Subject: Aftermath

ODM: I just want to give you guys a damage assessment of the outpost, really a description of the scene to set it all in your heads. It might make interacting in the space a little easier. I wanted to do this before, but I was paying for internet by the minute, and my timer was down under 30 seconds. :)

Hopefully this will serve as a push in a direction of chatting with one another. Any questions can be sent to me now, since I'm back from my trip. (which rocked, btw). I hope all is well with the rest of you.

***

The air is thick with smoke, heavier near any of the village's buildings aside from the inn. Most of the fires have been put out, but the smoke hangs thick in the still air and stings the eyes.

All of the buildings along the main road have sustained major damage, their thatch roofs entirely destroyed. Many of the burning roofs collapsed into the dwellings, setting all the possessions inside ablaze. More than half of the forty or so people who live in the village are now homeless.

The Tower is still standing, but none has yet braved entry. The dust from the explosion has settled, and there was no fire, but deep cracks run up and down the walls, spiderwebbing from the back of the tower itself. A cursory examination would show the back foundation is almost gone, blown to small chips and stones, and the deep fissures in the rock are ominous. A heavy battering ram could knock the entire structure over, but the floors inside are likely in bad shape. Bermid has warned his men away from it until daybreak when a greater assessment can be made.

The Inn is quickly being turned into a refuge shelter, with spare blankets and mats lined on the floor of the tavern. The tables have been cleared away to one side, and a maid is scrubbing the blood from the fallen raider. Some of the women sit weeping in corners, and the rest of the men and women seem to be moving mechanically so as not to think about their situations.

The bodies of the raiders have been piled along the road leading back to Segreda, and the fallen soldiers have been draped with sheets along the back of the inn. Women wail over them, tears streaming down their cheeks as they throw themselves across the inert bodies. The morning will see their burial.

Elotai's thought to move the prisoners into the jail is overruled by Bermid, who seems a man possessed by duty. He hardly recognizes Elotai, but breaks a moment to stare at the elf. "Thank you for standing by my side, friend." He reaches out a hand, clutches Elotai's forearm and pulls him close into a powerful one armed hug. "It is good you were here." With that he pulls away.

Watching the young man fall back into an organizational role, he feels a light tingling on the back of his neck. Whirling, he beats at his back with his hand to shoo away the nonexistent presence - a mosquito, or some other insect from the grass. He is unsure why the thought of the creatures bothers him so.

Kayla watches the interchange between Bermid and Elotai as she plays, and remembers the color spray used to stun some of the raiders. If all of the barbarians had been able bodied, who's to say they would have run off? She then watches his frantic beating at the back of his neck, staring in bemused confusion. There's something just a little off center about the elf - harmless, she feels, but strange.

The darkness falls around Buchek, and Erk can finally see the outline of his form against the bank. Buchek's eyes, totally accustomed to the dark, see the glow of torches from behind the walls framing Erk's crouching form. Slapping a mosquito on his arm, and another on his neck, he thinks it would be best to get indoors, or at least into the smoke of the town to avoid the pests. Erk, brightening considerably with the lifting of the inky blackness, walks along with him, continuing their conversation.

Telwyn grits his teeth against the pain from the arrow wound, which has opened again with his efforts to aid the townsfolk. Blood oozes from it, but he pays it little mind. He will seek out Erk or the outpost's cleric once the business of preparing the shelter has been attended to.

Holn also lends his hand putting out the fires and falls in with a salvage team looking to recover anything of use from the rubble. His efforts bring him close with Elotai just as the elf suddenly and violently spins and slaps at his neck and back. Jumpy. Perhaps the battle has rubbed raw the elf's nerves - he sure knows his own calm has been ruffled quite a bit, despite his outward facade.