The Landing

Thensyil brow arches curiously at his find, taking the small pouch and putting it into the barely visible hands of the bundle that has yet to leave his arms and curling what appear to be fingers around it to keep them securely in place. With that done he continues to look at the down soldier, a feeling of uncertainty rolling over him as something doesn't seem quite right. Occasionally addled in the mind and uncaring to most details as he is, this is at least something he can say he is in the right mind to notice.

He makes a few attempts to move the armor on the dead man, trying to evidently move the insignia that lays unscratched despite the battles the armor had been through. Two tugs and a fanatical attempt to claw out the item leave him quite perturbed, his brow furrowing and a vein beginning to pulsate as acidic rimmed words filter through his mind.

If only I had my godforsaken tools! None of what I carry is strong enough to get to it... Blasted townsfolk--, he thinks in an increasing tumble of animosity. It is only when oddly shaped hands appear from behind him and begin working on removing the armor from the corpse that he gets up with a start. Jumping and letting out an exclamation of surprise at the strange creature that he swore was following him, "You again!"

The creature ignores him, continuing to unfasten holds and buckles of the Splint mail before putting it within a cabinet and promptly disappearing.

As the storm's fury begins to be spent the beach is eerily silent other than the pattering of rain, tumultuous waves carrying splintered planks from those landing boats which were struck down by the ballistae. You notice no others besides your number and your erstewhile assailants on the seawall or on the beach below. You are the only ones to have survived the landing.

The captive archer pushes himself up from prone at Cairrad's insistence, though as he tries to stand he sways woozily and sits back down with a lurch. "Garrad, the name's Garrad," he manages over the last vestiges of the storm.

Urranian frowned at the odd, gaunt human, then stood up, a sad smile on his face. I couldn't do anything for this one, he said while cleaning his hands on his dirty tunic. He is alive, he added pointing at the other. I wish I could have saved them both, he muttered.

He left his companions stripping the dead and the unconscious from their gear, aware of the necessity of the act but completely uninterested in material possessions. He walked towards the archer that had been felled by his companions and kneeled beside him as well, in an attempt to save him.

After doing his best for his last enemy, he shook his head, stood up and muttered a spell Teear vaassa helo then he spoke loudly so that all his newfound companions could hear him. Thank you for the offer, we are fine the wound on his shoulder and on the bear's chest started closing instantly. By the way, you might want to know that our ship is sailing away, he mentioned casually while inspecting his dear companion to make sure he was fine

Robyn looks at the archer, speaking
Diplomacy: [27]
softly, "So, Garrad. I have a limited amount of healing, but before I even consider using it on you or your comrade..." She pauses, hearing the news about the other soldier, "Okay, before I use it on you... I need to know something about your situation. Are you currently in a state of rebellion or war? May I ask why you and your troops were emplaced here to take out the landing craft of our team? You do realize that you attacked and massacred what was basically a helpless group of individuals who couldn't fight back."

As quickly as the remaining foes start to surrender, Soelan remembers something, speaking up before anyone does anything or says anything else. "QUICKLY! If we hurry, we can save the drowning men!"

With that, he casts an Alter Self spell, changing himself into the air-breathing version of an Aquatic Elf, a strong, fast swimmer that gets better vision than he does, and starts rushing back to the water to try and save the people from the remaining landing boats -- or at least recover their bodies...

@DM: Edited that post, you might want to double check that you responded to all the issues. Thanks. @Others: Soelan has a healing wand on his person... the other characters should know that.

As Robyn approaches, offering healing, Cairrad smiles lamely as he offers his wounded shoulder for her appraisal. "If you wouldn't mind, miss... I want to see if I can't help that man who ran off with the rescue, but I'm afraid I'd be useless to him in my present condition."

Robyn nods, and keeping her eyes on their captive she reaches out and
Expend 1 charge on Belt of Healing for:
Dice Roll: 2d8
d8 Results: 5, 5 (Total = 10)
touches Cairrad.


The skin and muscle of his shoulder now knitting itself back together, Cairrad sheathes his sword across his back and leaves Garrad with Robyn as he heads back to the cliff, slowly climbing down to the beach below to exercise the stiff limb back into service. Once his feet touch solid ground again, he dashes out waist-deep into the tossing surf as he looks about for any way he could possibly help Soelan.

The party split into various groups to try their hands at recovering the situation. As Soelan tore off toward the coastline with Cairrad not far behind, the rest of the group began speaking to their conscious captive. Not that he appeared to have much to say besides vitriol.

"You are from Lodis," he spat, barely containing the hatred that bubbled beneath his words. Only his fear kept him in check. "You have never shirked from attacking the helpless. It did not stop you from burning my mother and father in our home." He looks up, dull brown eyes burning with remembered fury. "So what if we do the same, to prevent your depredations again?"

"That is all I have to say to you. Your Empire is lies and cruelty. You do not belong here, but we were told of your coming and so we waited. We simply sent you on your way." His his teeth are bloody as he cracks a pained smile which swiftly vanishes. Now that the passion of the moment has passed the weight of fear appears to settle about his shoulders once more.

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