For several weeks, excitement has been building in Kenabres — Armasse is coming! Traditionally Armasse was an opportunity for scholars and priests to come together to study the lessons of history from wars past. However, since Aroden’s death, this holy day has become more about training commoners in weaponry, choosing squires, and ordaining new priests. Over time, Armasse has grown to encompass jousting competitions, mock duels, battle reenactments, and other festival events. In Kenabres, the festival date, 16 Arodus, is eagerly anticipated, for it provides distractions from the horrors of being on the front line of the war. Smiles on faces normally marred by downcast eyes and furrowed brows do wonders for city morale in the weeks leading up to the event.
Although Armasse is a citywide celebration, the majority of the event, including its jousting matches and other entertainments, takes place at Clydwell Plaza, just west of the cathedral. It is here that the campaign begins, with the PCs in attendance near the cathedral’s facade — each of whom has been lucky enough to get a good spot to observe the opening ceremonies at noon. In just a few moments, Lord Hulrun will take his place before the temple for the blessing which officially opens the festival.
While some crusaders do make the journey from the southern reaches, it's not many. Thus the dusky-skinned Keleshite girl stands out. While she has endeavored to join a crusader company so far her luck has been minimal, with difficulty convincing anyone a slight girl like her would be worth the hassles she brings, being too weak even to wear her own armor. While she's signed up for some mock duels late in the day (being unable to procure even a place in the main events where many are chosen from to begin training) she has instead opted to try some street dance for earning a little more money while she tries to go on.
Thus she wears some rather gaudy silks that flutter about her, although with a holy symbol to Saerenrae (silver, not gold) on her chest, looking up at the podium and waiting for the declaration....
"It's alright," Jens mutters to the girl at his side. "I know you still get all skittish around crowds, so you just stay here, old girl. You won't be alone, and I'll come back for you soon. Just wait for me, and try not to miss me too much."
That all said, he strokes the horse's neck reassuringly and turns to the stable-master, handing him the bridle. "Her name's Alfsigr, and you'd do well to remember that. I'm not yet sure when I'll return for her, but here's enough for the night, just in case." He hands over his coin and leaves without another word. The horse, a heavy, shaggy bay with fierce eyes, looks after him with an almost human expression of sorrow.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
He strides purposefully through the square - a tall, broad Ulfen man, his thick golden hair and beard streaked with grey, his boots thundering on the stone. His scale mail clinks as he walks; his longsword slaps against his thigh with each step; the shield on his back sways slightly, its rough wooden surface painted with a crude symbol of Pharasma, Ulfen runes around the edges spelling out a prayer for death. He signs up for the jousting tournament out of curiosity - may as well try my skill against these young pups - catching a flash of bright colour out of the corner of his eye before making his way to the podium. A good spot - not too close, not too far. He was tall enough to see over most of the crowd, anyway.
He crosses his arms over his large chest, a proud figure even in his middle-age. Well, here we are. A festival is a good way to keep spirits high... as good a way as any. He sees the source of the colour from earlier - a Keleshite woman, wrapped head to toe in bright silks - but pays her no further attention, staring forward at the podium.
Rising with the other crusaders and pilgrims just before dawn, the armoured figure took up his place in the queue to enter through the Southgate into Kenabres. The lines were long and today was no different. He had stood waiting all day yesterday and it still took several hours before he was through the walls. He followed the inexorable crawl of the masses unsure where he was to go or how to proceed. He eventually found himself in a large open air plaza partitioned off into different areas. The center of attention were the lists where many knights were waiting for their call while a couple were already in saddle preparing for their run. Dozens of squires were hurrying back and forth in their duties to their masters.
Turning slowly from side to side, the scene of ordered chaos was absorbed through the narrow slit in the nondescript iron helm which rose nearly a full foot above most of the gathered throng. Continuing to follow the flow of the traffic, links of chain of the armoured shirt glinted dully in the late morning sunlight, he came to a stop at the boards in front of the ring for the melee. "I would compete." He stated to the woman who was checking in participants.
Turning slowly from side to side, the scene of ordered chaos was absorbed through the narrow slit in the nondescript iron helm which rose nearly a full foot above most of the gathered throng. Continuing to follow the flow of the traffic, links of chain of the armoured shirt glinted dully in the late morning sunlight, he came to a stop at the boards in front of the ring for the melee. "I would compete." He stated to the woman who was checking in participants.
"Of course, good sir, you shall have your chance to test your mettle if you like." The middle-aged woman offers Kosz a long roll of parchment and a stub of charcoal. "Make your mark here, then return in an hour, after Lord Hulrun's benediction."
Aaliyah quietly reaches out her hand to accept it as well to try to sign up...
Kel walked into town with the slow measured pace of someone who'd been on the road for a long time. He'd long since tossed off the burned and bloodied tabbard of his former employer, but his economical armor and simple weaponry gave him away as a fairly normal rank and file soldier. His sword and shield were slung on his back for ease of carry.
He was a handsome, if tired and serious looking man who seemed at first glance to be a normal human, or perhaps a half-elf, but a closer inspection revealed that the whites of his eyes were instead an inky black making his reddish irises look like they were floating in space.
He wandered through the excited town, surprised that he'd arrived during such a festival. Upon hearing the criers call for competitors for a tourney, he chuckled to himself.
Might as well. Maybe that would get me noticed by someone who can introduce me to the scholars I need to speak with.
There is nothing you can do! Stop this!
I've come this far. Managed not to starve to death out there. Seems like the hard part is past. Why would I want to give up now?
Because I don't want your help!
That's a shame, because I'm giving it to you anyway.
I hope we die in this pathetic tournament.
There's a slim Vudrani youth weaving his way in and out of the spectators, visitors, knights, crusaders, merchants, priests, etc ad nauseam. Like Aaliyah, he stands out somewhat by merit of his race: Mendevians are, on the whole, a fair-skinned lot, but all the same, the boy (?) does not gawk around like one newly arrived. He moves through the crowd like one quite familiar with Kenabres, and with the customs of Armasse.
Resh is back in the Tower, of course: where the old woman is a semi-permanent fixture. He wishes she had come to the festivities, but the elderly mage grumps that spectacle is for those with eyes to see. At least she doesn't expect him to study today, or help out with the tasks necessary to seeing the city's visiting wizards comfortable in their stay at the Tower.
He also wishes his parents were present in the city today, but demons pay no heed to what festivals mortals observe, and the danger does not cease just because mortals celebrate. Even now they are busy on a patrol inside the Wound. He sends a prayer aloft to Desna, as he does every day they are gone: bring them back to Kenabres safely again, Lady Luck. I beg of you.
Sanjay's quick eyes dart through the crowd, seeking possibilities among the newcomers. Sanjay wishes to return to the front lines again-- to prove himself, after an almost disastrous first outing-- and to do so requires gear, and gear requires money, and money is not made when studying languages and cantrips under Resh's supervision.
Money is made by guiding newcomers about the city.
The flash of bright silk catches his eye (as it is meant to do, of course), and Sanjay stops a moment to grin at the dance. The goal is to make money, today, not to pass it to others, but... well, it is an age since he saw such dancing. If ever he really has, in Kenabres: not a city known for its joy, or hedonism. He tosses four copper pieces to the scarf of the woman-- a small sum, but again, he is not rich-- before grinning at her and melting once more into the crowd.
Figures draw the eye: a very tall warrior, his features obscured by his helm, signing up for battle. Another warrior, Ulfen it would seem, with the death-spiral on his shield-- a foreboding omen, that; most crusaders do not come to the Wound seeking death so blatantly. Yet another warrior, who blends into the rank and file at first glimpse, but Sanjay's eyes are trained to see things beyond first glimpses.
He trails this last one for a bit, taking in the small details of his odd eyes, then shrugs to himself. He cannot make money if he does not take the risk, although he would not wager this one has bags of gold in his battered pack.
"Noble soldier," he calls, approaching the strange-eyed man, "welcome to Kenabres! Do you have lodging with one of the crusader camps outside the walls, or would you be guided to an inn? One that is-- tolerant, and accepting? Five copper and I am your humble servant!"
What in the world was Milani thinking, sending me here.? Vaashti couldn't help but wonder at that. Here in this place so close to the Worldwound, her dusky purplish skin seemed to stand out even more than it did amongst the pale-skinned Varisians. Thank goodness she had the sense to bring a heavy long cloak. There was no disguising her skin, but at least the horns and small wings would be under cover. The lumps would be there, marking her as anything but human, but at least they were out of sight.
While she was thinking this, Vaashti hissed in pain as someone trod on her tail. She quickly hoisted in up inside the cloak as the man scowled at her, his eyes going slightly wider as he took in her skin and other features.
"Sorry," he mumbled, then staggered back into the crowd.
She had heard of the Armasse, of course; who hadn't? And while she had no desire to try and bash someone's head in for fun and profit, there was profit to be made nonetheless. After all, if you've got a bunch of great louts trying to bash each other's heads in, someone was sure to need healing. And they'd usually pay to have the down time reduced.
Vaashti followed a couple of armored men to a table where the matches were being assigned. She waited for them to leave, then approached the woman at the table.
"Could you point me to the healers' tent, please? I wish to offer my services to heal these great louts from the results of their poor decisions."
Aaliyah quietly reaches out her hand to accept it as well to try to sign up...
The older woman passes the list from Kosz to Aaliyah, taking in the girl's slight frame with a measured look. She shrugs, "Of course, the melee is open to all who would assume the risk of such combat." After Aaliyah also signs up, the woman calls out, "Enlistment in the melee is now closed for the opening ceremonies of Armasse!" The crowd begins to drift in the general direction of the Cathedral at this pronouncement.
Vaashti followed a couple of armored men to a table where the matches were being assigned. She waited for them to leave, then approached the woman at the table.
"Could you point me to the healers' tent, please? I wish to offer my services to heal these great louts from the results of their poor decisions."
The woman's eyes narrow as she takes in Vaashti's unusual skin coloration and cloaked form. After a tense, silent moment she points to a striped pavilion some yards off, and turns away without a word. By this point, most of the people nearby seem to be heading in the direction of the Cathedral, as it is nearly noon.
Vaashti thanked the woman, even though she had already turned away with the all-to-familiar attitude. She turned towards the striped pavilion and headed that way.
Reaching the tent, she cautiously entered, and called out "Hello. I was told this was the healers' tent. I am here to offer my healing services for the melee. I know the events are about to start, so I thought I'd best check in here quick before the opening ceremonies, or whatever they are."
The man with the odd eyes looked down at the youth and patted himself down, managing to come up with a few copper coins for the lad.
"Much appreciated. I could definitely use a meal and a bath. I'm curious about this tourney though. Am I too late to sign up? Maybe you could show me where the pavilion is? I see the pennants, but I don't know the route."
"Name's Kel, by the way."
That little urchin is going to rob you blind. You're going to wake up in a gutter with nothing but your trousers and a rash.
Sanjay bows again, and quickly catches the coins with a smile, flicking fingers to his temple in salute. "You are gracious, sir Kel! I think--" (the young man flicks a glance at the sky, judging the position of the sun) "--they will be closing the sign-ups for the melee in short order, but if you will follow, I shall lead you directly to the pavilion you seek."
He's as good his word-- Sanjay quickly starts leading through the crowd, cutting through an alley, and eventually appearing before the pavilion in question. He talks the entire way: Kel is going to get a crash course in the layout of Kenabres, from the division of the districts to notable citizens.
"--Kite is always heavily under guard, of course. Oh, and the Defender's Heart is the best of the inns for such as yourself, sir Kel-- the clientele is broad and varied enough that all are tolerated as long as they keep to common codes of conduct. But I doubt sir will make trouble!"
He bows again when they come in sight of the pavilion. "If I may assist with further directions, I remain at your service."
"I'm not a Sir." Kel says with a wry smile. "I work for a living, same as you."
Once they arrived at the pavilion, Kel dig around in his pockets and came up with a pair of silver coins. "I dont have much, but I know the worth of having someone around who knows the local layout. How much of your time will this get me?"
The little wretch isn't going to have to rob you. You're just going to give him everything you have. Idiot.
Sanjay straightens at the gleam of silver, clearing his throat. He clasps his hands together behind his back. "A day's time to a silver piece, s-- Kel. I can run messages, advise as to the best market-stalls and weaponsmiths, and--" he smiles, "--tell you all the gossip of the city.
"Also... I have been beyond the border into the Wound." Only once, it's true, but... still. "I can describe conditions... somewhat."
He bows again. "Sanjay Gupachandra, at your service, Kel."
"Nice to meet you, Sanjay." Kel says handing the youth one of the silver pieces. "Here's for today's work."
Aaliyah looks on quietly as Vashti suddenly starts making her way over to the tent, for a moment looking like she's going to say something, but then just turns towards the commencement speech politely.
Sanjay takes the silver piece with another quick duck of his head-- then grins mischievously.
"But sir has now paid me rate-and-again," he says, touching the pocket of his tunic where he'd tucked away the copper pieces. "You are owed change-- or another service."
His humor fades away and he takes a step closer, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard by the passersby. "Advice then, if you'll take it-- tieflings are little loved here, Kel. It is not as bad as it once was, with the witch-hunts, but... war breeds fanatics, and some cling bitterly to hatred of anything they can call an enemy. For your own safety, please keep your head down."
Jens tunes out the noise of the square, crossing his thick arms over his chest. His thoughts turn to Alfsigr - she looked sad as he left. Yes, he felt a little bad now that he thought about it, but she wasn't a smart beast. She was just a horse. Not like Cobalt! Now there had been a fine specimen, a beast with near-human intelligence. He hadn't been skittish around crowds either.
He snorts, not unlike the horses he's thinking of, and opens his eyes again, eyes fixed firmly on the podium. A joust later would take his mind off things - he'd already signed up, after all; he may as well see how Alfsigr would hold up under the pressure. He didn't expect a miracle from her. But for now, there was a speech to be heard.
Reaching the tent, she cautiously entered, and called out "Hello. I was told this was the healers' tent. I am here to offer my healing services for the melee. I know the events are about to start, so I thought I'd best check in here quick before the opening ceremonies, or whatever they are."
Vaashti enters the long, low tent to find rows of simple cots and benches laid out for the healing and refreshment of those warriors who may have need throughout the day. A half-elf clad in the raiment of an Iomedaean priest stands with his back to the tent entrance, folding a wool blanket. He calls over his shoulder, "Wonderful, we can certainly use the help! The blessing of the Inheritor be upon...you..." his words trail off as he turns to get a good look at Vaashti. A brief, but all too awkward moment passes and the priest speaks again, his welcoming tone vanished. "Actually, we have no need of your services here, but thank you just the same. I was just closing up the tent anyway, and I'm sure you'll want to move along. You wouldn't want to miss the opening prayer of Armasse. Off you go, then." The priest ushers Vaashti quickly from the pavilion, carefully making sure he never actually makes physical contact with her.
The noon hour approaches, and the commencement of Armasse draws nigh. Everyone in attendance presses near the Cathedral of St. Clydwell, awaiting the arrival of Lord Hulrun and the blessing which will officially open the festival.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
And then, the party awakens in utter darkness.
Sense returns to the senseless.
Heads throb with thunderous headaches; ears ring.
The choking smell of dust in the air makes it difficult to breathe.
The sound of clattering rocks, coughing, and moans of pain are all around.
The feel of broken rubble presses against aching bodies; the taste of dirt and grit fills mouths.
Memory returns even slower than sensation.
It remains pitch black.
Jens comes to slowly, as if swimming through a thick fog. He sits up, then stands , brushing dust and rubble from his beard. "Ho there!" he calls, his voice booming, his thick accent coming through. "Everyone still breathing, gather here! Does anyone have a torch?" What in the nine hells happened?
Sanjay struggles to his feet, coughing painfully through the dust. His eyes can see absolutely nothing in the blackness.
He hears the bellowing voice of a man-- perhaps the Ulfen he had seen earlier, by his accent-- and he digs in the folds and pockets of his robes and pouches with scraped fingers.
"I h-have flint and steel," he calls hoarsely. "I can try and make a light, sir--"
Jens sighs at the sound of the voice. A kid, by the sound of it. Wonderful. "Follow my voice, lad," he calls in the general direction he heard the voice coming from. "I'll keep you safe." I hope. "Let's see if we can get some light in here." He gropes at his back, finding an arrow. Bending it in his hands, he snaps off the head and attempts to light the end with his own flint and steel to improvise a torch.
Aaliyah spits out some dust, then, almost without thinking, creates a small sphere of light floating over one of her hands. "Ugh...where are we?" she asks, looking about at everyone who made it.
Vaashti grimaces at the half-elf's attitude, then says "And Milani's blessings upon you." Still, she supposed she should have known better. Very few in this place were likely to treat her as anything other than a monster.
***
She awoke...
At least, she thought she was awake. With the darkness it was hard to tell. Perhaps she was dreaming? But then, her ears didn't usually ring like this in her dreams.
...keupwakeupwake
Kel's eyes snapped open and he sat up like he'd been electrocuted.
"It's ok. I'm up. It's alright. Shhh. You're alright." he said in a voice full of concern. He closed his eyes again and held his head against the throbbing pain.
I couldn't wake you. I thought you were gone and I was alone again and it was dark and I couldn't get out. It was just like the box. I don't want to go back there. Don't do that again!
"I won't if I can help it." he muttered, then looked around and noticed the others.
"Oh. Um... hello?" he said awkwardly. "What's going on?"
Sanjay stops hunting for his flint and steel once the supernatural light fills the area. He shades his eyes-- his head is throbbing-- and squints around at the other figures who are moving, and tries to judge their surroundings.
"--Kel," he says, with a sigh of relief for someone he knows, even if not well.
"Sanjay. What happened? I hope you aren't here because of me. I, uh, I don't remember anything."
I told you the urchin was trouble. Probably his fault we're here.
That's enough.
...
Kel stood up and dusted himself off, taking a good look at the others. something about one of the other men made him nervous but he couldn't put his finger on why. He forgot all about it a moment later when he saw the woman with the purple skin. He stared, then caught himself and tried to look away but couldn't quite manage. Figuring he'd better do something instead of just standing there like an idiot, he spoke.
"Is everyone alright?"
"I'm either fine, or dead. Dead is possible, but I would have thought it would hurt less." She shakes herself off, her tone giving no real indication of whether she's kidding or not. "Also, I'm not sure how we got this far underground."
"Sanjay. What happened? I hope you aren't here because of me. I, uh, I don't remember anything."
Sanjay shakes his head helplessly. "I regret I can be of no assistance. My own memory is also... incomplete."
He stares around, looking at the others-- the Ulfen, yes-- the dancer-woman-- a woman with skin of a violet hue...
Taking the stub of charcoal and affixing his signature to the roll, he commits to the games. The warrior stays near the ring until people begin moving towards the front of the cathedral. Moving with the press, he looks toward the doors...
-------------------------------
Ugh, another night watch. Can't ever see anything in the pitch black without some kind of light, but no, the commander won't break discipline for that- wait, it's been a year since the dark gave up it's secrets to me. Fumbling, he manages to right the askew great helm. Okay, so that's a potential battlefield hazard. Good to know.
Rising to a sitting position, he looks around. There is a faint light in the distance. Pushing up to his feet, the knight moves towards the light, stopping to check on any others he comes across in the rubble.
Jens drops the broken arrow and puts his own flint and steel away. "I'm alive, for one. No idea how we got here, though." He sighs, waiting for his old eyes to adjust to the near-darkness. The light from that spell was starting to spread, thank the gods. "I suggest we all stick together if we're to find a way out of here, wherever here is. Introductions might be in order. I'm Jens. Jens Varmodsson."