[Game Thread] The Fall of Kenabres (B)

[Medesha]

You awaken in darkness. Everything aches. Grit and dust coat your limbs, grinding into the scrapes and wounds on your body as you try to sit up. It's pitch black, without enough light even to see your hand in front of your face. Your head pounds. Around you, you sense movement and hear the small motions, grunts, and soft cries of others in the same situation. The air is filled with dust and the smell of cold earth. As you take your bearings and try to figure out where you are, memories come flooding back...

Each of you came to Kenabres for different reasons--or, perhaps, the same reasons. You are strangers, knowing little more than the sight of each other as you passed through the crowded streets on the way to the cathedral in Kenabres. It was festival day, a day to thank the gods for their blessed aid in the fight against the demons of the Worldwound. Here in Kenabres, protected by the enchanted wardstone, the people could relax even if only for a day and count what few blessings they had.

Armasse officially began at noon, with the blessing of the festival by Lord Hulrun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza quieted as the aged inquisitor took the stage, clad in shining, resplendent armor. He cleared his throat, but just as he was about to speak, a bright light shone from the west, as if the sun were rising from the wrong direction. Hulrun's shadow fell huge and distorted across the cathedral's facade. A moment later, the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air and earth, along with a violent tremor.

To the west, the fortress known as the Kite--the location of Kenabres' wardstone--had vanished. In its place, a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning, and smoke erupted into the heavens.

A moment later, a powerful roar accompanied a welcome sight rising from the crowd--Kenabres's greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, who had until that moment been attending the ceremony disguised as a human. Above, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A humanoid shape three times the size of any man, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripped a sword and whip. The creature's identity was immediately obvious: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres!

As the ground continued to shake and disgorge demons into the streets, the dragon and the balor lord clashed above. The fight was over in a few harrowing moments as the balor cut deep into Terendelev's body, swooping down to strike the dragon and arresting her charge. A few more blows, and the titanic duo spiraled down towards the crowd.

The sight of the dragon smashing into the facade of the Cathedral of St. Clydwell is one no witness would ever forget. At that moment, an immense demon erupted at the far end of the plaza, reducing several buildings to ruin as it smashed into this world. The rift it created shot across the plaza, and this time there was no escape--it opened below your feet, angling away into darkness.

Even as you fell, the dragon noticed your plight. Though she saw death standing over her, she seized this final chance to save a few more souls. After she uttered a few arcane words and stretched out a bleeding talon, you felt her magic take hold of you, slowing your plummet into the darkness as if you were feathers falling into a pit. Yet the fall remained as inexorable, and as you drifted downward into the depths, the last thing you saw was the Storm King standing before the ancient silver dragon, his sword lashing out and cleaving full through her neck. As her severed head fell, the rift above you slammed shut and the light of the world was gone.

[Evil/Insane_Genius]

Rachel Minoa

Out of the tumult of muttering voices and moans comes a clear, female voice. She speaks calmly, though a slight tremor in her voice can be heard.

“In the darkness, I summon forth the light of the arcane to guide my eyes and steps forward.”

With that, a small globe of light is shed over the group. For a moment, it is blindingly bright after so much darkness. But as your eyes adjust, you see it is attached to the end of a large staff being held by a woman. Her own piercing blue eyes glitter in the arcane light, though whether that is from the light source or tears in her eyes it is impossible to tell.

She stands tall, her eyes scanning about to see who else shares her fate in this place. Her clothes are worn but well-taken care of. Everything about her seems rather plain and undecorated, and she is not a particularly handsome woman either. The only part of her that stands out as beautiful or feminine is her hair. Braided long down one side of her front, at the end is a small pink ribbon tying it in place. Small, slightly pointed ears indicate some elven heritage, though her face looks too human for her to be completely elven.

You see all this in an instant, as she looks at each of you in turn as well. Then, she speaks again and says, "Is everyone all right? Did anyone sustain any injury?"

[Lothiangamer]

Garith was still trying to digest the sights he had just witnessed.

Kenabres was about to fall to the enemy... the Kite and by extension the wardstone gone...Terendelev slain by the storm King. The very people he had sworn to protect were running through the streets fearing for their lives, some losing it to the demons rampaging through the streets, some to the rubble from the buildings that were crashing to the ground.

The darkness was all encompassing, without his eyes his other senses took hold and at the edge of his consciousness he could hear breathing 4 or maybe 5 bodies he thought. Garith fought back the feelings of helplessness, of panic; he pushed his feelings into the depths of his psyche and as he was about to speak a voice broke the silence.

“In the darkness, I summon forth the light of the arcane to guide my eyes and steps forward.”

As light exploded all around, Garith’s eyes closed instinctively protecting his sight. He opened his eyes again slowly. Blinking as he looked at the other figures around him, he held up his right hand to filter out some of the glaring light.

He was tall and his frame was impressive, even intimidating, he had the muscular build of someone older, yet it was easily seen in his face he was young maybe 16 or 17, to some he was still a child. He was clothed in armour, His Scale Mail, although slightly worn looked in good condition its silvered sheen dampened by the dust now covering him, a shield could be seen on his back although mostly covered by a red and gold cape. He was dark his hair black his eyes were so brown they appeared almost black, outlined in his tanned face. A sheathed Longsword was evident at his left waist where a Morningstar could also be seen.

Garith noticed the woman that spoke had a pink ribbon in her hair as she spoke again "Is everyone all right? Did anyone sustain any injury?"

Lowering his hand as the brightness from the light dims slightly.

“Physically, I’m unhurt, although a little sore. Where in the hell are we?” Turning to look for any signs of where they may be?

[Kanavel]

As the light illuminated the immediate area, those who are alert can see a large person off to one side. He is already getting up to his feet. Quite nimbly in fact for one of his large stature. His fists clenching. His eyes contain no emotion. He glances over himself momentarily. Touches himself on the arm and grimaces some. At least those who observe think it was a grimace. His eyes squinting in the now bright light. He turns slightly so as not to let the light hurt his eyes.

At his full height the man stands taller and is broader than most humans. He looks human enough, yet many of his features are that of an orc. A race reviled by many and befriended by almost none. His hair is black and so are his eyes. Yet his skin seems lighter than the typical greenish of orcs. He has a large scar across his right eye down his cheek. Deep and ugly. Aside from that his appearance is more comely than most would think one of orc blood could be. His brow furrowed in thought. His hands large and worn. Blood trickled slowly from under his armor and down the back of his hand. He carried a large sword strapped to his back. His armor is non-descript leather studded.

The half-orc noticed the elven features of the woman holding the staff with the light. The orc race has a disdain and hatred for elves. Yet it was not evident what his thoughts were as he noticed the slight elven features she has. Next he takes in the other who is now speaking. Wonders who and what any of these individuals represent and what is going to happen now.

He once again looks around the room attempting to assess any further danger or threats. He then looks up to where he fell. Hoping to see something other than the blackness he was seeing. Yet not seeing anything.

Krugorim came to Kenabres looking for work. While there he took fancy in the games and thought he may participate himself. His mind continually trying to process what he just witnessed. The death of the protector--a silver dragon. The wardstone destroyed. How is that possible. None of this seems to make sense to him. Something is gnawing away at his thoughts.

After several moments he responds to the lady's inquiry. "Nothing I cannot manage myself."

 

Dice Perception:

1d20+4

(13)+4

Total = 17

Dice Just a Random Roll if needed:

1d20

19

[Evil/Insane_Genius]

Rachel

Rachel nods at the two who have answered her so far, though her lips tighten into a frown as the half-orc says, "Nothing I cannot manage myself." She seems about to say something, then pauses and continues to look to the others in the room.

Turning to the other man that spoke, she answers as she looks about the dark place they are in. "I believe we are somewhere below the town. Though were exactly I could not say. The last I remember seeing was the dragon and a demon fighting above us. Then falling down, down..." her voice falters a bit. "Falling into unknown darkness and losing the light of the sun..." here her voice trails off completely into muttering as she looks lost to thought. Her face looks calm enough, and her voice is even. Her eyes betray her though. In them, you can see a slowly dawning fear of entombment beneath the earth.

[Elfman6]

The blackness was all encompassing, as was proper when one had his eyes closed. The dwarf had closed his eyes when the ground had swallowed him in a terrible act of betrayal. The fall had scared him more than the demons or the destruction. At the very least his feet had been planted sturdily on the ground; solid. How far he had dropped he couldn't tell. What he did know was that he was laying flat on his back on comforting stone. Where ever skin was exposed he could feel a thin layer of dust. He could hear others speaking, a woman and two men; feel the sudden light beyond his eyelids. Perhaps he would enjoy this for just a moment before... no. He wouldn't be so lucky.

The dwarf turned on his side, hacking and coughing as be brought up a wad of phlegm interspersed with blood. The metal of his armour clinked as he rolled, the sound was muted by worn traveler's clothes. After a moment, he pushed himself slowly to his knees and then to his feet. It was only now that the others could really see him.

For a dwarf he was tall, but his head would barely reach the chest of a human male. Metal scales reflected the light where they peeked out from beneath the dusty grey coat he wore; finally spilling out the bottom where they partially covered a pair of worn workman's pants. Sturdy leather boots covered his feet. Around his shoulders and atop his head was a dark blue cloak/hood combination, which drew the eye to the small iron hammer on the metal chain around his neck. A warhammer, clearly well cared for, sat on his belt while the hint of a dagger's hilt could be seen poking up from the inside of his left boot. What truly drew attention though was his face; more specifically the iron mask that covered it. It was a plain affair for the most part, but a picture of an anvil and a hammer had been painstakingly etched onto each cheek. Blue Steel coloured eyes blinked in the bright light within the mask. The dwarf reached up a gloved hand (brown leather) and wiped the dribble away from his lips; transferring it to the edge of the cloak.

"I'm no worse than before the assault. At the very least, we fell onto the anvil and not the forge itself. We are blessed to be given the chance to be tempered. Pray for those that were shattered." The dwarf's voice was gruff, but in an almost forced way. "I am Goron of Clan Steelsoul, guardians of Larrad, keepers of the Ancients. I would know to whom I speak."

 

What can I pick up with Stonecunning? If anything.

[vampirehunter42]

Lendonna

You see an half-elfin woman slowly stand to her feat. Still viable shaken from the events she has witnessed, she does not even bother dusting off her armor or clothing. She is lightly built and just a little over five foot tall. Her dark hair is short cropped and held back with a simple band. A rapier sits at her side and a short bow on her back.

As she begins to take in the area around her she sees the two magic light sources. 'I hope they have more tricks up their sleeves than a ball of light.' Catching the tail end of the woman's description of falling she wonders on how she survived a fall like this. Speaking more to herself than to anyone around her. "How could I have survive that fall. I have jumped from more than a few roof tops in my past, but I don't think I could cushioned myself from this far of a drop?" While staring to the darkness above.

[Medesha]

Your voices echo in the underground chamber, telling you that wherever you are, it is a vast place. Piles of rubble and chunks of masonry blocks lie all around you, and your light barely illuminates the natural rock ceiling some 20 feet above you. In one direction you think you see a more solid darkness indicating a wall, perhaps the edge of the cavern; shadows obscure whatever lies in the opposite direction.

Five figures other than yourself stir in the chamber. Some have spoken, others still gather their bearings. A human woman huddles nearby, her shoulder pressed against a rock pile. An elven man lies apparently unconscious in a sprawl. The most noticeable individual is a middle-aged human man who slumps against a large stone block. He presses bloody hands to his side and his eyes roll back in his head. "OwwWOOoow..." he cries.

[Evil/Insane_Genius]

Rachel

Looking over at the others, Rachel says, "I am not sure how we survived the fall. I can only assume some sort of arcane intervention or other such fantastical means of assistance in the fall. I myself have a spell that enables people to fall at a greatly reduced rate, typically safe enough to survive any fall." She pauses before adding hastily, "Assuming the spell lasts long enough that is.".

When the dwarf Goron introduces himself, Rachel nods her head slightly and simply states, "I am Rachel Minoa. I am a wizard of no large reputation but no small skill."

Looking about the cavern, she sees the other individuals who look to be in need of aid. Not having any particular skill in the healing arts, the best she can do is continue to provide light and say, "If any of you know anything about medical or healing, I would suggest looking to those three injured individuals over there."

[vampirehunter42]

Lendonna


With a slight wave of her hand towards the others. "Lendonna, hi. I am just a child of the city and do whatever small jobs I can get payed for. If you want to know." Adding a wink of the eye.

"I would not know where to start with patching them up though. I never got the hang of that." Looks around at everyone. "I am willing to help if you can tell me what assistance you need otherwise."

[Lothiangamer]

Garith Gainsborough

Taking stock of the figures around him Garith weighed them up, did they succumb to the same situation as he, or were they not what they appeared to be, after all, he thought, the city is under attack.

Do any of them have demonic looks, anything that may give them away, he thought, hoping his looks did not give any insight to his thoughts? No! He decided any demons amongst them would probably just attack.

A half-orc by the look of him, a dwarf and two half-elves stood about him. As others begin to introduce themselves after the dwarf introduced himself, Garith waited for the others before speaking. a Few others seemed hurt.

“I am Garith Gainsborough, recently received of a commission to the Order of the Seal, a defender of the city of Kenabres. I know a little battleground medicine, but I am no expert.” He says as he moves to the unconscious elven man checking for signs of life.

 

Dice Roll:

1d20+5

(19)+5

Total = 24

 

Dice Roll:

1d20+1

(16)+1

Total = 17

[Kanavel]

Krugorim Half-orc

The half-orc takes note of the others, which are now coming around and standing up after the great fall. I do not understand myself, how I survived the fall. It had to be sorcery or some other magic.

The half-orc was not bleeding any longer. The blood staunched and dried up and black on his arm. He did not even take time to brush the dirt off himself as he stood there with the others. He simply did not seem to care what he looked like or what he was covered in--not at the current moment anyway.

Without nodding or any other physical gestures the half-orc simply states, "I am called Krugorim of the Empty Hand tribe."

Surprisingly, the half-orc makes his way over next to the human woman huddling nearby. "Are you able to arise?" He reaches his hand out to her help her up if she needs the assistance.

[vampirehunter42]

Lendonna

Seeing two of the hurt individuals being helped, Lendonna walks over the the human male to at least give him company till someone with more skill can get to him. "Sir, can I help you to the light? So we can see to your wounds."

[Medesha]

Truly you appear to be a motley gathering of individuals. As you organize yourselves, and after brief introductions, you begin to take stock of your situation. It seems apparent that somehow the dragon Terendelev saved you from a grisly death by falling--the reason why remains yet unclear. The way up is blocked and inaccessible in any case, unless you all sprouted wings. The only way onward seems to be through the looming cavern.

First, though, their are injured to attend to. Garith moves to the unconscious elven man's side and quietly examines him. Even without training, the rest of you can see that the elf's face has been terribly burned and his breathing is shallow.

Krugorim offers an arm to the human woman. "Are you able to arise?" he asks. The woman takes his hand willingly but her expression is uncertain. "I'm not sure--" she begins as she tries to stand. She lets out a sharp cry and sinks back down immediately. "N-no. My leg. I think it's broken."

At the same time, Lendonna moves to the wailing human man clutching his side. "Sir, can I help you to the light? So we can see to your wounds." she asks. The man bats her away with a flailing arm. "Are you a cleric? A trained healer perhaps?" he demands in a strong but somewhat whining tone. "If not then send the healer to me immediately. Can't you see I'm injured? By the Inheritor's sharpened blade, what happened to us? What have you all done to me? WHERE ARE WE?"

As the man demands answers from all of you he waves his hands wildly in the air. It becomes apparent that the blood on his tunic is not his own, and that he has no visible wounds. The panic in his voice, however, seems all too genuine.

[vampirehunter42]

Lendonna

Stepping back from the flailing man Lendonna can see even with her limited experience that the other two are in greater need of immediate healing. But he is in need of a few well spoken words, a little more in her expertise. "My apologies sir, I'll tend to your wounds immediately." She lays out her cloak clean side up, "Sir, if you would please sit on the cloak it will make the task easier on you." After he sits, she kneels next to him and begins to pretend to tend the 'wounds', using makeshift cloth to make a bandage around his side.

As she is doing this she tells him what the others have learned so far. "It appears we are in a cavern under Kenbres. My guess almost directly under Clydwell Plaza or even the Cathedral itself. The wizard over there believes we were saved by a spell that slowed our fall when the ground opened up during the battle between Terendelev and that demon. The spell may have been from Terendelev herself, we are all quite honored she chose to save us as her last act. It looks like we will have to use the underground paths to find our way back to the surface, once we have tended to the others."[/b] After completing the 'healing', "Ahh, there. This will keep you well until we get more appropriate materials. You were right, your wounds did need tending. I am quite amazed you had the strength to stand. You must live a healthier life than most."

 

Bluff to appear the healing was real

Dice Roll:

1d20+7

(2)+7

Total = 9

Diplomacy to calm him down

Dice Roll:

1d20+9

(14)+9

Total = 23