"Die!" Merixia brings her shield up and slashes at the approaching dretch. She feels stronger, but oddly heavy. It's harder to move at her normal speed. Definitely picking a different form next time.
Azira steps forward to close the distance with the injured dretch, and brings Radiance dancing upwards in a fluid slash.
Azira moves swiftly, stepping forwards and slashing with Yaniel's blade and cutting deep into the demonic creature's stomach. It wails, collapsing in a heap on the ground.
Merixia takes up the attack on her own demonic foe. The heaviness in her limbs seems to only aid her in her assault, and she cuts the dretch deeply with her newfound blade.
Verene moves cautiously over the rooftop, gesturing and chanting to invoke the power of a spell ingrained in her memory. The burst of color erupts downwards, splashing over two of the remaining dretches. One shakes off the burst, but its comrade is not so fortunate, collapsing as the spell's magic overwhelms its mind.
Anevia hobbles forwards, dropping her makeshift cane and readying her bow, before hesitating. With a grimace, she slings her bow over her shoulder and slowly climbs up the walls of the nearby building, joining Verene on the roof. "Should've asked for the scale myself." She gasps, her face screwed up in pain.
Elliot walks forward, squeezing into the cramped melee, and slices into the nearest dretch! "Take this, foul demon!"
"Hm... the edge alignment was a bit off there..." he mumbles. Then again, his nearly allies were shapeshifted and that was quite the distracted spectacle on its own. Yeah. That had to be it. Definitely. Nothing embarassing about going in with a cliche line and then failing miserably...
Thesius ducks and weaves between his companions before lashing out at the dretch.
Thesius moves quickly, dodging through the crowded melee, but the tangle of metal, bodies, and movement is too difficult for him to navigate without catching a slash from the badly injured dretch's claws. He pushes through the pain, swinging his mace at the injured dretch. The demon's hide is thicker than he expects, however, and his attack bounces off.
Elliot steps forwards to join the battle, and with a swipe of his black bladed scimitar, he nearly disembowels the demon that harmed Thesius.
The conscious dretch takes a few steps back before unleashing a foul green mist that billows upwards, even blocking the sight of the women atop the roof. Though the green mist's stench is foul, the heroes resist the nausea welling up from their guts.
Whatever else the rest of the demons do is obscured by the disgusting fog.
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Merixia coughs, but manages not to vomit at the horrific stench. She thinks she remembers where the dretch who cast the cloud spell is; straight ahead past Thesius. Sure enough, the cleric spots the misshapen figure of a dretch just outside the noxious fog as she moves forward. Gotcha! Merixia bursts out of the cloud swinging at the foul demon. "It's over here!"
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Eyes watering at the sulfurous stench, Verene tries not to breathe in more of it as she lurches to her feet and concentrates on moving the only way she can be sure will take her out of the epicenter of the foul fog: down along the eaves. Only when she reaches a place where she can see and breathe again without feeling like she might lose the contents of her stomach does she open her mouth to gasp in a breath of purer air and message-whisper to the others, "That dretch just created a stinking cloud, or something very like it. It will make you violently ill to breathe, and you won't be able to adjust to it so long as you remain in there. Get out as soon as possible."
She reloads her crossbow with a second cold iron bolt, looking for the fifth and hopefully last dretch.
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Azira nods at Verene's instruction, failing to recognize in the heat of the moment that nobody can see her gesture through the noxious fog. With only one dretch in sight, and it already unconscious, she begins moving forward around it and then turns left to search for any other conscious demons, and the edge of the cloud. While she moves, she keeps Radiance dancing along beside her, ready to strike. "There's an unconscious one right at the corner of this building to our left, if anyone wants to finish it on their way by," she magically whispers to the others.
Azira moves through the cloud, hugging one of the walls of the nearby building. She steps over the demon bodies strewn about the corner, plunging deeper in. Within a few heartbeats, she stops just short of another dretch, this one standing upright - just in time to avoid getting attacked. Instead, she slashes at it with her gold-bladed sword, cutting a huge chunk of its Abyss-born flesh from its shoulder. It hisses, stumbling into the wall nearby to it.
Verene shadows Azira from her position on the rooftop, emerging from the thick green gas, but there is no sign of the demon that had been standing outside of the cloud - except the sounds from within.
Merixia pursues the other dretch through the cloud. She manages to escape its cloying stench to see the little demon's eyes grow wide as she emerges. Before she can even consider it, her blade is already tearing through the demon's stomach as it wails piteously.
As the cloud comes into view and blocks out his ability to see friend and foe alike, Thesius backpedals out of the fog and takes the opportunity to cast his last spell upon himself to help recover some of his wounds.
"Anevia, keep moving south along the edge of the roof where you were and you'll find clean air — the cloud reaches only twenty feet in every direction from its origin point," Verene messages her, worried.
Thesius retreats from the mist, calling on the last of his magic to heal himself. Some of the injuries he's sustained over the day vanish, leaving him feeling a bit better.
Elliot arrives at Merixia's side, but is still within the cloud even as he tries attacking the demon. Despite his heaving innards, he manages to land another blow on the demon. This one practically bisects the dretch, leaving it to bleed out in the streets.
The dretch facing off with Azira lashes out at her in a flailing whirlwind of teeth and limbs. Even with her movements restricted in the alleyway, the paladin is easily able to deflect most of its clumsy strikes, but is just barely able to get out of the way of its gnashing fangs.
"Thanks i-" Anevia manages through the spell before she retches violently, struggling to keep her stomach down.
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Rage fills the tiefling as she strikes her enemy, barely sated when the demon falls to Elliot's blade. There are more such filth about and she needs to kill them. Merixia takes a deep breath and heads for the sounds of combat. Sure enough, she can just barely make out another dretch in the fog as she moves south. The cleric slashes at it with all her might.
Verene hesitates: the cloud should disperse harmlessly into the air soon, for a dretch cannot be a very powerful caster, and indeed the poisonous green fog is already looking thinner and frayed at the edges. She doesn't want to step back into it while it might still disable her.
Azira presses her attack against the wounded dretch, carefully watching its flurry of attacks and bringing Radiance whistling towards it when there looks to be an opening.
As the green mist dissipates, Azira slashes down the last conscious dretch with Radiance. Its head topples off in a spray of foul gore. This allows Verene to fire a bolt into the prone demon's chest, and Merixia takes the chance to slash at it with her own sword.
Anevia remains bent over on the roof, struggling with her innards.
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Elliot flicks the blood from Radiant Eclipse and hurries after Azira and Merixia to the south.
However, just as he rounds the corner he finds them absolutely *mauling* the white dretch. "I'm here to-! ...Um. Ask you if you need any help...?" He tentatively asks, surveying the area for any enemy still standing.
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Is the dretch dead? No, looks like it's still breathing. Merixia lets out a low snarl and lops its head off. She looks around for more enemies, now that the cloud is dissipating. "Any more?"
"I think that is all of them. Well done." Verene says from the rooftop as Merixia follows Azira in simply lopping off the last dretch's head. The protective calm of premonition has left her, and yet the bloody sight, which would have shocked and distressed her a week ago, now causes only the barest flinch and slightest roil of nausea, even that mostly due to the lingering stench of the putrid gas. Not wanting to make it worse, she deliberately does not look at or mention the pile of corpses whose flesh the dretches were engaged in consuming. There is nothing to be done for them now except disposing of the remains in a dignified way, which their group does not have time to do. "They can't hurt anyone else now, and I think we have come out relatively unscathed. Let me help Anevia down and we can be on our way."
Verene carefully scales the roof over to Anevia and pats her back sympathetically through the last of her retching, then offers to support her descent from their perch with the levitation spell, so as to cause less pain to her leg. Whether or not Anevia accepts, she floats down and rejoins the others, ready to continue to the Defender's Heart. "I think we must be close to the inn. Only a few more streets now."
Anevia lifts a hand begging patience, and then once she's mastered her stomach, she nods briefly. "Thanks. Ugh, that was foul."
With that, the pair goes down, and Anevia gingerly gets off of Verene's back. She looks around, pursing her lips. "Yeah, I think we're close. It's been a few weeks since I visited the Defender's Heart, but it looks like we're close."
Azira quietly checks the faces of the piled bodies, hoping that none of them are familiar to her. An errant tear frees itself from her left eye and flees down her cheek as her thoughts turn momentarily to her mother and her missing friends. She wipes it away with her sleeve before turning back to the group and offering, "Let's get moving, then. We don't want to leave your poor wife worrying about you any longer than she needs to... wondering if you're alright, or if your..."
She falls silent for a moment then points in the direction they had been heading and asking, "this way, right?" and beginning to move again.
Elliot isn't sure what to say, faced with Merixia's rage on one hand and Azira's sorrow on the other. "Yeah, good job, everyone. Let's head there and hope we'll see a lot of familiar faces."
He sniffs his robes and winces. "Here's hoping they let us in despite the stink." He chuckles, trying to lift the mood slightly as he often did. Man, those clouds were vile indeed!
Nope, no more demons. The unnatural rage that had filled Merixia at the sight of the dretches subsides, and she takes a shaky breath. She's starting to get accustomed to the feeling, which is mildly terrifying. Do other clerics of Ragathiel have to deal with this, or is it just Merixia for whatever reason? "Good job indeed." Her voice is a little unsteady. The cleric distracts herself with the important job of sword cleaning while Verene and Anevia make their way down from the roof.
With the last demon fallen, the heroes progress back into Kenabres' arteries, its main throughfares and streets. It takes them another few minutes, but they arrive at a highly fortified large stone building. A barricade stands before the doors, but there aren't any guards posted outside, but apparently someone is keeping watch from within the doors, because they are thrown open almost as soon as the group comes into clear view on the street.
"Miss Anevia!" A pair of bedraggled and well-armed crusaders emerge from within. "Lady Irabeth had feared the worst. Please, come in, come in." One of the two, a young half-elf woman, rushes to her side, looking over her carefully. The other, a middle-aged man, eyes the group carefully.
"I'll go get Lady Irabeth." He says as they enter into the Defender's Heart proper. The half-elf woman nods as she ushers the heroes into the common room.
The room is spacious, but full nearly to the brim with people. Most of them are crusaders or clergy, judging by their clothing, but there are civilians dotted about here and there. A few tables are spread with some provisions - an early lunch, probably - but most folks are just taking some measure of leisure afforded to them in these trying times.
A one-armed grizzled human man sits behind the bar. He glances at the party as they enter, before going back to his task.
A half-orc woman enters the room with one of the heroes' two greeters, catching the attention of most of the people present. Anevia lets out a low cry of delight and rushes to her side - at least as quickly as her injured leg will let her. The two share a tight embrace that lasts for several seconds, before they approach the rest of the party.
"This is Irabeth, my wife, and knight of the Eagle Watch." Anevia says by way of introduction. She looks to her wife. "These are the people who helped me get here. Without them, I'd've died in the rubble beneath the city."
Irabeth nods at each of the heroes. "Thank you all for saving my wife, and welcome to the Defender's Heart. It's our current frontline, so to speak, against the invaders. She stops, sighing. "We've much to talk about, though. First, let's take a seat, and I'd like to hear your stories. Also," she playfully swats Anevia's shoulder, "your names, because my dearest wife forgot to share those."
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"I'm Elliot. Son of Harran Worthane. With an 'o', yes. It used to be Warthane, you know, like the Ulfen Thane leaders, but there was a mixup when he signed for the previous crusade. Always told me he was too busy making more weapons to take the time to have it corrected. But that might've been his bad leg, too..." Elliot shrugs and smiles warmly at the Irabeth and Anevia. "I'm rambling. Must be the nerves, or the relief of finally seeing some friendly faces up here. Maybe both? Anyway, I'm happy for the both of you. Really."
He glances around the common room, hand on his sheathed scimitar. "I... don't suppose someone else of my family made it here? Or, failing that, someone of the theatre group I was a part of..."
"And you'd have to explicitely tell me, as I wouldn't recognize them evern if they were all sitting at a table just five feet away," he thought, feeling a profound sense of loss.
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Merixia is acutely aware of her still altered form as they enter the room. How are these people going to react when they learn her true race? She smiles nervously and offers a hand to Irabeth. "Hi, I'm Merixia Pentarian. Um, you should know that I'm actually a tiefling. I used a spell to take a different form for extra strength when we ran into a group of dretch a ways back. It's got a few minutes left, I think." The cleric reaches up to rub the base of her horns, only to find crystals instead. She lets her hand drop. "Anyway, I'm a cleric of Ragathiel. Nice to meet you."
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The beautiful young paladin touches her hand to the holy symbol on her chest as she offers the fellow servant of Iomedae a shallow bow. “It’s an honor to meet you, Dame Irabeth,” she says rather formally, “I am Azira Tal-Shirin, a sworn sword of the Inheritor… like my parents were before me.”
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When the intact, highly fortified building comes into view, Verene fairly sways with relief. At last, something approaching safety. Thamyris trills a muted celebration on her shoulder.
She follows quietly along with the others while the two crusaders greet Anevia and usher the group in. It is an additional bracing shot of normalcy to immediately see Kimroth Otai, war hero and contemporary of her mother's and Sibylla's, behind the bar of his establishment. Verene nods to him, though she does not expect him to remember her — the Defender's Heart is far from her usual neighborhood haunts, and she has not been inside it above a dozen times in the three years since her return.
Verene smiles at Anevia's emotional reunion with her wife. It had seemed likely they would succeed in reuniting the two, since Irabeth had clearly survived the initial attack long enough to get back to their home and leave that message, but she realizes she had been bracing herself to learn some disaster had befallen the paladin between then and now. But rather than focusing on this small victory, she cannot help anxiously scanning the faces of the milling divine servants, crusaders, and civilians alike, hoping to see anyone familiar.
Irabeth's greeting draws her attention back to the couple, and she gratefully sits where the Eagle Knight indicates.
"Anevia is too modest — she doesn't mention that she also helped and protected us as we made our way here, despite a grave injury. It's wonderful to meet you, Lady Irabeth, and no less so to see that so many determined defenders are still holding out here. I am Verene, a translator and scholar with a little arcane magic. To be honest, I feel I have out of necessity learned more of it in extremis, the past few days, than in the whole of my brief study up to now. And this is Thamyris, my familiar and friend." She pushes her hood back, and Thamyris whistles a greeting. "We have a great deal to tell you and any remaining Crusade leaders about our journey here, but perhaps most important is this: we have evidence that indicates cultists of Baphomet and possibly others had infiltrated the Crusade for months at least before this attack, and that the failure of the Wardstone might have been due in part to their sabotage. They were using the Tower of Estrod, Topaz Solutions, and Nyserian Manor as meeting places."
She produces the letter and adds, "We also left vulnerable people behind in less safe locations, to search for just such a secure place as this, and now that we have found it I am eager to bring them here as soon as possible."
Irabeth listens quietly to the heroes introductions. "I'm sorry, Elliot, but I haven't heard anything about your family." She lifts her finger. "I don't know all the people here, though, so you should ask around."
Merixia's words cause her to chuckle. It's dry, but genuine. "First, I'm hardly one to cast stones because of someone's ancestry. I know as well as anyone that virtue can bloom in any person's heart. Moreover, I trust Anevia's instincts, and she trusts you all." The paladin pats her wife's shoulders.
Anevia rolls her eyes, but says nothing, a faint grin on her face.
The half-orc woman looks to Azira. "Wait, Third Sword Knight Tal-Shirin? No, she should be older than you... you must be their daughter, then? Welcome to Defender's Heart. I don't have any real authority here-"
"Don't listen to her!" One of the clerics in the crowd calls. "She's taken charge here, and there's no one better suited to it!"
"Yes, thank you, Iomar." Irabeth replies, waving him away with an air of exasperation. "I should say instead that I don't outrank many in the Church here, but I'm always glad to have another sword of Iomedae to fight back against the demons."
Irabeth's expression tightens at the mention of the cultists. "Ah. The Templars, yes. To be honest, until very recently, there was no actual evidence that they were present in Kenabres. They have spies everywhere, it seems..." She glances around. "Though I think that most of them cast off their disguises with the fall."
She sighs, sitting back in her chair. "The Eagle Watch were founded to fight against this sort of thing. As you may be able to tell, we failed spectacularly. Just last year, I caught one of their more powerful members - Staunton Vhane, the commander of the Hammers of Heaven - trying to sabotage the wardstone. We didn't suspect a thing until it was nearly too late. He and his band were considered members of great virtue, but..."
Irabeth shakes her head. "There's even some evidence that he'd been serving the demons for over 75 years - since the fall of Drezen. They knighted me for that, but he got away, so now... well, now we've got to handle this."
Shocked at the implications of the information the sword had suddenly given him, Elliot only nods numbly at Irabeth and tries to think back to Radiant Eclipse as hard as he could.
"Wait! How do you know that? Does that mean *you* know what they look like? Have you seen my memories? Or taken my memories, even?"
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It's painfully obvious to Merixia that Irabeth is blaming herself for failing to foresee the invasion. She reaches out to pat the paladin on the shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, Knight Tirabade. Demon cults are notoriously hard to detect and eradicate. Hells, the Order of the Pyre has been trying to stamp this sort of thing out of Cheliax for more than a century. They still haven't managed to do so despite the fact that they operate with no morals to speak of and complete carte blanche from the Chelaxian crown. So many people pass through Kenabres from all over Avistan and beyond, trying to keep track of them all would be a monumental task." She can see how the local inquisitors developed a serious case of paranoia. Not that it excuses burning innocents at the stake, of course, but Merixia doesn't envy them the job of hunting down hidden traitors.
Verene is too distracted by glancing around for anyone she knows by name to take note of Irabeth's guilt until Merixia addresses it. "Merixia is right, of course. And in any case, there is no useful purpose served by assigning blame before you know exactly what went wrong. But you were on the right track with Vhane: from the initials of the writer, we think it was him directing these cultists."
After a moment it occurs to her that pointing out this fact might actually make Irabeth feel worse for not being able to apprehend him before disaster struck. She adds more gently, "Lady Irabeth, I am no crusader, only a civilian researcher. And I was seriously considering fleeing to Nerosyan as soon as it was safe to do so. But seeing you here, still standing strong, gives me hope. As long as you stand, I will stand with you."
Azira smiles weakly at Irabeth’s recognition of her family name, but doesn’t respond right away. In fact, she remains silent until Verene asserts her willingness to stand and defend the city; then she finally answers the other paladin, “I am older than I look, ma’am, but you’re right that was my mother… she was in the square for the festival and, if the reports of Terendelev’s fall are true, I have no doubt she shared our great defender’s fate…”
Her eyes glisten with constrained tears longing to flow but she maintains her composure and concludes, “I will stand as well, and defend the city until the demons are driven back or I join her in Iomedae’s Realm.”
"Oh, of course I'm staying to help! Fighting demons is the whole reason I came to Kenabres in the first place." Merixia thought that was obvious, but it's probably best to make her intentions clear.
Irabeth waves away the dark thoughts, a wry smile on her face. "You're both right, of course. We've more important tasks to do." She sighs.
Anevia speaks up, one arm hugging Irabeth's waist. "Actually, speaking of... I heard that the Order of the Pyre were here in Kenabres. Just a few knights and a dozen-odd armigers, though." Her lips twist in a dark grin. "I hope they died fighting valiantly against many demons."
"Anevia..." Irabeth's tone has a warning note.
The Nidalese woman looks mock-wounded. "It's how they would want to go."
"Anevia."
"Fine." The archer sighs, falling silent.
"I'm sorry... we're a little energetic having one another in sight again." Irabeth looks to the heroes. Her gaze grows grave as she looks to Verene. "In all honesty, I could not blame you for wanting to leave. I don't think it wise, but I can't blame you. Nevertheless, thank you for your willingness to join us. I'm sure your talents will prove vital."
She examines Azira briefly, before bowing her head sorrowfully. "I pray that Iomedae welcomes her, then." She folds her hands on the table, before looking to Merixia. "Well, that's good to hear, from both of you. I suspect we'll all have more than our fill of demon battle soon enough."
Her yellow gaze turns back to Verene. "You mentioned leaving people behind?"
"We found a few civilians on our way up... and the remnants of Blackwing. The librarians seemed very reluctant to leave... though it may be that they have more reason to believe that they'll be secure. We also found a family of three who expressed willingness to come to a safe place."
"Alright. I'll try to get a group together to find them- wait. One or two of you should probably go with anyone I send, because otherwise they might think the worst." Irabeth pauses.
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Verene does her best to follow the interplay about the Order of the Pyre, with limited success. A powerful Chelish knightly order with the backing of the Crown almost certainly means Hellknights, and from the name and Merixia and Anevia's characterizations alone, she has the impression it must be something like a whole organization full of Prelate Hulruns. She has gone out of her way to stay far away from such fanatical crusader-hopefuls since her return. It is difficult to tell whether Irabeth's disapproval stems from a chivalrous distaste for publicly wishing death on nominal allies, or if she actually believes the Pyre knights to be more helpful than harmful on the whole.
"One or two of you should probably go with anyone I send, because otherwise they might think the worst."
"I will go," Verene offers resolutely after the tiniest pause, even though she knows perfectly well it would be foolhardy to leave the safety of this building and brave the uncertain streets again before she has rested and prepared more spells. Aravashnial, Fenna and the librarians, Klarah, Syras and Dea might not have until tomorrow morning.
She looks at the others, seeing her own weariness reflected in them. It has only been a few hours since leaving Neathholm, but she already feels she could sleep for a month. Elliot seems to be thinking hard about something, his gaze elsewhere. Two direct servants of divinities, one young man clearly blessed with luck by his patron goddess, another whose destiny is entwined with a powerful magical sword. And then... me. Of the five of us, it is obvious who is least essential to the Crusade.
Out loud she says, "I know the city well, and I remember where we left them. There is one more, too: a nobleman we returned to his own estate. I don't know if he will wish to come here instead, if offered the chance, but he might— if only to have someone to complain to about the accommodations! His safe house looked secure and well-supplied, but uncomfortable for even one person to be cooped up in for days or weeks.
"We also agreed on a password, but only with the group at the Blackwing. I can write it down along with the locations, just in case."
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Merixia makes a face at the mention of Hellknights in Kenabres. "Pyre, really? I figured the Godclaw might be here, but I was hoping they were the only Hellknights who came." Knights of the Godclaw are... almost tolerable. They're the only ones, though. "Well, as long as they keep their weapons and spells pointed at the demons and away from us." She looks at Anevia. "Don't count on all of them falling against the invasion. Hellknights are damnably hard to kill. In this situation, though, any survivors will be useful. We can't afford to turn down anyone able and willing to fight."
"Alright. I'll try to get a group together to find them- wait. One or two of you should probably go with anyone I send, because otherwise they might think the worst." Irabeth pauses.
"I'll be happy to accompany one of the groups. I still have some healing magic left for the day, and of course my sword. Although I would like to leave the weapons and armor we've salvaged here. This pack gets heavier by the minute." Merixia rolls her shoulders, trying in vain to get some of the stiffness out.
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Irabeth sighs. "Well, if you can convince them to come, they're welcome enough here." She scratches her chin. "The password would be helpful - it'd mean that we could send out two groups at the same time, only one of which would need you."
Meanwhile, Anevia shrugs at Merixia. "They heard about potential demonic cult activity, and they just invited themselves in. And yeah, you've pretty much gone with the party line on their presence... but I'll hold onto hope." She offers a half-serious grin, before looking back to her wife.
"You did seem a tad overburdened. A lot of those items would prove useful in fighting back against the invaders... and I'm sure the Abadarans will be delighted to have some actual commerce happening again." She leans forwards and whispers. "They've been reduced to barter, and it pains them dreadfully." Sitting upright, the paladin smiles. "In any case, i think those of you staying behind should spend some time relaxing. It looks like you've had some troubles so far."
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Thesius followed the group and joined them as they sat in a bit of a daze. It had been a long and hard journey full of new experiences. Many he would have liked to have never happened.
After a bit his breathing would fall more even then it had in a long time and he would finally find the strength to speak.
"Apologies for the delay. I fear the journey has taken more of a toll then I realized. I am Thesius Monteblanc, a scholar friend of Verene's. I've lived within the city most of my life. While rest sounds welcoming, I would prefer to join in the party to go get the others. I can only imagine the toll being out there is taking on them and would prefer not to risk them staying out there longer."
"The password would be helpful - it'd mean that we could send out two groups at the same time, only one of which would need you."
Verene nods, and takes a bit of parchment from her pack. Though she is more used to an academic openhandedness with information than to secrecy and paranoia, Irabeth's earlier distrustful glance around the Defender's Heart and mention of spies has made her more watchful than to declare the locations of vulnerable civilian survivors and the password out loud. Better it be written down and given directly to someone a paladin trusts. She sketches a basic map of the relevant parts of the Gate District, with the locations of Fine Fittings, the Librarium, and the Gwerm estate marked by numbers. Beneath it she makes a numbered key, with the name of each place, the closest major street intersection, and the names of the people expected to be sheltering there. By the Blackwing Library entry she adds, One knock & password 'Chief Sull.' On behalf of Merixia Pentarian, Azira Tal-Shirin, Thesius Monteblanc, Elliot Worthane and Verene Tanaquil. Then she folds the parchment and passes it to Irabeth.
"There, that is all we know of people needing rescue. However, I think part of the librarians' reluctance to leave was an inability to transport what books and arcane components they had been able to salvage from the mostly ruined librarium. They didn't want to let such things fall into the demons' hands. It might be a good idea for any rescue party to take some kind of small cart or barrow to carry them, if such a thing is available."
"Apologies for the delay. I fear the journey has taken more of a toll then I realized. I am Thesius Monteblanc, a scholar friend of Verene's. I've lived within the city most of my life. While rest sounds welcoming, I would prefer to join in the party to go get the others. I can only imagine the toll being out there is taking on them and would prefer not to risk them staying out there longer."
Verene smiles briefly at Thesius coming out of his daze, but her look quickly turns to one of worry. "Are you sure? I think what we have seen and endured over the last few days may have been hardest on you. You deserve to take what rest you need." She glances at Merixia. "You, too, Merixia. Carting around all that heavy equipment can't have been easy."
Irabeth nods at Thesius. "Understandable. How many of you want to go, and where? I recommend going to the noble or the civilians, and leaving the librarians to some of our allies here - it's pretty far in our current situation, and you've fought a lot throughout today, it seems." She snorts. "Imagine, saying something on the other side of the city is far away. Might as well be across the river."
Anevia shifts. "I'm not sure Horgus will leave. We can send word to him, but..."
"Horgus Gwerm? Lord Horgus Gwerm?" One of the clerics in the area sits upright. The human Abadaran with greying hair looks distinctly startled. "Apologies for my interruption," she adds, looking abashed, "but if it is Lord Gwerm, I suspect that he won't want to come to a place so full of people. He is unfond of crowds such as this." She waves a hand at the assembled people in the main hall.
"If you wish to send someone, however, I would request that one of our acolytes goes with you." She adds.
Irabeth nods. "I'll take it under advisement." Her yellow eyes return to the heroes. "So, how many of you are going?"
Azira forces a smile and offers, "I'll gladly go wherever my service will be most helpful."
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"The family stuck in their shop are near to the library and about the same distance from here, if not a little farther. In fact, all three are in something of a line from the Defender's Heart, as you see, so it might be best to move as one group, going first to the clothing shop, then to the library, then the manor on the way back." Verene gestures to the sketchy map she drew.
"However, if we are to go in two groups, I will go with the group bound for Fine Fittings, and trust that the password will be enough for the group in the library. As long as I can leave these weapons, like Merixia suggested. I would be glad of a quick bite to eat and perhaps to be able to wash my hands and face before we leave, but then I am ready." Her stomach growls loudly at the thought of food. It has been a long while since breakfast in Neathholm.
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"While it has been an ordeal, it might be best I not rest just yet. Once I start taking the time to deal with what we have been through, it might take some time to recover. I would like to head for the Fine Fittings as well. I think the librarians would benefit more from those with more strength of arm and back," he replies before continuing on, "While I appreciate the thought of larger numbers. I believe two groups cuts down on the amount of time they are left out there and larger numbers may draw more attention from anything left in the streets. Although, it we've not come across any sizable force. With that in mind, larger numbers may better serve to keep things away."
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Irabeth scratches her cheek. "Alright. Seems like you all want to go, so who am I to stop you? Except," she turns to Anevia, [b]"you. You're staying here until we can get your leg healed. Besides, I need more people to help me run this place."
"You say the nicest things, Irabeth." Anevia says, rolling her eyes. "I'm not planning to head out any time soon, anyways. Sorry, guys." She offers the group a tired smile. "I'll take the chance to rest - we've been on the move for a few days now."
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"I don't want to slow things down at all, but all I've had to eat for the last few days is some scraps that my friends and I... my other friends..."
Azira's shoulders slump and she lets out a long slow breath. "Sorry, ma'am," she says looking to Irabeth, "I should probably report that part too... I wasn't with everyone else underground. My friends and I were on our way to the square when the attack started. We cornered a schir in an alley and were fighting it when the ground shook... one of the walls next to us collapsed and we were buried in the rubble. Praise the Inheritor, we all survived, but by the time we were able to dig ourselves out the initial assault was over. We spent a couple days moving through the Ring District picking off lesser demons before I was snatched by a flying one we hadn't seen coming... I might not have survived except that an arrow from an unseen archer--another survivor, fighting for the city--struck the demon and it dropped me to go investigate. I ran into the rest of our group here shortly after that, but my friends are, gods willing, still out there fighting. I can give you names and descriptions if you're ever sending patrols in there, but it sounds like they might be too far away for now..."
Straightening back up, she clears her throat and returns to her original thought, "at any rate, those friends and I scavenged some scraps from destroyed food stalls that had been set up for the festival but that's all I've had to eat in days. I don't want to delay our leaving but if there's food available here that I could eat while we're walking, I'd be grateful for it?"
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Elliot looks up as if just waking from a daze of sorts, his gaze having been fixed on the scimitar in his hand. "Oh... uh, sorry. Did I miss anything important? I was surprised, this blade suddenly talked to me, saying it couldn't see or feel my family nearby... when I don't even know what they look like now. To say I was surprised would be quite an understatement."
He grimaces and smiles apologetically at Irabeth. "Sorry. I imagine that sounds pretty insane. But I promise I'm not! Right, everyone?"
He glances over the group hopefully.
"I think this sword was a gift from Sarenrae herself," he explains to Irabeth. "It's an artefact, just as Radiance over there. And probably on par with Merixia's sword as well. We somehow just happened to find a perfect blade for her, too. I like to think the gods were watching over us a bit, though why only I had to pay a price for mine is... well, maybe it's because I'm not a member of the Clergy..."
He shrugs and looks at Merixia. "Say, have you given your sword a cool name yet? Set next to Radiant and Righteous Eclipse, something else starting with an 'R'? Retribution? Reckoning? ...Ragathiel'd? Hmm... maybe not that last one..."
When the group shares catchup information along with the plans, he nods. "Say, did anyone mention Sull and his people To Irabeth? You know, the potential army of reinforments beneath the surface of which we know at least part is still loyal to the Crusade? Might just be worth sending a messenger back to them? Just a thought. While I'd like to check on Klarah and her parents too, I could lead one of the men to the cave system exit and drop by the library afterwards to get my Master and his people, should they wish to come. Or heck, I could go back underground myself. The mutated crusaders there know me, at least."