The party would find nothing but dust and cobwebs as they crept through the small courtyard towards the dilapidated temple. Up closer they could see that the solid dwarven craftmanship had kept the temple in one piece and only the aged wood of the door showed any sign of degradation. When Jazdac gently pushed on the door it refused to open and remained stuck shut even when the ugly paladin shoved his shoulder against the deceptively solid wood. It took him a few more seconds to pry the stuck door out of the way to reveal the interior of the temple.
Broken stone benches line this narrow room. The air is cold and stale, and thick layers of dust cover the floor, benches and a large alter at the far end of the room. In the front row of benches sits a stocky hooded figure covered with a thick layer of dust.
Sucking in through his nose Caelian makes a disgusted look and clamps his hand over his nose. "Ware the room. I smell the stench of undeath." he whispered, motioning to the hunched figure that say completely still on the front pew. "They are vulnerable to silvered weapons but resistant to all other metals. Keep your holy symbol out where the beast can see it Jazdac; they have a special hatred for the servants of the gods."
Jazdac quickly draws out the holy symbol he wears around his neck, letting it fall exposed to his chest before returning his grip to tightly clutch his bardiche as they approach the figure. "Angradd, what'r we lookin' at here?" The other-worldly dwarf mutters a brief incantation before turning his holy sight against the solitary thing.
Focusing his divine sight Jazdac's pale white eyes glow with golden fire and he could see a sickly aura rising up from the figure like whispers of toxic fog.
As they step closer the figure lurches to its feet suddenly and lurches into into the central walkway, ragged robes falling away to reveal the emaciated and rotten form of a dwarf. The creature locks it's rotting eyes on the symbol hanging on Jazdec's neck and charges forward with a raspy roar.
Jazdac takes a step back , and moves one muscled arm from his weapon to the humming holy symbol. "Like that, is it? Alright then..." He mutters a quiet incantation, and a swirl of light and wind circle directly in front of the evil creature, directly between it and Jazdac. With a burst of energy, the light and wind dissipate, and in their place is a hovering eagle with eyes glowing in a soft light.
Jazdac calls out in a holy language to the beast.
The eagle lets out a shrill cry, and seems to glow a little brighter. It then sends out a wave of claws and beak in at the creature.
Caelian held up the silver ankh in one fist and sung in melodic celestial "Lady of Mercy call down your healing light and release this poor soul from it's corrupted existence."
White energy shot out from the holy symbol in threads that balled up around the medallion before exploding out and showering everyone with a soothing wave of warmth before slamming into the undead with merciless ferocity.
The undead dwarf reels back from the onslaught of the summoned celestial before crossing it's arms and hunching down as the wave of holy light rushes towards it. While a portion of grey flesh scorched and blackened the creature was able to shrug off some of the attack as holy light rolled ineffectively off of it.
Ragged nails magically hardened by it's undead existence made for effectively claws as the Huecuva lashed at the eagle with a hoarse growl.
The eagle lets out a desperate cry of pain as the undead rips off the golden wings before the summon vanishes in a flash of light.
Jaxminthe carefully weighed her options and not wanting to have to get much closer to the creature than she needed to decides to line up a shot with her rifle. She takes a deep breath to steady herself as she squeezes the trigger...
She clucks her tongue as her shot breezes past the undead creature and bites into the stone beyond it. She swears vehemently as she now has to change out clips within her weapon to be able to continue using it for her purposes. "It's never that easy is it?" She asks no one in particular as she keeps her distance from the thing needing concentration to deal with her current ammunition issue.
Taking little chances for anything to develop into a worse situation, Jasaka steps up between the group and the monster, taking her gandasa and swinging it downwards, hoping to give a good slash to the creature. " Try to stay away from my allies please." She says in a soft voice.
Caelian drew his hand back as if he was going to throw something and a ball of mud suddenly appeared in his palm. With a "Ha!" he threw mud at the hecueva's face in an attempt to blind the creature.
Jazdac grunts in annoyance as his eagle vanishes. "Don' like eagles, I take it. Might be I should hop to som'thin different..." More chanting follows, before another summoning swirl appears, this time in a flanking position with Jasaka. The light clears, and in it's place is a full sized kangaroo. Jazdac calls out the same instructions to the marsupial as he had to the eagle before him.
The kangaroo lashes out at the undead creature.
The undead dwarf grunts as the fullisade of attacks fly in from every direction, growling ferociously as supernatural mud splattered across it's shriveled eyes and blinded it. The summoned Kangaroo and Jasaka fail to penetrate the undead's tough hide but the summoned creature did manage to use it's powerful tail to sweep the legs out from under the huecuva and send it slamming onto the floor. Jaxminthe's shot went completely wide and managed to uselessly chip the stone altar behind the fight.
With a quick swipe of it's hand the monster wiped the mud from it's eyes and began to rise, no doubt inviting a storm of attacks of opportunity from it's foes.
Caelian can't help but laugh as the undead crashed to the floor with mud blinding it. As it began to rise he held out the rosary wrapped around his wrist and spoke in melodic celestial. "Burn in the light of the SUN!"
Jaxminthe blinks as she watches the undead dwarf creature had fallen, dirt smearing its face and causing it to furiously wipe the muck from its face...
She gave an exasperated look over to the cleric, as she pushes a lever that releases the pins holding her empty clip within its housing and allows it clatter to the floor uselessly. Her tail snakes into her bags to pull free another clip, allowing her to grab it and slide the clip into the empty slot of her rifle once more, slipping it inside and the clasps popping back to hold the clip tightly in place. She pulls the bolt back on it and feels the bullet chamber with a satisfying click.
"Gods I hate this weapon." She spat bitterly as she could only glance up from time to time while she exchanged the clips and seeing her comrades fighting the creature during her time so occupied.
Taking no chance with the evil in front of her, she calls out " May Shelyn guide you to beauty!" and with a swing she attempts to cut the beast down as it tries to stand, the gandasa swinging down. After taking her free strike, she would again swing, spinning in a circle as if dancing. It really looked like the start of a dance, given her starlight hair flowing with her various loose cloths
As the foul creature attempted to rise Jasaka's unusual blade thudded down and split open the back of it's skull, dropping it to the floor. All signs of unlife vanished as from one second to the next the undead became a simple, moldering corpse. Jazdac and Caelian will feel the air shiver as the greasy sensation they had felt near the hecueva vanished and the dust covering everything shifted as if a single breath of air had blown over.
Spun for a few more seconds, not clear she had killed the beast until she stumbled over a few steps, and landed on her butt. Apparently grace was not something she had from Shelyn yet, because she seemed confused at first. Graceful it was not, that ending, but the creature was dead. " Was that the end of it? I am not to good with this undead stuff now." she calls to the group, picking herself off the dusty ground.
"If it wasn't it would be trying to rip your face off right now." Caelian deadpanned while he stepped around Jazdac and knelt next to the corpse. With a grunt he turned the creature over onto it's back and peered carefully at the filmy eyes for any reaction. When nothing happened he pulled a bottle from his belt and popped the cork with his thumb before sprinkling the clear fluid onto the undead. "May you find the rest in death that you were denied in life. I will pray for clemency and hope that one day in eternity you will find your way back to the light."
The fluid hissed and bubbled as it landed on the corpse of the hecueva before igniting into clear white flames at the end of Caelian's prayer. Any PCs nearby will feel a gentle warmth emanating from the flames as they swiftly incinerated the decayed flesh and moth-eaten robes. There was a series of clinks as items fell off the vanishing body and rolled under the nearby altar.
Jaxminthe managed to finally finish reloading her weapon of choice and unfortunately the creature had already been slain.
She let out a sigh of exasperation, and then gave a shrug. At least she would be prepared if something else were to decide to appear and ambush them while sifting through the remains and debris near the corpse of the creature.
Part of her wanted to check its pockets, however the creature disappeared upon being slain, she decided instead to poke around the altar. She was curious about the vials of fluid, carefully looking at them. The ring she turned over in her hands over and over, not a bad piece of jewelry but only really called to her greedy side as she feel how far away from where they were at up above felt all the further now they were deep in whatever trench was formed from the terrible attack they managed to escape.
"Any of ya fancy a ring?" She asked out, idly waving the piece, she noticed it does look like quite an exquisite piece though it looks oddly sized. It was certainly bigger than her slender, nimble fingers. As she continued to check the amber fluid vials, she carefully stared into the amber fluid examining their properties. Two potions of cure? In a place like this? She shrugged, she didn't worry too much but it was nice to have curative elixirs on hand when they needed it most.
Jasaka perks up hearing about a ring. They have special powers she was told, or at least they could. While she wasn't as well versed into things like Jaxminthe was, she still could be a bit of a girl, and spoke up " I'll take the ring! I'll take it!" Clearly much too big for her fingers as well, it still was better than nothing. Besides, looking at her meager belongings, it was most likely the most expensive thing she owned. And Shelyn always did like for beauty to not be hidden. It must be expressed. If allowed, she would tie the ring off in some of her hair, a golden glint among the stars
Caelian brushed the ash of the undead from his hands and stood to survey the rest of the temple. Besides the layer of dust the narrow room had more then enough pews for everyone to rest on and the priest came to a firm decision. "We should wait here for a few hours." he waved at the three NPC's who were accompanying the party.
"I want to check on Anevia and Aravashnial's wounds and we should take stock of our supplies. We don't know how long it will take us to find the sun."
Jazdac grunts in satisfaction as the undead thing gives up its twisted grip on unlife. His summoned kangaroo fades with a swirl of light, and Jazdac begins examining the rest of the area. He doesn't seem to worry too much about the dropped treasures, focusing instead on ensuring the safety of the area.
As the group begins to set camp, Jazdac will show signs of agitation. "This place, it ain't right. Still." He looks at where the hecueva fell, and a scowl deepens on his face. "It used t' be a holy place, t' Torag. And that there was a cleric. Shameful one, would seem." He gives a heavy sigh and continues. "Not gonna be able t' rest, not til this place is cleansed. Might as well get to it."
The stony dwarf heads straight over to where the hecueva fell, and begins cleaning any ash or scraps that remained. Anything able to be moved, he quickly takes outside of the temple and tosses away. That being done, he then begins moving around the little temple, cleaning it, trying to clear out all the dust and cobwebs and general malaise that had befallen the place. For such a gruff and tough looking dwarf, he treats this task with all the seriousness and determination of a mother cleaning her home.
When the task is completed to his satisfaction, he says to the others ”I need t’ cleanse this place. Consecrate it t’ Angraad. Won’t be able t’ move on otherwise. If ye need t’ be movin’ on w’out me, I won’t hold it against ye.” With that, he begins going through a ritual of consecration, a string of holy chanting floating out of him in a gravelly but strangely soothing voice.
"Nonsense friend, every spark of light pushes back the darkness a little at a time. Take all the time you need, we will be in another room." Caelian responded to Jazdac and went outside to talk to Anevia, Horgus and Aravashnial and move them to the right side of the cavern of the cave that held the temple. He gave each of them some hard tack from his own supply of food and a water skin to share. While they ate he would use a clean white rag and a cantrip to wash his hands, face and neck free of dirt and dried blood. Once that was done the elf carefully checked over the status of his clothes and sighed at the many rips and threadbare spots he found.
Once the cleric had cleaned and fed himself he sit with the three npcs and try to instigate quiet conversation with them, try to find out more about them and ease their worries.
Jasaka would respect Jazdec request, noting "Many a friend turned soured once death touched them, so says the songs. Perhaps he lost his way after death, and you shall bring him peace." She then moves out, doing her part to help with the party. She would ask after any broken items, and try to mend them the best she could with her slight magical gifts, for she had little left to do.
After she mends either clothing or weapons, whichever anyone needed, she then volunteers to take the first watch, a hand clearly tapping a beat she wished to practice.
Jaxminthe listened to Jazdec and watched him go about his task, almost with a detached sense of interest seeing how much care he took in diligently cleaned the former temple.
She gave a solemn nod before joining the others in the room adjacent, allowing the man to take to his ministrations as Caelian tended to those they were escorting and Jasaka was offering to mend items.
She took a seat by herself to one side as she took her weapon in her hands and carefully examined it for any damage from their fall that may have become more pronounced with the few altercations they found themselves facing. It would be poor to have the weapon sunder itself when she needed it most, just as much as it was poor to miss her target.
She let out a heavy sigh and with some rummaging in her meager belongings, started to try and clean it as best as she could, checking the fittings and catches to ensure they were in proper working order. So lost in thought she didn't even consider watch and she sheepishly stopped and spoke up. "I wouldn't mind taking a later watch if one is needed to be taken." She spoke softly, not really looking at any of them in particular.
After the consecration of the temple was complete the party would feel a comforting feeling settling around their shoulders like a warm blanket. The moment the last syllable of the musical celestial language left Jazdac's lips an intensely bright flame erupted from the freshly cleaned altar and scoured away the last vestiges of what had transpired earlier. The holy symbol of Torag faded from every surface of the temple and was replaced by an image of a fully colored smoking forge, every image seemingly painted in such exacting detail a viewer would have the sensation of standing before the blazing furnace.
Over the narrow tunnel that exited the cave the adventurers would see a heat shimmer that made the larger tunnel outside waver. The cold temperature of the underground jumped by several degrees until it outright warm in the small cave. One by one as the party drifted off too sleep their minds would be kept free of nightmares and each would have an unremembered dream of an immense dwarf with bright red hair and wielding a greataxe standing guard against the universe. They never saw the dwarfs face or heard them mutter a single word.
The next day the group would wake and find themselves feeling stronger then they were yesterday, more ready to face the dangers and horrors the minions of the abyss would throw at them.
Caelian would wake before most of the others staring at the rough ceiling of the cavern. He knew from the natural way he woke up that this was the normal time for him to awaken and immediately set about washing his face and hands to ensure their cleanliness and used a minor cantrip to scrub all dirt from his simple brown robe. Once he was suitably presentable he went to a quiet corner and unsheathed a shimmering longsword that had been concealed under his robes before placing it point down on the ground and kneeling before it with hands wrapped around the hilt. For the next hour the cleric would quietly pray in celestial to his deity and be rewarded when a white shimmer covered the blade of his sword for a split second.
Prayers complete Caelian stood up and sheathed the unused weapon back under the heavy brown robes before moving to awaken anyone who was asleep. He would offer rations and a water skin to the NPCs before sitting down to satisfy his own hunger. "So today we need to push hard for the surface. We need to find out what the state of the city is."
Pulling herself to her feet, lightly brushing herself off. She takes a little bit of a look around before meeting Caelian's gaze.
She bit her lip softly, thinking for a moment before opening her mouth to respond. "That is a plan, but how far down did we actually end up?" She wanted to see what happened to the city desperately, but they had no idea which way would even take them surface-bound again.
She shifted from foot to foot, and did some light stretches as she tried to take in the state of the companions that they were travelling with.
Flash of Light, REBOOT!
At the end of the Age of Enthronement the death of the god Aroden shook the very foundations of reality. Deskari, one of Aroden's ancient foes, had long plotted an attack of massive scale upon the mortal world of Golarian, Aroden's birthplace. As the God of Humanity passed into Pharasma's judgment the old kingdom of Sakoris was rent asunder as an abyssal horde exploded from a fresh planar tear orchestrated by one of Deksari's mightiest servants. The defenders of Sakoris could not resist the armies of demons that marched against them and the kingdom fell.
A hastily assembled Crusade arrived soon after and managed to throw the demons back, penning them within the borders of Sakoris and erecting a line of Ward Stones that trapped the army within. The battle line has surged back forth in the following years with the Fourth Crusade secure behind the walls of Kenabres, a fortress city built on the edge of a cliff that used to be a much shallower river.
Rumors and dark thoughts have been circulating among the despondent crusaders as they suffer setback after setback, the demons seeming to hedge them in from every direction. Whispers speak of the end of the fourth crusade as the remaining faithful continue to hold back the tides of darkness from overwhelming the rest of the world. Have the gods of Light abandoned the Crusade?
A hopeful note has risen to temporarily boost the morale of everyone within the city, Armass is coming! A city-wide festival filled with music, jousting competitions, mock duels, battle reenactments and other festival events. Originally an opportunity for scholars and priests to come together to study the lessons of history from past wares it has evolved into something far grander.
All of the PCs know each other by this point and you will spot each other in the crowd in Clydwell Plaza, just west of the massive Cathedral as noon and the opening ceremonies approach. Describe your characters and your first actions for Wrath of the Righteous!
Arlena did her best to conceal her demonic features from those around her, her tail wrapped around her waist like a belt, and her hood pulled down enough to make it more difficult to spot her deep crimson eyes. She hoped the slight reddish tint to her skin would pass by unnoticed, and that her mother's holy symbol, displayed prominently on her neck, would be enough to set the more perceptive onlookers at ease. A beautiful swallowtail butterfly rested calmly on her shoulder, reinforcing her image as a follower of Desna.
Standing around so many people still left her uneasy, and so she kept mostly out of the day's festivities.
Spotting Maleena near the Clydwell plaza, Arlena decides to join her - at least she wouldn't judge her by her heritage, and her being a paladin of Iomedae would surely placate any onlooker that might be worried about her.
"Hello Maleena, how are you enjoying the festival?" Arlena greets the paladin with a cheerful smile, shifting to a lower voice as she closes with her, adding with a nervous chuckle: "Me, I can't help but be a bit on edge around so many people"
Caelian lounged against the wall of one of the citys' taverns with a meatbun in his hand and watched the growing crowd of faithful press in towards the grand cathedral of Iomadae. His golden eyes scanned over the mass of usually shorter people and tried to look for anything that would reveal hidden motives. As he took another bite of the steamy meat stuffed bun he tried not to gag at the overwhelming smell of people as they pressed in closer and closer, laughing and smiling in religious ecstasy.
Finally the rail thin elf stepped out into the crowd and slid forward with smooth movements, dodging between people. Many people turned to look as the extremely tall elf moved easily between them with eyes scanning back and forth, his instincts on high alert for...something out of the ordinary.
"With this rabble a dragon could hide easily." Caelian thought to himself with disgust as he readjusted the bandolier that hung across his chest filled with many thin vials of potions. Several small bags filled with herbs and seeds were scattered all over his body, attached to belt and bandolier or stored in the numerous pockets he had inside his robe. A large sack hung from his hip and was secured to a strap that hung from one shoulder and held various tools and gear that the elf had long ago accepted as necessary for simply traveling through the fortress city.
He was finally forced to stop when the press of people became too much and he recognized several faces in the crowd. Names escape him at the moment but he recognized the young paladin with the huge shield strapped to her back and the woman next to her looked vaguely familiar.
A moment later his sharp elven eyes pierced through the makeup and headdress and he recognized the tiefling woman who had come into his shop last week and bought a healing potion. Whispers had slipped to him from the numerous plants in his shop as she had quietly left and he wondered what about her intrigued the Green so much.
Oh! - arms crossed behind her back, distracted, Mareena is surprised when Arlena approaches and speaks with her.
Mareena isn't tall; she is lean and muscular, clearly strong, but still giving a somewhat delicate impression with her gestures. She is also a conundrum: a beautiful, attractive young woman, but with demonic features all over her, from horns to fangs, red eyes and tail; definitely not someone who could hide her inheritance as well as Arlena, despite being behind a thick layer of armor and carrying a shield painted with the holy symbol of Iomedae.
I'm sorry, dear. You startled me for a moment! - she smiles, and it's deeply satisfying - I am somewhat enjoying it. If I may be honest, I'm truly, truly excited... I will take my final vows right after the Armasse! Will finally be ordained as a paladin. Praised be the Inheritor!
As she finishes speaking, she chuckles. Barely 17 years old, Reena, as she likes to be called, sounds even naïve as doing so. If judging eyes are obviously falling on her due to her appearance, she is oblivious to them purely by being so focused in the festival and excited to finally be conferred holy orders on.
Arlena can't help but smile back at Mareena, her enthusiasm and carefree atitude a refreshing contrast to her own anxiety.
It's a big day for you, your excitement is perfectly understandable. And you're devotion is clear as well, I'm sure you'll be a great Paladin and make your order proud.
The young tiefling shies.
I hope so! - she pauses - I'm happy to see you here. The festival is so big, but I'm hoping we even find some more familiar faces. It's great to take a break!
Her eyes wander for a moment, as if looking at the local food.
Plus, I'm starving and those dumplings smell so good! - and Reena completes, by sneakily pointing at a nearby stand.
While not always able to be out, today was a rare chance for her to come and perform her songs. And it gave a chance to see if anyone would look like her came by, perhaps she would finally met that sibling? I should just let it go, the priestess insist they are dead..., her morose thoughts cloud her face for a few moments. She dearly loved the priestess who had raised her, but Sister Halea was closed off on certain things she felt was unfitting for a Desna worshipper to know. At Jasaka felt that way, but the smaller village she came from in the lands was often at risk of demon attacks, so smaller worries like that might not be worth having.
That thought aside, there was quiet a few fellow Desna followers, but none who really caught her eye. She worried a good bit that her letters appealing for someone to host her in the temple here had truly been lost. How else but approaching one would she get in? She knew of one follower she had chatted with, but having never met her in person, she was lost. Perhaps the one with the paladin of Iomedae could help?
Approaching both Mareena and Arlena, she starts, " Honored Paladin and Priestess, I come to seek out the temple of Desna. Can either of you point me there? I am to met someone named Arlena. I have sent letters to her about continuing my study of Desna here in the city."
"They do smell wonderfully - come, let's go and and get some. With such a big day ahead of you, you don't want to go on on an empty stomach!" Arlena lets out a hearty laugh as she turns towards the stall that Mareena pointed to, visibly more relaxed then when she approached her.
This is... Nice. The head priestess is always telling me I have to open up to others and let go of the pain of the past - but it still seems so hard to do. Mareena is a special case, she almost feels like a little sister...
Arlena's thoughts lingered briefly to her real sister, before shifting back to the head priestess advice. At her suggestion, she had been exchanging letters with someone who wished to join the temple as well. With her being a new arrival as well (both to the temple and to the faith, only truly devoting herself after that fateful day), she didn't really feel like the best choice to welcome someone new to the temple. Still, she could start to see the wisdom in the head priestess suggestion, and that it was meant to help both the new arrival and herself. Maybe she should write back and arrange a meet-up as soon as she could...
Her thoughts were cut short as a woman called out to the pair of them. Her butterfly familiar took off towards the new arrival, fluttering a bit around her head before settling on her shoulder. That the woman was looking specifically for her did surprise her a bit though. Desna did work in mysterious ways sometimes.
"I guess the goddess has smiled on us both today! I'm Arlena, and I believe you must be Jasaka? It's a pleasure to meet you in person and be the one to welcome you to the city! I can lead you to the temple if you want, but maybe you'd prefer to enjoy the festival first? The ceremonies should be right about to start. We were on our way to that dumpling stall if you'd care to join us."
Mareena smiles even more when the other woman approaches. She looks her with curiosity - Desnans, like Arlena, always offer a fresh perspective on the way good can prevail over evil, and these two looked particularly different: the priestess had similar demonic features like herself, while this other dark haired woman had an almost angelical flair to her.
Nice to meet you, Jasaka... - she finally says, following on the name provided by the other tiefling - ... I am Mareena, but you can call me Reena.
A giggly young girl winds her way through the crowd, running up to Arlena. "Arlena, watch! Watch!" The girl is a string bean, all elbows and knees. She wears an odd headdress made of large, exotic feathers and black-and-white coral stems. A raven sits perched upon her shoulder, its somewhat supernatural nature betrayed by the deep blue feathers on its throat and breast and a half-dozen gold flight and tail feathers. Under one arm she carries a fine steel helmet – clearly not hers. Like Arlena, the girl receives arcane power from Desna, but she was only just beginning her magical training. ”Watch!” The girl steps back and takes a deep breath, nose wrinkled in concentration. Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply and, as she slowly exhales, four pale blue orbs of light ebb into existence in the space between the human girl and the three outsider women. She opens one eye, gasps and grins at the success of her spell and… the lights wink out of existence. Her face falls.
“Don’t let success distract you, Alona.” Wrathadorand, the owner of the helmet the girl carries, scolds his daughter. ”Evil does not sleep, nor does it rest on its laurels. And neither shall we.” Despite the festival in the city, his golden eyes scan the crowd for trouble. Evil does not sleep. Wrathadorand towers over most in the square, and the cold iron bastard sword resting on his shoulder is commensurately large. Two fresh scars run diagonally across his left brow and cheek, courtesy a recent skirmish with the denizens of the Worldwound. The injury is his only real blemish. His head is shaved, full black beard streaked with grey. He is handsome in a way, but his expression is one of sternness, not one that invites approach. Plate and mail cover him – minus the missing helmet – and his blue and silver tabard sports the lion sigil of Ragathiel’s Lion Guard. He gives the gathered women a curt not.
”Sorry daddy.” The girl mumbles, flashing her father a placating smile, but she turns her attentions back to the tiefling, clearly searching for approval for her show of arcane skill.
Arlena's smile widens as she spots Alona running up to them, and watches attentively at her casting attempt.
As the girl turns back to her after replying to her father, she smiles back at her and ruffles her hair a little, while adding to her father's advice:
"Don't let failures discourage you either, the important thing is to learn from them and keep on trying. And you've come such a long way in such a short time! I'm sure you'll have that spell mastered and giving us some amazing light shows in no time!"
A pleasure seeing you around, sir Wrathadorand. - says Mareena, badly pretending she wasn't ogling the dumplings nearby - Honestly, I feel very soon Alona will surpass your own skills and don the armor!
She gives a small smile and blinks to the girl.
You're doing great. Better than I was at your age! - the paladin completes, kneeling down on her armor.
The greetings of all was a new experience, and being close to people who at least knew of the pathway seemed to be a good sign. Desna worked in mysterious ways, and having a faithful teacher and a paladin nearby was for the best. And now another seems to join them. It was clearly a joyous day. "Desna brings travelers and their guardians together for many things. I am Jasaka, traveling musician and dreamer." She tries to keep up, but often times it feels like she stops suddenly and looks into space, hearing a tune only she can. It's slight, but with what appears to be streaks of light in her hair, that would call to mind stars, it could just be a small idea forming.
" I have often heard those blessed with magic are destined for great things. The stories say they bring honor and glory to their parents, but are greatly tempted as well. Be careful to listen to your father. He seems a wise man."
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.
Everything happens too fast. The paladin is clearly caught by surprise, looking around in disbelief as the world crumbles around her. She uses a brief split of second to look at Wrathadorand and his family, but then immediately pulls her longsword and shield, looking at the demons with conviction... Yet fear.
She doesn't say a word and starts charging. Walls fall around her as she jumps over the now ruined dumplings cart. She barely lands with any balance as the ground itself cracks. Poorly managing to stand up, as she composes herself to begin running again, she stops to the cries of an unknown child hugging her mother. She pauses and tries to help her, at which moment the ground shakes again and she sees Terendelev for the first time.
She only ever heard religious tales about the silver dragon, but didn't really understood much about wyrms or the history of the wardstone beyond the common knowledge. Starstruck, and as the warmth of hope fills her heart again, she pushes away a flaming merchant tent and runs one more time... The last time.
The ground opens under her feet. She acrobatically jumps rock to cracked rock, but it's too late, and her balance is gone. As brief as her fall is, it feels as a torturous eternity: she sees the cathedral crumble, the Storm King, the death of the dragon, the tears of the child drying on her pale, life fading face, and then everything goes dark.
As the group talked, and everything settled into a speech, her attention was turned towards the stage. Her first real big speech in a larger town, it was truly an inspiring time, worthy of a song, one that would give thanks to the glory and travels of all those gathered.
This was what her focus was on, until suddenly it wasn't, and that perhaps was worse. She was thinking she could make a song, and then walls were falling. Was this what it was to truly make art? Was it so chaotic? Or was that... no... no that truly was a demon! What was happening?! She was truly caught off guard, for the stories she had heard of the great city was one of safety and prosperous people!
This lasted until she was encouraged by the sight of a silver dragon. While her stories were heroes fighting and overcoming the evil red dragon, she knew not all were evil. This was truly a moment to sing! She starts her voice up, getting a song of hope and goodness ready, her strange sword coming from underneath her armored robes.
As she approached the battle, a sudden shift and she was falling, disappearing down the long dark hole suddenly under her feet. She was not fortunate enough to be near an edge, but rather had the ground just suddenly gone under her, the closest edge a good ten or more feet away.
Her last sight was of the terrible loss, the appearance of hope dying, and suddenly a floating feeling. So this is what it was to be dead? A floating darkness? Perhaps I was not faithfully enough to Desna to join her. These thoughts filled her head as the darkness overcame everything. Her failures to Desna was it
As the speech begins, Arlena looks at each of the people gathered around h her and smiles.
Here I am, enjoying the festival among people who can look past my demonic heritage. Thank you Desna for guiding me here to join the temple and having this opportunity.
Her feelings of content rapidly turn to fear as the attack starts. Arlena frantically tries to hold little Alona close to protect her, but the ground gives out beneath her feet as she tries to reach her.
As she feels the magic of Terendelev's last spell grab hold of her and slow down her fall, saving her life, she vows to honor the dragon's gift on her last moments and save as many as she can from this war.
As her descent ends amid piles of rubble and rock, she scans the area trying to see signs of anyone else.
Is anyone near? Please call out if you're hurt, I'm a healer and I'll try to help.
Mareena stands up coughing. Still caught on the smokes of the dust and rubbles, the paladin shakes her head and tries to stand up. With difficulty, she sits down on a rock and shakes her head, trying to recover herself for brief seconds. Yet, she stands up, still dizzy, and starts looking around for survivors, as she hears Arlena's voice.
Here, Arlena... I'm here, but I'm fine. Happy to hear your voice! Let's... Try to find others. - she completes, fighting her own urge to be disheartened. She sheathes her sword and shield, holds her holy symbol of Iomedae, and prays for hope and light amidst despair.
Wrathadorand was never one for speeches or festivals. Ragathiel prefers followers who take action and Wrathadorand prefers combat, for combat was his gift. The eruption of flame and demonspawn in the plaza does not seem to startle Wrath, but no one would describe the man as easily startled. The attack on the city is a forgone conclusion; as the wardstones failed, a strike against the city was inevitable. His sword, too long to be sheathed in any reasonable way, is already in hand.
"Demons!" He bellows, stomping towards the monsters streaming into the plaza. He carries his bastard sword in his left hand, gauntleted hand gripping the oversized cold iron blade halfway down its' length. His daughter and the other innocents in the plaza are foremost in his thoughts, but he was called to be a blade of Ragathiel - he saved lives by killing those that need to be killed. "Face me in honorable combat!" Gold-red sparks dance across the gauntlet on his right hand, increasing in number and intensity until veritable bolts of crimson lightning race up and down his right arm and the right side of his toro. With a crack, a shimmering spear of crimson lightning appears in his hand. He is running now, and he draws back the holy spear, making ready to hurl it through the nearest foe only for the javelin to instantly wink out of existence when the cracking ground brings him to a halt and causes him to stumble. And then he is falling.
Wrathadorand drops his sword during the fall but manages to land on his feet. ”Ragh!” He roars at the stone ceiling entombing them, enraged to be denied combat. ”Cowards!” The warpriest huffs and seethes, pointlessly casting his gaze about, as if he would find a way back to the surface and the battle in the blackness of the cavern. His ragged, angry breathing slows after a few more moments, each breath coming slower than the last as he composes himself. He would not be part of the battle now.
After finding it in the rubble, Wrathadorand casts a light spell upon his sword. The visible effects of this spell, too, are tinged with crimson, infusing the blade with a light that casts a reddish-silver glow around the warpriest. "Alona. Where are you, child?"