Kipka realizes that, the cave in notwithstanding, this cavern looks rather stable. The tremors that shook the ground before as the demon hordes descended on Kenabres seem to have done little more than dislodge dust throughout what she can see of the cavern around her, except where everyone fell through. This indicates that the caverns are not only stable, but likely have been here for some time. The rocks don't have the sharp edges that would indicate a lot of recent activity.
If you have Knowledge(local) or Knowledge(history), you can make a check.
Kipka's inspection of the cavern brings to her attention a strange glint in a couple of places in the rubble around her...Cassander's bright light seems to catch something out of the corner of her eye.
The creature, hampered by his grip on the Penitent, is unable to completely dodge Trezsia's blow, though he appears to take no actual damage from the hit, and seems to have shrugged off much of Cassander's Channel.
The toddler looks back and forth a few times between Aravashnial and Ionnia as the elf restoppers the vial. Other than the horrible gash across his eyes, his wounds from the battle appear suddenly healed. Still scabbed over, but somehow looking better, the wound on his face shows no evidence of his eyes coming back in anything like working order. As the elf begins to stand again, stowing the empty potion vial in his bag, the boy suddenly whips his thumb out of his mouth and barrels toward the other elf, hands extended.
"Rock! Rock! Rock!" he cries out, running full speed into the unsuspecting elf and knocking them both back to the rubble. "Rock, rock! One, two, three...many rock!"
Aravashnial's expression is a little hard to read in his current state, but surprise and then annoyance are easy to interpret, at least. "Lady Ionnia, I'm sure the lad should be staying away from the front lines of our little expedition, but I hardly think he will be able to pick out the important details from our surroundings I will need to understand our situation and find the best solution to our predicament. Let alone the ability to elucidate clearly on it."
The toddler looks back at the older elf, confused, then decides it's his turn to speak again. "Owwie!"
Anevia limps forward and pats the boy on his head, displacing dust from his dark brown hair. "Yes, Kerrel, owwie. Don't run into him, okay? He has an owwie."
Aravashnial sniffed disdainfully. "I assume the child's name is likely to correctly be Keriel, or something of the sort," he said dryly.
"'Rel!" the boy responded with a grin.
"I could help guide and explain matters to Aravashnial," Anevia offers softly. "I've little experience with magic, but my eyes are sharp enough."
"Oh, but I believe this Cernan fellow agreed that Mistress Willow would be happy to act as my eyes and notekeeper," Aravashnial cut in. "Her knowledge of arcane things will doubtless come in handy as we run into demonic forces or arcane runes! Though I appreciate the offer, Miss...er...Avina?"
"Anevia. Tirablade." Anevia's response was a little flat at his lack of recognition.
"Tirablade?!? Tirablade! Yes! Um...well. Of course. I'm sure you have many capital skills, but the arcane training of Mistress Willow will undoubted allow her an easier time keeping up with my requirements for information and my need for accurate note-taking! Both are crucial for me if I am to come up with a plan to get us out of this place."
Horgus snorts audibly and rolls his eyes, turning his back resolutely on the elf and archer as he fingers the blade Ionnia has leant him and watches the far side of the cavern, where the faintest hints of two paths may be seen.
Tasnim (NPC): Tasnim moves up behind Anevia, her longsword at the ready.
Xion (NPC): Xion steps carefully through the doorway and swipes at the creature, opening an avenue for retreat into the narthex.
Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
Damage: 1d10 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
Xion's halberd manages to land a blow on the creature, but it's ire still is focused on the grip that is preventing it from pursuing Trezsia an Cassander. Xion looks concerned. "I didn't land the strongest blow, but I've barely scratched the creature!" The creature writhes in the Penitent's grasp.
Seize Grapple: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
The creature's rancid claws now hold the Penitent fast.
Tasnim
Xion
Cassander
The Penitent
Trezsia
Round 3:
Creature
Map will be updated - probably tomorrow. Only Xion and Tasnim moved, though.
Horgus nods at Ionnia's comment on his offer of payment. "I have no objections to people spending their earned money however they wish,", he begins, with a noticeable glance in Anevia's direction. "Even artists and paladins require funds for their work and needs. Abadar always prefers the ordered flow of steady commerce, and I believe that commerce requires a fair wage for services and labor." He unconsciously pats his rotund belly as he continues. "I have tried to maintain some skill with the rapier, but I have to admit that accounting issues and contract negotiations have seemed to take over my practice times more often the last few years. I can't honestly say I will be more than mediocre with a weapon." He nods back toward Ionnia. "A dagger would be better than nothing if faced with another of those demonic creatures, I guess. If you are willing to lend me the use of it, I would be appreciative."
Anevia has quietly been maneuvering herself away from Horgus and Aravashnial when Cernan captures her hand. She laughs a little, but quickly regains her serious expression. "I think a crutch would be more hinderance than help, after your excellent healing. I won't be winning any races, but if we run into trouble, I'll need both hands to bring my bow to bear." She looks ruefully over her shoulder - her quiver holds only six arrows.
Aravashnial, having sunk back to the ground after his outburst, feels around for his dropped rucksack. He seems subdued and pale upon realizing Horgus is one of his companions. After a moment of searching he pulls forth a stoppered vial, removes the cork and drinks the contents.
DM Notes:
1d3 ⇒ 32d8 + 3 ⇒ (6, 2) + 3 = 11
The elven boy looks at Ionnia with enormous leaf green eyes. They flicker involuntarily toward the bright light Cernan cast, and then back to her. His face looks stubborn as a dwarf's as his eyebrows draw down. "No. Light. Bright." He points at the aasimar helpfully. At Ionnia's request for his name, he sticks his thumb in his mouth for a moment, and it seems to calm him. "'rel. Ker-rel. Wan' mama."
The Gwerm family is a well known wealthy family with a longstanding tradition of generosity. Horgus is the last scion of the family, raised by his aunt and uncle after everyone else on his parent's estate was killed by marauding babaus when he was a young boy. This childhood trauma seems to have made Horgus a bit different from family tradition. The Gwerm family coffers, always deep, have been greatly enriched under his guidance, and the family reputation for generous donations and a modest lifestyle is not borne out in Horgus' reputation. Despite whatever suspicions others may have about his business successes, Horgus had an unshakable reputation for honesty and a piercing intellect.
Cernan:
Anevia accepts your gallant gesture well enough, but you not only sense her heart lies elsewhere, but that she'd be more interested in the attentions of those of a more female persuasion.
Cernan, please give me a sense motive test. Also, if anyone else wants to add to Cernan's words (or Ionnia wants to roll), your Diplomacy check could be assisted.
Cernan, the archer, boy and merchant seem fully healed at this point, though the extensive damage to her leg has partially crippled the archer's ability to move with speed. The elf, despite Willow's generous magic and your channeled energy, is still gravely wounded - though no longer on death's door.
The archer manages to lever herself to her feet with the assistance of her bow stave. She limps carefully off the rubble from the city above, obviously taking great care not to injure herself again. Her leg, glimpsed through the ragged remains of her pant leg, is misshapen but without any open wounds remaining. "Thank you very much for healing me." She reaches out toward Willow with a dusty hand. "My name is Anevia."
"You say this skirmish is won?" the elf asks, his voice much stronger, though where his eyes should be it is still a horrible, if scabbed over, wound. He fumbles around in his pack, rummaging blindly for something. "The loud man - Cernan? Is that your name, lad? You sound hale and robust enough! You should explore down the left tunnel ahead. Yes, that would be excellent! And you mentioned the young woman was a heroic fighter as well? She should check the right tunnel! It sounds as if the poor gnome should stay back here, with us wounded, where it's safer, hmmm? And the delightful young lady who is healing? Would you be so kind as to help me up and explain exactly what you see? No detail is too small! If I am to use my vast knowledge and experience to get us out of here, I must have every scrap of information available!"
The merchant sniffs as he picks up the toddler and stumbles down the mound of loose rubble. "You'd do better with a scrap of sense, you crazy nut!" he mutters, not bothering to keep his voice down much.
"Huh? What?" The elf's ears visibly perk up and his hand stops rummaging through his knapsack for a moment. "Who is that? Do you know who I am?!? I am Aravashnial!" He drops his knapsack, forgotten, into the rocks as he struggles unsteadily to find his feet on he uncertain footing beneath him. "I have ventured into the Worldwound itself to find knowledge of its denizens, and have battled countless demons and other spawn of the Abyss!!! Who are you?" His face is red, and he weaves on his feet as he moves his head back and forth, seeking the source of the words that angered him so.
The merchant keeps moving, circling around the elf to set the boy he's carrying down next to Willow. Then he reaches out with a snort to steady the wavering elf. "Careful, fool, your injuries are nothing to trifle with. Don't bother these folk with your nonsense. Sit down."
Aravashnial's face drains of all color so quickly it appears he's about to faint, and his knees collapse beneath him. The merchant, with his grip on the elf's flailing arm, manages to keep him from injuring himself. "Horgus...?" Aravashnial's voice is much less certain.
"Yes," the man says, dropping the elf's hand like a hot potato and turning toward Ionnia. "Horgus Gwerm," he says, nodding shortly. "You seem like you have your head on straight. I'm of little use in a fight - and I've lost my only blade. If we find a blade for me, I might be able to lend a bit of a hand with things, but it's not what I'm best at. It's got to be bad on the surface, and I want to get back up there as soon as possible. Hopefully there's enough left outside the plaza that they're putting up a fight - and any large group needs supply and management. That's where I want to be." Horgus gives the now silent Aravashnial a disdainful look, and glances back at the archer, then turns back to Ionnia. "I don't believe in freeloaders, so here's my proposal. If you get me back to the surface alive, I'll give you five," he points to Ionnia, Willow, Cernan, Kipka and Hiro, "two hundred gold pieces each. Deal?"
This foul creature is a huecuva - a faithless priest cursed by his unbelief to a horrible undeath. His presence strengthens him and nearby undead against holy power, and his claws are cursed with disease and filth.
Cassander swings but misses as he takes a step back from the skeletal creature. The Penitent moves in and sweeps the dust choked thing into a crushing embrace. The move is so sudden that Trezsia's swing is a little wild, and her axe fails to connect with the monster.
Tasnim
Xion
Round 2:
Creature
Cassander
The Penitent
Trezsia
The skeletal creature looses another dust choked croak and step forward, its empty sockets seem focused on the priest and paladin's holy symbols as it attacks each of them with a filthy claw.
The skeletal creature's bony claws catch Cassander's arm, and its attention seems centered on his holy symbol. Its other claw reaches toward a dust and cobweb covered rope or necklace hanging on its chest.
Kipka and Hero dispatch the remaining two maggots, leaving Kipka covered in goo and feeling a little more delicate than normal - thought that soon passes.
Hiro and Cernan examine the spider carcass, but it is obvious the creature has been long dead, mostly eaten from the inside out.
The rockslide has blocked off the sinkhole everyone fell through with what appears to be tons of rock and rubble. Beyond the giant dead spider there appear to be two passages leading out from the large cavern you find yourselves in.
As Cernan releases healing energies with Cayden Chilean's blessing, the archer seems to move a little better. The elven wizard's wounds close a little, though he is still severely injured. The merchant and boy's small scratches and bruises heal completely.
"Is that it? Has the enemy been dispatched?" the elf asks, his voice a little more sure. The woman with the wounded leg tries to lever herself up with her bow and a nearby rock, but is still having difficulty getting upright with her leg splinted straight.
The dust covered mound suddenly raises a barely discernible head in a shower of debris and raises a hand to strike at the priest of Iomedae. It's mouth is distended in what looks to be a scream, but only a dry, dust cloaked croak emerges.
Hero kills the wounded vermin in front of him, and steps up to menace the creature in front of Kipka. Willow levels a portentous look at a maggot, but it appears to have no effect.
Kipka, the save is versus the regurgitated spider guts the injured maggot spewed all over you. The stinky, steaming mass of half digested spider guts makes you nearly retch. You are sickened for one minute. The other maggot definitely missed you.
Ionnia and Cernan both step forward, swords slashing. Ionnia lands a great blow and cleaves the uninjured maggot in twain.
Aravashnial looks angry as he hears Horgus' words, but he closes his open mouth before any sound escapes, looking suddenly uncertain as he leans against the outside wall of the shrine.
At Horgus' sally, Anevia's face turns bright red. Muscles along her jaw twitch and her hands open and close from angry fists for a moment before she swallows and her face turns pale. She sinks back to the narrow bench, hunching into the smallest ball she can manage as she stares at the floor.
Horgus looks momentarily frightened, then slightly ashamed as he looks away.
Cassander moves into the room to examine the figure as Trezsia and the Penitent follow closely. Trezsia's words of solace as she passes Anevia's withdrawn form elicit a faint nod, but little else, from the bowyer. Cassander thinks the figure on the bench before the dust choked altar might be the remains of a dwarf, which makes sense if this is a shrine to Torag.
Trezsia pauses for a moment at the doorway as Cassander and the Penitent move into the room.
Trezsia:
Trezsia, you detect evil before you! Do you say anything?
Ionna and Cernan move forward, weapons ready for battle. Kipka stands ready to face the large maggots as Hiro ducks past her to strike at one. His blade sinks easily into it's ichor covered flesh and he nearly slices it deeply with his blow. Willow draws her sling and inches forward, ready to defend the injured.
Two of the creatures inch blindly toward the nearest target, Kipka. As the first enters the reach of her weapon, she strikes out, badly injuring one.
The three disgusting maggots attack. The one leaking pale goo from the deep wound Kipka dealt it regurgitates livid green spider guts all over her. The other try to bite Kipka and Hiro, respectively.
As the vermin try and fail to land blows, the bowyer can't help a whimper as she pulls out her bow and tries to find an arrow in her quiver.
"What? What is it?" the wizard scrabbles in the pile of rocks he's sitting, trying to locate the source of the sound of battle. "Point me in the right direction! I have puissant magic at my command!"
The merchant snatches up the boy and moves over by Willow, his wide eyes centered on the battle across the cavern. "Yes, but do you have a weapon?"
As a note, Anevia is in the small room. I'll assume you are searching the larger room Cassander is peering at from around the doorjamb.
The larger room is undisturbed. This is especially obvious because of the disturbance the group has made to the dust in the anteroom. In the light from Cassander's holy symbol, the Penitent can see the still form hunched over on a bench before the altar. It is humanoid in shape, but so completely covered over with dust and cobwebs it is difficult to determine much from twenty feet away. The figure seems short for a human, and somewhat wider in girth than the Penitent himself. The amount of undisturbed filth on the form indicates it has been there for more than a few years, completely unmoving.
The altar's form is visible, but the details are likewise hidden by years of neglected maintenance. The stone benches throughout the chamber make it look like nothing so much as an abandoned place of worship.
A stone bench lines the southern wall of this chamber. At the far side of the room, a basin of water sits atop a stone pedestal. Despite the dust and cobwebs in the room, the water in the pedestal looks clear as crystal.
Cassander peers into the next room. Broken stone benches line this narrow room. The air is cold and stale, and thick layers of dust cover the floor, benches and a large alter at the far end of the room. A short form appears to be sitting on a bench facing the altar, but it, like everything else, is choked by dust and cobwebs.
Anevia looks into the anteroom and limps over to the bench in the room. Her expression appears drawn. She sits down. "My leg...it's hurting a bit more. I'll just sit here and rest it while you're looking around." She drops to the stone bench and hunches over, staring down at the stone floor.
Sense Motive DC 15:
Since this was revealed to be a temple of Torag, Anevia has gotten more and more withdrawn. Something is bothering her.
Horgus sidles over toward Trezsia. "Maybe this would be a safe place to let those that...er...hold us back...stay?" he suggests.
"WHAT?!" Anevia shouts, surging off the bench and nearly toppling over. "You want to abandon us?!? I shouldn't be surprised that a man who won't even publicly acknowledge his own god wouldn't have enough of a soul to be saddened by the abandonment of another god's shrine!"
Horgus stares at her wide-eyed for a moment, then recovers enough to snort derisively. "Hmph! Well! I was just saying what I'm sure everyone was thinking! I shouldn't be surprised that someone who consorts with thieves and thugs would use these heroes' strength to save their own skin!"
The Penitent, hearing and seeing nothing unusual as he examines the door, reaches to open it. It opens easily, revealing amazing construction. The door is heavy stone, and the cobwebs and dust on the place indicates it has been abandoned for a very long time, but it's easy swing indicates it was exceedingly well made and perfectly balanced. Inside, there is revealed a small nave. A few feet in the wall breaks into an open doorway that leads into some other room, and at the end of the nave there appears to be a basin. The dust and cobwebs in here indicate that nothing has moved within these wall in quite a long time.
Willow's healing helps close some of his wounds and he no longer is tottering near to succumbing to his wounds, but the elf is still badly injured. The open, cauterized wound has begun to close, but his wounds are not anywhere nearly healed or scarred over.
Kipka, fumbling with her gear as she keeps an eye on the unnaturally wirting spider corpse, sees gigantic maggots suddenly burst from it's abdomen! Hiro, still making his way toward her, is not yet at her side.
Kipka notices with great disappointment that other than their unnatural size, there is no immediately demonic influence visible on these vermin.
3 maggots. Please roll initiative. I will get a map up tonight. Maggots used their surprise round to exit the spider corpse.
Kipka, how closely have you approached the spider corpse?
The archer woman opens her eyes a bit as Cernan raises her head so she may drink from his cup, then gasps as the brandywine goes down her throat. Hopefully the spirits she swallowed hastened her merciful lapse into unconciousness as Willow industriously tended to her leg.
Cernan then moves toward the elven wizard. As he crouched down next to the unmoving man, his daylight spell shining brighly on his face, the elven man doesn't turn his head or react at all. Cernan is horrified as his magical illumination reveals that the Storm King's whip has completely taken the elf's eyes, and much of the top half of his face. Only the fact that the whip had been flaming, and evidently cauterized the wounds has kept the elf from bleeding to death. He looks much paler now than he did above the ground when he cast a spell at the Storm King, and it's obvious that there is no way to restore his destroyed eyes without high level healing magic.
Even without the loss of his eyes, his injuries are severe and he is nearly at death's door. His shoulders are slumped, as he obviously realizes the extent of his injuries. He drops his head. "Never mind me. Without my eyes, I am next to useless. Save your spells for someone who can help you fight the demons..."
The merchant has been slowly approaching Cernan, his manner distracted and nearing panic. The little boy follows, a grubby hand crushing a handful of silk from the man's coat-tail. The merchant swallows audibly, staring wide-eyed at the elf's ruined face. "...yes...we must...save our....selves..." he whispers. He begins patting down his pockets and clothing, his right hand revisiting his empty eating knife's sheathe multiple times.
The little boy's face crumples and tears well up in his eyes as he stares at the elven man. "Owwie, owwie, owwie!" he says and he suddenly jams his thumb in his mouth and wraps his other hand tightly around the merchant's leg.
Willow sees clearly that the woman's bones will have to be straightened and held in place firmly if she is going to be able to walk again without very powerful magic. She ruthlessly rips strips of cloth from her petticoats and finds some broken pieces of wood that might serve to hold the bones in place after they've been set. With a sympathetic wince, Willow gets to setting the bone. After a few involuntary cries of pain, the woman thankfully passes out, and Willow completes the grueling process. She uses her second cure spell, and though she can see the damage is too extensive and the bones and tendons too damaged for the magic to straighten everything out, the open wounds at least close, giving hope the situation won't get worse.
When she is done, Willow wipes the sweat off her brow and has a hope that with a crutch, the woman might even have some limited mobility.
This takes about an hour. What is everyone else doing?
NPC: Hiro rushes over to offer what assistance he can with the large boulder.
Strength Check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
His help is enough to lift the weight of the boulder off the woman's leg. She pulls her leg out with her arms, unable to resist screaming as she does. Her leg is obviously crushed. It bends in places it absolutely shouldn't, and her shin bone has broken through the skin in at least one place. When her leg is pulled free, she collapses to the ground, gasping and closing her eyes as tears run down her face.
The merchant begins wringing his hands as he stares at her, his eyes wide and frightened. "Dear Abadar, we're all going to die here. We're all going to die!"
The heavy set merchant stumbles in his fine shoes on the large rocks and rubble before finding his footing. "I...I...I don't know." He looks around with a stunned and confused expression on his face, obviously a little overwhelmed by the experience you've all had. It may take him a moment to take stock of his situation. From Cernan's vantage point, he appears to have made it through the apocalypse of Kenabres with little mor than scratches and tears in his fine clothing.
Cernan, until you can get it repaired, the blade has a -1 to hit.
Both Cernan and Willow make their way to the obviously injured woman. Cernan calls out reassurance to the elven wizard as he and Willow crouch over the archer.
Cernan:
Perception: The rock will require significant strength to remove. Rolling the stone enough to pull the woman out would be much easier - it appears that when she fell, the rock rolled from a slightly precarious position on the pile of rubble and crushed her leg against another large stone. Heal: You can't tell. Obviously the leg is injured, but you can't tell yet how bad the injury is.
Willow:
Heal: You can tell from the way the large stone that crushed her leg bends and the weight of the stone, the best you could hope for is that the leg can be salvaged at all. When she's pulled free from the stone you might get a better idea of the full extent of the damage but you would be surprised if anything other than a regeneration spell would return full use of her leg to the poor woman. She must be in agony.
The elf turns his head from side to side slowly, as if it pains him. His long blond hair hides his face from view, and his tone, still strained, sounds annoyed. "What do you mean? It's as black as the underdark! Of course elven eyes are better than any human-" He stop mid-tirade, and one hand slowly goes up to his face, then it drops again, bloodied, and the elf's head bows and his shoulders drop as if he's lost all hope.
Kipka moves toward the spider slowly. Her sharp gnomish vision render even the dim light at the edges of Cernan's spell bright enough for clear vision, and she notes that the spider has not moved a limb or its head at all, despite all the noise.
As everyone looks around in the bright light Cernan lets loose, a huge cavern is revealed. The group lies on top of a large pile of rocks, and the continued trembles in the ground around you keep dislodging rocks, settling the tons of stone that block the way you fell.
Cernan sees his sword buried under some stone. The blade looks bent. He is holding the merchant he grabbed before he fell, and the poor man is shaking in earnest now.
Kipka looks around, a little less limber than usual, as she picks up her gear. In the dim light beyond the bright daylight Cernan created she can see the form of a huge spider, the size of a human, lying on the ground, facing the darkness. Its stillness seems unnatural, especially considering the bright light suffusing the cave. She also notices the archer from the platform. She is blinking in the bright light, tears streaming down her face and a line of blood falling from where she has bitten through her lip. Her leg appears to be trapped between large rocks.
The elven wizard that the Storm King lashed with his whip is hunched over, his back to the group as his head shakes slowly back and forth. "Where are we? Can anyone see in this infernal darkness?" The man's voice is tight and strained.
Kipka, during the long fall, the increasing stiffness in your joints stops progressing. At 2 damage to dex, you have a -1 penalty to all dex based abilities until you heal one point of damage. You'll heal one point per night of rest.
Cernan reaches out to grab someone as the ground falls out from under him, and ends up with a fistful of fine silk as he manages to snag the falling body of the rich merchant who had been shepherding the women and children to their ill-fated shelter. During the long fall into darkness, as the screams of terror and frightening non-human shrieks of glee and laughter faded into silence, the poor man begins to shiver uncontrollably.
As they settled on the ground, finally, his nervous and shaky "Is...is anyone here?" testifies to his shock and disorientation, as Cernan still has him in a tight grip.
Cernan can see that he is lying on a large pile of rocks. He is in a large underground cavern whose open space extends further than his darkvision allows him to see. He can pick out the forms of his companions from the morning, and the occasional buried and bloodied body parts that inidicate those who fell without Terendelev's magical assistance did not survive this journey.
Need some quality time with Photoshop to get a map up of what you see once daylight hits. If everyone could describe their actions up to and including the fall, I'll add that in when I put up the map.
Kipka, suffering ill effects from the foul creature's bite, attacks the centipede and kills it.
Dex Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 1
Fort save, please, Kipka.
Terendelev's wordless, enraged roar rips the fiery sky as she again charges Khorramzadeh. "You won't drive me off this time, Terendelev," he sneers, revealing teeth as long as a human's forearm, and then mirrors her actions, charging back at her. His whip lashes out first, opening a deep gash in the silver dragon's tough hide, then his terrible flaming sword strikes her, and Terendelev falls back toward the cathedral. Her wings snap out in an attempt to slow her fall as she crashes into the cathedral. The cracks in the ground widen and spider more aggressively through the cobblestones of Clydwell Plaza as the great walls of the cathedral fall around Terendelev, the stones crashing into the plaza and over the stage.
Screams and sobs break though the rumbles as broken bodies, those innocents struggling to reach the safety of the cathedral, not to mention those already sheltered inside, begin to react to the havoc wreaked around them. The half orc, women and all the children but the one sheltered in Hiro's arms are hidden by crumbled masonry and dust. The rotund courtier who had been trying to usher them to safety stares in shock and horror at the 4 foot tall stone that landed mere inches from his nose. The archer, who had been determinedly watching the sky, turns terrified, tear-filled eyes toward the crumbling landmark, her mouth distended as she screams "Irabeeeeth!" into the rubble before her. The elven wizard behind her grits his teeth and looks up at the Storm Lord, beginning to cast a spell.
The balor lord falls mere moments behind the fallen Terendelev and a huge flaming hoof falls on each side of her head. The elf finishes his incantation and points at the Storm Lord, and with nothing more than an annoyed flick of his eyes as warning, the balor lord's flaming whip strikes the elf in the face, dropping him bonelessly to the ground as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. The ground near the corner of the stage yawns open into pitch blackness, and the merchant screams and tries to grab a corner of the stage as the ground drops out from under him. It is no use, however, as the stage itself cracks and breaks under the strain, falling into the darkness. Cernan and Willow, still prone, don't even have a chance to reach out for anything as they tumble toward the widening pit. Kipka, struggling against the centipede poison in her veins, stumbles into the it, and Hiro and Ionnia, even though they are on their feet, are unable to avoid the sudden catastrophic yawning pit beneath their feet.
"You may have chased me out of Kenabres the first time, wyrm, but I will leave this ground the victor! You die a worthless death, and I and my minions will delight ourselves with the death of all these you failed to protect!" Khorramzedeh gloats, his whip flicking back and forth mockingly as he raises his sword.
Terendelev's eyes meet Hiro's for a moment, even as he feels himself beginning to lose his balance for a final tumble into the darkness below. Time and sound both seem to cease for an endless moment, and Terendelev's voice, speaking Draconic, rings clear over the stage, "...the gods themselves speak... FEATHER FALL!" Everyone feels as if the air around them is molasses. The last sight your eyes see before you fall into darkness is the Storm Lord's sword cutting through Terendelev's neck as if it were butter.
The small patch of sky above you narrows, and the ground above seems to close over your head. Others caught in the open pit have fallen normally through the darkness, cries of fear fading away or, more horribly, suddenly cutting off. After a minute of drifting, you find solid ground, covered with stones and rubble, beneath your bodies. Everything around you is pitch black. To one side, you can hear faint sobs. On the other, a shaky voice weakly whispers "Is...is anyone here?"
lots of tech problems this weekend - ftp won't allow me to upload a file. All I was going to change was moving the NPCs in close - please feel free to do something if you wish.
The best in-rule way I see for that is Aid Another. :)
Kipka:
Kipka, you feel something coursing through your veins, stiffening your joints. Does you favored enemy bonus give you anything on saves? If not, take 1d3 ⇒ 1 points of dex damage,and make another fort save for this round, please.
(NPC)Vitalia and Tasnim escort Aravashnial and Horgus into the room. Anevia stays planted in place, staring at the large hammer on the front of this strange underground building.
