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The city of Townsville.... no wait... hold on. The city of Kenabres. Travellers come from all around Mendev to partake in the festival of Armasse each year. Plenty of games and wonders to behold in this city on the edge of the corrupted lands.
Each of you has picked out a lovely seat in the plaza and are awaiting an announcement from Lord Hulrun, to kick off this celebration.
While Armasse officially began at noon, those in attendance were hushed, waiting for the proclaimation and blessing of the festival by Lord Hulrun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza eagerly watched 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. Seconds 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!
Men and women from the crowd grabbed up their weapons and readied to fight, all while 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 there was no time to 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.
Drifting down, you each land on solid ground in the darkness. Rocks and dirt pelt down on you all, causing cuts and scrapes, and then all is still. The sounds of the battle above can still be heard, but it is muted and distant. And so begins Armasse.
A slightly nasal high tenor voice speaks out in the darkness.
"I SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT SUNRODS. MUCH MORE USEFUL THAN TORCHES YOU KNOW, WHEN SECONDS COUNT."
The man fumbles in his pack for a moment, and lights a torch.
"THERE. HELLO! IS EVERYONE ALRIGHT? THAT NICE DRAGON SEEMS TO HAVE ARRESTED OUR FALL. DAMNED POLITE THING TO DO BEFORE IT DIED."
Cupradahl is a tall and lanky Taldane man with blonde hair styled oddly, short on the sides and high on top. He's wearing studded leather and has an earthbreaker he's placed on the ground at his feet while he fumbled around in his satchel.
"Get back here, foul demon! I, Firas al-Adil, am my lady's vengeance incarnate! I knew this day would come and I am ready to face you, Khorramzadeh, and rid the realms of your taint!" The furious war cries and vicious swings may have been terrifying, if it were not for the ridiculous image the half-orc displayed, flailing his scimitar violently about, nowhere near the Storm King nor any other demons, and uncomfortably close to the others floating down into the depths beside him.
By the time he landed, beads of sweat dotted the muscular green skin, soaking into the many layers of brightly colored silken robes he wore, while his breath came in heavy draws. He shook his blade over his head, its elaborate quillons in the shape of Sarenrae's angelic ankh rattled against his mailed hand. One last guttural shout echoed from his lungs before he dropped to one knee and lowered his head.
"I have failed you, my mistress. I beg you to forgive my weakness and ask that you give me the opportunity to redeem myself. May your light shine upon us all."
The paladin finished his prayer just as Cupradahl finished lighting his torch, illuminating the half-orc's face. His bright blue eyes widened in an unsettling intensity as his mouth curled into a toothy smile.
"Well met, Taldan! I see that we begin this quest together!" he said in a thick Katapeshi accent.
George stands in darkness. With a mumble the dust coating his body is removed as he notices the flicker of light in the distance. Shifting his shoulders so his pack settles more comfortably, he strides toward the apparent rally point.
"Hello there in the light. Party of one coming in."
"HI! THAT'S SOME SWORD YOU GOT THERE, FRIEND! A SKIMITAR, HUH?"
He hefts his earthrbeaker easily, despite his fairly thin frame, and rests it on his shoulder.
"TWO HALF-ORCS? WOW! HOW ARE YOU DOING FRIEND? NOT HURT, I HOPE? AND, DEEN, I MUST HAVE LEFT MY MANNERS UP WITH THAT DRAGONS HEAD! MY NAME'S CUPRADHAL, BUT MOST FOLKS JUST CALL ME COOP."
George looks up to the 2 companions in the flickerig light. Taking in the broad shoulders on both of them, heavy shield, massive dual handed weapon. Glancing at the cestus on his right arm, he smiles broadly at them.
"Nice to make your acquantice Coop. Please call me George. I seem to be unharmed due to the final act of Terendelev." At the mention of her name a look of sadness washes over his face. "Perhaps there are others that need our attention?"
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Lifting herself up off the ground, dusting bits of dirt and stone from her clothing, Lassandra identified a flame in the distance followed by familiar tones. She approaches the flame, hard heels echoing into the darkness.
All that can be seen till her final approach is a pair of glowing light blue eyes. She is finally distinguishable once she is standing in the light of the torch. Plumes of feathers sprout from her colar bone barely covering prominent chest with other similar plumes falling on the sides of her neck. She stands with a very elegant pose as if though she were of nobility.
"And here I was hoping for a quiet and more peaceful Armasse."
Even though her words were soft and comforting, her words needlessly echoed as though she were standing in a mountainous valley.
"Is everyone okay I hope? Everything where it needs to be?"
She continues to dust herself off and after finishing, you can't help but notice that her coat tails continue to move as though there was a subtle wind.
With the torch light offering some illumination to the area, you can see that you are in a large, natural cavern under the city. Chunks of rock have fallen from above, with dust still trickling down here and there. It appears that not everyone that fell was so fortunate though, here and there, you find grim reminders that life is fleeting.
To the south a female voice calls out from the darkness.
"You there, in the light, I appear to be stuck."
As her voice beckons, another deeper voice rumbles to the southeast.
"Fah, helluva way to start a festival. These damned demons running amok up there. That wardstone was supposed to protect the city. I told them time and again that after the last battle, they needed to replace it. I knew that crack was going to lead to disaster, and turns out I was right. As usual."
"I THINK I HEAR SOMEONE."
Coop moves to the south, picking is way respectfully (but without much concern) over the dead. As he moves, he scans the walls for any sign of egress.
"CRACK IN THE WARDSTONE, EH? GOTTA GET THAT FIXED, YOU ASK ME. CAN'T PUT OFF NECESSARY MAINTENANCE OF A CRITICAL PIECE OF THAUMATURGIC INFRASTRUCTURE LIKE THAT."
"I will check out the other voice. Give a shout if you need more assistance to free the lady.
George starts heading toward the second voice. He scans the fallen as he passes, noting those that had backpacks, full skins, or weapons to collect later.
As Coop moves closer, he spots a human with her leg trapped under a sizable stone. Her fingers scratching at the dirt trying to find purchase to lift the heavy object to no avail.
Nearby, the deeper voice speaks up again, and you hear footsteps approach from the darkness. Moments later, an older human steps into the light.
"Just keep yer pointy bits tucked away and we'll get along just fine. Name is Horgus."
Most of the objects and fallen heroes lay broken or buried under debris. Lassandra does spot an elf that appears to be breathing, but unconscious.
Firas rushes to the sound of the woman’s voice and begins removing the rubble and debris to unearth her.
"Horgus, difficult circumstances for a first encounter. I am George, and the fellow with the torch goes by Coop. We have not taken the time to exchange names with the others. It is good to see you are able to move around on your own. Did you happen to hear anyone as you made your way to us?" George slings his backpack on the ground and starts rooting around. Oversight on your part, George. You don't even have a candle in here. You have to remember others have been given different gifts.
Horgus takes notice of the dust upon his clothing and starts trying to brush it off as best as he can.
"Nope, haven't seen or heard anyone except for you folks. Looks like we need to work our way back out of here. Question is, how?"
Firas gets a solid grip on the stone and is able to lift it. The woman lets out a gasp of surprise and pain as he does do, but she slides herself out from under the large stone. She clutches at her leg, and you can see sweat beading on her forehead.
"CRACKERJACK JOB LIFTING THAT ROCK, FIRAS."
He walks over to the unconscious elf.
”Are you alright, my lady?” he asks as he helps her to her feet.
”My apologies, I am Firas al-Adil, sworn champion of The Dawnflower,” he says with a kind of salute, placing his open palm to his heart, and a slight bow of his head.
Then he turns to examine the unconscious elf, “This one needs aid. Alas, I have not yet been blessed with Her healing touch.”
Coop examines the elf and discovers that it's face is covered in burn, with the skin still raw and tender.
Firas tries to lift the woman to her feet, but she collapses almost immediately with another screech of pain.
She tries to speak, but the words come out in short bursts to the half-orc. "I don't... think.... that's going.... to work."
Upon hearing someone calling for aid, George turns to the man. "That is an excellent question Horgus. You look like you have seen a few things in life. Could you give it a moment of thought while I attend to the lady? Once we get a handle on the situation, I will check in for some advice."
Stepping quickly over to the injured lady, George drops to a knee. "Ma'am, right now it looks like I am the closest thing to a medic we have. I can fix some, but recommend a proper examination by trained person as soon as possible. With your permission..."
Assuming she allows George to cast.
George Soundtracker raises his hand to touch the elf. "Shake It Off"
Coop takes another torch out of his bag and lights it, and hands it to Horgus.
"GOOD QUESTION, MY MYSTERIOUS FRIEND! I'M GOING TO HAVE A LOOK-SEE AROUND THE PERIMETER. THE WELCOMER WILL PROVIDE A WAY OUT!"
If Horgus has a problem with a strange man screaming into his face, Coop doesn't seem to notice it. He makes his way down into the northeastern corner of the cave.
The woman nods to George, and as the spell settles over her she smiles slightly. "Well, that certainly took the edge off, but, I don't think I'll be getting around too quickly at the moment. Name is Avenia, thanks for the help"
The old man just grumbles and holds the torch.
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.
"GOLLY, WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT THING."
Firas’s head snaps in the direction of Coop and he rushes over to the spider, drawing his scimitar again and raising his shield.
If the creature doesn’t react at his approach, he pokes it with his blade.
The spider appears to be a very large and quite dead black widow. While the spider itself doesn't seem to react to your poking, two creatures that were inside of it having a meal aren't particularly fond of the disruption and wriggle their way out towards you.
Round 1
19 Blue
18 Lyon 9/9
15 Firas 13/13
15 Yellow
13 Lassandra 13/13
12 Coop 14/14
03 George 11/11
Blue tries to bite at the paladin, but is unsuccessful.
Firas steps around the creature slicing his blade across it as he moves.
Firas twirls his blade and lashes out, splitting the creature in half and it drops motionless to the ground.
Round 1
18 Lyon 9/9
15 Firas 13/13
15 Yellow
13 Lassandra 13/13
12 Coop 14/14
03 George 11/11
Round 1
18 Lyon 9/9
15 Firas 13/13
15 Yellow
13 Lassandra 13/13
12 Coop 14/14
03 George 11/11
The writhing creature turns it's maw towards Coop and spews the contents of it's stomach in his direction.
Coop swings his earthbreaker at the maggot.
As the chunks of partially digested spider splatter all over Coop, he feels sickened but is still able to bring his giant weapon down upon the creature and crush it.
Out of combat.
As the sound of combat starts, George moves to interpose himself from the combat and the unconcious elf. With the sound of quick victory, he turns to look at the others. A look of consideration crosses his features. Then he quickly turns to the fallen man. George lowers his hand to touch the fallen. "Shake It Off"
Turning back to the group, "I am afraid unless anyone has items to heal, or even limited spell casting, we are down to mundane methods for the remainder of the day. I could not contemplate holding back when this man so clearly needs it. The way you dispatched those creatures, so quickly, gives me belief that we may emerge battered, but victorious."
"WOWEE, THAT IS VILE."
Scraping as much as he can off of himself, he picks up the torch and moves down to the corner of the room, looking for a way out.
With the healing magic settling over him, the elf suddenly wakes. He immediately presses his hands to his face. As Coop speak, he twists quickly in that direction.
"Identify yourself. Where am I? What is going on?"
"WELL, I'M COOP, THIS IS A HOLE IN THE GROUND, AND THERE'S SOME KIND OF INVASION GOING ON ABOVE US. A DEMON KILLED A DRAGON, WE FELL INTO A HOLE, AND I THINK YOU GOT BANGED UP IN THE FALL. CAN'T BE SURE ABOUT THAT, THOUGH. WHAT'S YOUR NAME, STRANGER?"
Firas shakes the filth from his blade then pulls a small handkerchief from his pouch and wipes it off more thoroughly before sheathing it again. "What foul creatures! Surely the taint of demons haunts this place! We must be wary."
Hearing the sound of spellcasting, he turns and sees George helping the elf to his feet. "Thank The Everlight you are here. I am troubled to hear that your energy is tapped for now. We will be cautious."
"I am Firas al-Adil, sworn champion of The Healing Flame. I know this gentleman to be Cupradahl, and your savior is called George. Also among us I count the lady, Avenia, who was injured like you, and another lady--I am afraid I have not caught your name yet, miss," he says with a slight bow of his head to Lassandra, "and one other gentleman who I worry may be mute." he says with an elaborately pantomimed wave to Lyon.
"We should survey the area and make sure that no more dangers lurk in the darkness. Avenia, you seem to struggle to stand. Can you lean upon me and I will aid you?"
George reaches down to give the elf a hand up. Once he gets the 3 others together, he pulls out his dagger and sling. "I can help you better defend yourself, if things go bad. But being unarmed in a place like this seems dangerous. I will still have my cestus." He gives his arm a little flick. "But take what you need and we will see about upgrades when they come available."
The elf continues pressing a hand to his face, but pushes himself to his feet. "Aravashnial."
As the elf speaks the name, Horgus makes a choking sound and moves a few feet away.
Tilting his head upwards, he speaks again. "And that was no ordinary demon. I caught sight of the Storm King before... this." He moves his hand to reveal the two ruined eyes still in their sockets.. "Are you certain the dragon is dead? This could be very bad for everyone if it is true. Who is in charge down here?"
Avenia gestures to some of the broken bits. "Perhaps a splint or brace, so I'm not quite such a burden."
Firas will search for components to contruct a splint (as well as any valuable/useful equipment).
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Lassandra lowers her pistol before having fired it. "Those wretches weren't even worth a grain of black powder, let alone a bullet." she says to herself. Lassandra then looks at her pistol and seems a little sad at the cold touch of the barrel. "Though it would have been nice to fire it off a few times. It has been some time since I've fired it... hmm... 23 hours I think. Yeah. Still too long though. Cant let my skills whither."
Lassandra looks back to the others in her party and the injured.
"If you all want to take care of the wounded I'll keep watch on making sure no one or nothing interrupts your mending. I'll keep a sharp eye out for anything that may help you as well."
"Maybe this time I'll actually get to shoot something if something pops up."
In the debris, there are items that could serve as a makeshift splint.
As Coop and Lassandra continue searching the area, they turn up five silver scales scattered near some rocks.
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Firas shakes the filth from his blade then pulls a small handkerchief from his pouch and wipes it off more thoroughly before sheathing it again. "What foul creatures! Surely the taint of demons haunts this place! We must be wary."
Hearing the sound of spellcasting, he turns and sees George helping the elf to his feet. "Thank The Everlight you are here. I am troubled to hear that your energy is tapped for now. We will be cautious."
"I am Firas al-Adil, sworn champion of The Healing Flame. I know this gentleman to be Cupradahl, and your savior is called George. Also among us I count the lady, Avenia, who was injured like you, and another lady--I am afraid I have not caught your name yet, miss," he says with a slight bow of his head to Lassandra, "and one other gentleman who I worry may be mute." he says with an elaborately pantomimed wave to Lyon.
"We should survey the area and make sure that no more dangers lurk in the darkness. Avenia, you seem to struggle to stand. Can you lean upon me and I will aid you?"
Lyon turns to Fias al-Adil No sir I'm not mute was just maze on how you & your commandes took out those brutes so easy.Let me introduce myself my name is Lyon Redfox. Walks by Fias al-Adil to help out Avenia with any her injurts.
"HUH, MUST BE FROM THAT NICE DRAGON." Coop scoops the scales up.
"Well met, Lyon. My apologies for the misinterpretation. Fear not, I will gladly allow all their moment vanquish evil from this land."
Hearing Coop, he turns to investigate the scales. He reaches out to touch one with almost timid reverence. "Could it be? The scales of Terendelev herself!"
He falls to one knee and utters a prayer, "Healing Light, guide her brave soul to your bosom in Nirvana. I vow that her sacrifice will not be in vain."
"Surely this is a sign from the goddess! We must guard these with our lives and return them to her body. Even such a small piece of a creature as great and noble as Terendelev is sacred."
As Coop picks up the first scale, he gets a sense of power and warmth from it.
Collecting the rest of the scales, all of them feel cool to the touch and rather plain.
"HEY THESE ARE PRETTY NEAT. GUN LADY, TAKE ONE."
He walks back over to the others.
"HEYA, FIRAS. HAVE A SCALE. LYON, GEORGIE, HERE YOU GO."
As Coop hands out the silver scales, each of you feel a warmth in your hand as you hold it.