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Armasse officially began at noon, with the blessing of the festival by Lord Hulrun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza quieted as the aged inquisitor took the stage, clad in shining, resplendent armor. He cleared his throat, but just as he was about to speak, a bright light shone from the west, as if the sun were rising from the wrong direction. Hulrun’s shadow fell huge and distorted across the cathedral’s facade. A moment later, the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air and earth, along with a violent tremor.
To the west, the fortress known as the Kite—the location of Kenabres’s wardstone—had vanished. In its place, a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning, and smoke erupted into the heavens. A moment later, a powerful roar accompanied a welcome sight rising from the crowd—Kenabres’s greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, who had until that moment been attending the opening ceremony disguised as a human. Above, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A humanoid shape three times the size of any man, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripped a flaming sword and whip. The creature’s identity was immediately obvious: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres!
As the ground continued to shake and disgorge demons into the streets, the dragon and the balor lord clashed above. The fight was over in a few harrowing moments, as the balor cut deep into Terendelev’s body, swooping down to strike the dragon and arresting her charge. A few more blows, and the titanic duo spiraled downward toward the crowd.
The sight of the dragon smashing into the facade of the Cathedral of St. Clydwell is one no witness would ever forget. At that moment, a titanic demon erupted at the far end of the plaza, reducing several buildings to ruins as it smashed into this world. The rift it created shot across the plaza, and this time there was no escape—it opened below your feet, angling away into darkness. Even as you fell, the dragon noticed your plight. Though she saw death standing over her, she seized this final chance to save a few more souls. After she uttered a few arcane words and stretched out a bleeding talon, you felt her magic take hold of you, slowing your plummet into the darkness as if you were feathers falling into a pit. Yet the fall remained as inexorable, and as you drifted downward into the depths, the last thing you saw was the Storm King standing before the ancient silver dragon, his sword lashing out and cleaving full through her neck. As her severed head fell, the rift above you slammed shut, and the light of the world above was gone.
You are awake, alive, and on firm ground in complete and total blackness.
Phoenix frowned. There was no sense in losing one's calm in dire situations, and this was, without a doubt, a dire situation. Briefly, Phoenix flipped through a few options to account for his current situation, and the fatal fight between dragon and demon.
Illusion? Unlikely; that would require a master-class illusionist to pull off such a grand-scale spell. Dream? A quick pinch to the back of his right hand proved this possibility false.
Phoenix shook his head as if to clear it. Something niggled at him. He was forgetting something. No, he thought with a start, someone. Where was Flitwing? Casting a dancing lights spell could very well reveal the thrush, but so too could it attract anything unsavory that might lie in the darkness. Curiosity and caution warred in Phoenix's mind. Curiosity won out.
"Flitwing?" called Phoenix in a harsh whisper, which faded into a short, mumbled spell. Thinking back, several others fell with him. "Hello, anyone?" Phoenix said as four small globes of light sprang to life a short distance from him.
Aranthis came to rest half-sitting on the ground in the darkness. How can this be? What happened? Only a few hours ago she had been planning on enjoying the celebration, the atmosphere was upbeat and festive, and then suddenly everything had erupted into chaos. She shook her head, still numb from the shock of the event.
Need to focus, need to figure out where I am. Raising her hand, she waved it around in front of her, but failed to see anything.
"Light, need light" she said aloud, half expecting to hear nothing.
Taking off her pack carefully, she began rummaging around in it for her flint and steel and a torch. Aranthis had just gotten them out and was fumbling with them when she saw lights appear nearby and a voice call out. The dim light was enough to help her get oriented, and she quickly finished lighting the torch. Standing and holding it aloft, she looked over in the direction of the lights.
"Over here!" she replied quickly, as if failing to answer might cause whoever had spoken to disappear.
Stooping for a moment, she gathered her belongings and began walking towards the lights.
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Flitwing could not see. Flitwing did not like not being able to see. It was like night. She did not like to fly at night. She might hit things and get hurt. Night made her want to sleep.
Suddenly, Flitwing heard her name. It was Phoenix-the-man-who-was-named-after-a-bird-but-was-not-a-bird. Then there was light. Phoenix could make light. He tried to explain it to her once, but it made her want to sleep.
Flitwing kicked off the ground and flew over to Phoenix, perching lightly on his shoulder. She would not say anything, because there was a female man there. Last time Flitwing tried to talk to him in the dark when he was with a female he threw a book at her. So she would wait, listen, and learn.
A broad smile split open across Pheonix's face. The mere fact that one other person - two, if Flitwing was to be taken into consideration - provoked an odd feeling of mirth even despite the situation. Phoenix reached out a finger to stroke the thrush's head. The greatest joys were indeed found in the depths of despair. Phoenix turned away from Flitwing to face the woman who had just announced her presence.
"Well, it appears that I am not alone in...here." Phoenix struggled to keep the emotion from his voice. Someone else had indeed survived! Hope shone brightly in Phoenix's eyes. "Are there any other survivors? And where are we? The last thing I remember is-" Phoenix cut himself off. That was a memory that would be best avoided for the time being.
As Aranthis stops when she reaches the man who'd conjured the lights and sets down her pack. "I... I'm not sure, I've not seen anyone else," she says as she shakes her head, a distant look in her eyes.
"Did that really happen?" she says, jabbing her torch upwards at the darkness. "I just can't seem to make any sense of it."
Aranthis takes a long look around at the darkness, still slightly dazed. She then turns back to the man and begins to speak, but stops herself almost immediately. Appearing to have had a revelation, concern washes over her face. Scanning the ground nearby for any stones, she grabs several larger ones to help prop up the torch so she can set it down. Reaching for her pack, she unties the large bundle lashed beneath it and opens it up to reveal a suit of gleaming scale mail.
Kneeling before the armor, she raises her head for a moment, her bright green eyes now clearly visible in the torchlight. "You'll have to forgive me, I... It just occured to me... whatever's up there now came from down here."
Reaching up, she gathers her flame-colored locks and pulls them back into a ponytail, binding them with a small piece of string, before setting herself to the task of donning the armor.
Thank you Father, I didn't really think I'd have a use for this here, but I'm certainly glad to have it now.
As she works on getting suited up, she begins speaking again. "I'm Aranthis Drallidur, I just arrived in Kenabres late yesterday. Might I know your name?"
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In the dim light you have made available, immediately you notice the throngs of others who were not so fortunate as yourselves. Dead litter the floor of the large cavern. As you raise your voice in the echoing darkness, you soon hear the sounds of other survivors, and even spy a light in the distance.
Focus. You've been in worse situations before. Don't lose your head. Eulalia could see nothing. Running a hand along the floor, she could feel cold skin, clothes dampened with blood. Her eyes couldn't adjust to the harsh darkness, and for a long second, she remained still, trying to listen for disturbances.
She couldn't hear much, but the sudden lights dancing around some distance away alarmed her, and she almost tripped over a corpse.
It was either more survivors, or... well, if a massive demon could waltz into a city of crusaders sworn to oppose everything it stands for and lop off the head of a dragon, what were the chances his agents would mop up survivors? Too damn high. Quietly drawing a dagger, Eulalia kept to the darkness and approached the light cautiously.
All she saw near the centre of the dancing orbs, however, was a man enrobed in cloth - presumably the one who created the lights - and a woman with flaming hair, donning armour, talking to each other. Too off-guard to be enemies... and I think I have seen that man before? Sheathing her dagger, she approached the lights with her hands visible and empty. "Hail," she said, clearly. Careful, your Chelish accent is showing. "I am Eulalia. You two are the only survivors I have been able to find."
"There is safety in numbers, and I have nothing to see through this thrice-damned darkness with. Might I suggest that we ought to travel together?"
"Pleasant conversation can wait until we see the light of day. Now," Eulalia says, matter-of-factly. She drops her hood, and in the light revealing her sharp, scarred face, locks of brown hair, and the metal glint of her chain shirt - then she turns to Aranthis.
"I can help you don your armour, so we may travel faster. Big, clunky business, sure, but then again, I was trained with worse."
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As the you dust themselves off, take stock of their situation, managing to get some light going, you again notice the wall of rubble behind them contains numerous examples of how close you came to death. Here and there, bodies are mixed with the rubble—citizens of Kenabres whom the dragon could not save.
Not all of these victims perished, though. In addition to the yourselves, you notice that there are three other survivors who were saved by the dragon’s feather fall. Horgus Gwerm, Anevia Tirabade, and Aravashnial are their respective names. The former seems more than a little gruff, while the latter two seem merely indifferent to your group.
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"Hail. Are any of you hurt?" Eulalia addresses them. "Best stick together down here. We have no idea what might be out there to kill us."
Phoenix opened his mouth to answer Aranthis' question, but another woman stepped out of the shadows and into view. He had not noticed her presence until she made it known, and her hands were empty. Phoenix reasoned that she was not likely an enemy, as she at least had the opportunity to attack before he could have responded. He noted a slight accent as she introduced herself, although he had never developed an ear for identifying one's nationality by their speech.
"My name is Phoenix Holt," he said, then frowned. After so many years of introducing himself as such, he never quite eradicated the habit of using his nickname from the Acadamae. Ah well, no sense correcting himself now. Besides, Eulalia - the scarred woman - seemed either impatient or uniquely uninterested. Perhaps both.
"And I agree. The best thing we can do right now is to find our way back to Kenabres, and the easiest way to do so would be in a group. Hopefully the wardstone has been reactivated by now."
And hopefully, Phoenix thought grimly, there is truly a way out of here.
"I don't suppose anyone knows where we are, aside from below the city?" Phoenix asked as he re-cast the cantrip to keep his glowing orbs from discontinuing to shed their light upon the area, moving the lights closer to the three strangers in order to view them as more than mere silhouettes.
"My name is Phoenix Holt, and this is Flitwing," he said in what he hoped was a calm, even tone. At her name, the thrush bobbed her head in a vague approximation of a bow.
When Eulalia appears from the shadows, Aranthis tenses for a moment, still being mid-donning. After she begins to speak, Aranthis relaxes again and resumes work on the armor. Turning to Eulalia she says, "Thank you, any help is appreciated. It is definitely a pain to get suited up and the faster it gets done, the happier I'll be."
With Eulalia's help she finishes quickly, and unbundles her swords, adjusting their straps so they rest securely on her back, the hilts both peeking over her right shoulder. Finally she gathers her pack and torch again and, after giving herself a quick once-over, appears satisfied. "It's a pleasure to meet you both, though I wish it could've been under better circumstances," she interjects after the introductions.
When they join the other survivors Aranthis waits for Eulalia and Phoenix to finish their introductions before speaking up. "Hello there, I'm Aranthis. It's reassuring to see others survived!" she says, her mood brightening a little despite the dire circumstances.
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The three briefly consider casting an unwelcome glance at Eulia, then Aranthis interrupts.
The fist introduces herself as Anevia Tirabade: "I suppose we should analyze our strengths and weaknesses if we are to proceed with much success. I am an alchemist. Not terribly exciting I am afraid. You would probably be better off with some kind of warrior, but for now, at least you have an alchemist!
Aravashnia laughs a little at the alchemists introduction, "I am called Aravashnial I can cast some spells I suppose. Not really a wizard though. At any rate I agree we should get out, but I am not much for wasting time on a chit chat before we head out, if it is all the same to you."
The third just snorts, "Just my luck. In need of rescue and surrounded by women folk and men in dresses. May as well just lie down and die now. . . You know in all the best stories the women's amor is a lot less protective than that, and a lot more revealing. Could't you be more like the stories?"
Anevia interrupts the crass man, "This is Horgus Gwerm. As you can tell he is a gentleman through and through. He starts off kind of insulting, but once you get to know him, you realize he is just insulting and acerbic."
Eulalia gives the finishing touches to the scale mail, and steps back to admire her work for a brief second. "There we go, all done."
"Ah, well... I cannot help but notice that your crass friend has told us nothing about his 'specialties;' but I am sure we can find some use for a big, strong man like you amongst all us womenfolk," Eulalia nods to Horgus, her tone biting and sarcastic. "I am sure your deeds of valour bring all the women to your side at the tavern, oh fearless one. Maybe after ale, and lots of it, eh, Hog?"
"I am Eulalia, I am a... hunter. Yes, a hunter. Of sorts." Done with her introduction, she turns around to address the group as a whole. "Aravashnial is right, we need to move out now. I will take point and scout ahead, to see if the way in front of us is safe. Aranthis, you are well-armoured. Could you protect our rear?"
"I do not know much about magic," she says, addressing the alchemist, wizard, and sorcerer. "But if any of you know of a way to see through this utter dark, maybe some more of these lights, it would be helpful. It might attract attention, but it is better than flailing about in the dark and getting separated or taken by surprise."
"And Hog," She points at Horgus, and is about to laugh. "Feel free to look pretty while women and wizards save your mangly hide."
"I will ask one last time. Is anyone hurt? Is anyone unarmed? I have a dagger here in case anyone needs it. If we are ready, perhaps we can set off?"
Aranthis answers Horgus, missing any sarcasm or insult in his remark. "I'm not sure about elsewhere, but at least in Brevoy the women wear armor not much different then men. I can't imagine that more revealing armor would be terribly functional. Perhaps the stories you've read are just that?" she says with a shrug.
"Anyway, I'm a blacksmith by trade, although I've received some training in the martial arts."
When Eulalia suggests she take the rear she nods her head in agreement. She looks at Anevia, holding the torch out. "Would you mind carrying this? It'll make it easier for me if I don't have to worry about the torch should we get attacked.
Handing the torch over, she takes a moment and pulls out a necklace with an intricate silver hammer attached to it. "Guide us to safety, Torag, that each may live to see their great works completed." Her prayer said, she adjusts the necklace so the hammer rests visibly on her chest atop the silver scales of her armor. Reaching up she draws her two blades and takes measure of them before turning again to the group.
"Onward then?"
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"Here, let me help you with the light problem," Aravashnia interjects, quickly trying to change the conversation away from skimpy armor. The young man quickly casts 'light' on Aranthis' sword to help with the lack of light, then takes the torch himself to allow the hunter to have both hands free.
As you make your way through the rubble laden with arms and legs protruding here an there, you quickly notice a beast at the far end of the cavern. Moving carefully, you quickly deduce, mostly due to the smell, that this giant black widow is not only dead but has been in such a condition for no small amount of time. Although the reek is eye watering, it does not stop you from noticing a peculiar wriggling motion along with a munching sound coming from the abdomen of the fallen creature.
Phoenix tucked his staff to fit across his pack. Although it acted well as a walking stick, and could be a formidable weapon in the hands of someone properly trained in its use, the wizard had little martial aptitude in close quarters. He withdrew a light crossbow and a crossbow bolt, and drew back the loading lever in a practiced motion.
"Stand back. Something is moving in the spider's corpse. Ready your weapons if you have them," Phoenix cautioned. He was briefly tempted to tell Horgus to investigate the corpse up close, but decided that the man was, like the rest of them, having a sufficiently awful day.
"Flitwing, if something dangerous emerges, fly somewhere safe until the sounds of battle cease," Phoenix whispered to the thrush.
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Ghorza awoke to the sound of boots on rubble and dim light. Shrugging off the nightmare she had been trapped in, she warily looked around her for the source of the sound.
A group of people had walked by her, and had now come to a stop a fair distance away.
Better act now before being left alone in this place.
Ghorza got up slowly. Falling in her scale mail may have served as some protection, but lying prone in it for however long she had been out made her ache.
She retrieved her pack and shield, luckily her sword had stayed in its sheath and at her side, and began making her way towards the group. All the noise she had been making no doubt would not have gone unnoticed, she was never one for stealth regardless, so she thought it best to say something to show she wasn't hostile.
"Hail! I am Ghorza Lightseeker, paladin of the Dawnflower! Glad to see I'm not alone down here! How goes everyone?"
Aranthis turns towards Phoenix as he calls out a warning. Moving quickly, she begins to close on the corpse.
She hears Ghorza call out before she sees her, and giving a quick glance in her direction responds. "Greetings Ghorza, good timing! It seems we may be in for some trouble here in a moment, and the help is certainly welcome."
Phoenix leveled his crossbow at the corpse, and took note of his surroundings. He considered himself a decent shot with a crossbow - aiming, after all, was very similar to targeting foe with a spell at range. He moved back as far as he dared to move while keeping in range, and tensed, ready to take a shot.
"Gozreh drown them, I hate spiders," Phoenix announced, "I am going to save my shot shot until something comes towards us. Maybe whatever is eating the spider will be sated by the corpse."
Phoenix's face erupted into a mad grin, although the smile contained no mirth.
"And my day just keeps getting better," muttered the wizard.
Phoenix pulled the trigger and his crossbow let out a satisfying thrum as the bolt shot towards the closer of the two maggots.
As the horrid creatures advance, Aranthis tenses up. Ugh, those things are downright putrid... Ok, need to stay focused, this is no different than when I was practicing with Marius.
Moving swiftly, she lunges forward and begins to turn, bringing the nearer of her two swords down on the vile creature. Twisting to finish her turn, she follows through with her second blade, attempting to cut down the maggot quickly.
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I sign up to join the Crusade and here I am , she throws her pack towards the side of the cave, stuck underground , unsheathes her scimitar, FIGHTING MAGGOTS.
Ghorza moves forward, turns to her right, and brings down scimitar onto the soft, gooey flesh of the maggot.
Finishing her attack, Ghorza pulls back her weapon and readies her shield, preparing for the counter.
The foul smell of partially digested deceased spider remains found its way to the Chelaxian's nostrils. Suppressing an urge to gag that would surely discredit his credibility, Phoenix flipped mentally through the spells and cantrips he prepared earlier that day.
"Note to self: always prepare prestidigitation in case of vomitous maggots," he said aloud without realizing it. Phoenix's eyes flickered briefly to the freshly-slain maggot. This is not worth expending a spell, he judged. He called to mind a weak cantrip, hoping the sharp tang of acid might cover up the nauseating stench that now pervaded the air.
Swiftly now, the faster these things go down, the less likely we are to get ambushed by anything else that might be lurking around here. Aranthis presses her attack after the first maggot falls, leading with her blades as she attempts to impale the remaining maggot.
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"Are they dead yet?" Ghorza asks. She saw the one the duel-wielding woman fought go down after only one attack.
The one she had hit, had then been shot in the side and then sliced by the same woman who took down the first one...
Better safe than sorry she thought, drawing her sword back for what she hoped would be the final blow in this inconvenient, and rather degrading, battle.
Hitting the maggot square on, slicing through it's side once again, slime and blood flying off her blade as she finished her swing.
Disgusting. I will need to borrow a cloth or something to wipe this grime off Shareen. She deserves better than maggot pus. Ghorza thought, and grimaced. She really would rather be fighting something a bit more... deserving.
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The last of the giant maggots collapses under the combined might of the paladin and fighter. As the sat vestiges of life slowly drift away into nothingness, a glint of silver catches your eye.
Closer inspection reveals several scales of silver, each about the size of your hand.
Anevia stands up from the pile of rubble, and manages about three steps before falling the the cave floor with an agonizing cry. As the woman crumples to the ground, her voice echoing off the walls, Aravashnial winces and glances in the direction of the echo, not the woman, and asks, "Are you alright?"
Anevia waves off the older mans concerns, "Better than you are you blind fool."
The scales of silver glinted in the corner of Phoenix's peripheral vision, almost begging to be examined. It took more effort than he cared to admit to pry his eyes away, but there was a more pressing matter at hand.
"If we have injuries in the group, it would be best to sort them out now. I myself am versed in the arcane arts, and admittedly can do little to help assess and heal the wounded," Phoenix admitted.
Phoenix turned his head to the Dawnflower paladin, and cocked an eyebrow expectantly. "Lightseeker," he said in a slightly lower voice, "Do you have any remaining curative powers for the day?"
Aranthis catches sight of the scales as she wipes her blades clean. Sheathing the swords, she bends over and picks one of the scales up to examine it.
"These must've fallen from the dragon who saved us before he died. They certainly haven't lost any of their lustre." She wipes the scale clean, and holding it up, recites a short prayer to Torag on the deceased dragon's behalf.
Finished, she puts the scale in her pack and turns to Phoenix. "I'm happy to help out with any mundane treatment, but I've no formal training nor supplies to treat wounds unfortunately"
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"I know how to heal the old fashion way, but haven't gotten up to learning magic in my training yet." Ghorza said to the cloth wearer.
She then nodded to the woman who had been thrown up on earlier.
"You tend to the screamer, I'll see to her. She doesn't look so well, and I have somethings that she can use to clean up. You check for injuries, I'll check for disease, she said as she walked over to pick up her bag,and perhaps the fighter should retrieve the silver. Although she added looking over her shoulder and across the cave perhaps those who did none of the fighting should have the honor of collecting the spoils"
She made her way over to the Archer, beckoning her to come and sit on some makeshift rockchairs.
"And I know I missed the introductions, but perhaps after I could get your names. Better than giving you all nicknames. she gave a light-hearted smirk, as she took out some soap and a waterskin from her backpack.
"Wipe off what you can, endure what you can. We don't know how long it will be before we find drinkable water, but can't have you smelling like those things the whole time. After you're clean, I'll see if you actually did catch something or not.
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You are able to discern that the old gentleman is indeed blinded. "Sorry, in the blackness, I had naturally assumed that it was just, well, dark. If you are using lights, and I have no reason to believe otherwise especially since I am certain I cast that spell correctly, it would seem I have lost my sight."
The hong woman adds, "I am not so bad as he. My leg is simply broken. I haven't ever had a break before so I am at a loss as to how bad an injury it really is. Suffice it to say that it does hurt quite a bit, and seems to drastically hinder my movement."
Seeing the attention the others are getting for their winds, the grouchy fellow begins reciting a list of maladies relating to his fall. "Certainly, this contusion must be one of the worst you have seen, eh?" he inquires, pointing to a skinned knee.
"I think I have internal bleeding!" he adds, pointing to an egg sized bruise on his thigh.
As the inspection goes on, Horgus continues to complain loudest of all even though his wounds are minor. Aravashnia does appear blind, though you are uncertain of any method to return his sight, other than letting time takes its toll. More pressing is his current condition. He seems to be a stiff breeze away from falling unconscious. Anevia is the most severely injured. It appears the falling rubble managed to thoroughly crush the woman's leg. Although she is in good spirits and far healthier than Aravashnia, her injuries will make it very difficult for her to travel.
Working together you manage to locate several bits of wood and cloth sufficient to splint the woman's leg. Pulling sharply and manipulating the bones, you manage to get the leg properly set. When you are finished, you note she has several tears rolling down her cheeks, and has bitten almost half way through her lip, blood trickling out the corners of her mouth, mixed with spittle into a bloody foam by her labored breathing. To Anevia's credit, she does not call out or scream as you crudely set and splint her shattered limb.
The scale you picked up is a Scale of Sacred Weaponry. See below:
These palm-sized silver dragon scales are unique items—essentially minor artifacts resulting from Terendelev’s death on the Storm King’s blade. Each of Terendelev’s scales grants a different power to the person who carries them. The powers granted do not function at all if more than one scale is carried. The powers of the four scales are listed below—any nonevil creature that handles a scale immediately understands its use.
Cloudwalking: Three times per day as a standard action, a scale can be used to cast levitate. A pillar of roiling clouds rises below the levitating object or creature, growing and shrinking with the target’s altitude. This pillar is 5 feet in diameter (regardless of the target’s size) and provides concealment (20% miss chance) to any creature or object wholly contained within.
Disguise: Three times per day as a standard action, a scale can be used to cast alter self. While disguised, the target gains a +4 bonus on all Bluff checks made against evil creatures.
Resistance: Three times per day as a standard action, a scale can be used to cast resist elements—but only against electricity or cold.
Sacred Weaponry: Three times per day as a standard action, a scale can be used to cast align weapon, but only to make a weapon lawful or good. Unlike a normal align weapon spell, this effect can be cast on an unarmed strike or natural weapon.
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Ghorza taps Nix and Aranthis on the shoulders (since she still doesn't know their names) and indicates that she would like to speak to them so that the others don't hear.
"This is bad. We have one who cannot see, another who can barely walk. It's dark, and we have limited food and water. I have a few actions we could take, but am open to new ideas.
The first would be to craft a makeshift stretcher of some kind. I have a blanket we can use, but need something for the edges.
The next would be to reassign our loads so that everyone, besides the woman with the broken leg, is carrying something. I am fairly confident that I'd be able to carry the crippled woman myself, but someone would need to carry my armor for me, and perhaps some of my gear.
I have a rope we can use to bind ourselves together, the blind man should go in the middle, so as to have support from either end.
Should we be able to craft the stretcher, I'll scout ahead, reason being is that I can see in the dark so can move about unhindered without giving away where I am. I ask another come with me in this case, as back up and to act as a relay to the main group.
A hooded lantern would make an excellent signalling device, but I have a signal whistle on me if there is nothing else.
The best way to play this, as I see, is to make a temporary base, scout out an area, clear it, move the base there and then continue as such until we find a way out or a way to heal the injured.
It will be slow, but safe. We may run into the risk of running out of food or water however, so each step will need to flow into the next if we stand a chance of survival."
Ghorza smiles and runs her fingers through her hair.
I really am more of a point me at it, and I'll charge in and hit it until it's dead person though. Planning and stealth aren't my strongest points, so if anyone has anything to add, feel free."
"The stretcher is an excellent idea, although I personally am not a fan of binding ourselves with rope; the resulting lack of mobility could prove troublesome if we run into further..." Phoenix gestures in the direction of the two maggot carcasses, "we could be in a fair bit of trouble."
"I could, however, send Flitwing with Aravashnia. She speaks common, and could perhaps assist in directing him in his movements. It might even be possible that she could attend to him in combat, and give him aid in guiding him so that his spells reach the foes. Hopefully, that will not be necessary and we will see no further battles, but I do not remain overly optimistic on that note, given what happened to Kenabres. So many innocents..."
Phoenix meanders over to the dragon scales, attempting to appear extremely interested in the objects. The impact of what had happened to his city seems to finally be hitting him. Wiping his eyes with one hand, he uses the other to reach out and pick up a scale.
As his mind fills with information on the properties of the scale, he picks up another, and walks back over to Ghorza. Silently, he holds the scale out to her, with a vague look of curiosity now banishing the sadness.
"Hmm, I agree on the stretcher. Perhaps we should look around some more and see if we can find anything useful for assembling it, although we should be careful in case there are more of those maggots around."
She thinks for a moment and continues, "As far as supplies go, I have a few days worth on me. Also, I have been hunting and camping before, so I may be able to help us find some food to supplement our supplies, although in these caves who knows if anything is edible."
"By the way, I'm Aranthis, and that's Phoenix. It's good you came along when you did!" she says to Ghorza with a smile.
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Moving away from the group, you find a smaller cavern appears to have once served as a campsite or temporary lair. A torn bedroll lies next to the cold remains of a fire. A pile of bones, broken equipment, and rubble lies just past the campsite. As you move off, the others interject, possibly fearful that you are leaving them behind.
"You there, the lovely woman I hear. You should be my eyes. I may not be able to see but I am more than capable to carrying on. This was a demonic attack. If history is any basis for reasoning at all, that means more demons are on their way. What experience do you all have? We will need warriors, strategists, and spies. Sound off with your role and your weaknesses. The sooner we know our own weaknesses the sooner we can guard against the enemies attempts to exploit those weaknesses." Aravashnial orders, rather sternly. Your assessment of his blindness reveals that it will require a regenerate spell or the like to remove.
"His eyes are burned away. The balor's whip caught him on the way down. I saw that much," Anevia interjects. "I don't know a lot about him, but leadership is never a bad thing. I should be fine if I could get my hands on some kind of healing magic. It hurts a little. I can walk if we could bind my leg though. Would be better if I could get some kind of crutch though. Looks like a lot of wood and rope down here. Even some of the dead might have rations. Only a fool walks around with nothing this close to the World Wound."
Looking around, there are indeed enough rags, bits of rope, and splintered timber to make a more than serviceable splint and some form of crutches.
Blushing slightly at the old man's compliment, she collects herself and responds. "I am a blacksmith and, I suppose at this point, a warrior. As I told Ghorza and Phoenix, I have some experience hunting and camping, as well, and have a passing knowledge of engineering."
"While you all continue, I'm going to take a look at this debris and see if there's anything useful in it."
Aranthis begins sorting through the rubble in the area, looking for usable items and supplies.
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"I am a paladin, as I said before. By some misfortune, or stroke of luck depending on the situation, I also speak Abyssal. Weaknesses? Well, as you might have noticed earlier, I'm as subtle as I am large, zero grace of which to speak, except perhaps that with a sword."
Ghorza headed over a few feet way from Aranthis and began to shift through the rubble as well.
"If I had known we'd be fighting vermin all day," Phoenix says, grinning, "I'd have prepared spells that didn't affect minds."
Phoenix flicks a crossbow bolt into place, takes aim, and shoots at the closer of the two cockroaches.
"Ugh, are those giant cockroaches? The sooner we're out of this place, the better!"
Reaching up, Aranthis grabbed hold of the hilts of her twin blades, drawing them as she charged forward. She closes quickly on the nearest of the two roaches and swings with one of the blades as she gets within striking distance.
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Much like their smaller kin, giant cockroaches are extremely adaptive and exist in any place they can find a ready source of food. Giant cockroaches are not normally very violent, but readily attack if threatened or if food becomes scarce. Giant cockroaches are sensitive to light.
Eualia attempts to fire an arrow at the giant cockroach to her left.
Killing the beast instantly. The survivor lunges at the ranger,
its mandible grasping wildly at the woman and finding no purchase at all.
As the creature fumbles in the light, Aranthis brings her sword down on the creature's head, killing it instantly.
A thorough search of the room turns up a torn bedroll, three candle stubs (each can burn for 30 minutes), a bent fishhook, 10 feet of badly frayed hemp rope, and a copper brooch depicting a bat perched on a mushroom — both of the bat’s eyes are tiny amethysts.
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"Anyone know what this symbol represents?"
Said Ghorza, bending down and picking up the copper brooch, wiping some of the muck of it with her hands.
"Uhh' she paused awkwardly, remembering that there was a newly blinded man present 'It's a bat perched on a mushroom. The eyes are tiny gems, purple, amethyst most likely. It's too specific an image to just be decorative."
She looks around at the other items.
"If anyone here knows their way around a sewing needle, we could probably use the thinner parts of the rope with the fish hook to repair the bedroll. Or maybe someone knows how to work the rope to strengthen it?"
She takes a sack out of her backpack.
"Regardless, I don't think it's a good idea for someone to actually wear the brooch until we know what it is. Bad things can come from bearing the mark of something you don't understand. We can use this sack to carry the other things, separate personal belongings from the things we find down here, and I don't know about everyone else, but I don't have much room left anyway. If anyone has a lantern, they can take the candles, or split them accordingly, although I hear some spells take wax to work, so any casters that require them for reagents should speak up."
She gathers the items that will fit into the sack, along with carrying some of the wood under her arm towards a clear area.
"Come and sit friends, I think now would be a good time to take stock of exactly what our supplies are, and begin rationing. I don't like that it is I who first brings up this matter, but we have no idea how long it will be before we see sunlight again, or sources of food and fresh water. Better to eat and drink meagerly for a few days and find our way out with plenty to spare than do things as we would normally, and starve or dehydrate. Besides, there are people among us who have no supplies at all. We can't just let them perish."
She places the wood down in a pile and places the sack beside it, sitting down at the edge of the 'circle'.
"If you agree this is a good idea, then I'd be willing to show my inventory first, as a sign of good faith. Otherwise' she looks around at them all 'we'll just be playing it by ear."
"Ho, there," a deep voice called from the darkness. A tall, powerfully-built Kellid strode out of the darkness, clad in furs, leathers and bruises, from what they could see beneath his iron-studded leather armor. He held his hands in plain sight as he approached, nowhere near the huge sword he carried on his back or the dagger at his belt.
As he came closer, the party could see four ragged claw marks on his right cheek, though the scars appeared to be many years old. Despite them, the man seemed handsome, if stern. He moved like a stalking creature, all contained power and focus. His pale blue eyes swept the party as he stopped several feet from where they stood, and settled on Ghorza longest of all, until his gaze flicked down to the symbol of Sarenrae that she bore.
Nodding, the massive Kellid spoke again. "I see you have survived the fall from above," he rumbled. Their light made him squint, bunching the scars on his cheek. "It appears that few of us have, and you seek the surface. I would join you. I have skill with a blade, and food to share."