To Gaze into the Abyss (Inactive)

Game Master Dreaming Warforged

Anyone else?

Kord shrugs at Dalmien, "The Bull's head means nothing to me."

"Let's move out."

Knowledge (religion)

Knowledge (religion) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

"Yeah, lets get moving..." Barek rubs his arms, looking around at all this strangeness and the underground. "Above ground and at least away from this strange fungus."

Knowledge(Religion): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Pondering the bull's head as Dalmien recovers it from the two crusaders, Zoresk shrugs noncommittally and says, "I can't say that I do recall anything. If something comes to mind I'll let you know." Finishing swapping his hide armor for a set of the chainmail, Zoresk continues to frown thoughtfully at the bull's head. Nothing springs to mind despite his scrutiny.

Turning back towards the sloping tunnel, Zoresk holds his fauchard out to light the way and advances up the slope.

"Bull's head, huh? I dunno. I am pretty sure it is demonic, but I'm having a hard time placing it." Eamch's eyes take on a far away look to them for a few moments, but then he shakes his head. "Sorry, but its not coming to me. Like I said, I think it is a demonic symbol, but I can't recall more than that."

Sorry, I thought Kord had the skill and was waiting for him...

"A demonic bull's head? Are you certain!? Describe it to me!!!" says an overexcited Aravashnial. Eamch's description does nothing to calm his mood, to the contrary. He walks back and forth, agitated, with some of you running around him to prevent him from tripping or crashing his head.

"And they didn't carry swords, but glaives and gauntlets! By Her grace, could I have been right!? All the mocking I've suffered... And here is PROOF!" he says to no one in particular, as you are all standing behind him...

"These two are agents of the Ivory Tower, servants of Baphomet, disguised as iomedans to infiltrate Kenabres!"

"We'll need to carry their bodies to the surface, for proof."

"We can at least drag them, I suppose. Unless we reach some sort of obstacle that would mean we have to leave them behind to get ourselves out."

So we'll take them and their gear, dragging them after we make sure nothing important will get lost by doing so.

At this point, Eamch is willing to relinquish the lead to Valor, since we should be quite close to their settlement now.

Kord looks concerned, "The demon lord Baphomet? That is dire news indeed."

Kord will offer to carry one of the bodies.

"Mmmh... I did hear rumours about that... They might have been the ones responsible for the attack!!" says Horgus as his shoulders sink,

"In any case, I don't think we should slow even more! A cripple, a blind, and now two corpses!?!"

"If it's true that the ranks of the faithful have been invaded, then it's worth the effort of trying to bring back at least one." Zoresk looks at Horgus, gauging the man for a moment before continuing, "Consider, Horgus, that if we don't bring evidence to the surface and we aren't believed because of it, then the Crusade will itself be put at risk. As you've pointed out, we're already slowed helping Aravashniel and Anevia along, so a little further won't make much difference. If you pitched in, I think we'll barely be slowed at all."

Diplomacy (UT): 1d20 ⇒ 19

Zoresk pitches in to help carry a body, hoping to share the load with another.

Kord ignores Horgus, "We're taking the bodies. Let's keep moving."

" Lead the way Horgus!"

Dalmien slips the scroll, the potion and the bull's head in his backpack

Barek shakes his head and moves along with the rest of the group.

Horgus turns to Kord, moving quite close to him in defiance: "What do you mean by we? I'm in no shape to carry an armored man! Who's carrying who? and what"

"Horgus, do not fret. We are not asking you to carry anything. I know you fear for your life, but we'll get out of here in one piece, I guarantee that. Have you seen the quick work Kord and Zoresk did of those monsters? We're also in the presence of a powerful mage. No, what I fear is what will come next. And we'll need all the help we can get. Bringing the body will be of prime importance for our case!"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

Kord nods at Dalmien, "That's right, we'll do the work Horgus. Now, we really need to move out."

Shaking his head in resignation at Horgus' obstinacy, Zoresk takes a partial hold on of the false Crusaders and motions to Barek, "Mind helping with the other end?" Grunting with effort, he allows Valor to take the lead, letting his fauchard light the way as it hangs from it's carrying loop.

I keep waiting for Horgus to have some sort of redeeming feature, but it just isn't happening. :P Ready to move on whenever.

Barek grimaces and covers his mouth with the edge of his shirt, shaking his head. "Gods...the things we do in the name of proof..."

Eamch suppresses a smile as Horgus is quickly overruled. Horgus is actually working hard to bring the entire group together, in opposition to him! He turns away so his smirk is not visible to the others. He'll walk alongside Valor (or the member of his team that leads us on).

Heavily burdened, you crawl your way through the dark stony tunnel, inching slowly upward, among the dancing shadows made by the light on Kord's sword. Suddenly, you realize that something has changed. It takes you a few steps to realize it.

The dampness, the smell! It smells like the city...

The tunnel starts to widen, and Herald says to you: "Here we are. Let me do the talking."

A cylindrical cavern opens before you, with a great stone door at its end. Four mongrels stand guard in front of it. Herald goes on and speaks with them for a few long minutes. They seem to argue with him, but eventually, they nod, and he waves you over.

"Just remember, Uplanders are not loved here. Keep to yourselves." he looks at Horgus in particular as he says this.

The stone door opens, revealing a two-hundred-foot-wide cavern, in the middle of which stands a small, dark lake. The walls and ceiling above are aglow with thick sheets of luminescent fungi. In the center of the lake, over two dozen low stone buildings cluster on a rocky one-hundred-foot-wide island.

Lights glow in the windows of the buildings, giving the settlement an almost welcoming look. Rafts made of mismatched planks of timber bob along the length of a crooked pier at the lake’s closest shore.

"We'll need to take a boat to cross over. Welcome to Neathholm!"

The dwarf is a bit in awe of the cavern. He asks Herald "How far below the surface are we?" He wants to ask how many mongrels live here, but bites his tongue. Best not to sound like we are assessing them like a threat...

Eamch looks at the rafts dubiously. As they move in this cavern, he avoids any gestures that could be interpreted as hostility. He follows Herald's instructions as exactly as he can.

"Far enough. I'd say two hours away, but we've not taken those passages in a long time..."

"Very impressive Herald. Will you take us to your leader? Is there an inn or other place where we can sleep? "

Nodding his weary acknowledgement, Zoresk watches as Herald makes his case to the guards at the great door. Here's hoping they'll be amenable. If we have to backtrace, who knows how long it'll take to reach the surface. Relieved when the mongrel finally waves the group over, Zoresk trudges along the cavern and makes a point to nod politely to the guards at the door.

Remaining silent, Zoresk stares with open-mouthed surprise at the size of the cavern and the lake. Regaining some composure, he whistles softly in appreciation at the city. "Neathholm is an impressive sight to behold. Beautiful in its own way as it's lit up by all that fungi. Kord has the right of it though, I'm tuckered out and wouldn't mind a rest if you've a place. I think we've some gold and other goods we could trade with you for compensation." Pausing and thinking a moment, Zoresk frowns a little and says in a slightly shameful town, "I'd also like to thank you for your help getting up here. I don't know how long it would have taken us to find a way out if we hadn't run into you."

It is Herald that turns to you and says: "All of us dream one day of living on the surface. We've heard it's great up there. This is home though, our haven in the undeground jungle. Consider it your home. For the night, I would be honored if you'd stay at my place. We'll bring you to the mayor tomorrow. He'll want to meet with you."

Meanwhile, Valor helps you get settled in three small skiffs. The mongrels operating them show the same taints as the others, their facial features heavily deformed and generally a mix of other non-humanoid creatures. They seem reluctant to take you, but Herald and Valor explain the situation and they relax a bit, though their drilling gaze makes it clear that they've not seen many "Uplanders" before.

Forming a line, the three "boats" trace slow triangles that propagate on each side, disturbing the quiet black surface of the lake.

Uneasy, you spy a bubble from time to time, hinting at the presence of life underneath the otherwise mysterious surface of the lake.

The boats arrive at a long dock, where about a dozen boats sit. Some have been there for so long that getting aboard would require a severe blow to the head, their hull overtaken by moss of every shades of green and purple. On both sides are small towers, mere ladders really, each with a Mongrel with a great crossbow, watching you disembark. Their armours remind you of some of the old sets you've seen, long out of fashion. These certainly date back to the First Crusade.

"I would be honored to be your guest, and meet your mayor if he's willing." Eamch will settle in quickly. If there is a shortage of beds or pallets for people to sleep on, Eamch will be the first to volunteer to sleep on the bare floor.

Eamch doesn't have anything he needs to do out of the ordinary.

"I am also grateful for your hospitality, Herald. I look forward to meeting with the Mayor".

Kord will survey the area around the skiffs, looking for any signs of danger.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

Smiling tiredly, Zoresk nods his thanks to Herald. "You're very kind to take us into your home. I look forward to speaking with the mayor." Following the mongrels onto the skiffs, Zoresk eyes the ramshackle boats warily, but climbs in nonetheless. The fighter's sense of unease only grows as he spots the bubbles trickling up from the depths of the lake. I don't care to think about what might be down there.

Happy to be back on terra firma, Zoresk helps unload the skips, though he studies the armor of the mongrels at the docks with curiosity. Do those seem familiar for some reason? Pondering the mystery of it, Zoresk thinks over what he knows of the history of the Crusades to see if he can more exactly place the outdated armor.

Knowledge(History): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24 Do I have any more information about the armor/First Crusade? I'm curious specifically about what group within the Crusade this armor might belong to.

The con man smiles as he gets on one of the little skiffs, remembering simpler times learning his trade and eking out a tough but enjoyable living. Seeing the bubbles just under the surface, he steels himself against the urges to turn around or to get even faster back to land.

Seeing the outdated armor, he chuckles just briefly and smiles, seeing that these people really are capable of utilizing everything to their advantage.

Looking nervously at the men holding the menacing crossbows, Dalmien quickly follows the rest of the group.
" I concur. I have a feeling Neathholm will be a haven of peace compared to whatever lies on the surface now. "

After offloading the boats, you make your way through the town. The first thing you notice, is that its citizens stare at you as much as you stare at them, but you can sense they're quickly filled with a sense of shame, and collect their scarves, hats or hoods to hide their features a bit.

Along your way, you pass numerous collapsed buildings, some mongreals are still hard at work and pleading for people to help unearth loved ones. From what you can tell, there are at least five buildings in your surroundings that fell to the same fate when the earth shook.

Kord will roll up his sleeves and will go the the nearest collapsed building to assist in clearing the rubble.

Strength: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

As his mind turns over the stories told to him about the fall of Sarkoris and the first attempts to retake it, Zoresk fails to notice the gawking that his companions elicit. It's only when Kord moves away from the group that Zoresk breaks his reverie and notices the havoc wrought on the city by the recent quakes. Mouth twisting sourly from shame, Zoresk asks Valor, "If you're in need of some help after this quake, I'm happy to pitch in. I just need to get rid of all this gear I'm carrying. I'm not sure how much use I'll be hauling it all around."

Once he's disposed of his excess burdens, Zoresk finds Kordica and assists in clearing away rubble.

Is there some number of strength rolls you'd like, DW?

"Yes, yes. Let's help, but let's see our wounded and our burdens to Herald's home, then those of us able return to help."

Dalmien to the others: "I better accompany Anevia and Aravashnial to wherever we go."

More quietly so Horgus won't hear:

"...And keep an eye on Horgus, so he doesn't say or do anything stupid."

Herald leaves you at the sight and returns a few minutes later with a small cart where you dump your kit and the bodies. Anevia and Aravashnial jump on the back edge of it, and Herald disappears through the streets: "I'll be back in a quarter!" he says as he leaves, followed by Dalmien and Horgus.

It's hard work , but it certainly gets your mind off the other numerous concerns that have been crawling up your minds as you edged your way through the Kenabres underground.

After two hours of toil, you have unearthed three bodies, unfortunately, they're all dead. The mongrels mourn their dead in silence, but you can tell that your actions have spoken loudly, as they tap on your shoulders and share their water with you.

One of them finally breaks the silence and says: "What news from the surface? An earthquake such as this must have brought down some buildings..."

Zoresk glances around at his companions and says, morosely, "I'm afraid at least part of the plaza in front of St-Clydwell's Cathedral collapsed. But there's worse news to be had, as the city is under attack." Zoresk pauses a moment and takes a drink, gaining a moment to gauge their reactions. If his friend's don't interject, he continues, "It looks like the wardstone in Kenabres has fallen. We don't know what condition the city is otherwise, but it probably isn't good."

Wiping a hand across his face to wipe away some sweat, and the start of a tear, Zoresk clears his throat. "The Ascended alone know how bad it is up there right now. Given what we can remember, of demons attacking, it probably isn't good."

Have Horgus and I rejoined the others after accompanying Anevia and Arashnial? I will have tried to convince Horgus to come back with me and help the others.

Have Horgus and I rejoined the others after accompanying Anevia and Arashnial? I will have tried to convince Horgus to come back with me and help the others.

Yes, and you convinced him, though he complained a lot.

Breathing heavily, after uncharacteristic physical exertion, Dalmien takes a big swig of water.

"Indeed...I think the whole city fell. How many reside here? I fear for your safety."

The five mongrels assembled stare at you with wide eyes: "Fell? Kenabres..? Is all hope lost then?"

Dalmien reaches for Terendelev's scale in his pocket.

"Hope..? No. All hope is not lost. Men, your ancestors in fact, have fought and slayed demons. And Men can triumph again.

With newfound confidence, to the others and Herald.

"We must regroup. Figure out our next move. In the meantime, the fact that this city hasn't been overrun means we're safe, I think. The demons would have had time to take Neattholm if they knew of its existence"

Zoresk nods to affirm Dalmien's words, saying in a steely determined voice, "So long as of among the children of Sarkoris draws breath, there is hope. We won't abandon our country so easily as that."

Shrugging to the Dalmien's assessment of their safety, "The fighting could very well still be going on. It doesn't strike me that enough time has passed for the city to completely overrun. I could be wrong though, it's hard for me to tell the passing of time without the sun and stars as a guide."

Eamch presses his pouch wherein lies a precious platinum coin. Lost in memory for a moment, he comes around and agrees with Dalmien. "He is right. It is not a city that fights and repels the hordes. It is good and brave folks who have much to lose. Even if the city is lost, it setback to be certain, but by no means the end."

A smile of hope rises on the mongrels' distorted features. Your words have carried all the way to their heart.

You part, led by Herald, and the other mongrels start the other way. As they leave, you can hear them talking among themselves. You can't make all they're saying: "...you think... ...our help... the traitors..."

Herald points to a small house. Like the others, it's somewhat conical, with walls made of grey baked clay briks, with some kind of dry plants to make a roof: "It seems to have held well enough! Welcome to my home. Please feel like it is yours."

You get a good rest, though have no idea whether it is day or night on the surface.

Let me know if there is anything you need to do before I move on.

Does Herald live alone? Does he have any children? Dalmien would find out more about the status of "uplanders" down here by discussing it with the locals.

Barek just looks on, seeing that these people don't hide anything in their appearances. They're blatantly honest in the way they handle everything.

After helping free people from the rubble, he rests. His knives remain hidden on his body, the cool metal a familiar calming element in an otherwise strange day.