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!"
Elise is awfully excited to hear Chief Sull surge in confidence and call his people to meet the demonic threat!
That is, until Chief Sull he turns to the subject of Terendelev. At that point, Elise frowns and starts looking around to the others for guidance--apparently reluctant to share the news herself.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Angahaar scowls, "She is dead, murdered by a demon. She was the greatest defender Kenabres could have asked her. Her blood runs in my veins, and I feel the loss with each pounding of my heart."
He sighs, "I have not introduced myself. I am Angahaar, Scion of Terendelev. Perhaps the last scion of Terendelev, though may the Waybringer make it not so."
Raban nods his head sadly. "Aye, it's as Angahaar said. If we move quickly and find a powerful cleric, we could resurrect her with the scales we retrieved, but that's a hard proposition to assume with all the death going on right now."
But he rallies and holds a defiant fist up to his chest. "For that reason and so many more, we are honored to ally with those of Neathholm! We will take this message with us and fight alongside you who have been outcast for too long."
"The bravery of crusaders is known across the world." Anastasia remarks to the chief's fiery speech, "Those of Neatholm should show the demons they have erred to ignore the crusaders below."
The chieftain is struck by the revelation that the dragon he once knew is slain, and his face darkens as he hears Angahaar’s words.
”I’m sorry, lad, I didn’t know. I don’t mean to offend or bring any hard feelings back up. This only increases my resolve to push forward with my plan of leaving the undercity and lending my tribes’ aid to the crusaders above. There’s only one problem: the demon worshippers and the neathers under Wenduag. We’ll need to have those cleared out before I can take my tribe safely to the surface.”
He waved a hand around the village, ending on a relatively clean tent situated next to his.
”Here, rest. Some of you need it. In the morning I’ll gather the elders and we shall discuss preparations for the clan’s departure once the way is clear. I will have someone bring food and water to your tent, but if you have need of anything else you just have to ask. Otherwise, until tomorrow my friends.”
"We're glad to hear of your determination." says Elise, who just a moment ago had fallen so silent at having to share bad news. "And in return, we will join you in your own crusade to put those demon worshipping neathers to sword or flame."
Elise seems to remain conspicuously bloodthirsty.
Raban had come to Kenabres as a sort of "study abroad" opportunity, on leave from the Magaambya. The Mwangi Expanse had its own demonic problems, but the Mendevian Crusades were a well-known success story even far south. He had not come here to be a mercenary, but to study and learn what helped the fighters here organize their efforts to keep the horrors of the Worldwound at bay. It seemed like he was about to get firsthand experience.
Until tomorrow," he says.
Although fatigue is approaching, Raban spends a bit of time ingratiating himself among the people of Neathholm, trying to learn a bit more about them.
As he goes around, he offers to help mend any broken things, heal minor wounds, provide fresh water, or otherwise assist with mundane strength.
Anastasia will carefully weigh the odds before she heads to bed. Approaching Chief Sull, but then thinking better of her course. While she believed she could avoid the risk of offending him if she asked about the nature of their mutations in a purely academic sense, it was still likely she might upset an ally. Something that would not help anyone.
"Thank you for your kindness chief." she said instead with a short bow.
Anastasia will shadow Raban as he works with the people of Neathholm. Being able to help with less mundane forms of strength. "I hope you don't mind me coming along." she says in a low voice, "I think these are good people, but we shouldn't go anywhere alone right now."
To the extent of helping, she still had all her methods for enhancing strength outside of ant haul. Perhaps she might find a chance to make a grand show of her power to the locals by lifting or breaking something of ponderous size.
Once they retired for a rest she began to carefully mix the next day's extracts and mutagen. "Always room for improvement." she reasoned. This time brewing a double batch of enlarge person.
"Not at all," Raban says as Anastasia offers to accompany him. "Especially if there are cultists lurking in these tunnels. We have no room to let our guards down."
Later, when she brings out a series of vials and chemicals, Raban watches her carefully. There were a few people at the Magaambya who practiced alchemy, but most were more dedicated arcanists who drew and learned from the primal traditions of druidism. And even then, most of those who brewed potions tended to do so in cauldrons. And the dwarves? For them, alchemy was more synonymous with brewing, distilling, and making powders to facilitate explosions. And so although he knew a handful of potion brewers, he could tell that there was something different about Anastasia's work. (And it was obviously different than receiving your gifts through prayer and meditation, as he did.)
"How does this work?" he asks, pointing to her workspace.
Ana paused briefly, her focused gaze shifting to her new companion. "Alchemy is the study of the world." she stated as matter of fact, "Just as wizards study how magic can remake the world, alchemists study the building blocks of the world itself."
She stopped a moment to carefully draw out a small paper packet with some powdered iron filings in it. "Iron combines with carbon to make flexible steel, the air mixes with it to make brittle rust, and your body uses it to create healthy blood." she explained as an example, "By knowing the building blocks you can duplicate anything. Even magic." She then took a small dropper and added a few clear droplets of something to the iron. The mixture starting to make a thin plume of white smoke.
In an instant she was dropping the mixture into a teal colored vial. The smoking reaction stopping as the iron went entirely inert and dissolved into particulates too fine for the eye to see. The liquid shifted to a darker blue in an instant, and then purple over the course of maybe five more seconds.
She capped the vial off as the clear violet permeated her extract vial. Smiling to herself as she set it down next to the other, identical, vial she had prepared for the next day. "I haven't refined my craft enough to have others drink it. At least not without getting sick." she explained with a bright smile. Her eyes looking at the light through the prism of the vial. "But I'll get there some day. I'll be able to let people experience my alchemy themselves. Then they'll have the same strength I have. They'll not have to fear demons." she continued.
Something in her eyes changed as she mentioned demons. While her expression hadn't changed her eyes had become almost imperceptibly harder. As if she wasn't looking at the light, but something beyond it.
While the others work on their good deeds and their crafts, Elise tries to find whatever amounts for entertainment in this city. A tavern, a gambling hall, what have you. No matter her visceral reaction to the strange appearances of Neatholm, she has an open mind and has always been open to outsiders, being an oddity herself. And what better way to build relationships than in a community space?
"Aha," Raban says in response to Ana's explanation, watching the colors change through more shades than a gnome's hair. "I think I understand. Some of the Magaambyan arcanists talk like you do. Our academy's founder passed on teachings of expanding on primal magic. I wonder if you would like it there."
The dwarf rubs some of his muscles. It had been a long day. "When you do figure out a way for someone to drink without getting sick, I will try some of your alchemy."
The people of the small village are grateful for whatever aid the pair can provide, but most of the ailments and deformities affecting the mongrelmen so harshly cannot be healed by any means available to the party.
They appreciate it nonetheless, speaking back in a deep gravelly language that doesn't seem familiar to either of the two but that Aravashnial quickly identifies as Abyssal. The blinded elf follows behind the pair, with Aneiva working together to make sure the both of them can travel.
"Apologies for pushing in, but it's Abyssal. The exact wording varies, but most of it is thanking the uplanders for whatever aid you have been offering them. It's obviously quite hard for me to see at the moment, but my ears and language skills are yours to use, should you require them."
Unfortunately for Elise, there doesn't appear to be any sort of entertainment in this dreary underground lake-side city. The closest thing she can find is a warm campfire pushing away the dampness and darkness of the cave. A few mongrels sit around the fire with various fish in differing states of eating. It seems as if even the fish in this place cannot avoid the mutating energies that seem to infuse the cave, as several have multiple eyes, many heads, and one even seems to have something that almost looks like humanoid hands. It, too, is quickly eaten.
As Elise approaches, the group offers her a eel-like fish that has six small near-vestigial legs, each ending in a long claw. The skin of the eel is a repugnant dark green, but it looks safe enough to eat. They, too, speak Abyssal, which Elise understands.
"Come, uplander. Share in our food, and what spare company we can offer." the apparent leader of the group calls out.
Disappointed in the lack of lively entertainment, Elise settles for a warm campfire and joins the neathers. "Thanks for the welcome," she says, taking a seat. She looks to each of the different folk who have gathered. "I haven't had any food all day--I'm starving!"
Elise is put to the test, though, as she gets a closer look and realizes that the fish themselves have mutated in all sorts of bizarre ways. The grotesque green eel she receives with six claw legs is definitely NOT something she'd ever braved before. She inspects it in the fire, clearly hesitant to proceed.
.
But she wasn't going to give in. She took a bite. Chewed slowly. And to her surprise, the barbecued eel was quite tasty. "Mmm. . . I really needed that," she says to her surprise. She continues to partake of the food. "I don't suppose you're able to make wine or spirits down here, are you?"
Elise shares about her own life if asked, and is curious about these citizens. "Have you been to the surface before, or have you lived your whole lives underground? What gods do you worship? Are you able to grow food?" She listens attentively, even excitedly, to their stories.
"I doubt I could ever call any place home but the shores of Andoran." Anastasia replies to Raban, "But perhaps I could meet your people one day and learn from them."
As he volunteered to be the first to sample her future alchemy she laughed aloud. Not having expected such an eager test subject. "You'll be my first subject." she agreed with a wide smile. Her spirits were high as they finished their rounds and were ready for a night's rest.
Angahaar takes a moment to himself, praying quietly to Apsu, searching for guidance in the darkness.
He finds none. It is calming, nonetheless.
Wandering the village, he spots Elise and the small group of Neathers by the fire. Not wishing to be entirely alone, he joins them, taking a seat next to the aasimar.
"I see you're settling in well."
He greets the Neathers, unsure if they can understand him, "I thank you all for your hospitality. If there is any more food to spare, I would appreciate it greatly."
"Angahaar, it's good to see you," Elise says. She was pleased to see the warrior out and about given the recent events, and she hands him some of her eel. "Don't look at it, just eat it," she suggests.
Raban looks back at Aravashnial as the blind elf chimes in and smiles (though underneath his mask, and given the elf's condition, the gesture is mostly meaningless save for the effect on his voice). "Aha, thank you, friend. You need not apologize for proving yourself eminently useful in a needed situation!"
Raban leans on Aravashnial's linguistic prowess, much as Aravashnial and Anevia are leaning physically on each other, for further communications with the Neathers. He continues to offer aid well into the point of fatigue, likely needing to be pulled away by Anastasia once she recognizes that his own condition is beginning to deteriorate. He eventually makes his way over to the campfire where Elise and Angahaar have struck up an accord with some of the residents over some foul-looking fish. He is surprised to hear Elise conversing in fluent Abyssal, but glad to know that they have more than one in their group who will be able to participate in conversations. He closes his eyes and accepts some fish, eventually falling asleep while dozing lightly against Olapa.
The defacto leader of the group answers the next few questions, his voice full of glee despite the crude language he speaks.
"We have lived beneath the earth for our entire lives, yes. A handful of us have been to the surface for small amounts of time, but the chieftain officially forbids it. Lann, your friend, is one of those. His mother was from above ground, actually, before she left us. His father used to take him to the surface through a secret tunnel before it was discovered and filled."
"We don't usually worship gods, but we do have some reverance for the being you call Iomadae. She protects us from the influence of our corruptions, but some don't accept it. We do grow food, but it's mainly mushrooms and the like."
The elder of the group welcomes the rest of you energetically, and hands out plenty of fish for the entire group. It's all of the same sort that Elise had at first, though most of it isn't eel-like. Multiple-headed fish, slimy grilled lizards, the lot.
"Plenty of food for friends of Lann. He's a good kid, if a bit troubled." he says, his face turning down a bit.
Anastasia had to work to eat the fish herself. She had seen and eaten all kinds of odd looking fish growing up on the Andoran coast. Including a fish that had it's eyes and mouth on opposite sides of it's body. This was somehow much worse. She tried to focus on cutting her meat and looking not at the fish itself, but the flesh of her bite. That much was mostly normal. As an Armat she would have been chastised to be fussy about her food.
"I'm glad to hear that you know of Iomedae," says Elise. "She can help you stay true to your legacy as crusaders. Unlike your rivals."
As more arrive, Elise tries to switch into Common if possible. "Troubled?" she says in response to the stray comment. "What do you mean that Lann is a bit troubled?"
"Ah...yeah. Ever since his mother left back, to go up top, he's been more...distant? His dad passing on didn't help things either. And to top it all off, his old friend Wenduag is currently causing a lot of problems with the tribe."
He sighs before taking another big bite.
"He just has a lot on his plate, is all. You know what that can do to a young man, especially one with.." he trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence. "Ah, never mind that. He's tougher than you'd imagine. And loyal, almost to a fault. It's good to see he trusts you."
"Well, I don't think he had much choice than to trust us at first, when we helped to rescue some of his companions. And trust is mutual. We'd have been totally lost underground without his help."
Elise wonders what else the fellow had in mind to say about Lann, but figures he stopped the talk for a reason. "Lann and Wenduag used to be friends, you say? So was the split recent? I know he's working with the cultists now, but can Wenduag still be redeemed?"
Elise continues talking and enjoying the growing company, hoping to build rapport between the two sides. If they were going to be fighting together, it might be essential to their survival.
"Wenduag is a she, but I don't know if she can be stopped or redeemed anymore. She started hanging out with the other side of mongrels a few weeks ago."
After a few minutes of everyone eating and finishing any last minute talks they might have, Lann comes back and points the group to an extra beast-skin hut that he says is free. "You get some well-earned rest, you're going to need it for the journey ahead." he says, retiring to his hut for the night.
After a surprisingly restful night of sleep, you are awoken to the scent of something that smells almost like eggs being cooked nearby. The elder from last night is sitting next to the fire outside of your tent where you shared dinner with him.
Lann is there, voraciously devouring a plate of eggs, and looks up as you all awaken.
"Morning, friends!" he calls out between bites.
Morning comes underground, but who can say that it is morning when there is no sky visible?
Raban wakes with Olapa purring gently on his chest, one paw stretched across him and the other laid across her eyes. The dwarf stretches and Olapa yawns, seeming upset by the effect of her person's movement on her nap. (She had surely not slept straight through the night.) But it was time to begin the day. He retrieves his mask and walks from the hut.
His morning meditations could wait for a bit, so long as the group was willing to give him an hour to prepare. But he joins Lann and the elder for the eggs, trying not to think too hard about what sort of animal had provided the breakfast (and more specifically what mutations it likely possessed). The dwarf was certainly not a vegetarian--he didn't know what self-respecting dwarf could be--but he tended not to eat things the origins of which he was uncertain of. But here, underneath an abyssal massacre, he could hardly afford to be picky.
"Aha, and good morning to you, Lann!" he says with a jovial wave. He walks over to retrieve a plate and serve himself a plateful of eggs, and then sits down. Olapa pads behind him, sniffing at the eggs and batting her paws at them before Raban lifts it up out of her reach. Her fur stands up on end and she flutters her ears before running off towards the lake to catch a fish of her own. Raban gives her a scritch where her tail meets her rump before she goes, and laughs.
To bring up Wenduag or not? Raban decides not, at least for now. But he does want to get a sense of their next steps. "Will you join us today, Lann? Or will our group be going against the other group alone?"
After some time, Raban begins to come out of his singing, dancing meditation. He places the chimes back into his pack and redresses himself. He finishes his preparations by taking out three vials of oil and three oily cloths. One is for the leathery hides that both he and Olapa use for protection, the other for his wooden shield, and the final for the metal of his clan dagger, his hammer, and his axe. As he conditions his implements, he offers prayers to the Eight of the Dwarven Pantheon. Shimye-Magalla were not jealous gods, and although Raban served them primarily he also paid deference to the Eight.
"Bolka: help me see the beauty in others this day. Dranngift: let me be an instrument of your justice. Folrgit: help me protect the innocent, this day and always. Grundinnar: guide my tongue and open the ears of my enemies. Kols: keep me to the vows I make. Magrim: guard my soul if I should fall. Torag: temper the steel I forged in your name. Trudd: strengthen my arm that I may protect the weak."
He laces up his oiled leathers, sets his primary weapons in an X on his back, and straps his shield to his arm. He convinces Olapa to stay still and allow her to be fitted with her own barding, giving her a treat at the end, which she greedily devours.
He did not relish slaying the living. But if they would not be swayed from their path of wanton destruction, then there was little choice in the matter.
"I will be joining you today, should you wish to have me. I think it's about time that we mongrels quit living in the shadows under Kenabres, and really put our strength to good use!"
He seems fired up, enthusiastic about the prospect of heading out soon, but his face falls slightly as he continues.
"I hope that we don't have to confront Wenduag on the way out, but I am no fool. I know she will attempt to stop us, and I am not looking forward to her attempt to do so."
"Aha, I would certainly appreciate your company and skill," Raban responds. "And as I have said before, my ancestors also lived below the surface of Golarion for eons. We can do more when we ascend and work together."
As Lann expresses trepidation, Raban nods solemnly and reaches a hand out to gently touch Lann's shoulder. "To have to fight a friend is a hard thing. We do not relish it. I will pray to my gods this morning to ask for their aid. If it be their will, perhaps Wenduag and the others will listen to reason and can be brought back without forfeiting their lives. This is what I pray."
Anastasia does her best to wash up in the morning. Affording Raban a respectful distance, but still glancing over as he conducts his... ritual? She was not much for religion herself, focused so intently as she was on alchemical pursuits. She eats a sparing amount of eggs, washing them down with water as her stomach was a bit queasy this morning.
"Much as she is familiar to you, there can be no hesitation before those who take in with demons." Ana tells Lann with a hard tone to her voice, "She will take advantage of you if you let her. Cultists always do."
"While that may be true, it won't be any easier for me to do it. I do hope that she can be reasoned with and they can be turned away from this dark path. They haven't consorted with demons, that I know of, and I hope they can be moved. We shall see."
His face brightens up as he continues, moving on.
"But more on that later, when we see her. Have some breakfast!"
"Hm . . . " worries Elise as the topic. turns to Wenduag. She munches on some eggs, a fair bit more visually appealing than last night's fare. "How does Wenduag fight? With weapons? Magic? I just want us to be prepared."
Lann sounds sad when Elise asks, but answers regardless. You can tell he's trying to be cheerful and make a joke out of it, but it isn't easy for him.
"With weapons, a bow. She's the best shot this side of the surface!"
Elise nods. "Dangerous, then. Might try to pick us off before we get close. We'll want to surprise them in tight quarters."
She realizes the difficulty Lann is having and stops herself. "Sorry, I know you have some history. It's probably strange to talk tactics like this about someone you were close with. When the time comes, we could try to take her alive."
She tries to finish up her breakfast but realizes she's too anxious about the likely battle ahead to continue eating. "Anyway, I'm done. When you are too, we should get a move on. I don't know what the surface is like these days, but Kenabres may urgently need our help."
Angahaar rises early, practicing sparring drills while reciting prayers to Apsu, letting the mantras of the Waybringer steady his mind.
He eats heartily, making pleasant conversation with the party and the Neathers.
As breakfast finishes, he nods to Elise, "Agreed. Let us be off. Kenabres and vengeance await."
Lann doesn't seem eager to turn the conversation towards tactics, much preferring a bit of lightness before the inevitable confrontation, but Raban won't deny that his mind is beginning to drift there as well. "I know that there are some arcanists at the Magaambya who can affect an abjuration designed to turn aside arrows. I will ask Aravashnial if he knows the spell and can prepare it."
He then tries to steer the conversation on to more pleasant topics, taking a cue from Angahaar. It seems like they tip-toe around a field of traps, however, as nearly any topic that comes to mind is one that could dredge up ill feelings in at least one member of their party. He doesn't come up empty, but his ability to provide a more engaging topic is unfortunately tested.
Supplied, shielded, and satiated, Raban sets himself ready for battle.
Ana double checked that her armor was properly strapped, her shield secured, and her warhammer ready to lift from it's strap at her belt. Nodding to herself she waited for the others. She was ready for anything.
Raban catches Aravashnial just in the nick of time, in the last hour of rest where he was preparing his spells.
"Ah, of course. I know of it. I specialize in conjuration, but abjuration is not out of my realm of knowledge. I know the spell, and can in fact prepare a version that will let me affect several of you with the protection. Do you have any other knowledge that may give me a hint as to what to prepare for? Or any requests perhaps?"
Lann does seem reticent to match against his former friend, but does speak up.
"I am under no false impressions, I know we will most likely have to kill her if she actually has taken up demon worshipping. But perhaps there is still a chance..."
After the group is done with breakfast and the preparations are done, Lann goes to speak to the Chieftain one more time. After a few minutes he comes back with a backpack full of salted fish and roasted mushrooms.
"It might not seem like much, but it's all the clan could offer." Lann says with a tad bit of pride in what his chieftain gathered together for the party.
From the hamlet of Neathholm, the tunnel winds mostly in a southeast direction for about 2,000 feet (26 minutes of travel at a speed of 15 feet). The tunnel narrows down at this point to a 5-foot-wide passageway, the walls carved with picks and chisels.
Elise exchanges some more niceties with the citizens of Neatholm before preparing for their journey. She accepts the offered food with gratitude. "It's brilliant--this will help us keep our strength for the coming challenges!"
She continues to light the way forward for those who might benefit from it.
"Lann--what is this place? The tunnels are narrow here--looks like someone carved a path forward."
Raban shrugs (unhelpfully) as Aravashnial asks about additional known information. Unless Lann was prepared to divulge any further tactical knowledge, they would have little else to go on. But he's glad that the blind elf had not chosen to avoid abjuration. Certainly there were some wizards who took the school as their opposition, like the ancient Thassilonian sin magic wielders who saw evocation and necromancy as opposing abjuration, but Raban doubts that the elf gives much credence to such odd theories.
"Hmm, I would ask to see your spellbook, but reading it would do me as much good as reading Elven poetry. Aha, that is, I know the--how would you say, cantrip?--yes, to enable me to read your book, but I don't know that I would glean enough to assist in your tactical spell preparations." It would be interesting, though, perhaps as some evening reading material. "I trust your judgment in knowing that we will face cultists of demon lords in underground tunnels."
---
Raban puts the fish and mushrooms to his nose, lifting up his mask, inhaling the intoxicating aromas as his eyes light up. "It is a very good gift!" he insists to Lann.
Once the tunnel narrows, Raban has the same question as Elise.
Anastasia remained mostly quiet as they began their day. She had dreamed of home. The shores of Andoran, her family, her friends, local officials, and even the cultists. There had been no nightmares. No memories. Simply the different people and places of her homeland she already missed so. Looking at Lann she wondered if such thoughts would soon haunt him.
There was time to think as she took the lead through the narrow tunnels. Holding her shield up and angling it through the narrow passage ahead of her. Needing to shift her shoulders and hips as the space was tight and the going slow.
"I may weep by the time we see the sky again." she noted dourly.
Raban nods behind Ana. "I hope that we see the sky before the end of this day, but I am too prudent so as to put the cart before the horse, so to speak."
Olapa yowls lightly, yawning deeply as if in some sort of agreement.
"Surely we're close to our goal! And we'll be bringing a surprise group of reinforcements to our beloved Kenabres."
Elise hangs toward the back, staying with Aravashnial and Anevia if they choose to come.
"Olapa is beautiful," she mentions, having the opportunity to observe the tiger. "Have you been together for long?"
Though Elise cannot see Raban smile behind his mask, she can likely hear it in his voice as he responds. "Aha, did you hear that, Olapa? You are beautiful! Sidai oleng." Olapa begins purring and nuzzles up to Elise, craning her head up for pets while her tail stiffens and culs around the aasimar's leg. "I think she likes you."
Raban hums and then responds. "We have been together for about two years, since she was a cub. We found her not far from the Magaambya on one of my training missions to understand a blight-causing plague. She was the last one of her family left alive in the wake of actions by a Cult of Angazhan. I was the one who found her, so I have taught her how to hunt. Blessed by Shimye-Magalla, she is, neh?"
Ana makes a... face as a conversation starts behind her. She had not yet interacted with Raban's little tiger. Though her expression was odd, she was easy enough to read. Her stern features and tucked up lip revealed she was secretly... extremely jealous of Elise right now. Steeling herself, she pressed forward.
Elise is a little anxious to see Olapa turn toward her, but quickly finds comfort as she runs her hands through the tiger's silky fur. "It's fortunate she found such a good soul," she notes. Elise herself seems to almost glow with the delightful interaction.
Perhaps she would have noticed Anastasia's jealousy if she caught a glimpse of her face, but Elise remains oblivious as Ana presses ahead once more.
"She likes the spot behind her ears quite a bit," Raban says as Olapa continues her nuzzling/marking. The tiger was nearing maturity, but still had some kitten tendencies. But if she was going to do battle with them, there was every likelihood that she would grow strong.
The tunnel continues upward for a little bit more, and then a barricade of heaped loose rocks and wooden boards appears at the top of what appears to be a flattening of the slow climb you've been doing for nearly half an hour and bisects the cavern. Beyond the barricades, a wooden screen covers the lower half of a tunnel mouth. Two figures appear to be somewhat guarding the makeshift guardpost, but not really paying attention.
Raban is tempted to whisper that he is not particularly stealthy, but that seems counterproductive. Instead, he makes a motion to Olapa to prowl, and he joins her as best as he can, axe in one hand and shield in the other, trying to sneak up.
She is, of course, a natural born predator, while Raban has all the grace of a boulder.
"You are quite the powerful mage, Aaravashnial," mentions Elise. "Let's use the magics against arrows once we get close to the enemy position."
As a fire sorceress, Elise is not one for hiding very often. But perhaps being in the back of the group would help some.