Today’s snippet, titled “Only Hope”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      Dim light filtered down through the manhole accompanied by a harsh, acrid breeze. Rhiallis cringed as she lifted her head out into the city, without even looking around she could feel the devastation that had settled upon Kenabres.
      Death was everywhere. There were people, yes, and animals, but it was more than that. Her heart ached as she climbed out and gazed at the destruction. It was the whole city; buildings reduced to rubble, streets wrinkled and broken, the Kite obliterated along with Saint Clydwell’s. There were chasms wherever one looked, great gaping wounds in the cityscape. Worse yet, worse than anything… the Wardstone was gone.
      All their protection, the magic they had instilled their faith in for all these years – nothing remained but the hole the demons had rent in the cliff.
      “By all the Gods,” someone whispered behind her and Rhiallis turned to offer a hand to help the others up as well.
      “This is way worse than… I had imagined,” Rhiallis breathed. Emma accepted her hand, and winced the entire time they touched for her condition was such that even those gloves did not shield her from all the pain.
      A few moments later, the party stood on the street staring out over their ruined town. None of them were unaffected by the horrors, though like all things, they felt it in differing degrees. Mira’s voice was a teensy whisper, relaying the information to Aravashnial who could see nothing.
      “Oh, my wife… I hope Irabeth is- She’ll be with the-” Anevia’s voice broke and it was hard to tell if it were the result of emotional or physical pain as both were greatly upon her. She clutched the bow in her hand with a fierce determination. “I have to get to her.”
      “No no no.” Horgus shook his head. “I am the one who purchased your services, damn it. You shall escort me home first – blast it, everything is ruined, but I must get to my home immediately. From here, we need only go-”
      “Horgus, bite your tongue.” Aravashnial growled. “Both of you – your concerns are valid and our friends will most certainly guide you to where you must go, yet it only makes the most sense to do things in an appropriate order. Can you concur with that simple bit of wisdom?”
      Reluctantly, both Horgus and Anevia nodded, but despite Aravashnial’s words, Rhiallis could see a debate brewing amongst her compatriots. Navara thought one thing, Emma another, and though Mira was amenable to either direction, Idril and Lucien had their own ideas as well. Holding her peace, Rhiallis listened to every option with growing unease. They were being pulled in far more than just three directions – almost everyone had some place to go and check on, some person to be worried for, concerns of a personal nature.
      “Look,” Mickey held up his hand to quell the discussion in that bossy way he had developed. “The library is the closest to where we are, that’s what Mira said, right? So, we’ll go there.”
      “But-” Horgus frowned in the same instant that Anevia sniffled, “Yes, okay.”
      The way was as slow above ground as below; the rubble here was thicker though the passages were not narrow and enclosed. Carrying Anevia on her stretcher and leading the blind elf prevented a quicker pace as well. Rhiallis’ arms burned, but Idril did not complain and she could scarely do less than he.
      As they trudged, Rhiallis let her gaze roam the ruins of this once vibrant city. It broke her heart, this fine town with its noble populace reduced to a trash heap. She was not surprised to see how few bodies remained for those that they did see were, by and large, just bones shucked clean of flesh and broken to better suck the marrow.
      When she first arrived, Kenabres had seemed bigger than the rest of the world combined. A beautiful disaster filled with riotous color and laughter only slightly dulled around the edges by mourners and sorrowful dirges.
Now, soot and smoke and ashes blanketed everything, leeching all other hues. Even that blood which painted the cobbles was not the crimson one expected, but already old, decayed… brown.
      A miasma of evil floated above them, the skies gone scarlet with eerie streaks of green and violet. The sense of foreboding and horror here was tangible, the alleys and empty buildings still rang with screams.
      Rhiallis closed her eyes for a moment, pushing away the fear that lurked there.
      There’s no room for fear here, Rhiallis, she told herself. Only hope. Let’s put aside the fury and anger and that thirst for revenge upon the hordes of the Worldwound – leave it behind and focus on hope. We will find Anevia’s wife, alive. We will get Horgus home, safe. We will help Aravashnial to his library. And if there are other survivors, and if there are those who need help, we shall give it to the best of our ability. There shall be hope for another day in Kenabres.
      “No fear,” she murmured, each step carefully placed before the last, “Only hope.”

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Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me