"Heh, looks like I get to use this after all." Anastasia says with a wide grin. She undoes her tabard and lifts it from her scale mail, before she starts to work out of her armor. As she lifts her armor over her head her tucked up sleeve reveals a thick bicep. She casts a look to Anevia and then turns to her pack, pulling out her hemp rope and pulling it up onto her shoulder.
She looked to Anevia and Elise an flashed them her same confident smile. Then, she drank her extract from earlier and turned to the open chasm, running ahead and leaping to try and clear the gap.
Anevia is quite thankful to hear Elise's reassurances, her face clearly displaying her relief.
Anastasia makes the jump, but just barely, her feet sliding on the far edge of the dirt path. Her rope across the chasm makes the journey for the rest of the group fairly simple, with only Aneivia suffering any hardship in the crossing.
"Good thinking, Ana." Anevia says, offering a smile back to the alchemist. "Made it a breeze!"
"Nice jump, there, Anastasia!" Elise was glad that a skilled athlete was among their ranks to make the space passable.
As they continue, Elise continues to conjure dancing lights to brighten the way forward. And she continues to stay more toward the rear, closer to the non-combatants. She decides to get to know some of the strangers, starting with the elf.
"So, how are you faring, Aravashnial? You've done remarkably well to have journeyed on without the benefit of sight." Elise hoped the elf didn't mind her being blunt about his condition--she had meant the statement as a compliment.
Ana does all she can to aid the others crossing. Holding the rope was simple enough for her that she could offer a hand to Anevia as well as Horgus and Aravashnial. All three were likely ill suited to climbing.
Looking to the others she waved them to come over as well. "Don't slow use down now." she called.
With a running start, Angahaar just barely makes it across the chasm. Though a mighty warrior, he lacks the exceptional grace that his draconic ancestors are known for.
Ana balked as Angahaar opted to simply jump rather than use the rope she had so kindly provided. "Trying to prove something?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
Elise laughs to try and ease the possible tension between Ana and Angahaar. "Room enough for two capable athletes!"
She checks again on Aravashnial to see how he fares.
"Right you are. In trying times, one must trust in their own abilities."
The chasm was inherently worrying to Raban. Dwarves were, after all, natural sprinters (and very dangerous over short distances), but their ability to jump was a bit diminished. As such, while the other more athletic types prepare themselves for daring deeds, Raban considers how he might use Terendelev's scale to ensure that all make it past this chasm. But before he gets too far in his preparations, Anastasia has already cleared the obstacle and set up an easy crossing. The adolescent tiger Olapa, to this point trying to lead Aravashnial around, has dug her claws into Raban's shoulders as he climbs, agitatedly purr-growling while the blinded elf holds the rope-leash and climbs along after. Raban lets out a gasp as Angahaar sails over his head, more because Olapa digs her claws deeper into his back in surprise and begins hissing above. He quiets his entourage down and keeps on climbing.
Once the crossing is all done, Raban pats Anastasia's large bicep with thanks. "Quite impressive, miss Armat," he says. "My thanks to you."
Raban looks over to Lann as the trek towards his village continues. "When were you last on the surface, young man?"
Anastasia favored the dwarf with a wry smile. "Hopefully the demons are as impressed when they see me." she remarks, "Got a few tricks for them as well."
She remained a bit confused why Angahaar had not simply taken the rope, but since her question was perceived as offense she let it lie. Not wanting to create discord where there was none.
Lann thinks for a second, his head tilted in thought before replying.
"I'd say it's been around five or so years. It's hard to keep exact track of days sometimes down here, but that should be around the time. My father...let's keep moving, we have a lot of ground left to cover still." An uncharateristic shadow falls over Lann's face before he makes to leave the cavern.
The opening in the other wall continues along a mostly southeastern course for about 1,400 feet before opening into another cavern.
Lann looks around and holds up a hand indicating for the group to stop.
"We've reached the lair of a deadly fungal creature we neathers call the 'spore-cougher'. Usually we'd avoid this cave, as there were other paths around it, but we don't have a choice anymore. I'm sure with your help we can defeat it and move on through its lair."
Elise follows along, wondering what might have happened to Lann's father, but not wanting to pry. She continues to light the way forward with Dancing Lights as they travel quite a distance to the next cavern. As they approach the purported lair of the "spore-cougher," she feels uneasy.
"That doesn't sound good. Can you describe this "spore-cougher" to us? How big is it, and how will it try to kill us? Just want to know enough to prepare."
The term spore-cougher conjures something for Raban, an odd recollection of a similar tribe's name for a dreadful underground creature. He tries to answer Elise's questions.
Ana frowned as Lann once again went dour on the group. Though the thought of approaching a dangerous creature knowingly gave her something more important to focus on.
"I would want to be in the front." Anastasia says flatly, "I can make myself stronger in advance of a fight, and take it's attention." She couldn't help a wry smile that came across her face at the though of just what she could actually do with time to prepare.
"Do you know the terrain of it's lair Lann?" Anastasia asks.
Lann continues to describe the spore-cougher, his voice instinctively growing quiet.
”It’s almost as tall as a regular man, and is extremely dangerous if it’s hungry. We don’t have much experience with it, as it always killed whoever we sent in to try and deal with it.”
Raban’s underground knowledge is vast enough for him to recognize Lann's brief description as that of a basindroid, a strange plant consisting of four spidery stalks, long green tendrils, and an inverted bell-shaped cap filled with spores. It is dangerous, but slow and motivated only by its feeding needs.
Basindroids have two special attacks: they can shoot out a cloud of invisible spores once a minute that can elicit hallucinations in those that fall prey to it, and also transmit spores through its slam attacks with its tendrils.
Lann thinks for a moment before answering Ana’s question. ”It’s mostly open ground like most caverns, but there are obviously some skeletons on the floor that we haven’t been able to move or retrieve.”
"If it's slow, we might be able to fight it from a distance," says Elise. "Seems like we should spread out to avoid spore clouds. I know we're capable of taking it on--might even be fun!" Elise speaks with confidence. "Shall we?"
Ana briefly considered the enemy they would face. "It sounds like it has good reach." she reasoned, "So yes, we would be best dealing with it at range. Though someone will need to engage in melee if it closes. Let us stack up as close to it's lair as we can, and then I will have a surprise for it."
Ana will ready her extract of enlarge person, waiting until they can perhaps see the creature.
"A basindroid, I believe is what it's called in Taldane," Raban recalls. "A dangerous plant that causes hallucinations in its victims. Yes, we should try to engage it from a distance. Anastasia, if you insist on moving closer, you should try to hold your breath."
Raban trades out his hammer for a bow and prepares for the battle as he moves forward, behind Ana.
As the group slowly creeps towards the basindroids' lair, you can all tell something isn't right. Lann suddenly stops and pulls out of whatever stealth he was in and points to the middle of the chamber, where a large mass of plants that appears to have been the basindroid lays on the ground, dead. Two humanoid corspes lay beside it, presumably the ones that defeated it but then succumbed to their wounds.
"Looks like we don't have to worry about it after all." Lann says, laughing. "Some more of you uplanders seem to have made the mistake before we could."
"I guess that's good," Elise responds, but she doesn't really mean what she says. She hurries to two of the humanoids that are on the ground, worried that they might be people she knows.
"Well, that's fortunate at least. We should check the dead, at least give them the dignity of cremation if we can."
"We should still be careful of spores in the air," Raban says, moving cautiously forward with a damp cloth tied around his mouth and nose. "So burning them all sounds wise."
The two bodies of the humans are dressed in chainshirts with the livery of Iomadae crusaders, longsword emblazoned on the front in gold, and both are equipped with a glaive and a spiked gauntlet. One of the bodies has a potion on its belt, while the other has a rolled scroll in a pouch. The one with the scroll has his fist clenched around something with the power of his rigid body holding it tightly.
While examining the bodies, Raban notices that the body that held the scroll had something clenched in his dead fist: a small symbol of a brass bull's head with tiny red gemstone eyes. This, combined with her knowledge of Iomedae's religion, is enough to indicate that something isn't right here. The bull is the symbol of Baphomet, one of the demon lords of the Abyss. The glaives they wield is his sacred weapon, not that of Iomedae as they obviously wanted to appear to be.
Angahaar's eyes go wide at the revelation of the disguised demon worshippers, "How long do you think these bodies have been here? If it has been longer than since the attack...Waybringer's Name, I shudder at the thought that Drezen may have been infiltrated before the demon's attack."
Raban's blood runs cold. Cultists had been a problem across the Mwangi Expanse, usually those devoted to Angazhan. The idea that mortals would be devoted to demons--demons!--when demons only cared about death and destruction was something that Raban could not understand.
Raban whispers what he knows to the others, and then raises his voice to Lann. "Lann: have you recently seen other uplanders either dressed like this--" referring to the false Iomedaean livery, "--or carrying symbols like this brass bull's head?"
Although his mind is focused elsewhere, Raban takes a moment to detect and read magic to identify the scroll. The potion might be a bit trickier for him to identify, but seems like Ana's bailiwick, so he hands it to her.
"Wait, they're not crusaders? I guess that's why I don't recognize them." Elise's relief seems to outweigh her concern, but seeing the worry in others begins to wake her up to the threat. "Could this be how the wardstone of Kenabres failed? An act of sabotage by cultists in disguise? And, regardless, what are they doing down here? Is there something important to the demons in these catacombs?"
Elise muses to nobody in particular, but looks around to see if anyone around her might have insight.
Ana went through several different emotions as they discovered the dead creature and it's mutual victims. First surprise at the dead creature, and then concern to follow shortly after at the human bodies. Of course, as they were revealed to be cultists another emotion crossed her features. A familiar one. Rage.
She gave a firm kick to the corpse that had been clutching the icon of Baphomet, and not being satisfied with that, another kick. Crying out in fury and lifting the body from the floor as she sent it rolling over a few feet.
As Raban went to hand her the potion she was glaring angrily at the body, panting in now barely restrained fury. "Damned cultists..." she muttered. A moment later realizing her outburst and the potion. Her cheeks flushing and the anger draining away.
"...I will take a look at that." she said with a hesitant nod. Taking the potion, she would step away a moment to try and identify it. Her adrenaline still pumping even as she brought her focus to bear.
Raban sees the outburst of emotion for what it is, and although he typically does not approve of the desecration of the dead (no, no, Old-Mage Jatembe would have never approved of that), he leaves the woman be. "Aha," he says after she seems to calm down long enough. "I suppose that you have...prior experience, then?"
With Raban's careful eyes, he determines that the bodies have been dead only a few days, putting their time of death before the attack on Kenabres. He also knows that Baphomet is the demon lord of beasts, mazes, and minotaurs. His domains are Animal, Chaos, Evil, and Strength, and his followers include minotaurs, secret societies, and conspirators.
Raban identifies the scroll as a scroll of cause fear and Ana quickly deduces that the potion is a potion of cure light wounds. They also carry 129 gp between the two bodies, after they are thoroughly searched.
"We've seen men like them in our tunnels before, yeah. They've become more common recently. We keep eyes on them, but as long as they don't behave aggressively we don't mind them. I've heard they have aligned themselves with the other group of neathers, the bad one, but I haven't seen proof of that myself. We didn't even think to imagine they might be a problem like that."
Anevia is loudly disgusted by this revelation, and her voice is full of venom as she speaks. "I'd heard rumors of Baphomet cultists were hanging around, but the fact that they've seemingly infiltrated Iomadae's church is something else entirely."
Oddly enough, Aravashnial becomes excited upon the discussion of the cultist bodies. "I knew that I wasn't crazy! I've brought my theories that various crusader groups were compromised to the Eagle Watch but none of them believed me! We have to take these bodies with us, so they know the truth! Maybe they can help us identify them or the orders they're impersonating."
"Not with this ilk specifically." Ana explains as she returns the potion to Raban, "But I had demon cultists try and perform a ritual on me as a child. I probably hate them more than their masters."
As their charges speak their peace about the cultists Anastasia considers the thought of dragging the bodies back. "If we dragged them back we'd have nothing more than the bodies of two crusaders with the claim one carried this symbol." Ana remarked, "Hardly much in the way of proof. It would be just as easy to say we planted this symbol on them."
After a pause she sighs. "But I could carry them for an hour or two without much difficulty, if that's what you want."
Raban stands with Ana for a moment as she makes brief mention of her unfortunate, storied past. "A demonic ritual?" he muses. "Yet you survive to pay them back. Good. Hold that anger well."
Having identified the magical items, he considers for a moment who should hold them. "I have some minor healing capacity. Someone who does not should take the potion. And then this scroll: perhaps Elise or I would be best suited to use it." He offers the scroll towards her, if she's keen to take it. He also sees to the division of coin as equitably as possible, though it seems silly to worry about money in circumstances like this.
Lann's brief explanation further sours Raban's mood. He had had such high hopes this morning when he had sauntered through Kenabres with Olapa. "The bad group of neathers?" he asks. "Are there other..." he chokes on the words, first because Taldane was still a second tongue for him, and second because of the negative associations with the words as he understood them, "...mongrelmen of another tribe?"
The idea of bringing the bodies back with them is mildly disconcerting to Raban. "Anastasia has a fair point. Claiming dead men as proof of a conspiracy is difficult. But if someone were to recognize them..." The dwarf shakes his head. "I do not know the politics of Kenabres well. If the conspiracy has already taken root and led to today's events, then what good will it be for us to find more while we fight for our lives?"
The dwarf nods thoughtfully. "We should be wary of other crusaders we meet, though. If the Eagle Knights have been infiltrated, then many more may be in danger than we initially thought."
Elise dares to give Ana a supportive hand or even a hug after she recovers from attacking the cultist corpse. She chimes in when the elf talks of what to do with the bodies. "We shouldn't slow ourselves down carrying dead bodies. We've all seen it with our own eyes--" she says, before cutting herself short. "Sorry, Aravashnial. But the point remains, it will be hard to doubt all of us on this matter."
She looks to Lann. "This other group of neathers--what can you tell us about them? Their alliance with demon worshippers is troubling."
"The other group, the ones that Chief Sull calls 'traitors', live on the other end of the cavern beyond Neathholm. The Chief ignores them, but I'm starting to think that it might be time to stop ignoring the problem and handle it." Lann says, his voice hard and cold. "I have seen their kind around in the caves, they are not worth even trying to brook peace with. Many a friend has learned that the hard way."
Aravashnial laughs at Elise's misstep, obviously not bothered by it. "No worries, I enjoyed the irony of the statement."
Raban takes a few minutes to build a cairn for the dead. They may have been devil-worshipers, but they were still people. "Burning still seems wise, to prevent a new basindroid from taking root here."
"I do not wish to engage in a tribal war," Raban says, "But I will protect myself and all those here from an attack. Let us continue and pray that we do not encounter the traitors from underneath or upland."
"If these traitors are in league with the demons and cultists that attacked Kenabres and killed Terendelev, it is my duty to destroy them."
Raban's eyes widen at Angahaar's declaration, but he nods. "So be it."
As soon as Raban gathers the bodies and the plant-like mass, Elise gestures and a spark is lit amongst the mass. She hopes that with the plant creature present, the pile will catch fire as Raban desires and as Elise agrees.
"That's the spirit, Angahaar," adds Elise. "We'll take the crusade to the catacombs and root out these demons!" She looks to Raban. "There's good and there's evil. We mustn't be afraid to take the side of righteousness."
Angahaar gives a smile to Elise, a fierce sense of righteous anger inflamed by the presence of a kindred spirit roaring in his chest, ”I’m glad you see things my way. From what it sounds like, these traitors have long had the chance to repent and change their ways. When we see them, we will give them a final chance. If they refuse, the Waybringer teaches that if repentance is rejected, the only course of action is as merciful a death as possible. It is blunt, but dragons are not terribly subtle beings.”
"I know good and evil. I also know my place as a visitor to these lands, above and below, and the limitations of my abilities. To forge ahead foolishly is to invite ruin. Please do not mistake my trepidation for an illness of spirit. Mother Moon struck back against the Coalition of Chaos in retribution for the demon lord Aolar's violence, but only after she gathered other deific allies." He draws his warhammer back out and lets it thud against his wooden shield. "I aim to survive. I am under no illusions that I may need to kill in order to do that. But for that death I am not eager."
He whistles to Olapa to continue leading Aravashnial. "Come, then. Let us continue."
Lann nods, agreeing."We're about a fifteen minute walk to the front gates, we'll be there in no time! If everyone's ready?" he says, looking over to Anevia.
She responds quickly, her voice strong. "I'm ready, let's get out of here. I've had enough of the underground for a lifetime, I think."
If no one objects, Lann and his mongrel friends start the journey to Neathholm's gates down the tunnel. Within the fifteen minutes he quoted, you reach a circular, 20-foot-diameter cavern. Four mongrelmen stand guard here before a large stone door, and their harsh eyes fall upon the group before recognizing Lann.
Lann speaks before the guards can. "My friends here and I need to pass through and speak to Chief Sull."
"You know uplanders aren't allowed in Neathholm, Lann, why should these ones be granted special permissions?" one replies, looking sternly towards the group.
Raban clears his throat and steps forward.
"Greetings, Neathholmians. My name is Raban Kwazeeli of the Magaambya, a school of magic far south in Garund. I am a servant of Shimye-Magalla, whom people in these lands call Desna and Gozreh: Mother Moon, Father Sky, She Who Guides the Winds and the Waves. And yet as a dwarf, my people have a long history in Nar-Voth. Although my ancestors succeeded in their Quest for Sky and emerged onto the surface, I feel at one with all the peoples of Golarion, above and below. And yet that is not why we seek special dispensation from you this day."
Raban reaches up to his head with both hands, unhooking a clasp that has kept his bouncing mask secured during their journey through the tunnels so far. The mask comes down, finally revealing the facial features of the dwarf underneath. By the skin exposed on his arms, his ochre coloration is no surprise, but spreading across his face is a pattern of skin seemingly bleached alabaster, in the pattern of a butterfly. He looks dreadfully serious as he removes the mask and kneels down.
"Kenabres above was viciously attacked mere hours ago by a host of demons and their allies. We were swallowed up into the earth but saved by a great dragon by the name of Terendelev before she was killed. We aim to return above to provide what aid we can. And yet during our travels, we have found evidence that the allies of the demons, cultists who seek the ruin of all life, have been using these tunnels. This puts us all, neather and uplander alike, in grave danger."
The dwarf gestures to his uplander allies, all seven of them (including Olapa). "We came upon Lann and Dyra after Crel had been trapped by the quakes you must have felt and helped to save him. We have been helping each other since. Perhaps in ordinary circumstances we should not be allowed. But ordinary time is behind us. Please, let us band together."
Angahaar bows his head to the Neathers, placing a fist over his heart as he speeks, "My greetings to you all as well. I am Angahaar, scion of Terendelev and son of Kenabres. What my companion says is true, moreso that I would wish it to be. The city above has been attacked, damaged to an extent we do not know. If what has come to pass is true, Neatholm might be next."
Anastasia is quiet to Raban's comment, but as Elise slips a hand across her shoulder she dips her chin. "I don't get to have my revenge." Ana explained sadly, "The cultists cut each other to pieces when the ritual failed, and the survivors were found soon after. They hau- I get my revenge on them by becoming stronger."
As the bodies are prepared for a fiery burial Ana looks to Elise preparing a spell and shakes her head. "Allow me." she offers as she draws a prepared concoction and gives it a light toss. The fragile shell of it breaking before a fiery bomb erupts and sets the dry material and dead flesh alight.
"I'm not one to show a cultist mercy." Ana adds at the general dislike to let any they encounter live, "But I'm a team player."
As they travel the rest of the way she will let Angahaar serve as guard and use her strength to assist the civilians with them, even if Anevia didn't particularly like being reduced to such a state. As Raban tried to reason with the guards she straightened herself up, likely bringing Anevia onto her toes if she was leaning on Ana.
"Do you refuse the wounded and vulnerable safety?" she added.
"Very effective!" remarks Elise as Anastasia hurls a bomb to ignite the bodies. "I'd love to learn how you make such explosives, once we actually get some downtime."
* * *
"Please trust Lann, Dyra, and Crel in this," offers Elise, unsure of what else she could say that the guards would actually believe.
"It's just a few volatile chemicals that react to air... violently." Ana explains with a wave of her now empty hand, "But it is a family recipe. You'd have to marry into the family to learn it. Or pay a dowry's worth of money." A wry smile crept onto her features as she said that. Her mood brightening from the familial pride.
The guards look back and forth between each other for a few seconds before acquiescing and standing aside.
"Chief Sull has been waiting for you, Lann. If these people truly did help you then we won't stop you from taking them to him. Hurry, don't keep him waiting any longer than neccessary."
The gates open, revlealing a small, dark lake rippling in the center of a two hundred foot wide cavern, the walls and ceiling aglow with thick sheets of luminescent fungi. In the center of the lake, over two dozen low stone buildings cluster on a rocky one-hundred-foot-wide island. Lights glow in the windows of the buildings, giving the settlement an almost welcoming look. Rafts made of mismatched planks of timber bob along the length of a crooked pier at the lake’s closest shore.
"There is where we'll find the Chieftain." Lann says with a smile on his face and in his voice.
As you walk through the village of the neathers, you can feel the entire towns' eyes on you. All manner of horrific-looking inhabitants (at least to surface dwellers) stare at you with their eyes, some of them with more than two. Multiple arms ending in claws, puple-tinted chitinous skin, a mouth replaced with a pair of clicking mandibles and more make up the deformations these people suffer from. After a somewhat long unconfortable trek through the village, you make it to the Chieftain's hut, and Lann ushers you in before he steps through the opening behind you.
Chief Sull, a corpulent neather that has rolls of flesh all across his massive stumped form, awaits inside. He rises unsteadilty from a large chair fashioned into a throne.
"Greetings, outsiders. I have heard of the deed you performed in saving some of our number, and I thank you for your efforts. But, I must ask, what are you doing this far below the surface to begin with? I haven't seen an outsider not associated with Wenduag's group of hooligans in many years."
Raban places his mask back on his face before continuing into Neathholm. Before meeting the neathers, he would have assumed that his motley crew would have drawn attention. A blind elf, a woman with a broken leg, a loud-mouthed fancy noble, a woman with a heavily-scarred face, a man with silvery scales across his body, an orange-haired woman of some celestial origin, a tiger, and a dwarf in a mask--mostly Avistani with a few from other continents--would normally be the odd group traveling together. And perhaps above ground, they still would be.
On second thought, to the Neathers, they were clearly an odd group. They might even be the oddest group many of these Neathers had ever seen. In spite of the diversity in initiates at the Magaambya, Raban was considering the relative oddity based on his own biases--surface biases. Ironic for a dwarf. For the Neathers, these deformities--these abnormalities--were normal. There might be a tremendous amount of diversity in what their mutations were, based on Raban's cursory observations, but the various scars of their own group were mild.
Mildly what? What good were these comparisons? The differences were clear between them, but they were just that: differences. No more or less, no better or worse. And yet--Lann had also indicated that Dyra's mutation prevented her communication. And how had he put it? That the mutations were random and horrific, and their lives both woefully short and often extremely painful. So then the Neathers must be making their own comparisons, their own judgments, or at least some of them did.
Raban tries to move through Neathholm as he would any town, interacting with the residents as he normally would. Or at least the way that he did in Avistan. The Avistani were, by and large, far less welcoming of strangers and much more skeptical than the various tribes across the Mwangi Expanse. And so he tries to comport himself respectfully, neither avoiding looking at others nor staring, but merely acknowledging those who made normal eye contact.
With Chief Sull, Raban immediately genuflects in a manner as Avistani as possible. "Greetings, Chief Sull. I am Raban Kwazeeli, and I thank you for your kind welcome. You are surely wise, as the guards outside are skeptical and yet you trust both their judgment and report. It is good to trust those who serve you." The dwarf stands back up and continues. "As I told them, we were mere hours ago in the upland, in Kenabres, when a horde of demons attacked. In the onslaught, there was a quake, and we were sucked and trapped underground. Based on what we have found since, we fear that this Wenduag may have allied with cultists of the demons to plan this invasion. We seek passage back to Kenabres to stem the tide of devastation that will affect us all."
Anastasia stared wide eyed as they traveled through the village. So many sights catching her interest she didn't know where to begin. The location itself was breathtaking. An underground lake with an island, and luminous underground flora as well. Did they cultivate it? Were there fish in the water? Were there other things?
Her duty as a crusader didn't fully escape her, walking with the group and hovering protectively near the civilians. Yet her gaze was often not directed at potential threats. More she was looking for anyone handling caught fish or working exotic materials.
"Lann..." she began cautiously, "I know you don't find your affliction and living space to be a benefit, but I see the potential to learn much from your people.
After Raban spoke to the chieftain Ana added her own introduction and two pence.
"Indeed, we were saved by the great dragon Terendelev." she adds, "It is a pleasure to meet you cheiftain. My name is Anastasia Tiragen Armet." She swept her dominant arm in across her torso and bowed politely to Sull.
Elise looks back at the people staring at her and tries to smile when she catches their eye. Maybe it wouldn't be much use, but she sees all of them as potential allies and friends, so long as their heart is good. Like Anastasia, Elise was focused on the potential advantages of their features.
"And I'm Elise Emeria," she adds in turn with a curtsy of her robes. "To be honest, I didn't know of your people until I met them, but we're honored to be admitted into this city and before your presence."
As Sull learns about the demon attack, you can clearly see he gets more and more concerned about the tremors that he assumed was a regular earthquake.
"Greetings Raban, Elise, and Anastasia. This is troubling news, I had not heard about any of the attack on the city above. I and my kind might be outcasts and freaks in the eyes of uplanders, but our ancestors helped drive back the demons in the First Crusade. Do not worry, I am not offended, I know how we look to those not among us."
He says this genuinely, without a touch of anger in his voice.
"But we have spent enough time in the shadows beneath the city: we can no longer hide when our home needs us. The mongrlels will stand with the people of Kenabres in its defense. Will you take this message to the surface with you, and let whatever defenders remain that we do not intend them harm?"
With every word you see the spirit of defiance rise in the chieftain, invigorating him.
"I have heard great stories about the hero Terendelev, and I cannot wait to meet her and offer our strength in the defence of our great city!"