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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sparky" data-source="post: 4730223" data-attributes="member: 13681">BellerosYour exhortations to the unconscious dwarven dignitary go unheeded. Though you do feel marginally better. The heat is making your head swim.  There isn't another inhuman cry, though other voices are raised in alarm. You hear 'attackattacktacktackackackack.' There's no telling where from in your position. Suddenly there is another pair of hands taking hold of the Adversary. It's one of the dwarves who followed you. He looks at you and give a quick nod. He is swaying slightly, the heat is getting to him too. Better work quickly or you'll be hauling them both out. You hear a groaning grating noise and then there is a strange feeling in your brain, as if were twisted and released in the blink of an eye. The crevice... seems different. The dwarf next to looks similarly affected. His mouth is open and he blinks, looks at you for a shared moment and then shakes his head. "Come on!" OOC: Next roll is at +2 for the Dwarf's Aid Another.  HeskThe cry goes up from the cavern, a dragonborn voice. The accent marks him as one of the Dragh. Your axe and your shield are amidst the armaments. Zlatan reaches after you with a darting awkward hand as you move more quickly away than is comfortable. "I... where... Hesk!" His face clouds thoughfully, angrily, "Leave me here. I'll slow you down." Korask nods. "Wallack, Krim, you two stay here with the Apprentice. Keep an eye out for the Newcomers." The crew boss looks at you, eyes aglow, "Let's go!" He races down the ramp, spear in hand, "Balash!" OOC: Roll init and enter the Shard <a href="http://spreadsheets.google.com/pub?key=p3qFFPe_Psl7x8yf3Er_SLQ" target="_blank">map</a> (where Krik is) from the south on your initiative score.  KrikSmoking and sizzling, two kruthik die to the acidic wash of Dragh breath. Their dying screeches are shrill and sweet. Stepping up on your right, the Balash worker advances and makes a slash at the kruthik. It drops to the floor, twitching. He whips his head around and breathes a gout of flame at the two kruthik behind him. They press themselves to the cave floor and the flames merely warm their cold blood. They attack! With a roar the wounded worker charges. The spindly hatchling evades the dragonborn charge with a swift clatter of its clawed feet. It raises its mandibles and hisses, scenting the worker's blood up close. The worker catches himself, barely checking his momentum. He draws a great breath and breathes over the kruthik. Similarly, these kruthik press themselves to the cool floor and are safe from the flames. The Balash have grown weak in their long cloistering.  The kruthik to your right attack - a spiked claw rips at the calf and knee of the dragonborn worker, he bares sharp teeth in a grimace of pain.The kruthik to your left attack - the dragonborn worker, already grievously wounded, falls. The kruthik swarm over his inert body to you. Their swipes a ferocious and one slices your leg. They surround you, twitching and flailing spasmodically, the barbs and spikes on their plates makes even simple proximity dangerous. Kruthik boil out of a shadow cast by the shards. One of these kruthik is larger than the others. The clatter of its claws on the stone is flatter, heavier. OOC: 4 pts of damage. <a href="http://spreadsheets.google.com/pub?key=p3qFFPe_Psl7x8yf3Er_SLQ" target="_blank">Map</a> updated. Mask and GutwickThe young man under Lady Mishet stirs at the roaring wail. He fends off her attempts to still him and rolls to his side, getting awkwardly to his feet, the ornate plates and bindings scrape and creak. "What... what's happened?" A bleak recognition dawns on his face as he looks around the cavern. "Not a dream," he murmurs. His grim expression shifts to one of awe as he sees Mask. He blinks at her and is about to speak when shouts and sounds of fighting sound across the cavern. The young man draws a sword and puts a hand on Lady Mishet's shoulder to draw her behind him. His armor glitters and sparkles with gems and inlay. The blade is a fine thing, a great gemstone glitters in the crossbar, stylized animals chase eachother in engravings along the blade. The pommel is a round metal disc, inlaid with the Duke's seal. This is Lord Lehrik, the Duke's own son.  Lady Mishet's eyes harden, she steps away and snaps at him in the human tongue, "Lehrik, you're hurt." The young man touches the plate over his heart. The gems of the armor glow and fade, "No longer."  Lady Mishet's clenches her jaw, "Lehrik, the sun is fallen from its moorings. And the old blood returns." Her tone is significant, she flicks a glance at Mask. "We have to keep you safe." "That is not the only prophecy." "But it is the likeliest." "Only if we do nothing." He looks off across the cavern,  "Come on, everyone. We'll need to stick together." He sets off across the rough stone floor without looking back. The young Lord never even registered Gutwick's presence. A nice bit of normalcy in a strange, strange day.  The light from the Sunstone shards flickers. OOC: Question answered in the OOC thread.</blockquote>

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