[Game Thread] The Fall of Kenabres (A)

[Mal Radagast]

"Trouble, what, me? Nah!" Kneeling by herr arzt, Wolfgang offers an inexpert yet Aid Another, for what it's worth. Can throw you a Craft (Sweing) check, if you like! nimble assistance. Deft fingers are some use to the doctor, at least, and the work does give Wolf's read: slightly hungovermuzzy mind something to focus on. Had Sandros noticed that as well, and arranged it apurpose? Whew...shmot guy.

Then again...he has to chuckle a little at the speeching. "Hoo, I'd best be goink, then, ha! I em no kind of soldier - but if I was, I would have to be Fortune's." He glances around. "She saved my arsch often enough, ja?" Sandros gives him a look. Wolf grins, then puts on his own very-loud stage whisper. "Hoy, can I have your share of the fool's gold?"

He says nothing in reply to Sandros' vow - not wishing to spoil the mood - but in reply to his whisper, Wolf shakes his head. "Hells if I know...hells if I want to."

Then the inevitable, "Iomedae be with us!" Well, Worldwoundwise, it's only a matter of time until someone starts shouting it. Rather like a cry of "Zombies!" in Ustalav, or "Hallo!"...well, anywhere else.

...Why isn't he anywhere else?

Wolf sighs. There's going to be fighting. He gestures at the bag Sandros is rummaging. "Hyu got eny coffee in there?"

[Medesha]

Battle cries ring out in the darkness echoing off far-away walls you cannot yet see. The two giant maggots writhe out of the spider's corpse, blindly seeking fresh sustenance. With twin strikes, Menkel and Marcus cleave the maggots into pieces. The sundered halves of the disgusting creatures flop and quiver for several moments after their deaths, until Gideon moves forward with oil and spark. Their doused bodies burn brightly and quickly, crisping up into nothing before too long has passed.

In the brief blaze of the maggot corpses, you can see a bit more of the cavern. You are indeed near a wall, against which lies more rubble fallen from above. You can see stone masonry blocks and bits of worked stone amid the rubble, indicating that some of it fell from the streets of Kenabres above. An arm here and a swatch of cloth there protrude from the rubble, marking the place where less-fortunate individuals than you will rest for eternity. You also see a few spots of glinting brightness in the rubble, as if the light from the burning maggots reflected off something metallic.

In the other direction, roughly 60 feet away, you see the opposite wall of the cavern. Two darker shadows seem to indicate passages leading on. Near the scouts, the decaying corpse of the spider lies still.

Sandros works efficiently to tend to the wounded. The human man, Horgus Gwerm, has retreated into quiet mutters under his breath as he watches all of you with flinty eyes. The human woman grimaces through the pain as Sandros works to bind her leg. "Anevia," she says in response to the doctor's question. "I'm no one special, just a citizen wanting to get home. I've met him before, though." She gestures to the blind elf, still unconscious on the ground but now beginning to stir. "His name is Aravashnial, he's a wizard who sells spells and merchandise to the crusaders."

"and a demon hunter of the worst kind," snorts Horgus. Anevia glances at the human man, but any response she might make is cut off by a hiss of pain as Sandros continues to work on her leg.

[Cedric]

Menkel wrinkles his nose at the sight and smell of the maggots and spider, throwing the goo off his sword he nods in approval at Marcus before turning his attention to his surroundings again,

Perception Dice Roll: 1d20+5 (18)+5 Total = 23

the glitter in the rubble and the tunnels ahead "How's it going back there, can they move on their own?" he calls over his back towards the doctor, adding in a lower voice to those scouting with him "I'd rather not move ahead until we're all ready, but we need to get them moving as quick as possible."

[ShadowcatX]

Gideon takes a moment to Perception

Dice Roll:

1d20+4

(13)+4

Total = 17

examine his surroundings, his face falling as he sees the number of bodies half buried in the rubble. His voice, as he speaks, is soft and cracked with emotion and he seems to be commenting more to himself than to anyone in particular. "My lady, I believe that perhaps you are right, maybe we were the lucky ones after all."

After a moment he looks up and shakes his head, as if trying to forget the carnage around him, his voice is now more carefully controlled and he waves an arm around in indication of their surroundings. "Would someone like to say a few words? It doesn't feel right moving off and just leaving them here like this without at least saying something."

[Eddas]

Marcus Taim Marcus wipes the gore off his sword before sheathing it. Turning, to make sure they weren't being attacked Dice perception: 1d20+1 (8)+1 Total = 9 from the other direction. It was then that he noticed the bodies in the rubble. Rushing over to them, it was obvious there was no chance they were still living. Kneeling down beside the nearest of them, he started piling nearby stones over top of them while murmuring a prayer to his Goddess. "Iomedae, gather these fallen, guard them on their journey, intercede on their behalf before those that would judge them."

[Medesha]

Gideon and Marcus both appear to have the same idea as the group solemnly acknowledges the fallen. Marcus says a prayer, asking the Inheritor to guide the souls of the dead on their journey in the afterlife. You can't help but wonder what the scene looks like aboveground. Does this cairn represent but a fraction of the destruction being levied upon Kenabres?

Sandros finishes fashioning a splint for Anevia and, with a little assistance, she can hobble along. As she practices her limping steps, the elf comes awake. "Bal!" he exclaims, a common curse in the language wizards often use. "What has happened? Where are we?"

The rest of you have become accustomed to your situation by now and quickly bring the elf, Aravashnial, up to speed. He takes in your information quickly and seems to pay scant attention to his own injuries. "Take care to describe what we encounter," is all he says, in a commanding voice. "I have a great deal of knowledge and experience you may find useful."

As the group prepares to move on, Menkel takes a closer look at the glinting in the rubble. Once he sees whatever there is to see, there would appear to be nothing else holding you to this cavern.

[Eddas]

Marcus Taim After seeing to the unfortunate, Marcus gathered up his pack, and the sunrod that was leaning against it. Holding it in his off hand, his main hand resting on the hilt of his sword, he was ready to proceed. "If the lady is up for it," Marcus bows his head to the woman, and a little deeper to Sandros, "I would suggest we move on, try to find a way out of here."

[Cedric]

Menkel leans down to pick up a silvery scale, the size of his palm. He holds it up for the others to see "Did these come off Terendelev?" he asks himself as much as anyone else as he turns it around in his hand "There are more, five pieces by the looks of it."

[Eddas]

Marcus Taim "Scales from Terendelev? We should take them, to remember and honor her sacrifice." Marcus reaches down and picks one up. Closing his eyes momentarily, he remember the last few moments of Terendelevs life, when the mighty dragon died defending the city above.

[Sassafrass]

Cries in the darkness. Exactly what he needed.

And Wolf's sarcasm to boot.

The cry to the high heavens and whatever goddess apparently wasn't paying attention when righteousness was allow to flounder so that a Demon Lord could live and Sandros was up, twisting on his heels and looking for something to keep himself safe. He has never really seen a battlefield, not really: well, to be more precise, not one so close to home. Street alleys? Bar brawls? He can find a niche there, in the corner where he's an unsuspecting predator sans inconspicuous tail, but never anywhere so open, and never with patients. But that's why he returned home: to do his duty to the still living and make sure the dead get their due. On a battlefield, no less. What better day for practice than today?

"If I had coffee, Wolf, I'd be more likely to give it to our demon patriarchs above than consider giving it to you. You want a fortune? I believe the dead carry that weight. Off to work with you, knife-fighter." But then comes the question of ethics fresh on his own mind, and one that almost causes him to speak instantly in contrast to his words. These patients are largely defenseless: why abandon them just because of a few groaning bodies? Practicality dictates that the more powerful should be able to dispose of them, while good moral standing, a sign of the universal goodness that is the universe (proven by the universal evil that is coffee, as a contrast) is alive and well. Abandon his patients, or fight for them? There's a chance there are more shambling corpses out there, but nothing that makes his skin stand on edge like the thought of his blind wards losing their lives to a stray bite from a zombie. Skeleton. Whatever that abhorrent smell.

Having stood, the pouches at his waist sway back and forth, reminding him of the vials within that demand action. An experiment, perhaps? Science is another, altogether more worthy and moral cause in and of itself: progress begets progress, even in the darkest hour: is not necessity the mother of invention? Why not test out a few theoretical mixtures, a few unstable heterogeneous concoctions? It couldn't hurt.

Still, patients.

They don't appear to notice. Good. He turns back and smiles to the woman, trying his best not to seem on edge as his tail twists, a curiously cat-like maneuver. "Well met, dear Anevia, and daren't you speak of yourself in such a way: even in the scheme of things, an ant can move mountains, and citizen or no, your survival is sign enough you have mountains yet to move." The description of the Elf makes him almost excited enough to try harder to fix his broken sight, to free him from those bonds, but there is little he can do: a demon hunter might be useful, but only if he's sure he's fighting demons. "A demon hunter is rarely of worse kind when in the company of a braggart." He does not dally with a glare.

Calls from the darkness, the shadows defeated. Or perhaps not? "The idiot with the mouth certainly can, but someone will have to help the Lady Anevia and the Mage Aravashnial." And as if on cue, the Wizard speaks up, almost throwing Sandros off-balance. He considers movement, wondering which he would be more likely to carry. "Wolf, carry my things, then help me divide the weight of Lady Anevia. Someone of more care and with more mass, carry Aravashnial: tell him everything you see, but do not drop him. He will keep us alive, I suspect."

Scales. A curious sign. "If we must speak for any dead, let it be her. Carry the scales in memorium." A pause. "Time is of the essence."

[Medesha]

Without further delay, your small group gathers and begins moving toward the open end of the cavern. Leaving the dead to their hopefully-restful sleep, Marcus, Menkel, Sandros, Shoko, Gideon, and Wolf advance cautiously into the dark. The light from Gideon's sunrod travels with you as you move, rippling over rough stone walls and an uneven floor.

Your three tagalongs keep pace with you to the best of their abilities. Horgus Gwerm strides easily along, moving with ease despite his thick belly (and with a constant stream of self-pitying murmurs under his breath). Aravashnial, the elf wizard, can walk without issue but requires a hand on his arm to guide him. The woman, Anevia, has the worst of it. Sandros's expert work has bound her broken leg tightly and she is able to hobble along with help.

Terendelev's scales, you soon realize, give off a faint silver glow, so faint you almost didn't notice it at first. The scales have a warmth to them as well. The light is too faint to see by, and the warmth too little to warm this chill cavern, but both signs fill you with some measure of hope. It is as if the dragon watches over you even now.

You estimate you have 10 minutes of sunrod light remaining when, to your left, you all hear the faint sound of running water. Ahead, the enormous cavern seems to continue on as well.

[Cedric]

Menkel looks at the group gathered with a grim nod "I have five of these scales, I'd like to hold on to one for remembrance. Anyone want the others speak up now." he waits for anyone to claim the other scales before continuing "If anyone has a light source, now would be an ideal time to reveal it. I have one sunrod left, after that I'm more or less as blind as Master Aravashnial over there. I'll take lead and scout ahead, anyone able and willing to assist is welcome. The rest; stay close to each other and assist as needed." he looks to the left, it seems like the obvious choice as running water should mean a way out. Making sure both his sword and bow are within easy reach he again nods at the group, strikes his sunrod against a stone and moves onwards towards the sound of rushing water.

 

Dice Roll:

1d20+5

(8)+5

Total = 13

Perception to see or hear anything ahead.

Dice Roll:

1d20+5

(4)+5

Total = 9

Survival to check for tracks or any signs of anyone/anything having moved through the area lately.

[ShadowcatX]

Gideon falls into pace along side the more experienced mage, helping guide him through the rubble. "You are a demon hunter, and a mage as well, can you tell us anything about the spell that might have brought us down here?"

When Menkel speaks up Gideon steps forward and takes one of the scales from Menkel. "I would like one, she saved my life, perhaps, someday I can repay her kindness." Looking down at the scale he turns it over in his hands, running his fingers along the edges before he looks up again. "Also, it should be noted, there is a magic on these. I am not certain if this is her magic or. . ." his voice trails off and he simply shrugs, not bothering to voice the other option that they all already know. Especially not while they are down deep and in the dark. Then at the mention of light sources Gideon looks away from Menkel in embarrassment. "I didn't bring even those. I have candles, if we get that desperate, but they won't be much good. Perhaps we can improvise some torches? I have more oil."

[Sassafrass]

Darkvision Perception check

Dice Perception:

1d20+5

(9)+5

Total = 14

The darkness is not an issue for the Tiefling, though it has its limits.

Sandros escorts the maimed woman and remains close to the demon-hunting mage, both as a practicality and as an attempt to proactively prevent his own demise: not that he needs it, as a surgeon, but the mage has the highest chance of surviving, should he be able to see, and survival is necessary: the other cities must know what happened here. Kenabres has fallen to a demon lord. That bodes not well for any other city on the border of the Worldwound, let alone Avistan in general. This evil cannot be allowed to swell and grow like a pestilence, given the warmth and water of a living city. In time it will burst and the disease will spread. Demonic activity will be quelled: let none who move forward find it an easy trek, where Sandros is concerned. This will not sit well with him.

"If need be, I can see, though not far. The less light, the easier on my eyes. All curses have their blessings, where you look for them." The comment is met with a rare smile, his tail popping the air beside him as he walks, looking to the injured woman. "Are the bonds tight enough? The moment we find refuge, I promise to have them fixed. I can prepare a concoction to ease the pain, I think, with time." A smile, and no more: the other companions speak.

Knowledge (arcana) to help understand what happened with our Silver Dragon friend and what might help them

Dice Knowledge (arcana):

1d20+9

(6)+9

Total = 15

Magic might help them understand where they are and where they're going. And the question of scouting, with so little light, proves a curiosity to Sandros. All must play their roles, even if their roles are a bit unorthodox. He is a battlefield surgeon, not a backroom doctor. He can move: he can scout. Maybe.

"I can give you eyes, if you let me lead. Your expertise will prove better than mine, I suspect, but without eyes there is little good to it. Unless another companion has light, only I can accompany you." It is not arrogance, it is fact. Besides, someone protecting the group in his stead would guarantee that he is not necessary, as no healing need be advised.

[Medesha]

As you move deeper into the cavern, Menkel turns slightly to guide the group towards the sound of running water. Marcus and Gideon each claim one of Terendelev's scales. Even when safely tucked away in bag and pocket, the presence of the scales lingers over your group, an unseen reminder of the dragon's sacrifice and the destruction possibly ravaging the surface.

In response to Gideon's question, the wizard Aravashnial replies, "It was for certain a balor and its legions of demon troops that attacked Kenabres--a ferocious enemy well beyond our combined power, perhaps even beyond the power of all the crusaders in Mendev. Terendelev's spell, the one that saved us, was undoubtedly a small enchantment that allowed us to float as lightly as feathers. Why she chose to save us I cannot say.

I also lay no claim to the title 'demon hunter.' I would term myself more a demon investigator. I've made several excursions into the Worldwound to gather information on the blight facing Mendev and to research tactics for fighting demons. I can say with no false modesty that my research has proved invaluable to the crusaders."

This last statement earns another derisive snort from Horgus Gwerm, but the plump businessman seems to be concentrating mainly on keeping up with the group.

In response to Sandros' statement, Anevia says in a quiet voice, "I am doing well for the moment. If I find myself unable to bear the pain, I shall let you know, good doctor. Thank you for your kindness."

For now the light of the sunrod guides your way, but Sandros' ability to see in the dark will no doubt come in handy when this one fades. A short time later you see the stone wall of the cavern loom up before you. A trickle of water runs down the wall face and collects in a shallow natural basin against the wall. A stone ledge juts out at a right angle fourteen feet above the pool. The leather strap of a backpack hangs a few inches off the ledge.