Galin steps forwards with his hand on his rapier, I'd just like to point out that he didn't say he would do it, merely mentioned that it had been done. Although quite frankly I don't think Abelard here would object. That said, I do believe him that you're lying, and I'd recommend that you start telling the "straight truth" right fast.
Abelard smiles. It doesn't quite reach his eyes - which, after all, are horribly scarred and ruined.
"Well now, lessee... Our hometown's been wrecked by demons, we're not sure who to trust, the normal rules don't seem t'apply to nobody no more; and you're countin' on the fact that we're crusaders to save your ass?"
He waits a few moments for that to sink in.
"We've all lost people we know and care about, and maybe, just maybe, some of us want to let off a little steam on a convenient target. Who am I to say no to a reasonable request? An' there's nuthin' says I can't go for a little wander right now, leave you to my friends. Without me your chances of survival are slim to none - and Slim, he don't live here no more. Think he got crushed in the rubble when Terendelev was murdered. Some of us are mighty unhappy 'bout that, lemme tell ya."
Another pause.
"On a count of three, I go walkabout. "
"One."
Theran whips around, putting all his body into a hammer blow. An already-damaged chair explodes into splinters. "Patience is in short supply."
Dying, unconscious and stable.
Chaleb looked at the grim crusaders and quit the act.
"You think any of us are getting out of this? We picked the wrong side and we'll pay. The Kite's gone. Wardstone's done. Terendelev is dead, and they took the body off into the Worldwound. Lord Hulrun's dead, stretched up somewhere I heard. Galfrey showed herself for a succubus and sold the realm out. Always been cults here and you ask me, they had the right idea. No point fighting the Abyss when Deskari's walking the streets Himself. Vorlesh will be here in no time to take trophies. Half us here are probably possessed anyway."
"You want out of this alive, get them wizards back in the books and we'll burn 'em together. Should get someone's eye on us and they'll come. Better to serve and live."
He appeared to mean every word of it.
There are always ways. You don't need to consort with fiends
There are always ways. You don't need to consort with fiends
"That worked out real good, didn't it?"
We've managed pretty well, so far. Falfaerel snorts from his perch on Yridhrennor's shoulder. We destroyed a cult to Baphomet.
Yridhrennor sighs. Don't boast. There are other ways to do survive.
Abelard looks up from where he is healing Steave.
He looks at Chaleb. "Believe it or not, I get ya. I had some cultists try to destroy me an' mine some years back." He points to his ruined eyes. "Evil's pretty powerful. Good friend o' mine decided she couldn't fight it, decided to go with it. It killed her. Me, I went the other way. Turns out I'm kinda hard to kill. You wanna change your mind, stick with us, fine. But you're with us or against us - there ain't no middle ground no more."
"You go one way, I go the other? No harm done," Chaleb suggested.
Steave's eyes flutter open during Chaleb's suggestion. The old crusader nods to Abelard in thanks and slowly stands. "No harm done? What did the librarians say he did before we arrived?" He peers into his soul.
Steave's eyes flutter open during Chaleb's suggestion. The old crusader nods to Abelard in thanks and slowly stands. "No harm done? What did the librarians say he did before we arrived?" He peers into his soul.
Steave detected no taint upon the man.
"The bastard tried to burn us alive," the librarian that had been conscripted to stack the books said. "After taking what little we had of value."
Steave looks at Abelard for his opinion.
"You go one way, I go the other? No harm done," Chaleb suggested.
Abelard shakes his head. "No can do." He gestures at the bodies of Chaleb's late companions. "Y'all wouda murdered these people, burned 'em alive, and done gone joined with the demons - you don't get to say 'no harm done' an' walk away from that."
He hefts his falchion. "I'll make it quick. More'n the demons'll offer us if they win."
Chaleb listened to Abelard with a fire burning in his eyes.
"Lord Baphomet, spare me and I will be your slave!" the fallen crusader cried out as Abelard raised his blade.
Yridhrennor gasps in shock, but Falfaerel caws wickedly. Oh dear. That was the worst possible thing to say! You're in a room filled with Crusaders, and you swear yourself to a Demon Prince?! Are you insane, or just unbelievably stupid?
The elf, finally regains his wits and begins muttering a spell. Arglwyddi y ddaear a'r awyr , taro fy elynion gyda'ch nerth !
Once more, a ball of acid forms in his hand. He pulls back, ready to throw at Staeve's word.
"Friends, I know the way to handle this situation under the law of the Crusade. We sworn crusaders may elect one of own to pass judgment upon Chaleb. I nominate Abelard."
"Hey, I surrendered!" Chaleb protested. "You've got to let me repent and take me to the queen! That's what you do!"
Theran hefts his hammer, ready to strike if he breaks free. "We have let you repent. You lied."
Theran hefts his hammer, ready to strike if he breaks free. "We have let you repent. You lied."
"So that's how it is with you honorable types? Kill an unarmed man totally in your power? Maybe it was your sorts that brought us to all this," Chaleb sneered.
"Enough. Y'all have had your chance to defend yourself, repent. Now face the consequences of your choices and die like a man."
Abelard is a good swordsman, and he keeps the blade of his falchion sharp. Chaleb barely feels a thing.
"Enough. Y'all have had your chance to defend yourself, repent. Now face the consequences of your choices and die like a man."
Abelard is a good swordsman, and he keeps the blade of his falchion sharp. Chaleb barely feels a thing.
Chaleb's head parted his shoulders and both parts of him fell to the floor. The scholars watched him die with grim expressions.
"Thank you, crusaders," the woman who had been stacking the books said. "He was the first we dared open our doors to. He looked human enough..."
"I will suffer the consequences of your judgment with you, Abelard, if there are any." Steave offers.
"Thank you, crusaders," the woman who had been stacking the books said. "He was the first we dared open our doors to. He looked human enough..."
Abelard smiles. "Glad you ain't into judgin' people by their looks - mine ain't nuthin to write home about either!"
He briefly confers with Steave, and acknowledges - with a nod - his appreciation of the veteran crusader's support. "Agree we'd best rest up, if they'll have us here; we're pretty beat, most of us."
He shares the last of his healing spells with Steave, before doing his best to remove his own injuries.
"Thanks for the healing." Steave nods to Abelard.
"Librarians, let's tend to your wounded, burn the dead, and reinforce your defenses. We need to hole up here for a rest, before we set out again. We've heard Defenders Heart is where there's a concentration of survivors, but we've got some civilians to take home, too." Steave limps around to first tend to the wounded, and then to strip and burn Chaleb's body.
Day Two: 17 Arodus 4715
Night in the Blackwing passed tensely. The scholars largely kept to themselves and fussed over Teofil, who in turn had many questions for them about their own health and the fates of mutual acquaintances. Little in the way of good news passed between them. Only a small pack of dretches, easily dispatched, troubled the library from without.
With the morning, prayers said and spells prepared, the crusaders set out for Horgus' manor. The noble made it known in a few not-so-quiet comments the evening before that they'd have done better to go directly there, but for the most part he suffered in conspicuous silence.
The crusaders' path took them across a wide track plowed through the buildings of Kenabres as though they were so much soil. Toward the outer wall, the track dug through the paving stones and became a true furrow. Even on the more or less level ground, a thick carpet of debris made for a slow and sometimes painful crossing. Several times they saw demons in the distance, and twice they soared high overhead, but save for a few arrows they passed through the open space without harassment.
On the far side, they came to a tree-lined section of Kenabres. Most of the trees had burned or been uprooted, sometimes thrown across the streets. Most homes stood behind sturdy walls Iron grates and gaping holes in the masonry revealed that those walls now guarded chiefly ashes. The further the crusaders pressed into the neighborhood, the more grim Horgus became. Thrice he stopped briefly in front of a burned-out home to gaze mournfully upon it, before hurrying just a bit too quickly.
When they came at last to Gwerm Manor, Horgus had an entirely different reaction. Seeing the building and its walls still standing, he looked for a fleeting moment as though he would fall to his knees and weep. Then his expression darkened again.
"Praise the Gods that my home stands, but all their curses upon the worthless guards! I paid them very well to keep their posts at all hazards. It clearly said as much in the instrument and I impressed my expectations upon them when each came for his coin. They all heeded then, I'll tell you."
When Horgus found his home ransacked, the furniture overturned and every drawer and chest thrown open, he had still more to say.
"By all the watching gods, they have robbed me and robbed me again. I am a kind and forgiving man. I might have overlooked their theft of labor had we crossed paths again in this life, but this I shall never forget! In my hour of greatest need, they saw not a calling to valorous service but to plunder! If any of them lived, I will demand restitution. If the Abyss took them... So much the better! I hope my belongings weighed them down straight to its bottom!"
"But you, crusaders, you are a credit to the cause. I see the miscreants did not penetrate my vault, so I have it in my means to reward you as you justly deserve. You did an adequate job of getting us to safely to the surface. Above average, even! For that you deserve more than my thanks."
Horgus opened his vault, a fiendishly complicated process that he took great pains to conceal, and handed over purses full of gold.
Abelard has a certain sympathy for the guards; it seems a bit much for them to be expected to stand their ground against the hordes of the Abyss itself. He doesn't say anything, however. It would be undiplomatic.
He is uncertain as to how useful Horgus' reward of gold will prove, but again he says nothing as he accepts it: Horgus clearly wants to give them something for their services and they will probably find a use for money at some point, unless things break down completely. Or they die, of course - or worse.
Putting such cheery thoughts to the back of his mind, he does his best to be gracious to Horgus. "So, what'll you do now? Head for safer ground, somewhere the Wardstones have held up?"
Putting such cheery thoughts to the back of his mind, he does his best to be gracious to Horgus. "So, what'll you do now? Head for safer ground, somewhere the Wardstones have held up?"
"I will remain in my vault for the time being. I have a viewing glass that will tell me when army arrives, as it must. I have sufficient stores to last at least a week."
After they awake at the Blackwing, Steave tends to his wounds.
He leads the troop to Gwerm Manor and does not reply to Horgus's comments. People react to tragedy differently. "Thank you for your generosity, Lord Horgus." He doubts the gold will hold its value during a war but recognizes the generosity of someone parting with something he holds so dear.
"Well, good luck, Lord Horgus. Remember the rumor we heard about the Defender's Heart being a refuge, if you're alone in a week."
Turning back to the others Steave suggests, "Let's head out. The Tirablade House appears closest to here."
Proceeding north through the Gate District, the crusaders soon leave behind Horgus' once-prosperous neighborhood and find themselves in increasingly modest surroundings. Most of the buildings show signs of damage, whether from demons or looters, but here and there one escapes unscathed. Many show signs of hasty efforts at fortification in the form of furniture thrown against windows and into doorways. The crusaders have to detour around a barricade of wagons, pristine despite the ravaged buildings to either side. Behind it, they saw on returning to the road, stood a pile of more than a dozen bodies on which vultures feasted. In another place, someone had nailed the body parts of many halflings and elves to the wall of a warehouse. Several times in the distance they saw people rushing furtively between buildings.
More than halfway to Defender's Heart, the crusaders reached Anevia's home. The modest building, a single story that likely couldn't hold more than three rooms in all, appeared untouched by Kenabres' fall. Seeing it brightened Anevia's spirits and she limped forward, calling out, "Irabeth? Irabeth, are you here?"
She received no answer.
"She might not hear, if she's in the bedroom," Anevia said, starting for the house.
"Careful now," Abelard says, grasping Anevia's arm gently. "Lot's changed in the last few days, pays to be careful. Mayhap she's asleep, mayhap she ain't. Why don't we go in first, check it out?"
Assuming she agrees, the crusaders will enter first, safeguarding Anevia.
"Good idea, Abelard." Steave replies and takes the lead with the heaviest armor. He approaches and enters the front door assuming it is unlocked.
Yridhrennor gulps and follows, keeping a tight grip on his staff. perhaps... I should be close to Staeve. My abilities may be usefully I warn him of impending doom.
Yridhrennor gulps and follows, keeping a tight grip on his staff. perhaps... I should be close to Staeve. My abilities may be usefully I warn him of impending doom.
Let's go 20 feet
The Tirablade's door proved locked, but Anevia had the key. She surrendered it reluctantly, glancing down at her broken leg as she did. Beyond the crusaders found a simple home with spare, well-used furniture. The only real luxury seemed to be a large sign of Iomedae hanging from one wall. No looters had ministered to it or any of the other contents of the home.
Anevia limped in and called out, "Irabeth? I'm home. These are friends."
As she spoke, Yridhrennor had a premonition of danger. Something unseen struck at Anevia. He no more than realized the threat before a beetle as large as a dog with a blue carapace and bright orange markings appeared next to her, its underparts glowing hellishly.
always acts in surprise
Average 15.4.
He just barely beat you.
miss
.
Yridhrennor prepares a minor working of magic, a softly glowing sticky glob covers his hand. He hurls the sticky glob towards the fiendish insect and the liquid splashed into the creature's side!
[spoiler=also, lets Google this thing]
[/spoler]
Yridhrennor's brief act of conjury sends a roiling glob of acid into the beetle's carapace, burning a fist-sized hole in it. Undeterred, the beetle lunged at Anevia again. She dodged back from it, wrenching her broken leg in the act.
Galin steps towards the beetle, stabbing at it with his rapier,
Steave moves behind Anevia and physically moves her away from the beetle, at least behind Galin and at best behind Steave.
Sêr o dynged, yn rhoi golwg i mi tu hwnt i olwg!. Yridhrennor peers out into the room, his eyes glowing softly with mystic power.
"Ugh!" He calls out as the bug comes out and he swings... wildly.
Abelard peers at the beetle with his broken eyes. "Just one damn thing after another, ain't it?"
Stepping forward into the space left by Anevia, he swings his falchion carefully, mindful that they're in a confined space. Precision fencing, rather than wholesale carnage, is what's called for here. Luckily his swordsmanship is more than up to the task, neatly finding a weak spot in the thing's carapace; although in this cramped space he doesn't have enough force behind the attack to do spectacular amounts of damage.
Galin stepped up and pierced the beetle with his rapier, striking straight into the hole in the carapace that Yridhrennor's magic burned.
Steave stepped forward and ushered Anevia back faster than her broken leg alone would allow
Yridhrennor spoke the words of a divination. "Sêr o dynged, yn rhoi golwg i mi tu hwnt i olwg!." His senses expanded and he knew that magic was at work somewhere before him.
Theran swung wildly at the huge bug, grunting his displeasure.
Abelard peered at the beetle with his broken eyes. "Just one damn thing after another, ain't it?" He swung his falchion and an instant after the blade made contact the beetle vanished into nothingness.
Another beetle appeared an instant later, right behind Anevia. It struck true, biting into her injured leg.
Swearing, Anevia drew her blade and slashed at it. The steel scratched hard carapace, doing no harm.
miss
Galin steps towards this new beetle, thrusting with his rapier, Anevia, get back!
"A man could get mighty tired o' this. Mighty tired indeed." Abelard nonchalantly steps in and skewers the next beetle to appear.