The Sacrifices Made - "The B team"

((For any character not actuality in the event but who has an interest in the aftermath. Open to everyone))


Loora sheathed, her wards crackled in her ears as the anger spilled raw power out of her control and into the spells. She searched every abandoned building, well, shed and hole north of the gate she could find for even one undead straggler to destroy. Fondness for the town and people warred with her loathing for the same messed up town. Both were washed away by the anger of what had happened to HER home. Months prepared, months ready, months sticking around! Why hadn't she left like she meant to. Four days, four days to and from Myth Drannor, her skin still crawling from the damn Mythal, and the itch that ran to her bones. All for an hour or two in the library, one little fact to check, one last reference for her manual. Her fingers burned with energy begging to take flight as a flood of missiles, her fingernails ached with it and the syllables to release it all glowed in her mind like the sun. Four days away after months, and THIS happens. HOURS AGO! Purple sparks began flashing off her fingertips.


---

Captain Sabel Chandler of the Black Hounds fired the crumpled casualty report at a tapestry in her office. When it failed to punch the desired whole in the tapestry she swore. "Hounds. Do. Not. Die!"

Taking a breath to calm her mind she started to make notes. Next of kin, fees, payments owed, internment... "Damn, we don't have a crypt! Burial outside the walls is not an option."

Another set of notes, source masons, carpenters, labor.

Pausing to stare at the ball of paper on the floor she thinks of Eli and an expression crosses her face that has not been there since she spotted the last member of the bandit gang that destroyed her home.

"I swear I will see the light go out of each lich's eyes if I have to crush their skulls with my bare hands!"

The next thing she threw passed through the tapestry and buried itself in the masonry behind it with a metallic thunk.

Moric had overslept. It might be a bit difficult to believe someone could sleep through two buildings going down, a massive fight at the gates, and panic and screams in the streets...but tired was tired.
He had awoken like normal, went downstairs to buy a meal and found everyone rushing around.

He hadn't known what had happened until things had calmed. And now he was stuck in a strange limbo of being unable to do much. Moric wasn't a healer, the fighting was over so he couldn't fight anything...he was just, there.

He had to find something to do. He couldn't heal very well, he couldn't fight anything (at least, unless they decided to attack again.) He was a man of limited skill, and he wasn't certain where to apply it. That is until he saw the wreckage.

Rebuilding was a messy process. It was filled with dust, debris, and long hours of backbreaking labor. He excelled at menial labor, he was built for it. It wasn't very glamorous or exciting, but it was needed. So Moric went out into the town into the farms and rented a hay-cart, pulling it down the road towards the wreckage on a quiet mission.

As the dawn rises a grey woman approaches from the plains - taking in the carnage and destruction and slowly learning the extend of the attack.

..who could have known that being out of the town after nightfall would turn out a lifesaver..

After talking to some locals she begins to walk through the rubble, putting out embers where it still glows and looking for unlucky souls that got buried under debris and might still live. Strangely enough she seems to be searching with closed eyes at times.

Before nightfall she turns to the city limits again .. leaving for the plains and erasing her presence from the numerous souls now gathered in the city.

((Gwenneth uses "detect spirits" to find buried people, in addition to mundane searching, and "warding of spirits" to become invisible to spirit-creatures at night))

Darree arrives in town and does her best to organize a few people (townsfolk primarily) to set up a sort of cooking station. Her logic is that if plenty of food is being cooked in one place and is made available to the workers/soldiers/everybody, those who couldn't get food can get it and those working will be well fed.

The hin travels about asking people if they can spare some food for the effort (she has some of her own to add, but not nearly enough). She has a good supply of pots and pans and sees if she can secure a few more (asking around at the inn). In whatever space she can find she begins lighting fires and cutting vegetables and meat to get several large pots of stew cooking. She, of courses, makes sure this is permissible first. Those who ask for one are served a bowl of the stew provided they have their own bowl! It's pretty good given the circumstances and the likely low quality of the ingredients, though perhaps a bit lean.

Whatever supplies she can't get for free she purchases with her own money where possible. ((Feel free to subtract whatever amount is needed from her gold))

Merum, the halfling doctor offers out food to those injured by the fires. offering mostly salads and tea to those injured by the attack. He also offers to help treat some of the wounds. not using any magic or anything but bandages up and cleans out wounds and burns

It was a long trip, traveling from Waterdeep to the Dalelands. Longer than he had anticipated. And when Tobias finally found himself in Shadowdale, it wasn't anything like he had expected. Sure, he had been told stories of the hamlet's occupation by the Zhentarim. Sure, he had been told stories of how it seemed to attract disaster. Sure, he had been told stories of his oldest friend's life there.

But he hadn't expected to arrive hours after said friend died. And now he'd never see him again.