Unrok hauls himself through the breach and into the courtyard, dust rolling off his armor in gray waves. Cool air bites at the sweat and stone-choked heat behind him. The archive groans at his back, but the surface is worse, armed scavengers waiting in a half-ring over the exit.
The Scout stops dead beside him, eyes on the blades, then on the wounded gear at Unrok’s side. The Wounded Comrade leans hard on his own footing, trying not to sag. The Archivist lingers near the broken wall, calm as a cat at a grave.
The Archivist
Ah. Fresh air, and fresh trouble. I begin to see why the seals were never enough.
The Stranger
Easy now. Drop the shiny bundle, old giant, and nobody opens your friend.
The scarred mercenary steps forward from the scavengers, rusted blade low and ready. His gaze does not leave the wounded man's gear. The others fan wider, testing the yard, measuring how badly Unrok must want to fight.
The Scout
Unrok, don’t. They’re set for this. There’s more of them than I like.
✓ Quest Accepted
Drive off the scavengers
“"i am unrok the old war beast the monster of a hundred wars your will back down or i will break you their is a war going on and i care less for fools and scavenger then my comrades or enemies and i will not feel a shred of guilt when you die if ya choose to fight"”
SUCCESS (Legendary Intimidation, rolled +0)
Unrok
I am Unrok, old war beast of a hundred wars. Back down, or I break you. My comrades matter more than your greed.
The words land hard in the broken yard. The front line of scavengers shifts, blades lowering by inches, shoulders tightening under their patched armor.
The Stranger
...He means it.
The Scout
That is what I told you.
A few scavengers start to drift back from the breach, feet scraping over loose stone. The Stranger does not retreat, but his blade is no longer pointed at the wounded man.
The Archivist
There. See how reason blooms when threatened with its own end?
A Wounded Comrade
...Unrok, they are moving off.
Quest Complete
Drive off the scavengers