father on his limp you wouldn't be here today. Where would you be, if we decided how to treat people based on how they looked? Everybody can be made better, Serra. If people couldn't be made better than they were, we'd all be keeping bars clean instead of wandering around this bakery, right?"
Cleaning his scimitar as he moves back to the prisoners, he muses aloud.
"Purple. What nonsense. Oh, is this granite?"
Licking the wall and moving his tongue inside his mouth, Jurin nods.
"Almost, been here a long time."
***************
"Sure Eli. How not moving do you want him?"
The scimitar hovers over the mongrelman's feet.
"Not walking?"
Moving up to his knees.
"No more praying?"
Higher still.
"Maybe we'll make almond flour tonight? Your call young man."
Eli's eyes wrinkle in fleeting amusement as Jurin describes a not too unpleasant course of action, in the face of such spite. The wrinkles become less wrinkly in the blink of a wrinkle.
"Likely, that one has chosen to let the wax grow thick within his ears. The rag in his mouth should at least prevent him from phlegm-based counterarguments."
The carver slowly wakes, shaking a mangy mane out of black lidless eyes. Understanding comes slower still, but eventually, sinks through the headache, fatigue and despair.
He eyes the carving in Eli's hand, struggling as he tries to pat a pocket that's long since given up its secrets."It is...nothing. A bygone hope. An apology for the unforgivable. Still, mayhap she would have liked it, a little. If I could have finished it for her." The ebony of his eyes goes matte, losing what little shine had remained. He stills, sinking in upon himself as he surrenders to yet one more failure.
"You should have killed me, as they would have eventually. But that would be better than I deserve." His ragged cough reverberates in the passage, slipping to a slightly manic laugh, "There is nothing that can make that night right. Nothing. But if it's betrayal you need, I'll do all I can to help you. It will not put right what we have wronged. But it will stop so much worse that would come."
The other glares balefully at Jurin and if he were not gagged, surely more spittle would fly. As it is, he dares the younger man as well, trying to kick him with his bound feet.
"You should have killed me, as they would have eventually. But that would be better than I deserve." His ragged cough reverberates in the passage, slipping to a slightly manic laugh, "There is nothing that can make that night right. Nothing. But if it's betrayal you need, I'll do all I can to help you. It will not put right what we have wronged. But it will stop so much worse that would come."
"What we need is insight, young one. We are not here to kill Traitors blindly. I hope you see that. If there are others in those ranks who were misled as gravely as you, we would know them, and stay a quick execution. It's likely that Hosilla is beyond redemption, so unless she chooses peace and surrenders immediately, she will be dead ere long, with or without your help." Eli looks to the others for directions, contributions, or suggestions.
"What does Hosilla look like? How many in your legion? Are there sentries, and, if so, where? They must know that Neatholm might set upon them, so are there traps set up to discourage a quick siege?" Eli lets his own questions subside, readying to take action further up the unknown cavern hall.
Serra shrugs at Jurin's response, not sure the man had thought it all the way through. Serra pockets the 3 stones, something he'll explore in more detail later when his hands and mind were more calm. He puts one of the Baphomet holy symbols in his pouch in case it is needed later.
He listens in to the Eli's questioning of the cooperative mongrelman.
The young mongrel laughs bitterly, sounding far older than his years. "Would you to kill us all blindly, it would be better done. None are worth saving, but you are right about Hosilla. She is her Master's faithful servant. I doubt she will surrender, but if so, do not trust it." He describes Hosilla for them, but admits his information will only get them so far.
"She does not trust many, and I never ventured far beyond the common room. Marl would have been able to tell you more, but I doubt he would, so that is a matter best forgotten. There are not so many of us as you would think. A dozen, less those that wet the ground here today. Then there are Hosilla's own, from above. And Urziel, her right hand. She has not needed more; her Lord's magic works many terrifying wonders for her."
Grasker will cast Detect Magic on any items collected, and otherwise stands guard at the door with his shield and sword ready.
You were nothing but fodder for the cannon, you poor whelp.
"Thank you for this information. It is unfortunate that the others would rather die than face the truth of their actions. It is a difficult thing for you, no doubt. What if I told you that in the same way that Hosilla approached you, and convinced you to support her, we have approached you, and convinced you to support us? The gnome is a representative of Ragathiel. Our lot is throwing in against the hordes of the Worldwound. You may still seek your own salvation, though it is a steep, perilous climb. No one is beyond redemption, but they may not know it for the blood in their eyes." Eli speaks the last louder, at the muffled mongrelman.
Eli turns to the others, making sure everyone is versed in the description of Hosilla. "The mongrelmen will be the last of the first wave. We'll have to contend with the defiling uplanders after our strength has been sapped dealing with the misguided youth of Neatholm."
Eli waits for others to weigh in. He walks to the front line, where Grasker maintains vigilance. He speaks softly. "Grasker, if I may... the mongrelman I've just spoken with... he has been carving a symbol to your Iomedae. Would you be willing to speak with him?"
Conditions: Bloodied
HP: 3/22
AC: 18 (ff 16, t 13)
CMD: 13
Init: +3
Fort: +4 | Ref: +2 | Will: +1
Per: +0 | Know nature: +6 | Know planes: +6
Equipped: Shield (sword is still on the ground)
Calistria's Presto-Changeo Trick: 1/1
Dancing Holy Flames: 1/1
Flare Holy Flames: 1/1
Big R's Holy Flameball: 1/1
Call upon Big R to protect/rejuvenate mount: 1/2
Call upon Big R to send assistance: 6/6
Scale = 3/3
"You should have killed me, as they would have eventually. But that would be better than I deserve."
”The innocent often get much worse than they deserve. I think that means sometimes those who aren't totally innocent get better than they deserve. That's mercy, right?” At least, that would explain why Cathyra was able to help me.
Hearing Eli speak of what lies ahead, Beagan returns to his prayers, trying to steel himself for a possible fight. While meditating and tracing his forearm, the Runic R on his forehead begins to twinkle, brightening over the course of his oblations until it is glowing. With a flash and puff of smoke, the furry, multi-hued Canis Bonalagus appears next to him.
”Xanthos!” The Gnome swallows hard. ”Guys, if the Big R sent his holy mount back, I think that means there’s plenty of struggle ahead. Let’s see, a dozen minus five fallen would be seven more straying youths? Plus Hosilla. Plus this Uzriel. Plus Hosilla’s own uplanders? How many of those uplanders?”
full stats
Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +4
AC: 20 ( touch 12, flat-footed 14) (+2 Dex, +4 natural, +4 mage armor)
HP: 10/10
Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +0
Acrobatics +6 (+10 jump), Climb +6, Perception +4, Sense Motive +4
After looking over the magnificent form of his mount, the Gnome’s eyes return to his own very battered, bloodied, and bruised form. Looking up a Eli rather sheepishly. ”Eli, do you have any more of that wonderful rejuvenating touch to spare?”
Eli returns a sheepish look-down at Beagan. "Yes, you're in need, and here I am, bringing our limited energies to bear on the chance of intelligence regarding the interior." Eli reaches out a hand, clapping the gnome on the shoulder, bestowing the last of his healing for the day. He then departs to fetch Grasker.
Cole sighs and then says, "Serra's right. There is no sense in keeping demon-kin and their followers alive. They're corrupt."
He takes out a common arrow and walks up to the 'evil' mongrelman and coupe-de-arrows him.
He walks up to the other one and turns to the group, "Are we letting this other live? Can he be saved? Who will take charge of him until we know for sure? For my part I think there might be something in him worth saving, but I'll not be his minder. I don't have that much faith."
He takes out another arrow and waits for the groups decision.
Conditions: Mounted
HP: 10/22
AC: 18 (ff 16, t 13)
CMD: 13
Init: +3
Fort: +4 | Ref: +2 | Will: +1
Per: +0 | Know nature: +6 | Know planes: +6
Equipped: Shield (sword is still on the ground)
Calistria's Presto-Changeo Trick: 1/1
Dancing Holy Flames: 1/1
Flare Holy Flames: 1/1
Big R's Holy Flameball: 1/1
Call upon Big R to protect/rejuvenate mount: 1/2
Call upon Big R to send assistance: 6/6
Scale = 3/3
full stats
Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +4
AC: 20 ( touch 12, flat-footed 14) (+2 Dex, +4 natural, +4 mage armor)
HP: 10/10
Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +0
Acrobatics +6 (+10 jump), Climb +6, Perception +4, Sense Motive +4
Feeling the healing power course through him rededicates him to the course, and he slips up onto the back of the hare-headed lupine mount. ”Thanks, Eli!” And thanks to the powers that bless us.
Watching Cole finish the evil one, he sighs and nods. "One less soul to save... and one less cultist to enact demonic evil. Two sides of the same coin, I guess. When we're ready to move forward, Xanthos and I could watch him, as I believe in mercy and redemption. But I can't really do that while we're leading the charge, as is a knightly role. I'm new to being a Paladin, so I'm not sure which path the Big R would want me to follow. Hmmm..."
With wounds adequately healed up and enough eyes to watch the way forward, Grasker feels it is safe to go talk with captured cultist.
Standing beside the bound mongrelmen, he picks up and examines the carved holy symbol, turning it over in his gloved hands.
"So you fight on the side of demons, against your own town. And carve Iomedae's symbol for someone there, in secret. We met one of her priestesses in your town, a little woman with scales. Was this for her?"
"How would that work? Would you sneak into town and leave it, then serve the cultists until they sacrificed you to their demon lord? Or would you return to town to be judged by your fellows, and give this up before they no doubt judged you harshly?"
"I present a third way. Pledge your life to save your town, and you may save your soul from the abyss in the meantime. Lead the fight against them, risking all for the chance to ask forgiveness from those at home you still care about."
The mongrel man doesn't flinch from Eli and Grasker's summary, nor even startle as Cole forever silences his former coworker, but shakes his head at the mention of a woman. "Helen's just a little girl, but I... I broke hers. She'll be wanting a new one."
His head hangs low as Grasker suggests likely ways his future might play out. "I can't go home. I can't face them. But I can help you... here.. and if you give me but a little time, I will finish it, at least the carving. Then, I know you owe me nothing, but if you could take it to her, then at least this one thing, I might right, at least a little."
"See here, lad, see how the knights ponder the fates of the wicked. And how they found a friend among them. Someday, you'll have to make these decisions, Kastor," Serra iterates.
Serra looks at the two mongrelmen, mindful of redemption, but waiting to hear what Grasker says before he opines on the topic. After all, that helpful mongrel might be one of Iomedae's own.
Serra looks to make sure that Kastor is paying attention to the discussion and interrogation.
Serra flinches slightly as Cole de-lifes the jerkgrelman.
"Well, uh...that's the way to handle the evil ones, Kastor. You can't flinch from that."
* * *After interrogation* * *
Serra opines to the group, after all this is a strategic matter and his soldier's background would be helpful.
Prof (Soldier)
"I'm fine with a quiet and quick frontal assault, keeping an eye out for an open area for the main skirmish. That would seem to play into our strengths best."
Serra continues already planning the next battles.
"If brave Sir Beagan is able, he should lead our forces for the might and glory of Xanthos is to be feared. Jurin and Ely should follow, with Cole and Grasker and I."
"Or we can go back and rest. I sure wish we had bought the spare healing supplies from town."
Serra holds up the 3 stones again, wondering what they are.
"Anyone recognize these? You, mongrelman, do you know what these are for?"
"Are we letting this other live? Can he be saved? Who will take charge of him until we know for sure? For my part I think there might be something in him worth saving, but I'll not be his minder. I don't have that much faith."
Eli returns with Grasker, only to find the gagged mongrelman dead in a pool of blood. He observes Cole gripping an arrow, and considering the second captive.
"So. It is no longer in doubt. We are at war." Eli lowers his head, and thinks for a moment.
"Cole. There are some of us who believe that even the darkest of souls can find light again. If they only open their eyes, and really see. Some of us. "The dead one was only a whelp, misled and dangerous, but only a child in the scheme of time. I only ask that the next time I take time to bind and heal someone, that you show some... restraint."
"Anyone recognize these?"
Eli takes a moment to study the stones.
Eli listens to Grasker, and is comforted as the mongrelman and the worshipper of Iomedae come to understand each other a little better.
"Or we can go back and rest."
Eli considers. "I have spent my healing energies through this first engagement, but we have moved aside five of twelve already. If we press a little further, we might scrape the shell a little more, before we need our full strength against Hosilla and her magics."
"You will help us on the front line against the demon followers, and I will take back the symbol when you are finished. Don't break your promise, and I won't break mine."
Grasker will unbind the mongelman and help him up, then give him the wooden holy symbol.
"What is your name?"
Eli looks at the "stones", an ugly realization dawning. They're actually not stone at all, but some sort of growth, like nails or horns or skin, but with some sort of complex inner core.
"Graf. My name is Graf. I will fight with you." Getting to his feet, Graf swallows as he sees the "stones" in Serra's hand."I can't believe he took those. Kept those. They are...were... Fiobr." His voice breaks at the last, but he pulls himself together, eventually explaining that the stones were actually part of the Neathholm's old healer, one growing above each eye with the third growing in the middle of his brow.
"After...when you t-take this to Helen, will you return these to my... to the people of Neathholm, to be buried with Fiobr, as they should have been before?"
"Cole. There are some of us who believe that even the darkest of souls can find light again. If they only open their eyes, and really see. Some of us. "The dead one was only a whelp, misled and dangerous, but only a child in the scheme of time. I only ask that the next time I take time to bind and heal someone, that you show some... restraint."
"In short, OK. However, have a care who you heal. This one was wasted resources - your healing and my arrow. It is not easy to see the good and often good becomes corrupt. But it is easy to see evil and this one was evil."
"Yes, I'll allow it is possible to cross from evil to good, but it is a long road, and a difficult one. We cannot show mercy to every creature we find on the side of evil. We are not placid monks with nothing but time on our hands."
"Our city lies above us - maybe in ruins. I for one would like to see it again, in whatever form it is in, before I die and this one, " he points to Graf, "is slowing us down already and he hasn't even done anything wrong. At least not yet."
Cole doffs his hat and wipes his brow.
"Alls I'm saying is yes we're at war. We have been all my life though you're apparently new to it. Welcome to the battlefield."
He takes his readied arrow and puts it back in his pack. he gathers up his misses and checks them for usability and replenishes his quiver.
"I'm ready to proceed."
Eli stares at Cole for saying his peace, then nods, relenting. "Understood, Cole. It is not my intention to slow you down. From what I've come to understand of demons, they revel in our difficulty separating good from evil, as it makes it more likely we make mistakes."
Eli pulls his hammer from the cavern wall. "Let's investigate further." The old man begins the return to the barricades, letting the others the time to take the lead.
Grasker will move into the next room and look around, ready for combat from farther inside.