Bink's Wrath of the Righteous: The Worldwound Incursion

[Farmerbink]

Arodus 16, 4712: Dawn

Armasse! The day has arrived! Finally, after weeks of preparation, the day of celebration has arrived! Originally a holy day attributed to the late God Aroden; Armasse is an opportunity for scholars and priests to come together and study the lessons of wars past, knights to choose squires, citizens and commoners alike to prove their training in various contests, and of course, feasting. The whole of Kenabres has devoted hours of the last several weeks to decorating and baking for the feast to be held tonight.

First, however, the formalities. Throughout the morning, pomp and circumstance reign supreme in Clydwell Plaza. All of the knights awarded their squirehood in the last year patrol the lined supplicants. Hundreds, if not thousands of young men stand at parade rest in the square, bedecked in their finest accouterments- some of course finer than others. The first to be chosen is a young boy, barely 11 by the looks of it, with nothing but an old short blade. His mother cries as the knight hoists him onto his armored shoulder and takes the customary lap of the square. Another young man begins his path to knighthood. After a few hours, the eligible knights have chosen their squires; the remaining boys depart, to train harder for the next year, or take up their parent's occupation- even knights need to eat, after all.

Next is the jousting. Parades of mounted warriors ride by to display their many-colored banners and pendants. The glorious blues and reds mingle and spar with greens, purples, oranges, brown, and colors and patterns yet to be named. Each knight bears his crest with pride- none but the best compete on Armasse. To be eliminated at Armasse is to be bested by the finest warriors on the continent- no mean feat.

Nothing could dampen the spirits of this day, and each of you can feel it. Lucky enough to have limited responsibilities, each of you arrived at Clydwell Plaza well before the events began. As the jousting finishes, and attention is diverted to the stage for reenactments of famous battles from the earlier crusades, vendors and barkers bring out the first round of the day's feasts- roast lamb shank and fresh bread is paraded about the square on spits of wood and iron- free for the taking.

Today, life is good.

[Amazo]

The scent of free food is what finally sways Thyxius' mind this year. Though he loved nearly all of his previous 67 Armasses in Kenabres, the young, by tiefling standards at least, man is too close to finishing reclaiming another spell from the charring that plagues the pages of his mother's spellbook to feel much like celebrating. It took the well-intentioned ribbing of his mentor in the arcane arts for him to finally break away from his research. After all, isn't Armasse supposed to be a time for work in addition to celebration? Still... he had mastered the rudiments of alchemical extracts with precocious efficiency, the various skills of trickery from his father with aplomb, and still managed to find a way to put his own personal brand of hard logic and reasoning to work in both fields in just eight short years. Some would take a lifetime to learn half as much: he had earned a break.

He had earned the right to this pageantry. He had earned the right to enjoy the sights, the songs, the smells, and he had certainly earned the right to this leg of lamb before him now. Taking his first succulent bite, he settles comfortably into the crowd to focus on the reenactments being put on on stage.

[Untarr]

Greeting the dawn from within the Temple of Iomedae, Aurora's eyes gaze upon on her first sunrise as a Paladin of Iomedae. This moment, this is what she had been destined for since birth. Born to paladin father and oracle mother. Born an Aasimar instead of human. There could be no doubt in her family's mind,and hers, that she was the affirmation of their faith in Iomedae. That their fight against the demons for the last four generations of the Pelleas family had been righteous in cause and ideas.

Concluding her day long vigil and fast, she was greeted before the dawn by one of the priests. Taken into a sacred chamber, she knelt before the holy symbol of Iomdae, sword in hand, and pledged her life to the service of the Light of the Sword. They timed perfectly so that her vows ended as dawn broke over the city.

Donning her Paladin's Tabard over her armor, Aurora leaves the temple in search of celebration and food. Armasse brings with it its own celebration, but to Aurora, it feels as if the city is celebrating for her.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Passed over again...no surprise, really. Who wants a squire who already failed his knight?" mutters Filburn dejectedly as he walks away from the celebrating children. "Besides, they all think I'm too old and know who I am, so I don't think I will try next year. The crusade needs footmen too, right?" Taking some sweetbread and waving away the lamb, the well-armed young man sits on a bench and watches the streamers and pennants pass, a resigned look on his face.

Armasse always felt a little awkward to Filburn. He had missed the one three years ago, arriving with the late-Hellknight Sir Moncker a month after the celebration. The next year he was mourning the man's death, claimed in battle as he protected his squire's retreat from the demonic hordes. Last year he had tried to find a new patron to serve, and was rejected by all those fine, armored men and women who could have changed his life.

The food was alright, but something about the day just never seemed that exciting to him. "Go figure, right?"

Turning to talk to some pigeons eating the crumbs from his loaf he says, "I mean, it isn't like we have won anything - the demons are still there, we are still at war, and men are still dying every year. Maybe it's hopeless...But if that were true, then we should still try, right? Ugh! Why am I talking to a bunch of pigeons?"

Standing abruptly, he decides to find something to cheer himself up and goes towards the biggest crowd, unsure of what he will find. "Let's try to smile and act happy - maybe with some practice it will work...?"

[MuffinMan]

Waylan makes his way through the bustling crowds with some difficulty, feeling out of place amidst all the bustle and pageantry. The effect is accentuated by the travel-worn hides and forest colors he wears, marking him unmistakably as an outsider against the backdrop of streaming banners and gleaming mail. He attracts more than a few looks for his outfit, as well as for the great hunting bow, unstrung, strapped across his back.

For his part, he does a fair amount of looking himself, looking and trying not to gawk at the dazzling display of excess and military regalia all throughout Kenabres, or the strange creatures that call it home. Being in the city a little over a week has accustomed him, somewhat, to seeing the occasional elf or gnome walking through the streets (creatures he'd only heard of before in tales), but the sight of reddish-skinned being walking by with- is that a tail??? And HORNS?!?!- well, it's really too much for a simple woodsman from the backwoods of the Inner Sea...

As the jousting finishes, and attention is diverted to the stage for reenactments of famous battles from the earlier crusades, vendors and barkers bring out the first round of the day's feasts- roast lamb shank and fresh bread is paraded about the square on spits of wood and iron- free for the taking.

As the crash of the last joust rings in the air, Waylan hears a screech of triumph and looks up to see Kestros, his hawk, wheeling and circling in the sunlight far overhead. Through the bond they share he senses his companion's joy and interest in the happenings below, and he shakes his head with a rueful chuckle. "Well, if you can find a way to enjoy yourself, old friend, I've no excuse to stand around moping. Old Deadeye sent us here for a reason, and we must trust he will reveal it to us in due time. Until then, let us try to make the most of it!" Taking a piece of lamb and slice of bread from a passing server, he starts moving again towards the center of Clydwell Plaza, joining the crowd assembling around the stage...

[Untarr]

"Leg of lamb. Oh, and make it a double. I'm starving!" Aurora addresses the server. He nods and leaves. Looking around the eating area, she smiles at most of the other patrons. Her tabard is drawing stares, and she is almost overflowing with pride. The server brings over two legs and a side of a brown sauce. Using her finger, she lightly tastes it. Sweet, but with a definite heat underneath. Nodding in approval, she covers both legs in the sauce. Covering herself with a napkin to prevent spillage, she hungrily devours both legs in a matter of minutes.

As the beginning of the reenactments closes, a pale pink Tiefling sits down next to her. Her face darkens as her eyes dart over to him. He's pale, you almost couldn't tell he's a tiefling, if it weren't for his skin color. His rapier is strapped next to several viles of mysterious liquids. Muttering to herself. I can't believe they still let these Tieflings move about the city like they weren't demons themselves. They act like it, but inside...they're DEMONS. Its like trying to get a fish to fly, its just not its nature. Sizing him up, she concludes from his slight build that he wouldn't be a threat in close combat, but if needed, those vials could contain problematic chemicals.

With a sudden loss of appetite, Aurora waves off the server and does her best to ignore the Tiefling sitting next to her. There are no other seats, and she is certainly not going to move because of him.

Spoiler: @Amazo

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If it wasn't immediately obvious, I've tried to set it up so that Aurora is sitting next to Thyxius. I can edit the description if needed, I tried to match it to the description in the OOC.

[Amazo]

"Leg of lamb. Oh, and make it a double. I'm starving!" Aurora addresses the server. He nods and leaves. Looking around the eating area, she smiles at most of the other patrons. Her tabard is drawing stares, and she is almost overflowing with pride. The server brings over two legs and a side of a brown sauce. Using her finger, she lightly tastes it. Sweet, but with a definite heat underneath. Nodding in approval, she covers both legs in the sauce. Covering herself with a napkin to prevent spillage, she hungrily devours both legs in a matter of minutes.

As the beginning of the reenactments closes, a pale pink Tiefling sits down next to her. Her face darkens as her eyes dart over to him. He's pale, you almost couldn't tell he's a tiefling, if it weren't for his skin color. His rapier is strapped next to several viles of mysterious liquids. Muttering to herself. I can't believe they still let these Tieflings move about the city like they weren't demons themselves. They act like it, but inside...they're DEMONS. Its like trying to get a fish to fly, its just not its nature. Sizing him up, she concludes from his slight build that he wouldn't be a threat in close combat, but if needed, those vials could contain problematic chemicals.

With a sudden loss of appetite, Aurora waves off the server and does her best to ignore the Tiefling sitting next to her. There are no other seats, and she is certainly not going to move because of him.

Spoiler: @Amazo

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If it wasn't immediately obvious, I've tried to set it up so that Aurora is sitting next to Thyxius. I can edit the description if needed, I tried to match it to the description in the OOC.

The waves of irritation form almost palpable heat on Thyxius, sending a tingling wave up his back that eventually settles as a flush of embarrassment in his cheeks. He silently thanks and damns his parents for his skin coloration hiding that fact. Somehow it hurt worse to have a woman so immaculately beautiful irritated with him, even without a word spoken between them. Sparing a glance over at her, which she seems to be pointedly ignoring, he spies her paladin's tabbard. He thinks he's spied an opportunity to open some polite, if awkward conversation between them. If she just took her vows, it stood to reason that she would likely be deployed to the field soon like he would be doing, so he ought to try to smooth things over earlier rather than later. If her irritation with his heritage proved superficial from a lack of understanding, he would be ending the day with someone new to depend on in the coming battles. If not, then it would seem her beauty is only skin deep, and he would be able to walk away afterwards feeling he'd won a moral victory. Therefore, he reasoned he had nothing to lose by saying, "Congratulations on taking your oaths, ma'am. Your loved ones must be very proud."

[Untarr]

"Congratulations on taking your oaths, ma'am. Your loved ones must be very proud."

"FIEND!" Aurora exclaims, standing with a shout and knocking over her chair in the process. Her sudden outburst draws several stairs and the sudden embarrassment is obvious on her face. Aurora's skin, which seemed to have taken on the color and pattern of marble, suddenly returns to its original tan (with a noticeable blush included). Her golden eyes dart to the demon and then seem to search the air around her for something. Picking up her chair, she sets it down before settling in again.

"You uhh...uhh..." she sighs loudly "Th-Thank you." She fidgets for a moment, obviously uncomfortable. Finally she groans loudly. Muttering something about her mother teaching her manners, she finally turns to the Tiefling next to her.

"My name is Aurora Pelleas." she extends her hand, but does not seem happy about it. Her eyes seem to burn with fury as her nature conflicts with her upbringing.

[Amazo]

"My name is Aurora Pelleas." she extends her hand, but does not seem happy about it. Her eyes seem to burn with fury as her nature conflicts with her upbringing.

The tiefling's eyes widen at the implications of who he's just met. The auspicious birth of an aasimar to two human parents certainly makes the rounds about Kenabres, especially when it is to a family whose line is already inexorably tied to that of the town, Mendev, and the Worldwound. Thyxius accepts the proferred hand trepidatiously, his head sinking down towards his shoulders as if to guard his ears from another outburst. "Mine is Thyxius Koszer." He then thinks to add to his introduction, "Son of Ysabelle and Zarin Koszer? Of the First and Third Crusades?" He winces in anticipation of being called a liar or not having the names recognized in time to save him another outburst.

If no violent retort comes his way, Thyxius presses his luck with his polite conversation-making once more. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame Pelleas, or would it be Ser Pelleas now?

Spoiler: OOC

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I assume there's a history check to be made here. Your family is certainly more famous than mine, since mine is just on its second generation of crusading and that second generation hasn't exactly made any notable marks yet.

[DarkOne-Rob]

As the tiefling and aasimar in front of him have what may be the most awkward conversation he has seen, Filburn quietly watches. Seeming to be content to remain unnoticed, he rolls his eyes as they both stress their family names. Looking around for another seat and seeing none, he sighs a bit too loudly and tries to get comfortable for whichever show he gets to watch - the reenactment on stage or the developing spat in the next row...

[JWallyR]

Morevek Balthissar sits, at first impassively watching the pageantry. As the first squire is chosen, however, the pale (almost white-skinned) man's brows furrow, and he makes an expression that is a mixture of approval and concern. His whiteless eyes give no further clue as to the emotions that must be warring within him, but the black, scaly tail that curves down the tall man's body and up to rub self-soothingly against his hip, through the simple linen pants he wears.

As the final knights select their squires and the rest go back to whatever form of training awaits them, the man reaches out with uncanny grace to snatch with one hand a shank of lamb and a small loaf of bread in the other. Nibbling on each by turns, he watches the crowd disperse from the ceremony, nodding when his eyes are met to reassure the other that yes, the man whose eyes are all pupil notes and acknowledges you. Despite the festive mood the man's thoughtful composure seems not to be impacted by the revelry and anticipation of the night's feast, and he wanders, seemingly lost in introspection, until he finds himself wandering almost up to the stage of one of the reenactments before retreating to an empty space on a nearby bench, where he sits to watch with an almost analytical expression.

[Untarr]

The tiefling's eyes widen at the implications of who he's just met...

A smile pops up on Aurora's face. She dismisses the sigh of someone behind her. At least he knows who...

"Mine is Thyxius Koszer." He then thinks to add to his introduction, "Son of Ysabelle and Zarin Koszer? Of the First and Third Crusades?" He winces in anticipation of being called a liar or not having the names recognized in time to save him another outburst.

Her thoughts are interrupted by his introduction. But his name only serves to rattle her more. Ysabelle. That name rings in her head, she knows she should know it. And Koszer too...

Aurora's hand freezes in Thyxius's. It starts to turn a white color...several black lines begin to form that remind you of a marble statue. For several seconds she is perfectly still. He's the son of that bastard Zarin.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame Pelleas, or would it be Ser Pelleas now?"

Her voice cracks like a whip as she pulls her hand back.

"To you it is. Ser Pelleas. And. Don't. You. Ever. Call. Me. Anything else. I cannot believe you are the son of Ysabelle. That woman was one of the most incredible wizards the crusades ever had, and she let herself be corrupted by that...by that...DEMON!" Aurora's voice changes as the white marble reaches her throat. Her eyes blaze as if the sun itself was shining through them.

Suddenly, she turns her head, as if listening to someone speak. Sighing heavily, her casts her eyes down to the ground. "It would be best if you and I did not speak any longer. I should not have said that. It is unbecoming for a Paladin of Iomedae to act in such a manner as to bring shame upon her, her order, or her family." That last sentence seems rehearsed. Like it is something she has said before. Many times. "I swear upon the light of the sword that I will serve a penance to atone for my words and actions on this day, Arodus 16, 4712."

[MuffinMan]

"Everything all right over here?" The pair turn to find themselves being studied by bearded man in the browns and grays of a trapper, holding a half-eaten slice of lamb and looking at the two quizzically. "I'm not from these parts..." he admits with a chuckle as he sees them noticing his rustic garb. "I'd shake but I don't want to ruin your tabard" he indicates his greasy fingers as he nods to Aurora, "or your clothes, sir," to Thyxius. "The name's Waylan Henrickson. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

He studies Aurora more thoughtfully as he takes another bite of his lamb. "Did I hear you say you were a paladin?" he asks with genuine interest.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Ugh..." groans Filburn as the scene before him unfolds. "What can I do to get you guys to take...whatever this is," he gestures at the three speakers, "somewhere else? I was looking forward to watching the reenactment without seeing a 'real' battle in my lap..."

[Amazo]

"To you it is. Ser Pelleas. And. Don't. You. Ever. Call. Me. Anything else. I cannot believe you are the son of Ysabelle. That woman was one of the most incredible wizards the crusades ever had, and she let herself be corrupted by that...by that...DEMON!" Aurora's voice changes as the white marble reaches her throat. Her eyes blaze as if the sun itself was shining through them.

It would seem to Thyxius that he would have to settle for the moral victory today.

"Everything all right over here?" The pair turn to find themselves being studied by bearded man in the browns and grays of a trapper, holding a half-eaten slice of lamb and looking at the two quizzically. "I'm not from these parts..." he admits with a chuckle as he sees them noticing his rustic garb. "I'd shake but I don't want to ruin your tabard" he indicates his greasy fingers as he nods to Aurora, "or your clothes, sir," to Thyxius. "The name's Waylan Henrickson. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

He studies Aurora more thoughtfully as he takes another bite of his lamb. "Did I hear you say you were a paladin?" he asks with genuine interest.

Turning to address the much more welcoming man behind them, Thyxius takes the opportunity to take a disguised jab at the paladin. "Well met, Waylan. There's no problem here. I was simply trying to introduce myself to a fellow future crusader. Armasse is, after all, a time for the arcane academics...." Thyxius gestures to himself, "and priests..." He then gestures to Ser Pelleas, "to ally themselves and share the lessons they've learned, but it would seem that Ser Pelleas is thoroughly interested only in taking umbrage with my and my father's heritage. It's no true trouble to me as it's nothing I haven't heard myriad times before."

"Ugh..." groans Filburn as the scene before him unfolds. "What can I do to get you guys to take...whatever this is," he gestures at the three speakers, "somewhere else? I was looking forward to watching the reenactment without seeing a 'real' battle in my lap..."

Now Thyxius's lips curl downward into a frown. He was hoping to not draw so much attention with a failed attempt at diplomacy with the paladin. "As a matter of fact, I was just leaving." Turning towards Ser Pelleas, he offers an overly courteous bow, locking eyes with her the entire time, his face now trying desperately to remain at least neutral if he finds himself unable to politely smile. "Sorry to have sullied your day of celebration, Ser Pelleas. It is my honest hope that we fair better when we face the real demons together on the fields of battle than we did here today."

Collecting what remains of his meal, Thyxius waits to hear if these two men have anything to add before he spins gracefully on his heels and walks away with a jaunty stride to stand and watch the reenactments elsewhere.

[Untarr]

"[COLOR="#008000"]Did I hear you say you were a paladin?" he asks with genuine interest.

Aurora only manages to nod her head once. She makes no other move to greet the stranger. Her eyes start to glisten with tears as Thyxius answers the man.

"Well met, Waylan. There's no problem here. I was simply trying to introduce myself to a fellow future crusader. Armasse is, after all, a time for the arcane academics...." Thyxius gestures to himself, "and priests..." He then gestures to Ser Pelleas, "to ally themselves and share the lessons they've learned, but it would seem that Ser Pelleas is thoroughly interested only in taking umbrage with my and my father's heritage. It's no true trouble to me as it's nothing I haven't heard myriad times before."

Aurora still doesn't speak. Deep shame rolls through her. This was not how this day was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a celebration, but then this...tiefling... insisted on talking with her. Now, she had accomplished little more than embarrassing herself and the order. Aurora has a sudden feeling of regret that she is wearing her Tabard of Iomedae.

"I am sor..." her sentence is interrupted by the man who sighed earlier.

"Ugh..." groans Filburn as the scene before him unfolds. "What can I do to get you guys to take...whatever this is," he gestures at the three speakers, "somewhere else? I was looking forward to watching the reenactment without seeing a 'real' battle in my lap..."

Brave. She must be brave. Part of being a Paladin was facing adversity and overcoming it. She dug this hole for herself, so she would have to pull herself out. No you didn't. If that fiend had just minded his own business... It does not matter. Iomedae would test her constantly, in all things. This was a test, and she had failed it miserably. Aurora knew that she wasn't ready. If a casual conversation could reduce her to this...

"As a matter of fact, I was just leaving." Turning towards Ser Pelleas, he offers an overly courteous bow, locking eyes with her the entire time, his face now trying desperately to remain at least neutral if he finds himself unable to politely smile. "Sorry to have sullied your day of celebration, Ser Pelleas. It is my honest hope that we fair better when we face the real demons together on the fields of battle than we did here today."

Gathering around her what little dignity she still had, Aurora stands as well. Returning the bow, she barely manages a. "Iomedae's Light be with you." Before Thyxius turns and walks away.

Turning to the two men behind her, she bows again. "Iomedae's Light be with you." she says flatly before walking away herself. Aurora's face double takes onto the man who sighed at her. Recognition seems to dawn on it, but she says nothing in response. Gritting her teeth together, she moves with haste away from her failure.

Ser Aurora Pelleas. What a joke. You were never ready. Best return to the temple and request to be sent back to training. You are no Paladin of Iomedae.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Shrugging, Filburn watches the two leave their seats and turns back to watch the performance, apparently thinking nothing of the encounter.

[JWallyR]

The tall, slender man near the front turns to watch the heated conversation that briefly breaks through the casual direction of his attention to the reenactment on the stage. Eyebrows furrowed in mild concentration, as the paladin and tiefling go their separate ways he turns to return his attention to the stage.

[MuffinMan]

Waylan blinks in surprise at the various emotionally-charged responses, and continues to look dumbstruck as the tiefling and aasimar turn and march away in opposite directions, and as the exasperated swordsman returns to his seat. So much tension and irritability in these city-folks... and a city on the edge of the Worldwound at that! Happy Armasse to you both!" he calls to their retreating forms. Not sure what else to do about the situation, he sets about finding a seat or shady perch from which to watch the stage...

[Untarr]

Having enough control over herself to keep from crying until she reaches the privacy of an alleyway, Aurora breaks down into sobs. What is wrong with you? You are a Pelleas. You don't cry. What would father say? Shaking her head, she puts her arm up to cover her face and leans against a wall as sobs silently escape her throat.

If he had just minded his own business, I would be sitting there enjoying the shows. Having another leg of lamb. *Her stomach growls*. Maybe two... She laughs derisively.

Aurora reaches into her front pocket for her Acts of Iomedae. Flipping to the fourth act, she finds the passage she is looking for. The lines spoken by Iomedae to convince a regiment of mortally wounded knights to continue to fight despite their impending doom. The passage is her family's creed. Her great grandfather Lawrence Pelleus was said to have quoted it during defense of Mendev before being saved by the vanguard of the First Crusade. The page is worn and has a few smudges in the writing from previous tears.

Do not go quietly into that dark night.
Though hope is gone and darkness nigh,
Rage. Rage against the dying of the light.

[Farmerbink]

It is dark. It must somehow be darker than that. You can't see anything.

Your ears ring painfully. It's hard to breathe. A tightness constricts your chest, somehow preventing even the slightest breath of air from reaching your lungs.

The piercing ache in your temples begins pulsing. With a cough, you take in a breath. You still have a pulse, that's always a good start. With a laugh or a grimace, your body begins acknowledging existence. Painful, senseless existence, but existence nonetheless.

The ringing assaulting your ears dims. Faintly you hear the flinty tones of rock on rock. Someone, somewhere coughs. Violently. Rocks clatter about, creating a din that seems to come from every direction. Someone nearby groans in pain. Someone else is sobbing. More coughs.

You reach about, and feel dirt and gravel floors. Debris covers your body and face, but your hands quickly brush the bulk of the offenders aside.

After what feels like hours, the nothingness you see fades. It is still dark. Wherever you are, the sun does not reach this place.

Spoiler: Darkvision (or after casting light, etc)

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You're in a large cavern, somewhere presumably beneath Kenabres. The west wall is a massive pile of shifting rubble and gravel, apparently blocking where you must have just come from. The roof overhead yawns easily 100 feet above you, with myriad stalactites threatening and calciferous pillars bearing its weight. Four sizable pillars obstruct your vision to the east, where the cavern appears to continue edged with naturally shaped stone.

Your head still aches.

[Untarr]

Rage. Rage against the dying of the light... The passage echoes in Aurora's mind endlessly. RAGE

LIGHT! she shouts with start as her eyes fly open. Aurora's head is pounding. Is this what it feels like to die? Where am I? Groaning, she forces her body to begrudgingly move. Rising to a seated position, she looks around her.

"*cough cough*Anyone*cough* else here?*coughcough*"

[MuffinMan]

"ughnnn..." Waylan's eyes open with what feels like tremendous effort, and he experiences a moment of panic as they fail to see anything in the murky blackness all around him. The panic is echoed by a burst of concern from just by his side, and all of a sudden Kestros jumps up on his chest and pecks his forehead lightly in greeting. Ahh, old friend... I'm glad you made it through... whatever it was! he emotes through their bond. With another groan, Waylan rolls over onto his stomach and then pull himself to his knees, dirt and debris falling off of him with every movement. Fumbling in the dark, he finally manages the proper somatic gestures for a Light orison upon his shield, and he raises his other hand to shield his eyes from the sudden glare as he begins trying to make out his surroundings.

"*cough cough*Anyone*cough* else here?*coughcough*"

"who-*cough*- Who's there?!" Waylan calls hoarsely, raising his glowing shield aloft and looking for the source of the voice. Kestros shakes dirt off of his feathers and takes to the air, circling above at the limits of the cavern's rocky ceiling.

[Amazo]

LIGHT! she shouts with start as her eyes fly open.

The shout stirs Thyxius from his stupor with a flail of his limbs that he immediately regrets as pain shoots through each of them simultaneously. He lets his vision return to him before spotting the nearby wall of debris and rubble and on instinct starts dragging himself towards it. Once he reaches it, he forces himself much against his better judgment into a sitting position. The struggle drains him utterly though his numb fingers still gravitate slowly towards the inside of his pack. His mentor's words echo through his head, driving his hands to try to take stock of what of his equipment survived whatever just happened. "You're only as capable as you are prepared," he would start. "And you're can be only as prepared as what you have available," he would finish with a warning tone.

"*cough cough*Anyone*cough* else here?*coughcough*"

The voice stops even the memory in his muscles from carrying out their self-imposed task as his swimming mind tries to remember just why that voice sounds so familiar.

Fumbling in the dark, he finally manages the proper somatic gestures for a Light orison upon his shield, and he raises his other hand to shield his eyes from the sudden glare as he begins trying to make out his surroundings.

The mumblings of a spell being cast stop his mind from wandering dead in its tracks as well. For that instant before the light shines from Waylan's shield, Thyxius is convinced that whatever did this to him had come back to finish the deed. The blinding light in the darkness only makes him grateful for being granted a swift and painless death.

"who-*cough*- Who's there?!" Waylan calls hoarsely, raising his glowing shield aloft and looking for the source of the voice. Kestros shakes dirt off of his feathers and takes to the air, circling above at the limits of the cavern's rocky ceiling.

The second voice proves just as damnably familiar as the first and breaks the tiefling from his self pity. Playing the two in his head back to back a few times finally jogs his memory. He tries to respond to their questions, but the only sound he is capable of making is a series of wheezing breathes. His exertions have taken a greater toll than he realized. Struggling to stabilize his breathing, the first sensible sound he makes is a throaty chuckle before he answers, "It's good to hear you're well, Waylan, and it would seem that Pharasma has deemed us to be her playthings for the day, Ser Pelleas." The hacking coughs and wheezing that follow the quip belittle any positivity it could possibly have offered to the situation.

[Untarr]

"Fumbling in the dark, he finally manages the proper somatic gestures for a Light orison upon his shield, and he raises his other hand to shield his eyes from the sudden glare as he begins trying to make out his surroundings.

"who-*cough*- Who's there?!" Waylan calls hoarsely, raising his glowing shield aloft and looking for the source of the voice.

The man, Waylan, was from the reenactments. Currently he was facing away from her. Based on his looks, whatever had brought her here, had been equally "gentle" with him.

"I am Aur...Ser Aurora Pelleas. Paladin of Iomedae." As Waylan turns around, she manages a small bow.

T "It's good to hear you're well, Waylan, and it would seem that Pharasma has deemed us to be her playthings for the day, Ser Pelleas." The hacking coughs and wheezing that follow the quip belittle any positivity it could possibly have offered to the situation.

The voice comes from her left like the sound of thunder. In a movement so quick as to seem instant, Aurora has drawn her sword and shield. Bringing the shield up, she holds her sword behind her while protecting her upper body save for her eyes, which look at Thyxius with daggers.

"You! Just what have done? This was a setup from the very beginning wasn't it? No coincidence that we were sitting next to each other at the theater, and now you've trapped us underground with your foul magic. I knew it! Aurora sets her feet and carefully begins to advance. "What happened here? Tell me now, or by the light Iomedae I will purge you from this plane."

[DarkOne-Rob]

"What did I do to deserve being plagued by this?" groans Filburn loudly as he brushes off rubble and stares incredulously at the armored knight. "If this were his work he wouldn't be stuck down here vulnerable to your 'purging' now, would he? Think before you say something stupid next time, please!"

Standing up slowly and checking himself for injuries, the man looks around for other injured, expecting to see any number of others from the festive scene above. As the magically conjured light illuminates the cavern he begins to help dig them out of the rubble as he calls out, "Everyone who can, help the injured get free. We will have time to take bring justice to whoever did this later - for now let's make sure to help those in need while they still can be helped..."

[MuffinMan]

As the paladin draws her blade, Waylan finds himself moving to place himself between her and the still-prone tiefling man, holding his open hands before him to indicate he presents no threat. "Be reasonable, Ser Aurora..." he keeps a wary eye on the sword's point as he slowly backs away in time with her advance. "Clearly this man has just been through the same catastrophe we have- hardly the work of a villainous mastermind, wouldn't you agree?" He swallows as his foot bumps the tiefling's outstretched leg behind him - he's run out of space to retreat.

"Everyone who can, help the injured get free. We will have time to take bring justice to whoever did this later - for now let's make sure to help those in need while they still can be helped..."

"Finally! *cough* A voice of reason!" Waylan casts his still-adjusting eyes in the direction of the voice, and can just make out the outline of the swordsman from before. "By your leave, Lady..." Still keeping a wary eye on the sword and the paladin wielding it, Waylan kneels to start removing the largest pieces of debris from Thyxius' form and helping the tiefling to his feet.

[Farmerbink]

Each of you is in various stages of recovering your breaths and manual capacity, when your brains catch up. Aurora stumbles to a knee in her efforts to approach Thyxius. Thyxius reels in his sitting position. Waylan pinches the bridge of his nose as the blinding light reflecting from all the surfaces sparks his headache anew, halting him in his tracks. Filburn reels on his feet, but just manages to stay upright. Morevek stares into the ceiling, as comprehension floods over him.

Armasse officially began at 9 am, with the blessing of the festival by Lord Hulrun himself, governor of Kenabres. The crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza respectfully 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 serious of violent tremors- knocking most of the festival-goers from their feet. Waylan rose quickly, and helped the people nearby back to their feet. He helped brush them off, before noticing their agape stares beyond him.

To the west, a suspect vacancy 'filled' the sky. The fortress known as the Kite- the watchtower, keep, and sanctuary of Kenabres' wardstone- had vanished. In its place, a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning, and smoke erupted into the heavens, bathing the city and surrounding country in a flickering scarlet light.

A moment later, as many people struggled to maintain footing, or rise, a powerful roar accompanied a welcome sight rising from the crowd- Kenabre's most fearsome guardian: the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, who had until that moment been attending the opening ceremony in her guise of a human. Above her, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A crudely humanoid shape, easily three times the size of any man with skin coated in fire and lightning gripped a flaming sword and whip. The creatures identity was immediately obvious, a his previous endeavors were well-taught in Kenabres: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound had come to finish his previously failed task: destroying the wardstone of Kenabres.

The ground erupted in belches of fire and death while the balor lord clashed with the dragon above. As buildings fell, Aurora found herself in the path of a collapsing chimney. She dove through a trio of young children, knocking them from the falling brick, and narrowly avoiding the worst of the damage herself. She would survive the ordeal, with only a few bruises to show for it.

After a few harrowing moments above, the balor struck true. It cut deeply into Terendelev's body, rending her torso almost completely in twain. In a peal of victorious thunder, the balor swooped down to the streets, to slake his thirst for destruction upon the humans beneath. Despite her grievous wounds, Terendelev harried him to the ground, continuing to demand the demon's full attention. As the pair crashed toward the ground, Thyxius shepherded a pair of festival barkers- their trays and foodstuffs long forgotten- into a nearby alley. His heritage protected him from a gout of flame that scorched overhead, and his body protected the barkers behind him. The pair scattered into the streets beyond, as Thyxius stood transfixed by the scene developing before him.

With a furious howl, the balor grasped the injured dragon in both hands. Spinning, to use her own momentum against her, he flung Kenabres' defender into the Cathedral of St. Clydwell. No witness would ever forget the image of Terendelev's broken body smashing into the decorated facade. Filiburn, beneath the facade, called out welcoming guidance to the people around him. While the people flocked to him, and into the relative safety of the streets beyond, he scooped a child out of the way of the remains of a stained-glass window. The colorful fresco slammed into the ground at his heels, peppering the scene with brilliant hues of destruction.

At the same moment, a titanic demon erupted from the ground, across the square from the shattered cathedral. Several nearby buildings collapse into ruinous heaps as its bulk forces itself onto the plane. With a roar, the creature plunges a cleaver into the earth, opening a rift across the plaza beneath your feet. As the chasm yawned precipitously, Morevek shoved a couple of festival goers out of the path, and lost his own footing in the process.

As you fell, Terendelev looked up from where her broken body lay, her lifeblood careening down the facade of the broken cathedral. Though her own death rushed onward like an inexorable tide, she raised a bloodied talon, and spoke a brief arcane phrase. Seizing this final chance to save a few more souls, you felt her magic take hold of you, slowing your plummet into the abyss as if wings supported your weight. Yet, into the darkness you fell, drifting slowly into the riven earth. In the final moments of daylight you saw, Khorramzadeh raised his flaming blade, and cleaved Terendelev's mighty head from her neck. As her severed head fell, the rift above you slammed shut with world-shattering force. The closing walls battered you into unconsciousness, and the light from the world above was gone.

... It is dark.

[Farmerbink]

A voice echoes from a few paces away from the group. "Excuse me. If you children are done bickering, do you think there's a chance you might try to do something useful? You know, like keep me alive, here?"

When you damage to regain tour senses, and move near enough to see the source of the words, you see a well-dressed middle-aged nobleman, struggling to rise to his feet. He is clearly shaken up, and sports a few visible bruises on his hands and neck- even with most of his body covered. With a grimace, he looks up, and extends a hand for help rising. "Horgus. Horgus Gwerm. I can't believe the gods would punish me so, dropping me down this disgusting hole, but if you follow my instructions, you might actually live through this." He raises a bushy eyebrow, as he looks around the cavern. Pointing to Waylan, he calls out, "You there, with the glowing shield. Are you capable of more meaningful magic?"

Spoiler: Horgus

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Spoiler: Know local: DC 14

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This is indeed the nobleman known as Horgus Gwerm. He lives in a sprawling, well-defended estate in the well-tended garden of the eastern district- almost as far from the Kite as possible, while still being within Kenabres' wall.

Spoiler: DC 19

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He is decently well-built, but not well-known for combative ability. He occasionally carries a rapier, though it is noticeably absent at the moment.

[Untarr]

Aurora falls to one knee as the memories flood into her brain.

Spoiler: Celestial

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"Iomedae's Dawn, spare me!"

After a few moments, she begrudgingly returns to her feet.

His heritage protected him from a gout of flame that scorched overhead, and his body protected the barkers behind him. The pair scattered into the streets beyond, as Thyxius stood transfixed by the scene developing before him.

"You saved those people. I watched you. Taking the very fires of the abyss for them." Aurora looks down and to the side. Her eyes cast down, she sighs. "How could I have been so wrong?" Sheathing her sword, Aurora approaches Thyxius. "No apology will ever make up for what I've done. Though, I hope my actions will eventually atone for the insult I have laid before you." Aurora offers her hand to the tiefling, a gesture of respect (handshake).

Spoiler: If Thyxius Shakes her hand

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With an approving nod, and a slight bow, Aurora returns the handshake firmly. "Call me Aurora."

Spoiler: If he doesn't

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Aurora sighs dejectedly. "I deserve that. Maybe one day I will make good on the harm I have done to you."

"Excuse me. If you children are done bickering, do you think there's a chance you might try to do something useful? You know, like keep me alive, here?"

"You mean keep everyone alive here right? I'm sure that's what you meant." Walking over to him, she extends her hand to help the man up.

"Horgus. Horgus Gwerm. I can't believe the gods would punish me so, dropping me down this disgusting hole, but if you follow my instructions, you might actually live through this."

"Ser Aurora Pelleas. Paladin of Iomedae. I am confused by your definition of punishment. Terendelev's last moment was spent saving all of our lives. Would rather have died? You seem to have a plan. Do you know where we are?"