The gas follows them as Queshem leads the way through the tight tunnels. She pushes past everyone, crossbow out. There is panic in the air, compounded by the tight space. Queshem is, by now, an experienced commander, and she can feel discipline starting to break down. Between a rising noxious gas, the enclosed places and the threat of invisible foes, the pressure is near the breaking point.
Men and women curse in the gloom, stepping on each other, everyone pushing away from the gas, and order is breaking down. A stampede is possible, doubly so by the press of half-orcs at the rear.
Xiakon, call down a favor from Abadar to bolster our courage. Thasha sing us a marchin' tune to stiffen our spines! Orcish fer preference! Queshem calls out to her fellows as she feels her allies resolve start to falter.
Listen up ye lot she calls out in a voice loud and strong as Xiakon and Thasha hopefully follow her orders I can feel the stink of fear risin' up in ye like bile. Well that be what our foes want, 'cause that be the only true weapon they've got!. Their gas trick is slower than us and it's the only thing behind. The true enemy are the cowardly tricksters ahead of us and.... she laughs I'm heading afront to do the one thing they don't want which is meet 'em head on. March up orderly and join me in it and I promise ye they won't know what hit 'em. I'm sick and tired of being afeared of them. I aim to make 'em afeared OF US!
She calls on Abadar for strength and turns around to tromp ahead, stomping her feet loud in time to Thasha's singing to make her point.
It was the best she could do in the cramped confines of the trap filled tunnel and she prayed fervently that it was enough to at least keep the group's panic at bay. She was leading them into another trap she knew, but the whole island was in a trap sprung by Gnarea and the only way out is through. Maybe she would even be able to see the next one coming. Abadar willing.
Queshem barks out her orders ad hurries to the front of the line. She knows leading from the front is the best possible thing she can do at the moment. She gives her speech, praying to the Lord of Vaults to look kindly on her.
Just as she finishes. Thasha gives her a nod and starts to sing. It is an amazing thing. The bards voice is clear and high above the painicing men, the swirling gas and the fearful echoes. Even more, these is the sound of music, of drums, even though she is singing along.
When Queshem turns to Thasha in surprise, the horned teifling just winks and sings on.
For battle prepared in their country's just cause,
Their King to avenge and support all his laws;
As fierce as the tyger, as swift as the roe,
The brave and loyal rush on their foe.
Though rebels unnumber'd oppose their career,
Their hearts are undaunted, they're strangers to fear;
No obstacles hinder, relentless they go,
And death and destruction attend every blow.
Queshem hasn't heard the song before, but it reminds her of the chants of the Androan crews she used to hear in Absalom. She wonders where Thasha picked up an Andoran marching tune.
Still, it seems to be settling the crew down, as everyone, on purpose or not, falls into steps and begins hustled ahead of the gas.
'Cross the deep-gullied vale, up the mountain's steep side,
Through the rough foaming river's impetuous tide,
O'er the fortified redoubt, close wedged in array,
Regardless of safety they follow their prey.
Whenever the foe stands arranged in their sight,
With ardour impatient they pant for the fight.
Rout, havock, confusion - they spread through the field,
And rebellion and treason are forced to yield.
The song ends, just as they reach crossroads. Queshem spots no sign fo their quarry and foe, but is dismayed at the tunnels ahead. It is narrow and twisting, branching into two small corridors. Judging by the width and the size of her group, she is confronted with a choice.
Everyone stick together and those at the back will get a taste of the gas, or to split up and risk ambush. What was the wiser course?
If either of the twisting corridors led to a dead end then half of them would almost certainly perish. But what else could she do? It was better then them all going down the wrong way and all of them dying. The best option was that both corridors would link up ahead or lead to the surface separately but there was no time to figure out if that were the case.
Draflo! Give Invarr the sight of the unseen if ye can. If no, then Thasha go with Invarr and his crew down the right path. Stay third from the front and if ye get attacked by the invisible then Glitter dust the hell out of 'em. Me crew will go left and we'll see ye all on the other side!
Thasha moves and joins the half-orc group, which charges up the right hand path. As they enter the caves Invarr gives her a look, that is filled with doubt. The half-orcs have survived down here for weeks and now their lives hang in the balance. Had he made the right choice in throwing in his lot with his human sea captain?
Soon the two groups divide, Queshem leading her crew into the left path. She takes the lead, keeping her eyes open for the daemons. Where were they planning to ambush again?
Behind them, the gas curls and swells, chasing after them, a harsh chemical stink in the air that reminds Queshem of alchemical reagents in Absalom. Glancing down, Queshem seems a cricket like creature the size of her hand racing alongside, trying to outrun the gas. Jumping like mad, it outpaces them, heading up the same tunnel, out of sight. At her side Polos shudders at the sight of the massive bug.
Everyone pounds along behind her, and she can taste fear on the air alongside the gas. What Queshem wouldn't give for a breath of fresh air, a whiff of the sea, the taste of salt...
She turns a corner and is faced with an abrupt dead end. A dozen paces in front of her the tunnel ends in a rocky wall, sharp edged and dark. The tunnel appears totally lacking forward routes.
Polos curses loud enough to echo off the rocks.
Draflo! Detect Magic! Queshem snaps as she herself concentrates on sensing any evil in the vicinity. The rest of you bloody search for the trick to this trap. And hold yer breath if it catch up to yer.
Queshem doesn't lose heart at the sight of the imposing wall. Was it merely a trick by her foes or was it this really the end? Her brisk orders help maintain order but Draflo says, 'It will take a few seconds to scan. We are running of space."
Without further wait she examines the wall,s taring intently.
Behind the gas begins to envelope those at the rear, the harsh smell rising in everyone's nose. The air is hot and wet, crammed with bodies as Queshem looks for a way out.
Draflo mutters about finding something but it is taking too long. Queshem closely examines the wall but sees nothing out of the ordinary. However, behind them the gas starts to reach the back row, reaching up past the waist. Just as Xaikon is about to panic, Queshem, setting her jaw, thrusts a hand out to the blocking wall. It hits nothing but air, as if the wall was merely in her imagination.
An illusion.
Hold my hand in a chain, link up! We're going through this thing! Queshem orders holding her hand out behind her. As soon as the person behind her grasps it she walks through!
Clasping Polo's callused, muscled hand in her own, she marches forward through the stone wall. She feels nothing and the illusion vanishes like smoke around her.
Looking through she sees a ragged pit just behind the 'wall', a rocky hole about five feet wide, and deep enough to be out of sight. It would have been a potent trap if she or anyone else had merely rushed through. Past it the tunnel runs up and away, slowly rising upward. Behind everyone is pushing at Queshem's back, trying to outrun the gas. Taking their time and crossing the pit properly will be impossible, the rush is too great.
Polos! There's a 5 foot pit just beyond! Pass the word! Easy as pie to jump!
Queshem wrenches her hand free of Polos and leaps!
Queshem jumps the hole, but despite her words, nearly falls in. The hard stone gives little purchase when she lands, and she almost topples backwards into the greedy pit. She just makes it however, and the others start jumping over behind her.
As Queshemw atches she sees Thasha dash over from a side tunnel. "I lost two in my tunnel, there were traps. I think they are still alive but we went on without them..." She leaves the obvious question in the air.
Behind Queshem suddenly jumping group, the gas follows, snapping at their heels.
We'll come back for 'em. If we're able. Queshem wheezes, The gas rises so they might be alright. Keep yer wits about yer fer more traps as we go. Only way out is through. Polos! Help those jumping behind yer and then ye and Rabbis are rear guard. Put those big lungs to use if ye need 'em.
Queshem races up the tunnel, leaving the pit crossing organization to Polos and Rabbis. Hopefully they can handle the confusion. Right behind her Thasha keeps up, the bard surprisingly nimble on her feet.
The tunnel dips and dives, but slowly climbs upward, narrowing to a squeeze here and there. While Queshem has spent her life in the cramped world of a ship at sea, even she gets a prickle of claustrophobia at the jagged rocks so close together. Did this tunnel ever end?
Then she and Thasha half stumble into a slightly wider area. Queshem scans around, and she spots two of the vulnadameons, waiting as if in ambush.
In her mind she hears their voices, taunting her, 'Leaving the others behind? We thank you for filling our larder, Queshem of the sea...'
At her side Thasha gasps in pain and takes a step or two in confusion, obviously hearing voices in her own head.
In no mood at all to banter, Queshem thinks like a sailor at the daemon filth with some quite choice obscenities, even as she fervently calls down the wrath of Abadar on them. She shouts them out too for Thasha's benefit as her hands move like a blur to fire and fire again ath the enemy. Focusing on the one that she hurt earlier in the tunnels, hoping to bring it down, moving on to the other if the first one dies.
It helps that she hasn't actually left anyone behind and she feels like she's finally at least half a step ahead of the murderous little &#%!@?!$
Focus Thasha. Only way to shut 'em up is to kill 'em. Glitter dust on my mark! Queshem grunts at Thasha, motioning towards a spot where hopefully the Glitterdust would cover both of the daemons.
Queshem has spent a lifetime on board ship and on the docks on several cities. While she often tried to elevate her own language in honor of her church, the captain had been exposed to the foulest, vilest curses this side of an orc war camp and now she unleashed them in a stream of curses at this creatures, who had hunted and tormented her and her friends.
As she does so she sends a pair of rippling crossbow bolts at them. One hits squarely, making the daemon stagger, ripping a gaping hole in its chest. A black thick ichor bubbles out, dripping onto the gravelly floor. The bolt just misses, ringing off the stone.
At Queshem's barked order Thasha moves forward, but before she can cast the spell the world starts to shake. For a second, Queshem feels she is back at sea, as the floor and walls start to pitch, rocks cracking and grinding. The two daemons look just as shocked as she is. This earthquake was not planned!
Suddenly a rent opens in the ceiling and a shower of gravel, dust and boulders falls into the room in confusion. Coughing, Queshem dodges the falling objects, keeping her crossbow up. The clatter sounds like the end of the world, the shattering rocks echoing off the close walls, the dust filling her eyes.
Then it stops and the dust starts to clear. In front of her is a the daemon she wounded, crouching behind a fallen boulder, but still an easy shot. She rasies her crossbow then hears a cry.
'Help! I'm stuck!" It is Thasha, her voice coming unseen from behind a massive part of the fallen wall. "It is going to get me!" she screams shrilly, her voice losing the melodic quality it usually holds. Going to help the bard will cause Queshem to miss her chance....but waiting may be dire.
It's not much of a choice. Putting down the demon would be good, but the goal was to banish the whole lot of 'em from the source. And damned if she was going to lose a crewmate over that.
She rushes to see what's happening to the bard.
Queshem darts around the large stone, peering through the dust. She can hear the rest of the crew moving up the tunnel behind her, slowed down by the sound of falling rock. Gods know what Polos is dealing with back there.
The rock is long and Queshem loses sight of the wounded daemon for a moment. She finds Thasha sitting on the ground, chest deep in sharp edged gravel, pining her to the floor. Looming over her is a dameon, clawed hands outstretched. The usual jaunty bard is in tears, eyes shut, shivering in literal terror as her doom closes in on her.
Queshem moves again to stand over Thasha protectively and then, from point blank range fires over and over at the daemon, unheeding of whatever damage she might be taking.
The daemon sees Queshem round the corner, but the inqusitor is too fast. With blurring speed she vaults over the piled rocks and debris, a lifetime of moving on a ships deck coming to her aid. She gets right into the face of the foul creature and fires twice. Queshem's reload is a thing of beauty, a deadly dance of fingers and bolts.
Both shots slam into the beast's head, spraying ichor and brains onto the stone walls. It doesn't even have time to scream as the head snaps back, and it tumbles to the ground, falling into the dust.
It takes Queshem a long moment to realize..she has killed one of them. Or whatever happened to slain daemons on this plane.
Queshem horks up a glob of sputum and spits it onto the corpse and then kicks it for good measure, losing control of her emotions for just a moment. She comes back to herself with a shudder and kneels to pat Thasha for a moment. It's dead, be easy before glancing up to see what the heck was happening to the world, then she moves back to see if the first daemon is anwhere to be found, without losing sight of the trapped Tiefling.
Then she waits for everyone behind her to catch up.
Queshem looks back but the other daemon is gone, vanished in the confusion. This is expected but disappointing. She has time to reach Thasha and start to excavate the bard when the others arrive.
Polos is there first, looking sweat stained and dirty. "Are you both ok? I could feel that rockfall from back there. Thorrson said it thought it was natural but I bet it was from those daemons."
As he speaks the others hustle up the tunnels. The gas seems to be slowing slightly but it is still rising toward them. Invarr arrives, spits on the ground and snarls, "I have men back there that you chose to leave behind. We are going back for them!"
Queshem feels her heart beat slow down as she comes down from the exertion of combat. Thorsson might have the right of it, these bastards seemed as surprised by the tremors as us. she says to Polos before Invarr breaks in.
Like ye said Invarr she nods at the half-orc leader I'm not in command of ye, Ye make yer own choices and I have not made ye do anything. This no be the time to debate tactics but I did choose to rush ahead to try an' get ahead of another trap. And I almost lost one of mine to an ambush.
She takes a deep breath and coughs as the dust from the disturbance above gets in her lungs. She nods at the corpse next to Thasha. We got one of 'em, and if I were a bit better I think we might have gotten two. For the first time we have 'em on the back foot Invarr. They're not two steps ahead of us any longer. If I may make a suggestion, send a small team back, keepin' low to avoid the gas and not breath it in, we can lend ye rope if ye need it. I pray to the Master of the Vault that yer people be in good enough shape to be rescued.
As she continues to work to free Thasha she looks up at the half-orc. If I may make another request. Me crew will go afront and do it alone if need be but would sorely appreciate if the rest of you would come with to press our advantage. We got a wounded daemon on the loose and the magic that lets me see 'em ain't going to last forever.
She continues to raise her eyes to look up at the rent I think what's happening above may be a sign from the gods, and I no be talking about BlackFingers. Confusion in the place we're assaulting benefits the attackers not the defenders. yeah?
And in any case to have yer people be a part of breaking Beachcomber would be a mighty fine thing fer the rest of Bag Island.
To his credit, the half-orc leader pauses and thinks over what Queshem has said. It would not be easy, after barely keeping your people alive for weeks through sheer will and determination, to have your work undone in a matter of hours by outsiders. Finally he points to four half-orcs, "With me, we are going back. The rest of you, follow the humans as you wish."
With that the strong half-orc moves back down the tunnel, into the gas.
Polos shakes his head, "Crazy....."
One of the half-orcs left behind growls and says, "He does his duty as our leader. One would hope your captain would do the same for you."
Easy now. Queshem chides both the half-orc and Polos Hold yer fire fer the abominations tryin' to kill us. Now help me get Thasha out. Draflo, Xiakon, Thorsson, what the blazes do ye think is happenin' with the termors?
Once the burlier members of the group have started to dig Thasha out. Queshem gives the Tiefling a quick hug before starting to take reconnaissance of the area they're in to see which way they could take to head out. She'd been pretty distracted earlier.
At Queshem's question about the earthquake everyone shakes their head in confusion. Thorrson looks the most puzzled, saying 'It isn't natural. This is not an active area, no lava flows, no faults. This whole cave should be as solid as, well, a rock." His joke dies a quiet death in the panicked and hot air.
'Someone is doing something on the surface." The cave guide finishes, 'But not sure what. Mining?"
Queshem hugs the teifling, and again feels like she is touching a block of ice. The shock of cold is, in a way, a relief in the humid, dust filled air of the cavern.
"I'm sorry." Thasha gabbles out, gathering herself, "I should have handled it better."
'Let's get going the gas is rising!" Polos shouts and they are off again.
Queshem seems a few tunnels leading up and away. One is large enough for them to travel as a group while a few are narrower and more difficult.
No need to split the group up again. We're going up the large one Queshem says. Thasha, Polos up front with me, Rabbis, take rear guard, everybody else in the center. Invarans, some with me, some with the large human what's got no armor on. Let's go and find out what the hells be going on. Draflo, give Rabbis invisible sight if ye can. There still be daemons about.
Queshem leads the way upward, Thasha and Polos at her side. Quickly, the path climbs upward and Queshem has a feeling this was a major throughfare when the half-orcs lived this far. The floor is packed dirt, and lacks the sharp rocks that made traveling difficult below and the way is wide and smooth. They make good time, out running the gas. Indeed, Queshem thinks she can feel and taste good, clean air. Was that a breeze? Polos grins at her, hope rising.
Then Queshem hears shouts from behind.
'Where is he going?" One of the half-orcs shouts down a side tunnel. Glancing back, Queshem instants spots something missing. Rabbis's imposing frame.
"He went off down this side tunnel!" Xaikon says, the cleric already hurrying after him, his own fear forgotten at the thought of losing one of his crewmates.
Queshem grits her teeth at the distraction. Polos, Draflo, Thasha, defensive position here. I'll be back as soon as I can. Use a scroll to see the invisible or whatever Draflo if yer running out of spells. Thasha be ready to make anything visibile if Draflo gives ye a warning and takes off running behind Xiakon as well. Rabbis had been acting very oddly since she had put him up as bait and she hoped relying on him hadn't been a mistake.
She catches up to Xiakon and motions for him to follow her deeper into the tunnel. Quiet now, but did Rabbis look, addled, or angry or what when he took off?
The tengu follows along, claws clacking on exposed stones as they race through the darkness. 'He shouted that he could see one and they 'wouldn't get away' this time. I don't think he was under a spell or anything..." The cleric sounds worried and Queshem hears him mutter a short prayer to Abadar.
They move down the tunnel, going downwards. Heading away from the surface tears at Queshem's heart but there is nothing for it. She won't leave Rabbis behind, not without a fight.
Without warning the tunnel turns sharply into a wide cavern. The roof overhead is full of sharp rocks jutting downward, hard edged and dark. But Queshem's eyes are fixed on the floor which is pockmarked with steep shafts leading downward into darkness. Peering into one is a vertigo induced experience and she thinks she sees the flicker of water far, far below.
In the center of the room, surrounded by these dangerous pits, is Rabbis wrestling with a vulnadaemon. The shirtless monk is bleeding from dozens of wounds and scratches, ragged cuts from hitting rocks but the vulnadaemon isn't much better off. Queshem recognizes it as the one she wounded with her crossbow. As they wrestle, they roll near one of the pits. In the confusion, Queshem is unsure if she can shoot without hitting Rabbis.
Xiakon. Call on Abadar. Give strength to Rabbis an' put fear of the Master of the Vault in the black heart of the @#^%!$D Queshem shouts.
Queshem takes a knee and waits to see what happens next. If the daemon and Rabbis separate she'll fire. Otherwise she's hoping Rabbis will be able to exorcise his own daemons in a pretty direct fashion.
Queshem kneels down on the hard stones, making sure to not fall into one of the hungry looking pits. Xaikon looks a bit askance at Queshem's language but steels himself and moves closer. Apparently whatever is he about to do requires him to be close.
Queshem jumps up and goes first, not willing to risk the cleric first. There are other dangers here then rockfalls and pits. Another deamon lurks somewhere.
On the ground Rabbis and the vulnadaemon wrestle, claw against fist, heaving chests pressed against each other. The deamon thrashes like a wild animal, biting, clawing frightfully strong. With talon like feet it tears at Rabbis, digging into his body, the entire body convulses spasmodically.
Rabbis however, is smooth, controlled. A lifetime of training is shown as he carefully gains control over the struggling creature. Tightening his grip, adjusting his weight, clenching with arms as thick as tree trunks. Suddenly Queshem is reminded of a blacksmith she watched once in Absalom. A huge man who handled wagon wheels like toys, she had spent two hours watching him work the red hot metal with methodical strokes, one powerful blow after another, each exactly where it needed to be. Not an ounce of energy wasted but never falling short, a true master at his craft.
That was Rabbis today. Nothing clouded his mind, he was not taunted into hasty revenge. No, this was a cleansing act, a way of making himself whole.
As the deamon realizes its peril, it struggles more and more wildly, anything to get free. But Rabbis is relentless, crushing it in a tighter and tighter embrace, squeezing it as remorselessly as the tide. Suddenly Queshem hears a cracking sound, like a spar giving way. The deamon squeals in terror and pain. With a shock, she realizes what is happening. Rabbis is crushing its ribs. Like a great snake of the jungle, he is constricting it.
One by one ribs snap and the deamon's struggles grow weak, the hisses fainter. Finally Rabbis gains his feet, holding the creature in front of him in sweating arms and pauses, summoning a last reserve of strength. Then, without warning gives a sharp jerk. With a sudden crack the entire chest caves in, spalttering the oarsman and the ground with black thick ichor like tar. Rabbis gives a roar and tosses the beast into a yawning pit.
'Back to hell with you!" he shouts, raising his arms in triumph.
He moves to turn away when the ground starts to shake, the edge of the pit crumbling and the man starts to fall.....
Queshem lets her crossbow hang off the weapon cord as she dashes forward to try and keep the big man from toppling over. C'mon Rabbis! There's more daemons to rip apart! Xiakon be careful now!
Queshem dashes over, jumping over the rough terrain to grab at the monk. She just grabs his wrist when the entire chamber starts to shake again.
"Earthquake!" Xaikon shouts, his flute like voice frail over the grumbling, grinding rocks.
The rock under Queshem's feet starts to separate, starting to fall into the pit behind Rabbis.
Rabbis! Double Time back to safety. Xiakon RETREAT. GO GO GO! I'll be right behind ye! Queshem orders Rabbis and gestures frantically at both of them to start running. She wonders briefly why they needed her permission to do so anyway. Being a Captain was very odd sometimes.
She nearly has to tackle Rabbis away from the gaping pit but she does so, a lifetime of moving on ship's deck coming in handy. The three of them dodge fallign rocks and shifting pits to reacht he safety of the corridor.
Queshem and Rabbis dodge the sharp falling projectiles, but one strikes Xaikon on the head. She pauses to help him but the tengu pushes her away shouting, "I'm the healer here, I'll be fine."
In a moment they are in the far more stable passage that led here. The tremors die away, rumbling into the distance. Xaikon touches the bloody scrape on his head and whistles in annoyance. 'I knew caves were bad."
From down the tunnel she hears Polos bellow, "Are you all right?"
We be fine, but this place be falling apart. Queshem yells back.
We're comin' back.
Once they're back together. Rabbis just ripped a daemon apart with his bare hands! But enough o' that. Let's get to the surface and see what be happening there. Xiakon, heal whoever needs it as we go, starting with yerself.
Leaving the gas behind, the group moves toward the surface. When Queshem mentions Rabbis tearing apart a daemon alone, Polos's eyes widen but they don't have time to talk. Quickly, they race up natural stone stairs, and Queshem can feel the air growing fresh. It is a relief after their long walk in the dark.
Finally one of the half-orcs stop her at a crossroads and says, "Just beyond here, is the entrance. Last time anyone came this way they had simple wooden blockades and a few guards posted. "
'Smash through?" Polos says, trying to sneak a glance around the corner.
'And we still have a daemon at our back." Draflo adds, 'Or maybe even ahead of us. They do not seem the type to raise an alarm though."
We go in careful and swift. Polos open the door, and I'll spy what's beyond. If clear then front liners in good health go through followed by ranged. Queshem orders, making sure there's a bolt in her crossbow.
They round the bend and face a low, broad tunnel. The ground is firm, packed sand, with no rocks or obstructions. At the far end is a simple wooden wall, hammered together of crude timbers. It blocks the entire exit, but Queshem can feel fresh air. She sniffs, and smells something...wrong. An acrid, sharp scent. Ash? A sailor's fear of fire sends a prickle through her.
There are no signs of foes so they rush forward, Polos and Rabbis at the lead. They slam into the wooden door and smash it down in one swift motion. The timbers go flying or are crushed underfoot as they explode out of the cave. What lies beyond is....not what they expected.
There are no guards, no sign of life at the cave entrance. However, everything within view is covered in fine layers of white ash, and more is drifting down. Looking up the sky is a heaving mass of red and black clouds, clearly unnatural. The smell of burning rock and hot glass is on a stiff breeze.
Draflo frowns, takes a step forward and inspects a knee high drift of the powdery material, 'Volcanic ash?" She turns to Thorrson, "Does Bag island have any volcanoes?"
The dwarf shakes his head in the negative. 'No, and worse, this is light ash. The Shackles are built on black rock. This...this isn't from here." he glances up at the racing, supernatural sky.
Ahead, around a few low hills, lies a town.
Draflo, Xiakon, Thasha? This be more yer speed seems like Queshem says as she scans the town for damage or attackers. Some sort o magical attack? Some sort o rituatl? Either way we're moving in.
Queshem scans the town with a practiced eye. At a distance, she sees no signs of damage, attack or siege. If this is an attack, it has as yet had no physical damage. However, she sees no people at all. No movement, even the streets are covered in pristine coats of fine ash.
Draflo frowns at the sky, "My bet would be ritual over attack. Who would attack the cult with such power."
"And with such evil." Xaikon adds darkly.
"Those daemons have to come from somewhere." Polos puts in, 'Probably connected to that."
Thasha looks less convinced replying, "I doubt anything of this scale would be required. This magical effect is covering dozens of square miles and causing earthquakes. No, this is something more, something bigger."
Rampore mayhaps? Queshem asks quietly as they start to move towards the town Gnarea did make it clear what his aims were. she shakes her head We need to know more. Be on yer guard. Magic senses up please. Any other buildup and we are runnin'.