Kenabres, city of the crusaders. Normally filled with nervous dread and vigilant eyes, those have been replaced with a few moments of relief and celebration. Armasse is here!
A traditional day for scholars and historians to come together to learn from wars past, since the death of Aroden and the opening of the Worldwound, this holy day has become more about training commoners in weaponry, choosing squires, and ordaining new priests. In Kenabres, the event is widely anticipated, as it provides a brief relief from the horrors of a never-ending war.
The weeks leading up to today, 16 Arodus, has seen smiles on the faces of the usually grim. The entire town is celebrating, with jousting competitions, mock duels, battle reenactments, and other festival events taking place. The opening ceremony happens at noon in Clydwell Plaza, and this is where you currently find yourself.
Nimbly avoiding the ignorant tall folk, a small bundle of vines with glossy green leaves and rich red berries wanders the streets of Kenabres. Ignoring the spectacle around him, and clearly searching for something, or someone, the humanoid cluster of vines stops regularly to partially climb a lamppost, calling out, "Mordithas? Mordithas? Are you here? Where are you?"
Approaching a taller, well-armed citizen, the vine creature looks up with a wide-eyed (berried) face and asks, "Hello. Have you seen Mordithas? He's an elf. He's tall. I was hoping he would be here."
Said red-haired citizen looks, well, a little tired, as though she's just gotten off a horse from a day-long trip. She's been looking around as though she'd forgotten that Armasse was approaching and wasn't ready for the crowd; she does finally remember that she'd been given the option of being confirmed and accepted as a holy warrior of the Inheritor on this day, but had declined -- too many things that needed to be done.
She looks down at the shorter creature -- she herself is a the less-than-towering sort, but not quite as small as the vegetative sophont -- and replies, "I'm sorry, no, I just got here myself. I ... can't confess that I know of whom you speak, nor am I in a good position to see tall people," and here she smiles and adds, "due to most people being taller than me, but I'm not adverse to doing a bit more wandering to try to help you find your friend before heading back home. Might I ask your name -- and, forgive me, but I've never seen your sort before; what are those of your species called? I'm Aerianna."
She offers her open hand to the strange being, though whether that's a manner of greeting or a 'here, climb on up' is open to interpretation.
Said strange creature extends a vine and shakes her hand, leaving a bit of rich red juice behind.
”My name is Tart Cranberry, but most people call me TC. Since you are also a person, you can call me TC also. I am called a vine leshy and I’m a crusader! You wear the sword with sunburst—that means you are a follower of Iomedae. Mordithas says that means you are likely a good person so I can trust you. Mordithas also says followers of Iomedae aren’t willing to do what is necessary to destroy the Worldwound because you’re too worried about honour. Why don’t you want to close the Witkdwound?”
The red-haired woman's eyebrows lift at the flurry of the response, as well as the erratic choppiness of the reply, but -- she's never met a vine leshy before, nor (to be entirely honest) has ever heard of them, so perhaps this is normal for how they interact ... ? Maybe?
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Crusader Cranberry," Aerianna replies gravely. "I would counter the opinion of your friend Mordithas with my own, which is to say that I do not believe we know, any of us, how to close the Worldwound, and until we do, striving to stop the expansion of the demons within, then driving them back as best we can and holding the line when we must pause to rest is what has happened since it opened. Honor ..." She pauses to muse on this for a moment, then digresses.
"If we are to wander, would you care to scale me and sit or stand upon my shoulder? Perhaps, with your height bettered by the addition of much of my own, you might spot your friend all the sooner." Once again she offers her hand, this time to help the vine leshy up onto her shoulder (preferably the left).
"In regards to honor," Aerianna continues, "I believe that it is important to do something as important as this without compromising the principles that make us who we are. Not doing so -- if we violate our principles in the name of expediency to achieve a short-term goal -- will not only remove from our grasp many of the best tools with which to fight such terrible ugliness, but may also lead us down the path in the other direction. We would rather destroy evil and chaos by persuading it to Rise, wielding the blade only as we must, than slay it with subterfuge and vile arts and in so doing Fall ourselves into the Pit from whence these troubles came. And unlike the demons, one of this world who has chosen evil and selfishness cannot be purged with a word." Granted, that would be a very strong Word indeed, but the point is there.
TC accepts the hand up and sits on her left shoulder. He listens intently as Aerianna explains the nature of honour, then replies with, ”Okay.”
He looks around. ”I still don’t see him. I heard lots of people were coming here today, so I came too.”
Aerianna gives a golden laugh. "Well, yes," she agrees. "It's one of the few holidays that really gets celebrated around here." A brief sigh comes from her, then she adds, "People are ... very acutely aware of the danger they live in, with the demons right next door, as it were."
Regnis moves around the festivities, looking somewhat lost himself. Ustalav is a country filled with weary, battered people, and he has never seen a festival of this size before. Nor really a festival at all. The man's skin is the color of faded brass, and he carries a banner on a quarterstaff with him. The banner is of a scarab with an eye on the back, but the rest of his clothing is plain. As he wanders, he tries his hand at the physical activities of the festival, but finds no luck there.
It is strange to be among all these people and to not be the strangest in the room. Indeed, the people of Kenabres are quite varied! Like the strange bush creature, riding that woman with the rather striking emerald eyes..
Regnis's train of thought is cut off as his familiar stings him. Yet more downsides. An empathic link.
Regardless of what activities you were involved in before, the three of you find yourself in front of the podium in Clydwell Plaza, shortly before noon.
Armasse officially began as the sun hung directly overhead, with the blessing of the festival by Lord Hulrun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The festival slowed, activities and jousts coming to an end as the crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza. The people quieted down 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.
Just a second 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. Her glittery silver scales reflected both the midday sun and the spreading fire around the Kite.
What few crusaders still kept their wits about them quickly attempted to spring into action with calls to arms, but all of that ended when 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 downwards toward the crowd.
The sight of Terendelev, Kenabres’ most devoted defender, smashing into the facade of the Cathedral of St. Clydwell is one no witness would ever forget. At that moment, a massive 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, she noticed your plight. Though Terendelev 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.
“I can’t…let them…d-“
Her words were cut off, quite literally, as the last thing you saw before continuing your steep dive into the darkness was the Storm King standing before the ancient silver dragon, his sword lashing out and cleaving full through her neck. As her severed head clattered against the brick pavement, a last painful cry echoed around the square, before Terendelev lay silent for the last time.
Finally, the rift above you slammed shut, and the light of the world above was gone.
As they slowly fall through darkness, stunned by the spectacle, TC says with childlike sadness, ”I thought you said the demons don’t live next door.”
Shocked by the sight, a sharp inhalation her only exclamation as the rift opens under her, Aerianna's hand tightens its grip on her sword as she falls. The magic slows her, her passenger, the bannerman beside her -- she cannot see -- and so she relaxes the mental muscle keeping her radiance in check.
About her head, golden fire with tips of copper and red licking outwards brighten up the area immediately around her; occasional thin ripples of green thread through her aura given visibility. It isn't much, but at least they can see where they're going.
"I had ... no idea," she confesses to the leshy. "Did you see all that, though?!? This was planned."
TC nods. ”Lots of demons all around, all ready to attack different parts of the city. Not typical demon rampage. Someone’s in charge this time.”
Peering down into the dark, he adds, ”I hope this hole isn’t too deep. I don’t like the dark. Your light is pretty though.”
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Regnis can see quite well in the dark, having both Darkvision 60, and Low Light Vision, and can see quite well the reactions of his new acquaintances. Once again, it is hard to tell from his face what this man is feeling, but one thing is for certain; no one could have expected that. Perhaps we should have though, today was a day of festivities. Of course if the demons were able to attack they'd do it today. He decides to focus in on what he can actually observe and influence, noting the woman's halo.
"Some Aasimars are known for being able to generate halos, although I have never personally seen one before. I assume that you are one then?" As he talks, he focuses, and casts dancing lights, and moves them to the downward edge of the halo's radiance, extending it by another torch's distance.
TC, also possessing both darkvision and low-light vision, looks about. Are any other people falling with them, or is it just the three of them?
Even with Aeri's halo lighting the way down, the trip down isn't any less terrifying. Rocks and rubble accompany you the entire way.
Once you land, however, you discover you are part of the lucky group. The one that made it out of the fall alive. The land slide of the rubble of Kenabres that followed you covered the bodies of those Terendelev could not save-here and there the arms or legs of victims who didn’t survive the fall protrude. Looking around, you see the ceiling and far walls of this vast cavern recede into darkness, and notice that you are not alone.
A younger human woman sits against one wall, her leg bent in an unnatural angle as she winces in pain and attempts to keep it still. A much older male elf carrying an interesting looking staff stands off the far side, a bloody bandage completely covering his eyes. And to top it all off, a heavyset human male is worryingly running his hands over his clothes, either looking for something or trying to find some wound.
Beyond the humanoids in the immediate vicinity, a disturbing shape looms in the darkness. Nearly the size of a horse, what appears to be an immense black spider crouches silent and still on the ground. Apparently these three strangers haven't noticed the spider, as they immediately turn towards you upon your arrival.
The human female on the ground grunts and raises her eyes to the group.
"Friend or foe?"
You can tell she desperately needs a friend right now.
”Hello. We are friends, unless you’re a demon. But the giant spider about to eat you isn’t a friend. You should lie still and let us kill it.”
TC studies the spider carefully.
"Tart Cranberry speaks true, for I am no friend of demons. Nor do I expect that the large spider intends anything good for you either."
"It's good to see another friend in these dark times, even if we aren't exactly friends just yet." She shakes her head, seemingly still in shock over the events of the past half hour.
"Name's Anevia. I would get up and offer to shake your hand, but I seem to have injured my leg. Obviously."
She looks down at her broken leg, and then over towards the spider.
"I'm not sure what's up with that thing, actually. It was there when we landed here in the first place. Hasn't done anything or moved since. I don't know..."
Aerianna, giving the spider a wary once-over, glances over at the woman with the clearly-broken leg. "We will test it," she suggests, "see if we can't scare it away first, before doing what we can for you. Afterwards, I will set your leg, ma'am, then take a look at your eyes, sir elf, if that is all right with you."
She gives a quick glance over to Regnis, then crouches down, still battle-ready and facing the spider, and says, "Tart, I think it best you be on your own feet for this." A momentary flicker goes through her mind -- would leshy consider what they have to be legs, to be feet? -- as she waits for TC to climb off, but then she rises again and takes a few steps towards the spider, shield set and sword in hand, gauging its reaction. A quick couple of bangs of her crossguard against her shield makes a pair of metallic clanks; perhaps that'll be enough to scare the thing away?
TC quickly climbs down and follows Aerianna forward. Curiously, he doesn’t draw the little thorn of a rapier he wears on his hip. Instead, his vines begin to swirl around him and waves of some invisible force begin to gather around him in a 20-foot bubble. A 5-pound rock lifts into the air and hovers before the leshy, whose eyes are trained on the enormous spider.
Surprisingly, neither the clanging nor the rock appear to have any effect on the spider. It doesn’t move nor threaten defensively. Whatever happened to the massive spider, it appears to be dead already.
After seeing this, Anevia sighs in relief.
”Thank the Inheritor it’s dead already. I’m not sure I could’ve survived a fight in this condition. I also don’t think that regular healing magic will help me this time, friends. I’ll need something stronger, time.”
The elf perks up at the mention of his eyes.
”Unfortunately, my eyes took a glancing blow from the whip of the Storm King himself before I fell. I don’t think any magic you may have can save my sight. We need to find a safe place to rest, as I am sure we are in danger here. I would help lead, but obviously I cannot see. Would any of you like to take the responsibility of guiding us out of this wretched hole?” he sounds clearly agitated, as if he wished he could do more to help himself in this situation.
TC allows the energy to dissipate and the rock to settle back down on the ground. He moves to examine the edges of this cave and look for any obvious means of exit.
Aerianna approaches the spider warily, then (unless the cause of death is self-evident, like a caved-in skull with the rock still in the wound) sinks her blade through its head; in matters of the safety of others, she would rather make personally certain of such a dangerous creature before letting her guardianship down. "I will do so, Master Elf, and I have no doubt that my new leshy friend Tart Cranberry, as well as our equally new Ustalavic friend Regnis, will be entirely willing to assist in our seeking to return to the surface."
Carefully cleaning her blade of whatever is upon it after she's made certain of the giant spider, she sheathes the weapon and steps over to kneel down next to the woman with the broken leg. "My own name is Aerianna. I mostly practice," she admits to the woman, "as a midwife and healer of womens' problems, but women suffer broken bones as well, so I'll at least be able to set and splint this properly."
She examines the angle, palpitating the leg with fingers that are gentle but firm -- pain is a consequence, but she does her best to minimize it. "Yes, I think a clean break; this would be best to straighten and splint as one process, but we need to find something to use."[/b]
She casts her gaze about, and her eyes must settle upon the unfortunates who were not so lucky as to have caught the great silver dragon's gaze. She gives a deep sigh, then stands and steps over to the rubble, detritus, and graveyard. Bending her head, she makes Iomedae's sign of the sword (touching her forehead for the hilt, down to her belly to describe the blade, then left and right shoulders to indicate the sword's quillions) to ask for her goddess's blessing, and murmurs a prayer for the deceased. "Lady of Valor, I pray you guard these souls on their journey to the Judge of the Dead, thence to their destinations beyond Her Halls; whatever their lives, they were mortal and need guardianship still. This I ask in Thy name." Short as a crusader's prayer must typically be; grave, for the situation before her.
"Tart, Regnis, help would be appreciated, if only to pull out what useful things we might be able to recover while I do the heavy lifting. Now that we have introduced ourselves," the flame-haired and -aura'd woman says, "may we be graced with the names of you three?" She has not forgotten the clothes-patting man.
TC nods and walks over to stand ten feet from the pile. He doesn’t seem to do anything besides point at the rubble, but then rock after rock (all under five pounds) begin to whiz from the pile to slam against the far wall.
Aerianna yelps at the display, shying away from the steady barrage of rocks. "Carefully!!" she exclaims. "Move one the wrong way, it'll settle!" She is also, in her way, concerned with respect for the dead, but it's a tough slog, considering how she has to move rocks which have the deceased beneath them.
"I have some basic training in the healing arts, allow me to aid you." With no small amount of effort, Regnis breaks his quarterstaff/cane over his good knee, to be used as a splint. He drapes the banner it carried over his shoulder.
After Anevia is helped, he will try and join Tart Cranberry in moving things, but will keep an eye out for an intact spear or quarterstaff to replace the walking stick he just lost.
Unfortunately for Anevia, the healing neccessary for her leg is far beyond your current capacity. The best you can do is splint it with a broken quarterstaff you find inside the rubble, and even that is shaky at best. She needs more powerful magic, such as regeneration, or a lot more time to naturally recover.
The elf seems to be visibly reassured by her words, however, and does calm down after a moment.
"Thank you. My name is Aravashnial. I don't like the feeling of not being able to see. The Rif- my friends up top will be able to help me, I am sure about that. Just have to make sure I make it up there I suppose."
After searching the rubble, even for a few minutes, you find way too many bodies. The job would take way too long in terms of hours and work. he broken staff is not all you find in the pile of rubble, however. Broken swords and hewn off pieces of armor litter the floor, but the most valuable prize of all lays in three shining silver scales, one for each of you. As soon as you pick one up, you immediately understand that a small portion of Terendelev’s soul stuck with each one, granting them s fraction of her leftover power.
1. Three times per day as a standard action, a scale can be used to cast Disguise Self. While disguised, the target gains a +4 bonus on all Bluff checks made against evil creatures.
2. Twice per day, the scale can be used to cast Resist Energy, but only against cold or electricity.
3. Three times per day, the scale can be used to cast Levitate. A pillar of roiling clouds rises below the levitating object or creature, growing and shrinking with the target’s altitude. This pillar is 5 feet in diameter (regardless of the target’s size) and provides concealment (20% miss chance) to any creature or object wholly contained within.
The last stranger of the three you find down here finally speaks up. The heavy set human man gives a slight glare towards Anevia and Aravashnial before doing so.
"Name's Horgus. Horgus Gwerm. Famed merchant and lender, monetary supporter of the crusades. What plan do we have for getting out of this hell hole, exactly?" You notice Anevia grimace slightly as she hears him say this, although you're not sure which part caused it.
"We'll need a sledge to drag Anevia. I am not physically strong enough to lift her myself. And a light for those who cannot see in the dark. Gwerm perhaps should carry it, as the rest of my companions have their own ways to see in the dark. Aravashnial, I can lead you as best I can, lean on me and I will help you." This entire monologue is delivered somewhat dispassionately, as if there was a layer of separation between the man and the situation that they all find themselves in. He takes a step back, and glances over at Aerianna. "I'm very open to alternatives though. The situation seems almost unbelievably dire."
”What stock do we have in food and water? I have four little water skins but no food.”
He becomes subliminally aware of his berries and withdraws to look for travois supplies.
Ariana gives a low whistle of wonder at the recovered scales. “Terendelev was mighty indeed, for her spirit to empower these even at her death. Tart, why don’t you take the one for levitation, to help you get into positions that any opponents we run into down here may not anticipate. Regnis, would you prefer the defensive scale, or that of concealment? Outside of a fight, I think we are likely to swap around at need.”
After the search, as she is finishing up the splint for the leg of the woman, Ariana looks up at the merchant’s question. “No plan, Master Horgus; plans require information, and we have none of that. Therefore, we must do what Crusaders have always done: work together to handle what lies before us, be open to new and honorable allies, and remain mindful of the future.”
She studies the merchant for a moment, then says, ”I think we will have to lean heavily upon your broad shoulders once again, sir. As the only entirely able of the three of you, it will be to you to assist and manage as you have always done for the Crusaders. You and Mistress Anevia must be eyes for Master Aravashnial; you and Aravashnial must be legs for Anevia. This, so that the rest of us may remain ready for whatever dangers await us down here.”
If he indicates his willingness, Aerianna will beckon him over to help leverage Anevia to her feet, perhaps as Regnis guides Aravashnial over to take Aeri’s place. Aravashnial will support Anevia’s good side; Horgus will manage her bad, while both will caution Aravashnial against dangers to his footing.
About food, Aerianna says, ”I have only a few days worth, three or four; I was just returning from a journey to Vala’s Gift. I do have a full canteen of water, though.”
TC takes his scale, holding it reverently, before sliding it under the shoulder strap of his backpack.
"It is not so bad, Regnis. We are alive, and I now know another place where Mordithas is not. Aerianna, you will lead the way? I will stay at the back and watch for anything coming from behind."
Anevia protests, raising a hand at the mention of a sledge.
"No, I can walk with the assistance of that crutch. I don't need to be carried around." To make her point, she pushes her way up, using the support of Aerianna and the makeshift crutch to stand. While wobbly, she does manage to take a few steps without falling over.
Horgus, however, is more openly brazen in his disagreement.
"Me? Help that common thief? As if. She broke into one of my warehouses back up, I’m sure it was to reclaim that sword her wife had to sell from me."
His glare at her cuts the air between them, and Anevia freezes, almost seething in anger.
”You know nothing about us.” her reply is short and definitely not sweet, as Anevia doesn’t throw any insults back, curiously.
”Oh but I do, don’t I? And you!” Horgus cries out, turning towards the elf. ”Aravashnial himself. The conspiracy theorist, attempting to ruin my good name. Saying I was in cohorts with the demons, my funds made available for their use. How dare you?” the larger man is quite obviously under an extreme amount of pressure and out of his comfort zone. Although the reaction of the elf, who you know now as Aravashnial, tells you that what Horgus is saying isn’t necessarily untrue.
"I don't mind supporting the crusades, but I don't support thieves and misguided witch hunts." Horgus finishes, before turning back to look at Aerianna.
As Aerianna talks to the group, her eyes catch onto the corpse of the spider. Something seems...off about it. It's dead, yes, but as she approaches in the direction of the spider, two horrifying facts come to light: a muffled crunching sound is coming from somewhere in that direction, and there appears to be a bulge wriggling inside of the masisive spiders' abdomen. Or...two? Three?
Perhaps not the best news, but at least you are fairly certain that the spider is, in fact, 100% dead. Maybe.
Horgus sees the things moving beneath the carapace of the spider, and screams out in horror before moving several feet backwards. Recoiling, he obviously wants no part of whatever this involves.
TC moves to ten feet from the spider body. Then, slapping the scale strapped by his left shoulder, he rises ten feet into the air.
”Don’t worry, fat man. I will protect you.”
"Everyone makes errors, Master Horgus," Aerianna says mildly. "A noble soul accepts this, forgives the transgressor if they make amends, and moves forward. I fully intend to help out of here as many as I can -- but I cannot do that if you refuse to assist each other." She pauses as an oddity in regards to the spider's corpse catches her eye, and rises, her hand going to her sword and drawing it.
"Well, that's not right ... anyone not ready for combat, get back against the wall. Horgus, Anevia, work around to Aravashnial, but stay out of the way." Her eyes remain upon the shifting carapice. What in the world, she thinks, -- devouring it from the inside??
"There are more pressing matters than either of your previous reputations or prior history." Regnis says mildly. "After all, there's still a very good chance that we die down here, I'd prefer for it not to be because we refuse to work together." He gives a slight grin, and in the dancing lights of the halo and the literal dancing lights it becomes obvious that his canines are too long, and pointed. "Yes, I'll help protect all of you." Something about the thought seems to give him some pleasure, despite the grevious situation As he says that, he begins his bardic performance, and holds his flag up high, giving everyone a +2 to hit, damage, and saves against fear.
From on high, TC says, ”Its okay, Regnis. You don’t need to be scared. I’m a crusader. I’ll get everyone safe.”
Aeri's soothing words are enough to at least make Horgus not hostile, and he does listen to her. He is not a fighting man, that's for sure. Anevia follows suit, backing up against the wall after grabbing onto Aravashnial's arm and guiding him with the group.
As the group focuses on the movements inside the spider, three giant wormlike creatures explode from the corpse, throwing viscera everywhere. They undulate forward and slowly begin sliding across the ground towards you, their mouths wide open exposing rows of sharp teeth. However, beyond their usual disgusting features, something seems...off. The maggots have small red spikes along their sides, and their flesh seems to be tougher than normal.
"Vile critters." Regnis will make an appropriate knowledge check to identify them, if it's knowledge planes than he will take 20 for 28.
Regnis shoots a crossbow bolt at the closest bad bug
TC adds his rock to the bug Regnis hit.
These appear to be regular giant maggots, just infused with some fiendish (or more likely abyssal) energies.
The crossbow bolt from Regnis and rock from TC combine to finish off the first maggot, but the third one slithers forward and makes some horrible noises before regurtitating its putrid stomach onto TC. Maggot 2 follows suit with Regnis.
Aerianna winces slightly at the maggots’ vomiting, but closes with the closest to cut at it with her blade.
Assuming that round 2 has started...
Regnis, not enjoying the vomit of the creature even a little bit, but feeling a need to protect the blind elf drops his crossbow, and draws his shortsword.
(+2 if I'm not sickened)