Cecily surveys the damage with clenched teeth and fists. A trickle of blood drips from the now-worn-in scars on her palms where her claws dig in. She glances toward the temple, toward Terendelev, and is almost relieved that she can't make anything out between the distance and the smoke. The scale of the destruction is mind-boggling but the conversation brings her back to more immediate, worldly concerns.
She looks back to the group, in turn. "I will see you all to where you need to go, and I do request that you accompany me to the Northgate market. Lushya, my attendant, is...well, I don't know where she is. I hope she has sought refuge, but she may be at my apartment near the market. And Roch, my dear horse, was stabled nearby as well."
"I had tea at Nyserian, oh, perhaps 6 months ago. I recall the house, at least somewhat."
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and frowns. "I had hoped Kenabres had fared better than the underworld, but there's naught but flame and death here either."
Thawm makes a sound between a sigh and a whimper.
"I think I understand why the Dawnflower wanted me here..." she explains.
"I suppose that's acceptable. So long as we don't tarry too long."
"Let's get going then, and thank you for your flexibility on this."
Tandyn takes his spiked gauntlets off and confirms that his attire is up to Crusader standards. He stretches a little and fixes his posture. Into the fray... And then a thought occurs to him. There was a preparation of sorts in those memories he wanted to try. The cleaning spell worked, so why shouldn't it? He focuses carefully and visualizes himself suddenly dashing between demons to put himself between them and his friends. Tension of some kind gathers in his head as though a spring were winding itself and waiting for release. He draws Radiance and leads the way.
Blackwing
The Librarium of the Broken Black Wing, known as Blackwing to the locals, has a reputation for containing the most complete record of research on demon hunting in Mendev. Unfortunately, Blackwing now lies in ruin. All that remains is a reinforced hall and the Libarium's facade. Strangely, the buildings surrounding Blackwing seem not to have been as damaged.
The door is ajar and you can hear a harsh voice barks orders inside, "Stack the damn books better!" The sound of a weeping woman and malevolent chuckling can be heard as well.
Aravashnial asks, "Please tell me, what's happening?"
As the group makes their way through the shattered streets of Kenabres, Dorek shakes his head, a shocked expression on his face. It's h-hard to believe that just the other d-day, I walked these r-roads... S-so much has changed... I m-mean, he said something about the W-wardstone, how it would f-fall, but I never t-thought... I guess I owe h-him an apology." The young locksmith grimaces. "There's l-little left of the district where my f-family lived - I h-hope they made it out of the M-market Square with their l-lives. There's a s-shrine beneath our house, h-hidden from the d-damned inquisitors - if they m-made it there, they could hide. Maybe s-survive the attack." He glances apologetically at Tandyn and Cecily. "L-look, my t-talk about the inquisitors - I've n-nothing against Iomedaeans, I mean in g-general, and I know H-hulrun was a great h-holy man for your faith, but w-whenever I asked my g-grandfather about my p-parents, how they d-died, he would tell me that they were g-good people, p-proud Sarkorians who k-kept their culture alive as b-best they could. People who j-just wanted to live their lives, d-do the right thing. P-people who didn't d-deserve to die, s-screaming in flames."
At the commotion from within the building, Dorek scowls, hissing to Aravashnial. "Q-quiet! Someone is inside! ...There's n-not much of the library l-left - I'm sorry. It l-looks like someone d-deliberately targeted this p-place - over others, I m-mean." He glances around at the rest of the group, motioning for silence. "There are some h-holes in the walls of the b-building - I'll s-see what's inside." The gangly tiefling moves up to one of the gaps in the building's facade, cautiously peering in to see what is going on.
Dorek sees a man clad in armor befitting a crusader flanked by two tieflings, one with a coiling scaled tail, the other with rams horns jutting from their forehead. All three are spattered in red blood. The "crusader" yells at a woman carrying a stack of books, "Faster or I'll stab you in the gut and leave you for the vultures to finish off."
The woman hurriedly stacks the books around a quartet of people bound and gagged. No one seems to notice Dorek.
At the news of Blackwing's destruction Aravashnial can't help but cry as he falls to his knees grief stricken.
Dorek grimaces, creeping back to rejoin the other survivors. "There's p-people in there. One's d-dressed up in armor like a m-market guard, thinks he l-looks like a crusader." He scoffs. "C-crusader my venom-tipped s-stinger - he's a l-looter, or I'm the m-mine-lord of Iz! T-two more with him, d-demon-bloods - I d-don't think they're here to r-read. He's making a pile with the b-books. A p-pyre, I think. There's f-four in there he's about to b-burn, all t-tied up - I think we should go h-help them."
"Those dastards! I agree, Dorek."
Cecily strides up and kicks the door in! She takes stock of the situation and points a clawed finger at the leader while fixing him with her harshest glare.
"You! Explain yourself!"
Ahmose, the Blue Whisper wanders down the ruined rumble strewn streets. The Alchemist's blue eyes cautiously roaming about (high and low) for any further discouraging dissidents dive bombing them.
At the approach to the former Library, Ahmose sighs.
What a f@~*ing tragedy! All those books lost to ash and asshats!
Smiling at Dorek's gumption, the Blue-scaled Kobold simply waits with the others. At his return, report, rehearsal of registration of release of his resume of racism, Ahmose takes out his Mutagen, downs it (grows a bit more Agile) and follows the ever impulsive Cecily.....
Time to make the f&**ing Chimichanga!
Thawm puts her hands on her hips, stands next to Cecily, and... fails miserably to look intimidating at all- compared with her bloodstained compatriot, she looks downright adorable.
The man turns to the party as the door is kicked in for good measure. He proclaims not deterred by Cecily's threat, ”More sacrifices, good.” He holds his weapon ready for you, but not ready enough.
Round 1
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Tandyn glares angrily at the "crusader."
"'Faster or I'll stab you?' Disgraceful traitor... Recognize this blade?"
Tandyn storms forward with shield raised and Radiance poised to strike...
...and embeds it between the plates of his undeserved armor.
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"Thawm, I can empower your magic! Stay close to me."
Aroden uses Tactician to share out Allied Spellcaster.
Whenever you are adjacent to an ally who also has this feat, you receive a +2 competence bonus on level checks made to overcome spell resistance. If your ally has the same spell prepared (or known with a slot available if they are spontaneous spellcasters), this bonus increases to +4 and you receive a +1 bonus to the caster level for all level-dependent variables, such as duration, range, and effect.
Conjunction: When benefiting from a teamwork feat, increase the bonus you and your allies receive from that feat by 1, if any.
He moves up a bit while drawing the Sword of Aroden.
The woman carrying the books drops them as the party storms the remains of the library, ”Thank the gods!” She moves over to her bound compatriots and begins pulling at the ropes and removes a gage, freeing one of the prisoners.
Round 1
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Ahmose frowns as all the tall people push their asses in front of the small Kobold to block the view!
He winks at Aroden.
Sighing and actually sighting that these Asshat cultists are standing frozen like Han in Carbonite, the grinning Alchemist easily Strides 30' into the chamber (bullying his way through legs) right pass the statue like Tieflings to hunker over by them there tables, benches, furniture.
Still grinning (unless they have Combat Reflexes), the Blue-scaled Kobold tosses a Bomb at the Green Statue of a Asshat cultist!
[ooc]AC 18
"That's right! Praise be Sarenrae." Thawm explains as she steps through the doorway.
She begins conjuring and lobbing acid at the foul demon worshippers.
Ahmose gets a direct hit on the armored "crusader" lighting his hair on fire and burning it clean off. The man is clearly in dire pain between the stab Tandyn gave him earlier and the 3rd degree burns he suffered just now, but he fights through it.
Thawm tosses her acid but throws it way too high nearly hitting the ceiling.
Chaleb challenges Tandyn, "I'll take you with me slave to the Inheritor."
The two tieflings flank Tandyn and attempt to stab him with short swords.
Round 1
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Round 2
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The wizard brings the Sword of Aroden high above his head, then down in a deliberate slash. The sideways backhand is faster, and the uppercut is faster still. The movements accelerate, until his sword is moving in a dizzying display of martial prowess. And then somehow holy power emanates from Aroden.
"Behold the glory!"
Cecily sets her stance and slithers forward to take some heat off of Sir Tandyn. Drawing inspiration from the Inheritor, she lashes out.
"Glory to the Inheritor!"
Seeing the cultists converge on Tandyn, Dorek scowls and rushes up to aid the paladin, stepping up behind the tiefling with the red-scaled tail and sinking his blade into the cultist's back with an anatomist's precision. As the tiefling clutches at his wound, Dorek grins at his badly injured friend. "S-safety in numbers, right, T-tandyn? Even your g-goddess doesn't fight alone all the t-time, right?" His eye strays to the grievous wounds along Tandyn's side, and his smile falters. "...Maybe you should r-retreat - I can h-help from here, and you're in n-no condition to fight."
Chaleb's mace narrowly passes under Tandyn's shield and crashes into his side. Tandyn withdraws Radiance from Chaleb's armor and prepares to strike again when he's suddenly stabbed from the sides. Tandyn stumbles a bit - barely able to stand.
"I... I will never refuse a challenge from an equal..." He recites with his attention solely on Chaleb even as his friends rush to his aid.
In a burst of blurred motion Tandyn slips between his attackers and behind Chaleb, and takes what may be his last swing at the vile ex-crusader still bearing the symbol of Iomedae.
"Traitor!"
Cecily punches out one of the tieflings, while Tandyn guts the "crusader." Dorek stabs the remaining tiefling.
Finally the librarians untie their remaining companions.
Ahmose laughs at the vile dirty burning bald ball of fire!
Nice haircut, Asshat cultist! Your mommy do that to you!
Watching Sir Tandyn get sliced, diced, filleted, and sauteed, the hungry for some reason Alchemist decides to dig in his pocket, producing a Potion of Cure Light Wounds.
Say ah, Sir Pin Cushion!
The Blue-scaled Kobold then slaps the Paladin on his bum before pointing him back out onto the field.
Momma says that dehydration leads to dead. Momma says.
"Tandyn!" says Thawm, worried.
Her life force reaches out and begins anchoring Tandyn also.
The remaining tiefling sees the way the battle is going and retreats, squeezing through a part of the wall that has been burned down.
"No. No bringing more bad guys over here!" Thawm explains as she casts Grease (DC 15) under the fleeing tiefling.
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The tiefling fails to even notice the grease underfoot.
As the remaining cultist turns to flee, Dorek scowls, ramming the hilt of his short sword firmly into the back of the retreating tiefling's head. "You're n-not getting away t-that easily!"
With the last tiefling no longer an issue (one way or the other), he glances nervously at his injured ally, but since Thawm seems to have the situation under control (somehow - magic is not his strong suit), he moves over to the doorway, motioning Aravashnial and the other survivors inside. "The b-building is safe, at least for n-now." Leading the blind elf, he approaches the head librarian. "H-here you are, Aravashnial - we're at B-blackwing now." He glances around the wreckage of the library, grimacing. "...It's n-not so bad now that we're i-inside - I'm s-sure they can rebuild." A lie, certainly, but with Aravashnial's state of shock, better to hold this small fantasy than realize that his one remaining place of refuge is obliterated.
Cecily dashes up behind the fleeing tiefling and tries to grab them!
"Not so fast, pitspawn!" she spits.
Ahmose looks at all the unnecessary activities concerning a Tiefling and sighs.
Obligatory what the f@#& are we doing with him?
Dorek slaps the tiefling hard with the flat of his blade over their head as they flee. Cecily follows the fleeing book burner and wrenches an arm through the building.
Dorek steps up beside Cecily, driving his stinger into the tiefling's stomach as Cecily holds him.
Ahmose appears to be waiting for the most opportune moment to get involved....
Ouch. That most definitely sounds broken. Yup. I can hear the bones splintered as she continues to jank hard on that arm. Probably gonna need some ointment.
Tandyn hurries outside.
"You plotted to murder Kenabres citizens. You tried to kill me. This is my jurisdiction. Surrender or be executed."
Dorek’s stinger plants into a wall missing the tiefling.
The tiefling yells at Cecily as she slips her arm free of the lock, "Ain't you one to talk. Seems theres lots o' "pitspawn" to go around! Ahahaha."
The tiefling runs away from the party yet again.
Tandyn sighs, jogs after the Tiefling, glares at him, and hurls Radiance.
Radiance swirls about and slices at the Tiefling...
...and flies back to Tandyn.
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With the last enemy dispatched everyone is able to take a short respite from the madness that surrounds you. The woman introduces herself as Fenna, ”Thank you all! I don’t know what could have happened if you hadn’t come when you did.”
When Dorek brings in Aravashnial they light up, ”Master Aravashnial, you’re alive! Please stay with us here and help us preserve what is left.”
Aravashnial thinks for a moment not recognizing Fenna or the others, ”Uh… Yes, of course. What of…?”
Fenna solemnly answers, ”All the other Riftwardens are dead. They were killed by a horrific abomination, a man made of worms and whose command of magic allowed him to enslave several demons. He murdered the others and left with several treasures. Quednys Orlun was up near the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell at the time of the attack and we don’t know his fate.”
Aravashnial turns to Dorek, ”I ask you one more favor, friend, please see if you can find Quednys. He was the head librarian here.”
Fenna finally places a book in your hands, ”Please take this as repayment for our rescue.”
banded mail, light steel shield, MW heavy mace, 29 gp
studded leather armor, short sword, light crossbow
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As Aravashnial asks Dorek about the head librarian, the locksmith nods."I can h-help find your friend. I c-can't do much against s-so many demons, but I will s-see if he lives, and b-bury him if he does not." When Fenna presses a book into his hands, however, he glances through it, scowling as he realizes what it is. "This is b-book-caster secrets, isn't it? S-such magic is b-blasphemy, you know!" Glancing around the room, he moves over to Aroden, handing the spellbook to him. "Better in the hands of the g-gods."
Seeing that his allies are busy with other matters, Dorek steps over to the fallen crusader, drawing his clan dagger and kneeling beside the traitor warrior - remembering his earlier conversation, however, he glares at Cecily before pulling the now-blood-stained rag from his tool kit. Tied securely around the blade of his dagger, it makes a serviceable writing instrument - dipping it in the blood pooling around the false knight's wounds, he begins to draw angular Hallit characters on the metal canvas of the dead man's shield.
I HAVE TURNED MY BACK ON MY CLAN
I HAVE FORSAKEN MY REALITY
As he stands, the withered worms among the library's wreckage catch his eye, and he pulls them from among the rubble. "S-strange creatures, these - I've n-never seen ones of this sort around K-kenabres." He shrugs. "M-many people from around the w-world pass through here on their way to the W-worldwound. My daughter Saba, her birth p-parents were from Garund, crusaders who c-came north to d-die. Maybe this w-worm-mage was from another l-land?"
"Those aren't natural worms." Thawm explains.
"Maybe the worm-mage sheds these not-worms wherever he goes." she speculates.
The Blue-scaled Kobold seems determined to be involved in the looting!
Loot from corpses:
potions of cure light wounds (2) I'll just hold on to these.;
banded mail, light steel shield , MW heavy mace, 29 gp
studded leather armor, short sword, light crossbow...we could probably donate the stuff that sucks to Neathholm.
The Alchemist seems busy stuffing the Potions into his pockets.
Ahmose stops when Dorek begins speaking (not usually but he said worm-mage) and the Alchemist takes a closer look at the wriggle worms.
These f#&~ing worms are out of this world!
Or
The crusader drags the Tiefling's body inside with the others.
"Great work everyone. Thank you for having my back. I rushed in too quickly, and I apologize."
he begins to draw angular Hallit characters on the metal canvas of the dead man's shield.
"Did you really just write over the Sword and Sun in blood? Do shields have an afterlife now? Is there a junkyard behind the Boneyard to sort them out? Sorry, I really shouldn't kid about this. I'd rather not leave her symbol with this apostate, he doesn't deserve it. Can we find another spot for the markings?"
Tandyn examines the dead traitor. "You know, this banded mail could be an improvement. It already belongs to the crusade... I'm reclaiming it." He starts to remove the armor.
"Those aren't natural worms. Maybe the worm-mage sheds these not-worms wherever he goes."
Dorek shrugs, dropping the shriveled creatures back on what remains of the library's floor. "P-probably from the W-worldwound. Animals of all s-sorts tend to be s-strange in that area. I once met a great bull aurochs with f-fangs the length of my h-hand!" He grins. "I can s-show you the scars l-later. They're g-good scars, and it's a g-good story. My g-grandfather always said that scars are m-marks of pride. They're a b-bit like those officer t-talismans the knights wear, in a w-way. You d-don't get them by reading b-books or sitting in your h-home, you get them by g-going out into the w-world and surviving d-dangerous things. Each one is a r-reminder that m-most things in the world want to k-kill you, and that judging by how you're s-still alive, they're quite b-bad at it."
"Did you really just write over the Sword and Sun in blood? Can we find another spot for the markings?"
Dorek shrugs. "It's t-tradition to write them in the f-flesh of the wicked d-dead, but apparently, it's 'desecration of c-corpses' now." He blinks, pulling out his ritual dagger again. "Is his s-shirt good? Not particularly h-holy as a rule, s-shirts - at l-least, so I'm t-told."
"You know, this banded mail could be an improvement. It already belongs to the crusade... I'm reclaiming it."
Dorek raises his eyebrows, smirking and crossing his arms as the valiant paladin strips the armor off the corpse. "You k-know, I once h-heard of a mugger called 'Boots R-rydac' - stole the b-boots off his victims and s-sold them for extra g-gold. All that talk about 'holy p-purpose' aside, you and I are not so d-different, I t-think. Now, whether or n-not that's an i-insult..." His crimson eye flicks to Cecily. "...I g-guess it depends on what you t-think of me. S-some days, I d-don't even k-know!"
Aroden accepts the book from Dorek. "Your faith prohibits learning from books? A shame."
And at Dorek's continued ritual desecration, he chimes in. "The shield will be taken and given to a faithful servant of the Inheritor. It is steel and symbol, but need not be forever stained by this wielder's heresy. As to his shirt, well, I suppose that is harmless. Do as you will."
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"You k-know, I once h-heard of a mugger called 'Boots R-rydac' - stole the b-boots off his victims and s-sold them for extra g-gold. All that talk about 'holy p-purpose' aside, you and I are not so d-different, I t-think. Now, whether or n-not that's an i-insult..." His crimson eye flicks to Cecily. "...I g-guess it depends on what you t-think of me. S-some days, I d-don't even k-know!"
"What do I think of you? I consider you a friend, and I choose my friends by the quality of their hearts. What's the saying... 'Share drinks with Cayden but tabs with Abadar?' Both are admirable. But perhaps as a locksmith you could use the Vault Master's 'Treatise on the Legally Distinct Routes of Acquisition.' There's even a song version for Taxfest."
Tandyn finishes looting the heretic and begins doffing his scale mail.
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Cecily marvels at the alacrity of the fleeing tiefling to escape her, but smiles with relief as Sir Tandyn brings them back.
"Great work everyone. Thank you for having my back. I rushed in too quickly, and I apologize."
"'I am the first into battle, and the last to retreat.I will never abandon a companion.'" She smirks as she quotes. "I would never have thought otherwise."
Cecily is oblivious to the worms, and wrinkles her nose in distaste when the others bring them up.
"[...]you and I are not so d-different, I t-think. Now, whether or n-not that's an i-insult..." His crimson eye flicks to Cecily. "...I g-guess it depends on what you t-think of me. S-some days, I d-don't even...
Cecily shoots a mildly affronted look at Dorek and turns to Sir Tandyn with a cloyingly saccharine, "what do you think of me, Sir Tandyn?" As he starts to doff his armor she becomes unsure that he's going to stop at his gambeson, she begins to flush again, letting out a surprised noise and turning her back to him to face Dorek and the librarians. "Really, Sir Tandyn, society may be breaking down but that's no excuse for a lack of decorum!" She looks at Dorek and opens her mouth to say something to him, but changes her mind and queries the librarians instead.
"Master Aravashnial, and Miss Fenna was it? Do you intend to stay here? We have seen already that it is not so safe."
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Infinitely more comfortable around injured and/or less clothed warriors, Thawm approaches Tandyn.
"Let's finish patching you up." she explains as she looks for his last remaining scratches.
Tandyn finds that his deep wounds are almost all closed up already.
Thawm looks rather pale before she switches from mending Tandyn to bathing herself in sparks.
"Master Aravashnial, and Miss Fenna was it? Do you intend to stay here? We have seen already that it is not so safe."
Aravashnial nods, "We have a duty to protect what little is left here."
Fenna conjures a globe of acid much like Thawm's and adds, "We are not completely defenseless. And we will be more discerning with who we trust."
Aravashnial pulls out a wand and begins tapping each of the librarians with it, emboldening their life force with necromantic energy.
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...and turns to Sir Tandyn with a cloyingly saccharine, "what do you think of me, Sir Tandyn?"
Tandyn attempts to deflect her intent with a military tone "I am honored to protect one of your station and humbled to be matched in battle without weapon or armor. I fear letting you down more than any foe." He then accidentally makes eye contact, cracks a smile, and continues working with the armor.
As he starts to doff his armor she becomes unsure that he's going to stop at his gambeson, she begins to flush again, letting out a surprised noise and turning her back to him to face Dorek and the librarians. "Really, Sir Tandyn, society may be breaking down but that's no excuse for a lack of decorum!"
Tandyn blushes and looks around the room. "I... uh... do wear clothes under this, Baroness... and there's nothing to stand behind... Dorek! Aroden! Would you two mind standing right here with these shields?"
Ahmose just arches an eyebrow at the continuation of demonstration of decorum being displayed despite continuing development of destruction and deception.
The Blue-scaled Kobold shrugs.
You Long shanks are weird.
The pragmatic Alchemist then begins to mix up a Cure light wounds Extract before preparing to depart for...some other destroyed decapitated tower of this demon infested city.
The kobold doesn't seem to be concerned.