You are suddenly in a pitch black place. Your head is throbbing with a horrible headache, and your ears are ringing. There is weight on your chest, and you have difficulty breathing. The air is heavy and stagnant. You feel debris and rubble covering your body, although you are not trapped. You can hear rocks clattering, coughing, and groans nearby, alerting you that you are not alone.
Other than the throbbing pain in your temple, you are otherwise unharmed.
She coughs out some dust. First order of business, she heaves whatever was sitting on her chest out of the way with some difficulty. Sitting up, she fumbles to activate one of the sunrods on her belt. "Hello?" She strikes the rod at the floor, and it hisses to life, bathing the area in flickering light. "Are you injured? I'm Arae." She stands, holding the sunrod high with one hand, brushing off her clothes with the other.
Once she has the lay of her immediate sorroundings, or if anyone seems urgently in need of assistance, she makes towards them, taking care where she puts her feet.
The distant squeaks of bats echo throughout this vast cavern. The ceiling and far walls recede into the darkness, coarse with the texture of rough stone. Behind you, the wall has collapsed in an enormous mound of rubble. Here and there the arms or legs of victims who did not survive the fall protrude from the debris. Laying on the rubble mound is a dwarf, squat and heavy-set, with a coarse reddish-brown beard. He is the source of the groaning, though he likewise does not seem hurt.
To your left a sudden glimmer of light catches your eye. A tall man clad in scale mail, with a heavy shield emblazoned with a lit torch, stands up straight. You recognize the sigil as the same as the one embroidered into Aurius' tabard. Around his head is a dazzling halo of light. Caked with filth, he peers towards Arae and her sunrod. "Hello! I am fine. Are you hurt? What happened?" His voice is lilted, almost musical.
A little further in the distance are three bodies, unconscious. One is a young human woman with short dark hair clad in leather armor. Another, an elven man, wearing flowing robes. And finally, a short, portly human man in ruined fine clothes. Opposite them, in the back of the cavern, a disturbing shape looms. Nearly the size of a horse, what appears to be an immense black spider crouches silent and still on the ground.
Memories flood back to you...
At noon you stood in Clydwell Plaza in front of the Cathedral of St. Clydwell, awaiting the opening commencement by Lord Hulrun, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd was massive, but you were in a good spot to see all the action. Hulrun cleared his throat, but 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, and a moment later, the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air as the earth violently trembled.
To the west, the fortress known as the Kite, the location of Kenabres' wardstone, erupted into a plume of red fire and lightning. A moment later, a powerful roar accompanied the mighty silver dragon Terendelev, sacred guardian of Kenabres, rose into the air to cheers and applause. Above her another form appeared, evil incarnate. A demon three times the size of the largest man, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripping a flaming sword and whip. Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres!
The ground began to shake and disgorge demons of every shape and size into the streets, while the dragon and the balor lord clashed above. The fight was furious but fast. The demon king cut into Terendelev's body and the duo crashed into the Cathedral. A titanic demon erupted at the far end of the plaza, reducing several buildings into ruin, and creating a rift that shot across the plaza. It opened under your feet, angling down into the darkness.
As you fell, you made eye contact with the silver dragon as she died. She muttered a few arcane words in draconic under her breath, and feebly stretched out a bleeding talon towards you. You felt her magic envelop you, slowing your descent into the darkness as a feather on the wind. The last thing you saw before the rift slammed shut was the Storm King laughing over Terendelev's body as he cleaved his mighty sword through her neck.
His voice was pleasant. Soothing, even. Her own had more of a snap to it. "I came out all right, as well, although I fear I cannot say as much for the city itself. The Kite may have exploded." She shook her head sadly, her dirt-specked curls flyng around her face. There was precious little they could do about what was going on above at this point. Grim face set, she checked on the unconsciouss people, trying to make out if any of them were injured, and dig them out of the debree if neccesary. "I never did get your name. Help me determine if any of these people need help?" She kneels down to examine them one by one.
"The.....Kite?" The man moves closer to Arae, his face pale. "O ni shu kumins woll izurren shu cosw woshies shu phrisucsoin if shu waurkonj ssinu?" His voice suddenly changes to a different tongue, soft-spoken and breathy, yet panicked. Up close, it is apparent that he is a young man. He doesn't look older than 16.
You inspect each injured person. All are unconscious, but breathing steadily. The human woman's leg is broken, but at least there is no visible bone. The portly man appears uninjured. The elven man has it the worst. His face has been rendered a horrific mass of burns, with a deep wound through his eyes.
"Och, shut it, bairn. Speak common wa dornt ye? The dwarf, now fully on his feet, trudges towards Arae, shooting a disapproving look at the still babbling youth. He wears the red tabard common of the Mendevian crusaders, and wields a hammer. "G'day, lassie. Mah name is Norgrym. Norgrym Hammerfell. Wa dorn't we gie these folk oan their feet? Healin' isn't mah specialty, but if Torag wills it, we'll gie it dain."
Norgrym clutches a small iron hammer in his fist and mutters in dwarven, channeling out a wave of positive energy as he does so.
"Hmph. Weel, loch ah said, th' hammer's mah specialty, nae th' healin'." The three begin to stir, some groaning softly, or in the case of the well-dressed man, rather loudly.
The woman is the first to sit up. "Irabeth??? Irabeth!!!" Her eyes dart frantically from face to face, then start to water as she sees the limbs sticking out from the rubble nearby. "No... No! Irabeth!" She tries to get on her feet, but upon taking her first step on her broken leg, she lets out an agonized cry and falls back down.
She grit her teeth as the young man went off in Auran. Panic was bad for thinking straight. It was also contageous. She could try to reassure him, but she'd most likely have to lie in doing so, and she was notoriously bad at that. He was very young, a good bit younger than her even: that approach might backfire, and cause him to break down completely. Yeah. No, not having that one. He was part of an order though, so presumably he'd been trained for this (well, perhaps not this) and was currently completely forgetting his training. If she could remind him of that, he might become more reasonable. Arae stood up straight, and squared her feet.
"What are you?! Straighten up soldier, state your name and rank!" She barked, in her best drill-sergeant imitation.
"It's good to have you, Norgrym. I am Arae. No last name, I'm afraid." She was still a bit more gruff than usual, mostly for the benefit of the young man. He was most likely a squire.
"Any healing at all is appreciated. Gods be good we shall have no further need of it, but knowing them, I'd advice that you save what you have left for later."
Putting herself between the bodies and the woman, so that she could focus on Arae instead of the dead. "Shh, calm down. Tell me about Irabeth." she rolled the woman over, getting a better look at her, while deciding what to do about the leg. "Norgrym, could you help out here? I'm thinking it might be a good idea to tie it to a splint so she can use it."
Diplomacy to make her calm down enough to treat her leg:
Heal check (and hoping Norgrym makes one as well):
”Wu nuuk si jus si shu serfaucu rojhs auwauw ir shu cosw shaull lu liss aunk… aunk.. what?” The young aasimar stares at Arae as if she were speaking some strange foreign language for a moment, then snaps out of it, as if in a trance. Norgrym smirks, approving as he gathers some long pieces of wood for the splint. “I… I'm Briathos Cassiel, squire of Ser Au- I mean… I was a squire. I’m just a page again now, of the Everbright Crusaders. I was supposed to be reassigned today at... at the festival..” He trails off, staring sadly upwards at the ceiling of the cavern.
Norgrym dumps what he found in front of Arae for her to use. A few good pieces of rope, some long pieces of wood, a few straps of leather here and there. "Ehh... ye seem loch ye can handle thes jist braw, Arae. Ahm mair likely tae make 'er leg graw back at a reit angle ur somethin'. Now git me a bridge tae build ur some walls tae patch up an' ahm yer dwarf."
The woman waits patiently while Arae patches her up. She's quiet at first, but after a minute she opens up. "Irabeth is my wife." she says firmly, stressing the present tense. "She's a paladin of the Eagle Watch. She must be up there on the surface helping people, fighting the demons...I need to get back to her. My name is Anevia Tirablade. Thank you for helping me."
"We all need to get back to the city, thanks for stating the obvious, girl." The portly man in the fine clothes is back on his feet. He trudges over to Arae, and extends a hand. "Horgus Gwerm's my name, no doubt you've heard of me, as I've made many generous donations to this city and to the war effort. You and the dwarf seem strong and capable. I'll be sure to reward you handsomely as well for escorting me back to my mansion in Kenabres. How's... 1,000 gold sound?" Horgus' eyes skim over Anevia and the elf. "First, we should ditch the cripples, and the glowing kid. They will only slow us down. What do you say?" Norgrym eyes Horgus like he is something foul that he stepped in, but doesn't say anything.
Meanwhile, the elf stirs and sits upright gingerly. He murmurs softly and four glowing orbs of light manifest from his outstretched hand, hovering gently around his face and throwing his injuries into sharp relief. "What? Why didn't that work? Why is it so dark.."
"Hold on, you know Aurius? Aurius Layolar?!" There was an intense light to her eyes just then, probably not entirely comfortable to be on the recieving end of. "Do you know where he is? What happened to him?"
----------------------
She listened raptly to the woman's story as she finishes up the splint. She wasn't a trained healer by any stretch of the imagination, in fact she was quite horrified the one time she tried to lift the leg to lay the bandage around the splint, and she ended up moving the fracture around instead, but she thought it'd let the woman - Anevia - walk, if she used a crotch at the same time.
She didn't comment on her story; there were few reassuring words she could offer. In all probability, Irabeth was dead. Anevia knew that, too. No reason to for Arae to make it worse by saying something crass just then. If she wanted to keep up hope regardless, she was free to do so. She held out a hand for Anevia to take as she stood again.
Hmm. Thinking that, while I myself am here searching for Aurius... Perhaps the right thing to do would be to abandon my search.
Meanwhile, Mr. Gwerm did not appear to be above saying crass things at the wrong time.
Arae's face curled in disgust. She had been willing to help him regardless - she still would, in fact. This would be one of those things she did because it was right, not because she wanted to - and she really, really didn't. Taking his money would be quite the satisfaction. But it'd give him some measure of legitimate control over the decision making process, being her defacto employer. It wasn't even a decision, really. Losing a prospective thousand gold - or however many she'd end up with after it was divided - stung. More than it should. She filed that feeling away to be examined in meditation and prayer at some later point. "'The cripples' and 'the glowing kid', as you say, are your best bet out of here, and it'd behoof you to treat them accordingly." "Scum", she thought, but didn't actually say out loud. "I'll promise to deliver you to your residence if and only if it is expeditious to do so, otherwise I will do my best to get you to safety. That is all."
The groan and flickering lights brought the elf to her attention. She took care to make noise as she approached him, treading a bit less softly than she otherwise would.
"Your eyes were injured in the attack. What do you remember?" She surveys the gashes again, now that he's provided more light. It really didn't look good. She wished she knew more of how injuries healed, but she didn't think he'd be seeing again without magic to aid his recovery. Powerful magic, at that.
"Here, let me try to bandage it."
She didn't strictly need shirt sleeves. They'd been high fashion to wear under dueling coats back in Absalom, though. Exposing the sleeves under her buff-coat took some work, but at last she had an arm bare, and with a flick of her dagger she had a length of relatively clean, white fabric that should serve well enough as bandage.
The elvish man seems stunned into silence by this news and sits there quietly while Arae bandages his wounds.
Briathos stares back, looking bewildered. ”Y-yeah, Ser Aurius. Y-you know him but you don’t know what happened? Are you related or something? You don’t really look like him..” He fidgets absentmindedly with his longsword, seemingly incapable of holding eye contact with Arae’s fierce stare for too long. ”Uhm, well, he was selected for a strike team into the Worldwound by Terendelev with a squad of other paladins… um, sorry, you’re from out of town, right? Terendelev is…was... the silver dragon appointed to protect Kenabres’ wardstone. She bore a dozen paladins on her back and flew across the border… she returned with only two, she had to leave Ser Aurius behind. Anyway she is…was.. the only survivor, the other paladins died from their wounds soon after.” Briathos kicks at a piece of rubble with his boot, his voice soft and somber. ”I heard that Terendelev almost died too, but Ser Aurius forced her to gather the wounded and escape, while he and the rest of the standing crusaders covered her retreat. That-that seems like something he’d do, right? Anyway… I’m sorry for your loss. I really am. He was a good man, and he was always fair and kind to me, even when I’d mess up, and go off speaking gibberish...”
Horgus snorts, unmoved by this tale of bravery. ”Serves them right, what did they think they’d accomplish, sending twelve men into the Worldwound like that? There’s a difference between being brave and foolish.”
”I… he… no!” Briathos glares at the little man, seeming to have at last found his nerve. ”No! Ser Aurius was a good man, and a brave man and he wouldn’t have just… thrown good men and women’s lives away if he didn’t think there was a good reason to.”
Horgus rolls his eyes and paces the ground impatiently. ”You’re young and naïve, kid. When you get to my age you’ll learn to see the world as it is, not what you want it to be. Anyway, if we’re going to be lugging around this merry band of bastards and broken things we should start now before we all starve to death. Unless you want to hold hands and cry some more about dead men that can’t be helped.”
The elf stands up, tall and regal. ”Lord Gwerm is right.” Horgus grins at finally getting some formal respect around here. ”We need to get moving. My name is Aravashnial, and I am a Riftwarden. I suspect I am far more experienced than any one of you, though this disability...complicates things. Arae, what experience do you have fighting demons and monsters?”
"I'll have to agree with mr. Briathos here - whatever else Aurius was, he'd never have gone in there if he wasn't trying to do something important - and thought he might accomplish it." Whether he'd still do it if he thought he wouldn't survive the endeavor was another matter.
Internally, she thought Gwerm was right about seeing the world for what it is. But knowledge was useless - worse, it was power - without a goal to apply it to. Trying to see the world for what it was, and then not trying to, not even want to try to change it? Her opinion of the man was rapidly plummeting.
"None, I'm afraid. From what I've read, I think we should either try to return to the army, such as it is, maybe try to help them rally, or try to stay out of sight of the demons. I'm glad you're here - especially your knowledge. Do you think it is likely the wardstone still stands? And could we do anything to help defend it?"
Aravashnial nods sagely, his mouth pursed. "Demons are notoriously disorganized. I doubt the Storm King was able to coordinate their efforts for very long before the masses became distracted. The faster we can get to the surface, the better our chances are at making a difference. As for the wardstone, as long as the sister stones along the border still hold, the magic will stay true. The physical barrier will be weaker for it, but losing the Kenabres stone will only weaken the field, demons will still be unable to teleport out of the Worldwound. Arae, Norgrym, you should scout ahead. I can hear bats in the distance, so there must be a way out. Squire Cassiel, guard the wounded. Anevia, I can help you walk, in exchange, I need you to be my eyes."
"Yeah... okay." Anevia gingerly starts to get up, and Briathos is quick to help support her on her feet. She maneuvers her way over to Aravashnial's side, using him as a crutch.
"Soonds guid tae me. As lang as we keep headin' up, nae doon, we shooldnae end up in Nar'Voth."
Noticing the glinting silver, Arae bends to pick it up, and turns the scale over in her hand. You thought this was worth it too, huh? She slips the sliver into her belt pouc.
"All right then. Let's go." She draws her rapier. The cold iron shines in the light of the sunrod she holds high overhead as she leads on, hopefully heading for the surface. Where there'll be demons.
And people. Whom we'll try to save. Demons or no.
"What's Nar'Voth? I'm afraid I don't know much Dwarven."
"Finally." grunts Lord Gwerm.
Norgrym ignores him, choosing to focus on his more pleasant companions.
"Och, Nar'Voth is th' upper part ay th' Darklands, where mah people ance lived. Torag tauld th' faithful: "When th' grind shakes beneath yer feit, 'tis time tae move up" An' sae we did. Noo only evil beasties remain in th' dirk parts ay th' warld. Best tae bide under th' sky, nae under th' grind."
Twenty feet away from you is the spider. As you move up closer to it, the horrible stench confirms that it is dead.
Beyond the spider the cavern forks into two small tunnels, 10 feet wide and 10 feet tall. One to your right, the other to your left.
Not that Arae was squeamish, but she hadn't been in a situation like this before. And the smell was bad. She was more used to well-aired or incense-filled Shelynite temples than caves with horse-sized dead spiders and carrion eaters.
She fought off the urge to cover her nose and retch. Whatever respect she might have from these people would be sure to vanish like morning dew. She really wanted to just go on by. But that might come back to bite them later - if it was some form of demonic insect, or just a giant larvae, if whatever it was ate is fill, grew up, and flew out to hunt, they might have trouble putting it down later. Or maybe whatever it was would feel them walking by, and decide that it liked a live meal better than a long dead one.
"There's something moving inside that spider. We might be able to pass by unnoticed, but it's not a sure thing, and I'd rather fight it on my terms than getting past it only to have its guts explode on lord Gwerm." Hmm. That might not, strictly speaking, be true, now that she thought about it. "Mr. Cassiel, Norgrym, follow me? The rest of you hang back, for the moment."
With that, she walked up to the spider. Assuming she was immediately showered in an explosion of gore and carrion eating monsters, she looked over the thing, tried to determine where whatever was eating would be, based on the bulge, looked for a corresponding gap in the chitin, lined the point of her rapier up with it, using the hand that held the sunrod to steady her aim. "Are you ready?" she asked Briathos and Norgrym, waiting for confirmation before she drove the long thin blade in to the hilt, hoping to skewer whatever was inside.
Briathos nods, drawing his longsword, and walking up to your left side, while Norgrym stands with his warhammer ready at your right.
You creep up closer to it, and the bulge starts wiggling furiously! When you're 10 feet away from the spider, two enormous giant maggots burst forth from the spider's abdomen! The horrible things are a few feet long, and have greasy, pale flesh and a circular maw filled with tiny sharp teeth. They undulate their engorged bodies in your direction. Clearly these maggots had a preference for live flesh.
Initiative order
1. Briathos
2. Maggot 1
3. Maggot 2
4. Arae
5. Norgrym
xxxxxxxx (Maggot 1) (Maggot 2)
{Briathos) (Arae ) (Norgrym)
Round summary:
Briathos' pale complexion takes on a greenish hue the closer he moves to the rotting spider corpse. His heart rate rises, and he murmurs a prayer to Iomedae in Auran, asking for her guidance this day. The two maggots advance on the trio, convulse violently, and heave their disgusting stomach contents and digestive acids upon Arae and Norgrym. Norgrym dry heaves, covered from head to toe in the stuff, bits of rotten spider stuck in his beard. Even his stout dwarven constitution had limits, it seems!
Arae manages to keep her lunch to herself. She lunges at the giant maggot in front of Norgrym with a shout, aiming to distract and hopefully skewer it.
Arae's blade slips dead center into the giant maggot. The horrible creature thrashes in its death throws. For a moment it seems like Norgrym is too distracted by the maggot vomit to retaliate, but Arae's encouraging shout rouses him to action. Norgrym hits the maggot, still skewered on Arae's sword, his well-aimed blow striking true, but the creature is tenacious and holds on. Briathos circles around, carefully approaching the maggot in front of Arae from behind, flanking it, though he has to trudge through the rotten spider corpse to do so. Briathos strikes with a powerful swing, nearly cleaving the creature in two, but the creature continues to wriggle piteously. The two hideous creatures stop thrashing and lay there, twitching slightly.
Round Summary:
Norgrym sighs, wiping goo from his face, still visibly sickened. "E'en 'orrible creatures loch thes dornt deserve tae suffer. Briathos, give me a hain here." The pair silently finish the creatures off.
The sounds of battle are now over, so Horgus arrives at your side, with Anevia and Aravashnial limping behind slowly. "Which way should we go?" Anevia asks, pinching her nose with her free hand. "There's two paths ahead of us."
Arae nods approvingly at them dispatching and contemplates cleaning herself of her own helping of goo. It wasn't really feasible, so she settled for getting the worst of it off of her face. When you swear oaths like those I did, this really isn't what you think you're going to be doing.
---------------
One of them was better than the other. Not really any good way of finding out which, Arae looked the two passages over. If one of them had better air, interesting sound, or light somewhere in it, she pointed that one out.
Perception to note something relevant to the decision:
Otherwise, she pointed to the left one.
"Let's go that way."
You notice both tunnels are on level ground, and are made of the same natural textured stone as the rest of the cavern. Thick stalactites protrude from the ceiling in both tunnels.
"Torag guide uir way tae th' sky," murmurs Norgrym, rubbing grime off of his small iron hammer pendant. You and the rest of the survivors head into the left tunnel. The group is slowed considerably by Anevia and Aravashnial, though Briathos brings up the rear behind them.
"Pick up the pace, woman, we don't have all day!" Horgus snarls impatiently. Anevia says nothing, just walking taking up all her concentration for the moment, and her face remains locked in stoic resolve. Aravashnial, usually so assertive, seems averse to saying much to Lord Gwerm.
After a short walk, the tunnel opens out into a smaller cavern. It 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.
"What is it? Why have we stopped?" asks Aravashnial.