| Welcome to Imythess, the border between dreams and reality. We hope you enjoy your visit. Imythess is a creative writing board where you narrate the story of a character in the medieval land of Imythess, on the planet Chaon. Each topic is an opportunity for your character to interact with the world and its peoples by cooperatively writing pieces of a story with other members, one post at a time. We call this role-playing, because you assume the identity of your character as if it were your own. In order to play, you must register an account for each character you would like to write about, and begin their tale by filling out their basic profile information: Race (human, elf, demon, etc.), class (warrior, mage, etc.), physical appearance, and any other personal details you would like to describe. You are also encouraged to come up with some background history information for what your character's life has been like up to the point at which their story in Imythess begins. There is no approval process or application required to join, so long as you follow the rules then you are free to write whatever character details you choose. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Create a character now! If you're already a member, you can log into your account below: |
| Into The Depths; [Minor ST 3] | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Wed Mar 15, 2017 11:02 am (2,487 Views) | |
| Mistalee | Mon Mar 20, 2017 12:21 am Post #16 |
![]() ![]()
|
Upon seeing the paddock she smiled. Inside there were several strong and beautiful elk and deer. She walked up to a rather graceful looking doe and extended out her hand. The elf waited for her to step forward and flare her nostrils before nuzzling her hand. With a practiced familiarity she walked up to the saddle and mounted the deer. It had been too long since she had had the privilege on ridding one of these fantastic beasts, she much preferred them horses. She shot a flare at the woman who mentioned liking venison. "I would advise against that," was all she said in a stern voice. As they rode she spoke little. Instead keeping an eye on their surrounding, watching for any sort of threat. When they finally reached their destination she dismounted and stretched. Everyone began searching for clues. When one of the Dal'mar found a survivor she resisted the urge to rush over. She had no skills in healing, and knew she would be of little use in aiding the person. It was best to leave that to more capable hands. Instead she began to carefully examine the whole site. Looking for any clues about the attacked and where they came from. Spoiler: click to toggle
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Kagiso | Tue Mar 21, 2017 1:52 am Post #17 |
![]() ![]()
|
Nobody really paid mind to the little hooded figure at the back. She watched and listened as self-important people who at the very least paid well spoke to one another. Then came the animal born segment of their ride. Kagiso said nothing but clinged to the beast tightly as it quite quickly followed the rest while passing fearful glances at the hooded figure on it. She rode on in silence until they arrived at the ex-bandit's camp. A new battle had raged. She took a quick glance at the field, once to ascertain the look of the field, then again to pick out the hot and cold spots, then again to sift through mana to see if she could recognize and spells. She dismounted from the terrified creature that quickly evaded her. Some of her allies stepped towards an injured woman in the middle. Kagiso followed behind them, trailing by twenty feet. With every step she got a better idea of the lay of the land and the land beneath thanks to her considerable array of grafts. She drew out her inertial repeating crossbow and casually shouldered it as she kept an eye on her two allies. The appearance of any enemy would earn a quick blast of mundane bolts to prevent them from making an effective attack on her allies. She chose to stick to the ground level. If their enemies came by air, she would at the very least have cover from their predation. She fired up her internal voice-casting system and spoke into the elf's ear. "I'm covering you." She was soft-spoken, but her voice was remarkably feminine and high pitched. If Keelin turned to look back, she'd offer a hooded nod. Extra Sensory Perception
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
|
|
Tue Mar 21, 2017 2:52 am Post #18 |
![]() ![]()
|
Shirine followed their escorts to the paddock. Seeing the elk sparked something in her mind. A small bit of memory from her past... unclear, but clearly a childhood memory. A desire to ride one these famous animals. A childhood dream?.... She ended up grinning like Keelin had. Happy at both finding another fragment of her past and the fact that on some level her younger self was excited. She didn't make any sound, but just approached the animal with some respect and mounted it. She had not brought her own personal pair of mounts. They were strong as winter crag tigers. Still Farmiel & Ninquemiel were too young still. They were really not ready or trained for a real mission. Though on the upside it had given her the opportunity to ride one these beautiful creatures. Soon they were ridding off on to their destination. The travel was quite quick and she pulled next to Keelin flashing a small grin at her. They may not have met, but both were enjoying the ride. Nearing dinner she had sort of calmed down, though still felt a bit of that excitement deep inside. She had been a mercenary too long to have her emotions run high for too long. Plus if she hadn't learned to control them she would not have as much control over her were-tiger powers as she did. She saw Volare come in for a landing and had set up some tents for her group. Dinner was a simple thing that evening. The next day the finally arrived at their destination only to find the bandit encampment in ruins. Volare didn't like it and neither did Shirine. She thought for a moment as she dismounted and then focused for a bit. Her ears shifted into their tiger form as she focused on increasing her hearing. Sound was one of the better ways to detect thing at wanting to stay hidden. Without magic everyone made some sound. She hopped it might help give her some warning, but then again some people sounded a bit loud now. She really hated that trade off still it was good enough for now. Soon though Tyrist had found a survivor. Alice had run towards the survivor and Shirine went with her. She watched the girl perform her healing and bent down to the survivor. She had an idea to help focus the survivor. If/when they started coming to she looked into their eyes for a bit. "Easy there you are alright. My friend is trying to heal what she can. Can you focus and tell us what happened?" Shirine was not just being friendly, but her eyes had a mesmerizing quality to them. Shirine was using that ability now. She wasn't sure if this person would be friendly. After all they were in a bandit camp after all and there was that Balefire Sherif. Regardless she thought a hypnotized state would help keep the person calmer, friendlier and make them answer questions willingly. It probably would help them with the pain too as it could focus them on something else. Shrine's ears did pivot towards Keelin as the woman announced her intent to enter into the stone structure. She hopped the woman could handle whatever was in there on her own, but she kept her ears perked for signs she need to go help. OOC
Edited by Shirine, Tue Mar 21, 2017 2:55 am.
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Hearne | Tue Mar 21, 2017 3:23 am Post #19 |
![]() ![]()
|
The animals didn't seem particularly keen on Hearne, deer evidently nervous around him and backing from his touch. Walking by several of the unclaimed mounts, he found one of the deer eying him warily. Rather than back from his touch, it lowered its head. Antlers brought to the ready, Hearne spoke a few choice words in a voice too low to be overheard. They resonated in themselves as he let his mind brush against the deer's, a vibration in the chest of any too close. The whispered words had their intended effect, calming the sense of danger it had locked onto, robbing it of fear and anger toward him. Nature had abandoned all ties to Hearne and he it. Animals had been unsettled near him lately, sensing his new nature by instinct that wasn't fooled by a kindly word. The deer settled, head raising to regard him with the same bored indifference it showed the others. Reaching his hand up he stroked the back of a finger against a prong. It would make for a fine effigy. Carved and added to his collection of toys, though he somehow doubted the creature's strength of spirit. It may look well and fine, but it would be a small trinket indeed. Remembering himself, the mage tucked his cane in its packs and gripped the horn of the saddle, making a show of some difficulty getting on with one arm and twisted legs. Resting his hand on the deer's broad neck, he idly ruffled its fur, keeping his mind tied to it to dampen emotion and show it his intention without the use of heels. Hearne volunteered to keep watch through the night once they broke for camp, having dismounted his horse in a flash of a moment when nobody had been watching. He continued keeping his distance from the others, choosing to sit a short distance away leaning against the trunk of a tree. His mind drifted across the area idly like a fog, seeking out new minds beyond those of his companions. Few animals caught his attention, though for an unknown period he found himself following the movements of a red-furred something just out of reach stalking the night, avoiding the host in its territory. It wasn't large, but seemed intelligent enough to skirt around and trust this intrusion would pass. As he watched his allies rest, he noticed probing waves eminating from Keelin, watching the magic in effect as it touched him and was drawn in. He saw her looking at him and he met her glance. Did she not recognize him? She shortly went back to resting. Curious, he let his thoughts brush against Keelin's mind in her fitful sleep. He winced in pain as his contact was rejected, protected thoroughly from outside intrusion. Picking up a handkerchief from a pocket, he dabbed at suddenly wet cheeks, coming away stained with ichor. Remarking how similar her defenses were to his own, he set the curiosity aside for now and watched all with studious eyes, running a thumb over the staff of iron and ivory seamlessly bound, pulsing and breathing with magic much the same as the others in the clearing did in his sight. Drawing from his satchel a split-tip pen and a pot of black ink that shimmered gold in the firelight, he brought out a roll of parchment a hand long and three fingers wide. He made neat, perfectly symmetrical lines as he build a complex net of geometric patterns. By the time he had finished an hour later the small roll was covered in a lacework-like spell. Scattering fine sand across the ink to soak up the excess, he wiped it away and rolled up the scroll, tucking it neatly into one of three small copper tubes on his bandolier, capping the tube behind it. He set to working on two more scrolls before the rest ended. They packed up and moved on. Hearne bore the ride with evident pain, holding onto his saddle tightly with his single arm. Now out of the initial meetings, he had discarded all niceties and let his illusory appearance shift, robes similar in style to their true shape, but they were roughspun and brown instead of the fine ivory white cloth. Arriving at the site of the battle, Hearne spat on the ground in front of him and watched for a moment before actually entering the site. His eyes burned with dual irises, each ring made up of delicate golden light, geometrically perfect patterns replacing the old burning halos. Mage's sight wide open he sought out hidden foes. There was remnants of magic all around, though it was either something he had yet to encounter or the remnants were far too degraded to give him anything useful. He kneelt and coughed out a few short, guttural phrases. Placing his hand on the earth below him, he sent out his magic through the stones beneath them, measuring out the lay of the land below their position and seeking openings underground. There was little immediately below him, though he found the entrance to a tunnel beneath the stone structure. Glancing up to the structure to see Lorica and Keelin entering, he bit back a curse and stood smoothly. A shiver ran through his illusion as he approached the structure, dissipating as he walked ahead. His robes lightened to ivory, sashes and accents becoming an iron grey as he approached. Hands and feet were bound in the same grey cloth, showing six-fingered hands underneath that stretched and flexed, long and slender fingers. His upraised hood definitely held something, though something of its nature made his appearance slip from the mind even as you watched. Holy magic radiated off him like heat off fresh coals. Probing out toward the structure with his mind, he slipped in after the elf. "There's a tunnel in the cellar. Goes down a good damned ways." He pulled power to his hands, readying himself to shield from ambush. "Branse says hello. I think he misses having you around the Mare." his voice resonated from within the wood, a slight whispered chorus effect on emphasized words. OOC
Edited by Hearne, Tue Mar 21, 2017 4:35 pm.
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Ahkrum | Tue Mar 21, 2017 8:00 am Post #20 |
![]() ![]()
|
Deer. Even more specifically elk. A rare meal for the spiders large enough to claim them as prey, larger than even L'akolb could eat, though the spider still looked upon it with a set of hungry eyes, even in spite of having been fed prior. "No." Ahkrum commanded quietly yet sternly. The speed of the spider would unfortunately not be able to keep pace with the four-legged hooved creatures whose nature was based upon long navigation of the woods rather than quietly and carefully stalking prey or waiting for it to fall victim to a trap. To get where they needed in a timely fashion, they would need to sit upon one, surely with no great enough thanks to the elves and their ability to command them, without it panicking at the predatory creature. Fortunately the spider heeded its master's order. With help from the elves they could mount. A mount upon a mount, and if Danag were to ride upon Ahkrum, then it would quickly become a mount upon a mount upon a mount. Danag did end up riding atop Ahkrum's shoulder, to small amusement. Like L'akolb and Danag, Ahkrum could go some time without eating. Rather than partaking in the short stop, they merely waited until they left again. The distinct smell of smoke as they neared their destination, and then a familiar scent. A scent that made Ahkrum feel a phantom hunger stirring deep from within. Rotting carrion, normally a sign of wild food nearby, though the smoke would do no favors in gathering those that would feast upon the flesh of the fallen. Still, some flies managed to find the smoke bearable in favor of sustenance. One small swarm coated a dead man with a badge. "'Lords Under', correct?" Ahkrum checked, vaguely recalling at least something along those lines. Truth was that he was never much of a strategist, just a simple trapper with anger issues that he put to good use, but all the same he figured that he might try to contribute something to this scene, "Ahkrum check outside ground. Hagaan tunnels hidden in earth, Ahkrum might find if ambush came from below. Worth looking." In an out. Up and down. There had to be a way for ambushers, particularly burrowers, to find their way from below to above and be gone with such little trace left behind. Hagaan cities tended to be underground, with plenty of hidden and collapsible accessways to hide from and escape the eyes of the pixies watching them from above. If the ambushers had been burrowers, coming from beneath the earth, then Ahkrum wondered if he might be able to find something suitable for creatures far larger than himself, some remnant of tunnel created and closed. At the very least he wanted to try and see. The space was definitely more open and wide than he was used to, with a lot of ground to cover made easier only by riding upon L'akolb's back. The spider perhaps could not move as fast as the Hagaan in combat, but it kept a steady and reliable pace nonetheless, following his commands to change direction as he scanned the ground beneath the sky for anything that looked like the remnants of access. It sounded like there was an underground structure to that main building, likely important, but for now Ahkrum simply tended to his self-appointed search. Edited by Ahkrum, Tue Mar 21, 2017 8:00 am.
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Kalim | Tue Mar 21, 2017 5:02 pm Post #21 |
![]()
|
Eventually they departed, leaving the city, and the dark looks it's citizens gave the foreigners, behind. Kalim followed the Da'mar silently. He had already donned his helm, which mostly consisted of a face plate with cloth, and Novi was resting on his shoulder. When they reached the paddock, he gave it a wary look, bemused by the height of it's walls, but followed the rest inside. The mercenary stared at the steeds presented to them. "Deer," he muttered flatly while approaching one of the unburdened ones. "Typical elves." He glared at the slim creature; it stared back with glassy eyes. He shook his head, and still muttering mounted up. The Dal'mar seemed the serious sort, so if they said these things could get them to their destination he had no reason to doubt them. His doubts were quickly dispelled as they left the paddock and made their way into the forest, but not in the way he would have liked. The deer steeds weren't exactly fast, no, they jumped. Anytime an obstacle got in their way that would take more than a second to go around, Kalim suddenly found himself soaring through the the air, branches and shrubbery whipping past his face. It made relaxing impossible; he was tense throughout the entire trip and therefore almost immediately feel asleep when they stopped to rest. In the last leg of their journey, he began to hear Novi voicing disgust in his head, complaining about the smell. Frowing, Kalim pulled off his helmet during a pause between the deer's suicidal leaps. Having had no time to acclimate himself to it as it grew in intensity, he nearly gagged at the stench and fire and corpses. Pulling the helmet back on, he breathed in gulps of fresh air purified through the helm's filters and stared towards where they were going, a foul premonition filling his mind. As expected, they were not met with a friendly site. The camp was destroyed, huts flaming, sun-baked corpses laying everywhere. He dismounted with the others and quietly scanned the environment, getting a lay for the land. The only structure inside the walls that hadn't suffered recent damage looked to be the stone fortress nearby; where the bodies were most concentrated. He stared at it, chin on hand, while the others began to disperse, searching for clues. He saw Keelin and Lorica near the fortress and frowned at them; others seemed to be approaching as well. Tyrist suddenly shouted. "Hey! I have a live one over here!" At Tyrist's shout, Kalim glanced over to where he was pulling a female body out of a pile of corpses. Alice was already moving towards them. The mercenary hesitated a moment before following while pulling his waterskin from his waist, along with a small blue stone that radiated a chill breeze. He quickly gulped down several mouthfuls of water; after a day's ride it had become warm and stagnant, but as he drank it was immediately replaced with cool, fresh liquid. He knelt down next to the body. Countless corpses were strewn about nearby; he was infitely grateful for the air filters in his helmet. Alice was busy with her treatment; her glanced at Novi and jerked his head towards the injured. The fly dragon hovered over the woman; he could her humming in his head as she began to cast a weak healing spell. At best, it would only provide slight relief from the pain she was suffering, but it was the best he had to offer in terms of medical care. He placed the blue stone on the woman's forehead, and gently dribbled a small amount of water into her mouth. He then leaned in closer to her. "Are you able to speak?" he asked, while watching her lips intently for any sign of movement. He wasn't expecting much, and so jumped back in surprise when she suddenly convulsed. One hand was placed on the sheath of a shortsword on his hip, the other raised defensively in front of him. However, did the woman did no so much as open her eyes. She shrieked one sentence. "Keep them away from the cellar!" With that, she passed out again. Kalim stared at her for a few seconds, then jerked his eyes to the fortress and clicked his tongue in irritation. Turning, he told Novi to keep watch outside and tell him of any new occurrences, then hurried inside the stone structure after the others. He would tell them of the woman's warning if he caught up, but he had no intention of stopping them; if there was some kind of trap or guardian in the cellar, then that was likely where their entry point would be. Still, he was anxious. What was it that the woman was so terrified of? |
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Lachesis[ST] | Tue Mar 21, 2017 9:32 pm Post #22 |
![]() ![]()
|
Out In The Graveyard [Kagiso, Shirine, Renard, Mistalee, Ahkrum, Volare] The place is sickening to all the senses, oppressive to the soul. Mistalee, you use your well honed skills [Track: Expert] to search the ground and try to come up with a summary of what had happened based upon what your eyes see. The tracks show the story well enough. Only the sequencing could not be, but the end result was the same. Where the gate to the palisade had been, now a smoldering pile of charred lumber and glowing embers, men and women lay dead, weapons in hand. There were not very many of them an, perhaps most importantly, they were not facing the gate. They were, in fact, strung out as if they had been hurrying away from that gate, meeting foes and being cut down as they hurried...where? The burned huts and buildings had charred humanoid bones within them, the flesh burned away. Those people had obviously been dead prior to the firing of this encampment. Beyond the ruined palisade, the marks of dozens of shod hooves had been impressed into the hard soil of the forest floor. Their direction was contrary to what one would expect; they had been approaching this place, not fleeing it. And someone had clearly let them in, because they proceeded through the gate and into the open space beyond the walls. The riders - for they must have been riders - had added to the carnage. The mess of overlapping prints was too muddled to be certain of anything within close proximity of that central building. Elsewhere, sets of prints, hard to discern, were made leaving that mess towards where the huts had once stood. Perhaps half a dozen people had come that way, going around to each of the huts. And then they had returned to the iron bound doors of the central building. The majority of the dead were there, includingg the lone survivor, and from their positioning it was clear they were trying to gain access to the buildings, and had been slain while they were at it. Most of them had stab wounds, several of them were pin-cushioned by arrows, and the foul stench of some dark sorcery overlaid it all. A clearer picture is impossible to gain; too much violence has been done here, and the tracks have been marred. Ahkrum, your search of the grounds is fruitless. Though you comb the entire compound you find nothing, except the odd abandoned weapon. Curiously, you do find a weapon near one of the huts that bears little resemblance to any you have likely seen before; a cruel hooked sword, similar to what the angel hunter uses. The weapon is barbed and serrated, but despite being apparently crafted from stone, it is relatively light in your hands. The weapon is bigger than you are, Ahkrum. Keail comes upon you and your find, Ahkrum, and blinks as he looks at it. "May I have that?" he asks, but doesn't bother waiting for an answer before he takes it form you, hefting it in his hand. "I have heard of these. Those Under Stone use them." He looks around at all the death in this place, and shakes his head. "There aren't very many of Those Under Stone laying up in this charnel heap, though." "No, but there were a few more Sheriffs and some other more obviously Balefiran citizens," Zilyana said as she approaches. She has the massive two handed weapon out if its scabbardo n her back nd held in a single hand as though it were nothing. She eyed the weapon and dismissed it as if it were unimportant. "What kind of beast has the strength to deal with a Backswamp Werewolf as if dealing with a child?" She indicated the subject, laying on the ground just outside the ring of dead. It had been hacked to pieces, as if there was some personal hatred meted out to it. "No idea, Zil," the younger warrior replied. He looked to the construct with her impressive corssbow and shook his head. At least someone was being vigilant here. He nodded to Kagiso in appreciation of said vigilance, and then walked away from Ahkrum and Mistalee, Zilyana following close behind. It was to their one survivor that he went, and when he arrived there, he knelt down beside her. She had taken grievous injury, but the wounds were closed and the infection ogne now, thanks to the work of other members of the party. She was, unfortunately, out cold. He looked up to see where the Captain had gone to, and not seeing him, shrugged. "We can take her with us and interrogate her when she comes round, or we can leave her here," he said in a soft baritone voice. The young warrior stood, and shook his head. None of the Dal'mar made comment on the woman's strange words, though it was clear they had heard. Whatever they thought, they did not discuss it with the others. Tyrist shook his head. "I don't know that it would be wise to leave her here, but then again I don't know that it would be wise to bring her along, either. We do not know who she is. And we do not know why she was here." "Well, I for one do not care." Zilyana grinned, but it was deceptive. "On the one hand, she dies. On the other hand...well, if her answers are wrong we can slit her throat and avoid the problem entirely." It was shocking to hear her say such. The warm and outwardly friendly exterior of the elfin woman was clearly a veneer over the soldiers innate pragmatism. "Our duty is to country," she said by way of explanation to those of you around her, "not to some stranger met in the field. Unless, of course, she is one of those we seek." It was clear by her demeanor that she was not. 'In either case, there is nothing else to find out here," Keail said in a confident voice. The silence from the main structure that the others had gone in seemed to indicate that they hadn't found anything, or at least nothing violent, either. "Perhaps we should go and see if the others had better luck?" The Fortress of Thieves [Keelin, Lorica, Kalim, Hearne] Keelin, you and Lorica enter the structure. In fact, Lorica enters the buildings looking for a fight, but when she comes to rest, the only thing she finds are rats scurrying hurriedly away into a dark hole in one corner of the foyer of the building. There are bloodstains on the floor here, but there are no bodies to speak of; all of the death appears to be outside and not within. You both busy yourselves with examining the building, but there is not a lot to find. The upper floors have bedraggled bedding and furnishings, obviously leavings from various regimes of thieves and cut throats who have called this place home. There are some signs of a struggle on the second floor, and some evidence of blood spilled, but there are no bodies to be found. Shortly after your dramatic entrance, Taeral, Kalim, and Hearne enter the structure as well. The Dal'mar captain looks around, and draws the long-hilted great sword from his back, holding it in one hand as easily as others would hold a single handed weapon. Keelin and Hearne immediately notice something strange as that weapon leaves its scabbard on Taeral's back [Knowledge: Arcana [Master]]. As everyone gathers back in the main room, empty handed, Hearne reveals his revelation. There doesn't appear to be a cellar in this place, though, or at least not at first glance. Keelin, you are alert for anything interesting or out of place, and you notice blood splatter on the ground leading to a wall. Your attention to this is picked up by Taeral, who follows that trail himself, and stares at the wall intensely. "There is something here," the captain says in a low, gruff voice. He places both hands against the wall and tries to push on it, to no avail. He is still trying to push that piece of masonry back when the others enter the room, and Keail walks up behind him. "Do you mind if I have a try, Captain?" the young man said. The captain stopped for a moment, and gave Keail a hard look...and then shrugged. "Go ahead." The Dal'mar rolled his shoulders and made a show of limbering himself up, and then placed both hands upon the wall. And then, instead of pushing on the wall or trying to slide it, he lifted it. It slid upward quietly, revealing a dark passage and a set of stairs. The Captain gave the young man an even harder look, but Keail simply shrugged. "Seen it done before. No one ever thinks that a wall can be pushed up, do they?" Before any hard words could be exchanged, the youth stepped into the passage and disappeared down the stairs. Into the Depths [Everyone] The Dal'mar push ahead save for Tyrist, who hangs back. All of them have their big swords out, now, thought it would seem that the space involved are too small to employ them properly. Before he follows after Keail, Taeral turns to all of you. "It will be dark from here on in, likely. I hope you can see in the dark...if not, I hope you brought torches." With that, the Dal'mar captain descends the stairs, Zilyana following behind him with the comically oversized weapon in her hand. The stairs wind downwards and end in a large room. Rotted piles of wood that resemble nothing so much as sawdust edge the room of well dressed stone. And, in the wall opposite the stairwell, a hole surrounded by shattered masonry and dirt and stone gapes. Beyond is blackness so complete and soul crushing as to induce claustrophobia just to gaze upon it. The room, aside from the elderly remains of whatever it had once housed, is empty. There are no defenders to that gaping hole, no bodies. The only living thing here is yourselves, and a few rats that beat a hasty retreat into dens within the walls themselves. "Well, at least we know how whoever got into here managed it," Keail replies drily. He steps forward towards the hole, and looks within. Roughly bored stone shines wetly beyond, and the drift slopes sharply downwards. Even able to see in the dark, no one can see how far it goes. "There is really only one option right now," Taeral mutters to himself, and pushes Keail out of the way and enters that dark tunnel. It only talks a half heartbeat for the other Dal'mar to follow. The passageway is utterly dark and completely silent, and it goes for a long way. The floor is as uneven as the walls and ceiling are, though blessedly the passageway is tall and wide enough to allow people to walk standing fully upright, and up to three abreast. If you expected this journey to be quick, you are quickly disabused of that notion. The angle of the drift becomes more shallow, perhaps descending a foot for ever four walked, but it goes on endlessly. The amount of sheer effort it would have tekn to carve this out beggars belief. After three or four hours of walking in the confining darkness, the tunnel suddenly breaks into a much larger passageway. As the Dal'mar step from the drift, they take immediate stock, two soldiers to either side of the entrance. The nature of this passage is far different than that of the one you came down into these oppressive depths by. Unlike that passageway, this one has smooth walls and ceiling, and a floor to match. It is much taller - at least fifteen feet - and about as wide, a veritable square passageway that runs in either direction to the limit of vision. And it is also easy to tell that it is ancient beyond understanding. Dust lays thick on the floor, and even within sight there are piles of rubble where the ceiling or walls have partially collapsed into the passageway itself. "Look here," Zilyana says in a whisper that barely echoes. She is pointing at the ground, where the dust lays an inch or two deep. Beads of blood have rolled up into the dust to form dirty pearls, and the tracks of too many feet to count smirch the dust. The tracks head in a northerly direction, or at least it appears to be north; the surface is some terrible distance above you now, and all manner of uiding points are no longer available. "That's a bleeding lot of boot prints," Tyrist growls in an equally low voice. "No way to be certain, but its bloody well more than a few dozen." Taeral looks at those marks on the ground, and shakes his head. "Not much of a question what we do now. It is clear our quarry has gone this way, and thus we must as well." He looks around him, his expression guarded. "That this could be running beneath Norwood and we none the wiser...who could have built this?" "We of the surface do not truly appreciate just how much of the world we never see," Keail replied cryptically. He looked at his fellow Dal'mar, and shrugged his shoulders, heavy armor making sharp sounds that echoed faintly away. "You have seen enough to know it, Captain. Well, I might be young, but so have I." There was something in the way he spoke to the Captain that was curious, but if Taeral noticed, he ignored it. Instead, the captain started off down the passage, following the footsteps in the dust. The rest of the Dal'mar followed suit. If the other passage had been long, this one was even longer. Even the Dal'mar were beginning to show signs of weariness when, some hours later, the passage abruptly opened into a cavern so massive that it dwarfed comprehension. The road they walked on - and it became quickly apparent that that was exactly what it was - exited its tunnel into a cathedral like cavern, the ceiling easily five hundred feet overhead. And all around them was a city. A city, buried deep beneath the earth. Ancient windows gaped darkly, no faces coming to peer out of them. This place had the eerie, unearthly quality of a cemetery after midnight, a place so long forgotten that even the ghosts have abandoned it to the trials of time. And time is evident everywhere you look, too. Ancient buildings, carved straight from the living rock, have cracked and collapsed under their own immense weight. In the misty darkness, the road splits into many, and bridges span a vast cleft across the center of this chamber. Well, a few bridges do, in any case; many end abruptly in jagged slabs of stone, and the roar of a subterranean river growls somewhere deep below those bridges that still stand. And yet...and yet, even in dissolution, this palce still retains enough of its former grandeur to take the breath away. Enough buildings remain standing, elegantly carved from stone, carved from single pieces of stone, to leave one in awe. Taeral comes to a halt just outside the mouth of the tunnel you have been wearily walking through for hours. The tracks, he notes, have split up into three seperate groups here. Two of them continue across two different bridges, and another vanishes into the thick darkness to your left, between buildings into what can vaguely be seen as another gaping mouth bored into the stone. Sighing wearily, he turns to all of you. "I think we have traveled enough for one day." He had long since put his weapon back onto his back, as had the others, but he fingered thel ong hilt uncertainly now. "We are deep into the territory of those who shun the sun, now. We need to make a camp, and we need to be careful. There is no telling what is in this...this place." Keail looked around him, and shook his head. "The bones of civilization, Captain. The dust of ambition." He turned away, leaving those words, spoken low, to haunt all of you. "If you are going to look around, I implore you not to travel far. It is easy to get lost underground, and we do not have the time to come and rescue you if you run afoul anything down here." Taeral rubs his eyes. "We need a camp, and we need to rest. Things will get rough moving forward, I fear." And why he thought that? Well, he wasn't saying that either. What do you do?
Edited by Aeyliea, Tue Mar 21, 2017 10:38 pm.
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Keelin | Thu Mar 23, 2017 12:23 am Post #23 |
![]() ![]()
|
Keelin shoved her hands in her pockets, looking down at one of the many bloodstains. "Big [removed]ing surprise. More death. Who knew the focal point of this whole garish display would have no useful leads inside," Keelin grumbled to Lorica. Her annoyance was enough to, at least temporarily, make her less taciturn around her friend. Though she noticed something about the weapon, she was never actually informed what it was. Luckily, that wonderful and perfect Dal'mar came to the rescue of Keelin and her merry band of incompetent mercenaries, helpfully pointing out a false wall that they all had neglected to find. Keelin pretended to be dazzled, clasping her palms together under one cheek. "My hero! Whatever could I have done without you, you strong, observant man of the greatest military order in Imythess!" Once they both walked through the passage, Keelin's face went blank and she made an extremely inappropriate gesture below eye level. She noticed that the golem accompanying them had spotted the false wall first, but was interrupted before she could mention it. Perhaps the mercenary was too quiet or the Dal'mar were simply doing their best to steal the spotlight. It was time for the descent to begin. As Keelin maintained her glowing halo and listened to the inane banter of their insufferable leaders, she started to wonder why she was here -- other than, of course, Steadfast XIV. The coordinators of the expedition seemed to have the situation under control by themselves, and they were so adamant on looking good that they even stepped on the toes of the fighters they'd contracted. These mercenaries were fighters who, as far as Keelin could tell, looked like they actually had decent skills they could bring to the table. Keelin started to wonder if her skills could be better used for the League elsewhere, because the people in charge of this mission were not very respectful of anyone else's. After what felt like an eternity of walking through these corridors, something happened. The Dal'mar, of course, took point, since they could honestly do this job by themselves and clearly did not like anyone interfering with their hoity-toity style. Rather than be on guard, Keelin just yawned and kept her hands in her pockets. She also gave the occasional loud yawn during their glorious leaders' banter, just to annoy them. "What a mystery!" Keelin offered. "Just keep talking amongst yourselves. Don't even bother asking any of us if we can help, or if we have any skills that can bring some insight. You've got this. I believe in you." One of the dragon-[removed]ers said something cryptic, suggesting he knew more about the situation, and Keelin softly groaned in the background. More intolerable traveling and Keelin was about ready to stab everyone in the room. It's not as bad as being in a cell in ICADU. At least I still have my freedom. Sort of, she thought. Their endless traveling opened up a bit. "Whoah. ...I mean, this is like deja vu. I feel like I've been stuck in some giant subterranean complex before. Probably just my imagination." Annoyance was making her talkative, she supposed. Anything to make the Dal'mar's lives just a little bit more frustrating. Not that they were capable of showing such flaws as frustration, of course. When Keail made another vague comment about dusts and bones of civilization, Keelin interrupted the tail-end of his words: "Oh, shut the [removed] up! You're not mysterious, you're not dashing, you're just annoying." Blowing up on that Norwooder didn't actually make her feel better, so while most others attempted to explore or get more information, Keelin stuck around camp. It didn't take long to set up a patrol perimeter of Celestial scouts, though she simmered with bitter thoughts about how the Dal'mar would likely see any threat long before her own birds. Part of her recognized that she was acting immature, that she should suck it up and follow orders, but these were "superiors" from a totally different nation -- for a mission that Keelin didn't sign up for and, if she was honest with herself, didn't give a single flying [removed] about so far. There weren't any leads toward her murdered predecessor, so all that was keeping her here was Lorica. And Steadfast, of course. Just the idea of him warmed the cockles of her heart. |
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Kagiso | Thu Mar 23, 2017 11:12 pm Post #24 |
![]() ![]()
|
Kagiso stepped up to Kalim in the depths of the ancient city. She held her crossbow casually. "I've met you before. We worked together. Years ago." She looked down, a little sheepishly. "You wouldn't remember me. This is another first meeting. Call me Hawkmoth." One of their other companions approached him. He had almost forgotten she was there; she hadn't spoken up much, so this was his first time getting a better look at her. Though there was no light to shine off it, through the eyes of his helmet he could tell that her body was entirely made out of metal. He grunted. Golems had become a common sight in Istan recently, so it was obvious that's what she was, though this was his first time seeing one built so short. More surprising were her words to him. "You're right. I don't remember ever working with a golem. None of the jobs the army gave me were ever important enough to deploy one." It felt a little strange speaking so casually to an elemental. "You're another mercenary, then? If we're both still alive, that means the job went well, at least." "The bridge goes somewhere." Kagiso left to walk over the bridge. Kagiso nodded. "Not precisely a mercenary. Freelance work is worth more money. It is good to see another that has survived." She glanced over to their employers. "Have they divulged any information to you? I don't feel like they consider our presence useful." Kagiso walked up right behind Keelin. "Are you League?" "Yeah, I'm League," Keelin said, her tone dripping with annoyance that wasn't aimed at Kagiso. "Hey, I noticed you saw the false wall way before those asshole Dal'mar. I'm gonna see if they won't give us a little bit more respect. We're competent fighters, and we oughtn't be treated like children." Kagiso spoke some more. It didn't take as much courage to speak to someone she had a tenuous relationship with. "I work with Nalai." The taller woman continued to explain that she had spotted the wall first. "You noticed. I planned to act on my own, later. I feel safer that way." "Nalai. Damn. They joined the League just recently, right? Are they still in the middle of a civil war? Probably a good idea to come back later. This shitshow is going nowhere." "Very recently. Still fighting a civil war. We are going into the underdark with insufficient forces to hold off a multi-angle dark elf assault." "Well, we'll do everything we can to help you out. What's your name, friend? Let's help each other not go insane down here." Kagiso frowned at the assertion. "They may be nice away from the job." "Yeah, maybe it's part of the training to cripple themselves by ignoring the skills of their own contractors." "They may have previous experience with elven conscripts." "...Was that a dig? Given completely seriously?" Keelin chuckled. [color-silver]"Okay, you're definitely all right. I like your style."[/color] "I simply speak the truth. Conscripts are subpar soldiers and I do believe Norwood prefers a militia system, but my information is years old." The elf shrugged. "Fair enough. That's probably it, actually. They went out of their way to hire these spectacular warriors, but put a bunch of bootcamp-herders in charge of them. Poor management skills." She tapped her temple with a finger. "I am more distressed that my employers have come with me into my job. I prefer...a degree of freedom." Kagiso responded. "I am far stealthier alone. This group is doubtlessly being tracked." Kagiso watched as Keelin went to talk to someone else. A shame, then. "I'll head out. Someone has to do a bit of searching. I won't leave metamana range, Keelin." Kagiso walked towards the bridge with the intent to cross it and walk just far enough the metamana's quality worsened before returning. If she was discovered, she would evade and then use her invisibility. Stuff
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Volare | Fri Mar 24, 2017 1:47 am Post #25 |
![]() ![]()
|
A brief discussion as to what to do with the wounded, unconscious woman before them occurred, and Shirine spoke up. She mentioned Volare specifically, her birds able to watch over the woman while the others of Shirine’s company tended to and interrogated her. Volare nodded. "I have no problem with this. I can instruct my avian companions to watch over her and the others of our company until there is no more danger." Soon enough, however, a secret passage had been found and the time to descend had come. The warriors leading this expedition all had their big swords out now, though it seemed that the space in which they stood was too small to employ them properly. Before he followed after Keail, Taeral turned to the mercenaries that the elves had hired. "It will be dark from here on in, likely. I hope you can see in the dark...if not, I hope you brought torches." Volare had no problem with this. Even without her hybrid or feline forms, her eyes were fit to see through just about anything. Aside from being able to see the flows of mana woven around and through all things, they could see much farther than any human eyes - akin to elven eyes, really - and could see in total darkness. Weather effects were also not a problem for her. It was a fae trait, those eyes, one of the few remaining vestiges of what she truly was - and she silently thanked the stars and moon that the humans had not taken them from her as they had her wings. She drew Ivyn’s Ire now as well and stretched her muscles, readying herself for whatever might come. Finally, she descended with Shirine, squeezing her hand and kissing her cheek as much for luck as for support - both for her and from her. Then she turned her attention to what her fae eyes could see and what her wereleopard ears could hear. The hole that the group found in the well-dressed stone room below was clearly not natural, having been made by whomever - or whatever - it was that had so desperately sought entry. Even Volare’s eyes could not see its end, and the hole gave her an eerie feeling that she did not like. It was not natural for her kind to roam the underground places, but the forests and meadows and to dance upon the winds; as such, it was not hard to understand why she was uneasy. But this was a job, and she had overcome many innate fears during her time with Shirine’s company. She shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably and followed her elven employers, leaving the carcass of the room seemingly long-forgotten by all but the rats behind. Hours passed as they descended, mostly in silence. It was easy to fall into the trap of monotony, vigilance waning, for there was little to entertain and less to imagine. In a way, this would have been a highly defensible tunnel at one time; even standing three abreast, it would have been easy enough to trap an opponent and funnel them through, cutting them down individually or in miniscule groups rather than facing them in droves. But on the other hand, it was such a long tunnel that escape would have been nigh impossible. Those fleeing would have become exhausted eventually, as would those pursuing, and having no clear end to the tunnel in sight would have proved unnerving at best. Volare found herself occupying her mind by thinking back to her first foray into the underground realms with Shirine, a quest upon which the latter had found herself facing a former tormentor once again. It had not been a pleasant experience for either woman, although it had drawn them closer together; it was then that Shirine had discovered the loss of Volare’s wings, though she hadn’t known at that time what exactly had been done to her. The memory was vivid enough that she could almost feel the wetness where her wounds had opened again from her activities in those tunnels and labs. She shrugged uncomfortably again at the thought and pushed it away. Her thoughts went on to happier memories in order to drive out the bad ones, at least for a while - such as when Shirine had turned her, passing on the power of a werefeline to her. It was odd that she knew little of the origin of her own “curse”, yet Shirine had turned it into a blessing; it had become a part of her, no more abnormal than her elven ears and eyes. Yet for Volare, it had been a somewhat violent uprising of an entirely different cat - a snow leopard, it seemed, rather than a tigress - that had changed her forever. Yet it was for the better in many ways, and her later journey into the mountains following a druidess shifted into a rather unique bird had expanded and deepened her connection to nature further. Hearne’s own aid and that of the elven seer had helped as well, teaching her to not to forget but to accept her past as simply that. It was a part of her, yes, but it was not all of her. And the outer layers of pain and suffering, both those of her body and those of her mind, were stripped away to allow her to grow and change. And she had done precisely that. There were aspects of her personality that would never change, of course, and there were aspects that were forever changed. Most of the time, she was at least able to tolerate humans; but she still had a strong dislike of them, much preferring the company of the elves. Yet the humans she had met during her missions had not helped to improve her opinion of them; most seemed courageous only to a point, unable to move past the unnatural or the supernatural, and her dealings with them back in Gwyllion had not been much different. In her experience, humans were more cowardly than many other races. She had yet to see a particular exception to that. But at the same time, she had no interest in alienating the warriors leading them; that was why she had relented and apologized to the group as a whole at her mate’s behest - along with a healthy respect and love for her mate, of course. The experiences shared by Volare and Shirine had given them a very deep bond. She did wonder if she would ever return to her less single-hearted ways, able to trust others enough to be as free as she had been in Gwyllion. But for now, there was only Shirine. It was an odd thing for her, having one with which to mate as opposed to frolicking upon a whim. But this was not Gwyllion, and she was no longer the woman that she once had been. Things were different now, and she had accepted that. Acceptance had perhaps been the most vital part of her transformations. Volare’s thoughts were driven to the back of her mind when the group came at last to a large, square room filled with dust. Volare was thankful for the infiltrator’s cowl that she always wore, as she had no interest in a sneezing fit; that would only make things worse. The room was extremely old, older even than the caverns of that drow experimenter, and completely smooth save for the chunks of rubble that had fallen from the ceiling. There was brief whispering regarding the bloody footprints of a recent party fleeing underground, and one of the armoured warriors - Keail, she believed, if she recalled correctly - spoke in response to the words of the one called Taeral regarding who might have built such a passage as this without the elves knowing. "We of the surface do not truly appreciate just how much of the world we never see,” was all the warrior said. Volare nodded silently, concurring with Keail. Soon, however, they were following the Dal’mar once more. Volare kept herself from unpleasant thoughts by running through the movements of the blade that she knew, how they could be countered, and the possibilities of adaptation to those counters in her mind. When that became stale to her, she found herself pondering thinking back to her days and nights in Gwyllion. She had been a nocturnal creature, mostly, loving the dusk and the dawn as much as she had loved life itself. Now, in the quiet moments in her life, she found herself pondering those cherished memories often, as well as cherishing Shirine in her mind and pondering the changes that had come upon her - both positive and negative. She almost felt like she was waiting for something sometimes, reaching for it but never quite reaching it, and wholly unsure what it was she was chasing. For this reason, she was thankful for the ability to keep busy and away from such mind-numbing philosophical ponderances. At some point in their journey, the party’s path ceased to become simply a tunnel. It had become a road, and roads led to cities - as this one most definitely did. The city seemed carved from the rock itself, yet it was ghostly in its presence. Volare found herself gripping the hilt of her sword just a little tighter despite her growing weariness from the trek. She could go on for some time still if she had to, but it had been a long descent. To be greeted by a cold, dark city was not perhaps entirely surprising, but the city was awesome in its presence. Each building seemed carved from a separate great rock, and the distant sound of an underground river gave everything a distinct feeling that Volare couldn’t quite put a finger upon. Like the Dal’mar, Volare had resheathed Ivyn’s Ire some time ago. But her right hand rested upon the hilt and her left could still draw it with barely a moment’s notice if need be. Nevertheless, Taeral was correct: it was time to make camp. From the way the tracks split off and the sheer scope of the city and its surroundings, there was too much to do for it to be done all at once, and the party’s journey had not been a short one. Keail had perhaps the most fitting words for what lay before the party. "The bones of civilization, Captain. The dust of ambition." Another woman in the group, who’d been sarcastic the few times she’d spoken, now snapped at Keail about how the Dal’mar weren’t all that important. Actually, she wasn’t entirely wrong; if the Dal’mar were really that powerful, why had Volare and the others been hired in the first place? And in the second, if they were supposed to be guides, why were they acting as though they were in charge and the mercenaries were there to support them, rather than the other way around? It sounded as though these Dal’mar had no higher an opinion of Shirine, her company (including Volare), or the others than Volare had of humans. Her opinion of these people was starting to sink considerably. Taeral spoke next, saying not to go too far from the group if anyone was to explore. Rolling her shoulders and popping her neck a bit, Volare turned to Shirine for instructions. While she could certainly act on her own, Shirine was the captain of her small portion of the group, just as Taeral was the captain of his. To that end, however, a discussion was held between some of the group and the Dal’mar. About the Lords Under Stone, or whatever they were called, one of the Dal’mar said that they were “brutal”. Volare’s eyes hardened at this, and her voice had a chill to it that spoke volumes about her when she replied. “I have dealt with brutality in the past,” was all she said on the matter. Taeral turned from Keail and eyed Volare. "I have no idea what you have endured before, but I am sure it doesn't come to the same level as these bastards. Why do you think we have been in, for lack of a better term, a war with them for hundreds of years?" Volare’s eyes flashed dangerously at Taeral. That kind of ignorant arrogance was only going to piss her off, and badly. She opened her mouth and was about to say something about keeping one’s mouth shut unless one knew of another’s circumstances - or perhaps something far less polite - but Zilyana interjected and she closed her mouth without saying a word. "Though I am sure you have your own dark past too, dear," Zilyana added to that. "Perhaps we could talk about it some time, but right now I am more interested in keeping my innards where they belong - inside. We have a mission to accomplish, but I would rather be alive at the end of this. I don't fear much, but I fear them." Volare nodded curtly and turned away from them, disregarding the Dal’mar even further. If they were going to continue evoking self-importance, then Volare was going to give them the same treatment. Given that she was here as Shirine’s partner and on behalf of her company, Volare turned to her mate and Captain for instructions. “What say you, Shirine?” Volare followed her lead for the moment. OOC
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
|
|
Fri Mar 24, 2017 5:00 am Post #26 |
![]() ![]()
|
Shirine responded, "Yes it will take an hour and you are well informed I did order a group of twenty to follow us. As for the metamana's range it should be fine. I have used it in the Deep Cities and roads many times to coordinate some larger jobs for the dwarves. I doubt I will lose contact unless we go really deep or run into something that specifically blocks such magic." As there was no objection she moved to one side and activated he circlet which rested under her helmet. Shen then spoke to her people the message, "Hey checking in for the day. Send a few people into the bandit camp. We have an injured prisoner who may have information we need. Volare's flock is watching her, so she should be easy to find. Take her to your camp. Watch her and get what information you can from her once she is awake. Nothing rough unless you have to be. Also send one person to go get Terra this person needs more than the simple healing we have. In addition I want five of you to to spread out and watch the stone building in the bandit camp from the best hiding spots you can. If anyone follows us in or something strange starts happening up here call me immediately." The last part was really, because Shirine wanted to watch there backs. Clearly this was an entrance, but who said there weren't more and that some of the enemy might circle around them. Still with that taken care of it was time to move on and trust that Volare's small army of birds was enough to protect the wounded woman for a time. As they descended Shirine did not draw here weapon, but kept her self ready for an attack. She was able to draw her weapon in the blink of an eye after all. It was a technique she practiced to deadly levels. She could often finish an enemy with a good draw strike. It often made people underestimate her as a threat. Shirine also had not problem with the dark. Shirine did smile a bit at Volare's sentiment of the hand squeeze and the kiss, but only returned the squeeze briefly. Shirine was in her warrior mode and was more focused on being ready to fight. Shirine did sigh as they entered the ruined city and one of the Dal’mar made some rude comments again. Volare had even tried to apologize and they were still being antagonistic and not very respectful of this group of adventures. Shirine was starting to wonder about the skills of these people. They had an attitude that was bad in those who were skilled. Over confidence was a dangerous thing. Especially Taeral who responded with almost hostility to a much more passive comment. Zilyana was a little more respectful, but also dismissive in a way. Still Shirine at least understood her reasoning a bit. Over all though she was wondering why they were in command. As a commander her respect for them was dropping and her slight glare of disapproval showed this. She had been polite, but if they kept pushing she would not be polite back. There was also something bothering Shirine. Her instinct was telling her they were holding something back... probably something important. No... no need to get paranoid yet. She would just watch a bit more. Shirine was not too tired as her body was well trained and was just hardy in general. Hearing Volare and too Alice too if the girl didn't look too tired, she said "Come let us go look around a bit I want to scout around a bit before settling down for the evening. Get to know the surroundings a bit." Before she left to scout out with her group she said, "Ah by the way do you have an order you all want to take watch in? If not feel free to discuss it while we are scouting. All three of my company should be good to take a shift this evening. I prefer the last shift of the evening myself, but I can do any shift." She didn't expect an immediate answer, but it was one they would need to decide on. Taking watches at night was important. Especially in enemy territory. Hopefully they might have figured something out by the time she got back. Shirine did not go far in her scouting, but she did shift her focus from hearing to her sense of smell. Her nose gaining tiger features and becoming very sensitive. If a group of people came through this way she would probably smell their trail. She also was a decent tracker and could spot some tracks or signs of passage. Shirine also made sure to look about for any good defensible positions or ambush spots around them. If a fight broke out she wanted to know where they could move to. She was probably gone there for a while, but came back within a reasonable amount of time. It helped that she had tents that erected themselves as it made making camp easy for her group. She and Volare could share a tent and Alice could have the other. She did hope they had figured out the watch order by the time she got back. Spoiler: click to toggle
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Ahkrum | Fri Mar 24, 2017 9:09 am Post #27 |
![]() ![]()
|
Nothing much. No clear or clear enough signs of a tunnel opened and closed, no earth disturbed or freshly turned, just steps in the ground and signs of panic all about. Perhaps they had managed to come from outside the camp and worked their way end, but for all the time that it took for Ahkrum upon his big spider to traverse the ground, nothing was found except a large blade with a curve. Well, definitely large to compare to the Hagaan, who was already on the short side for his species. The small fae leapt from L'akolb's back to land near the weapon to examine it closer. It might not have been what he was looking for but it was still interesting. A hooked bladed design, similar to Evilstitch, but longer somewhat like what the one-eyed elf carried. Serrated edged for maximizing the amount of pain and suffering that could be inflicted upon an unfortunate recipient of the business end. Most curiously it seemed of stone rather than metal, a curious bit of working. Ahkrum picked up the sword, feeling out its weight. It was surprisingly lighter than he expected. Hollow, maybe? Or perhaps crafted of some light stone. Maybe one that could be forged like steel, reshaped and rehardened as needed. Ahkrum barely had enough time to truly examine it before it was taken from his hand with a casual disregard for his own interest in the tool, and a complete disregard for any manners regarding passing it on to one of their Norwood-appointed accompaniment. The Hagaan, being a Asivah'drok Enacot, among the strongest of all Hagaan, was curious to see if he could swing the weapon and just how that might play with and against his own stature, but that chance seemed robbed of him by an overglorified and armored guide. It was apparnetly a weapon commonly found with the Lords Under Stone. Still, Ahkrum felt his existence ignored. Was this a stature thing? Confusion quickly evolved into frustration which melted into a rage visible only in the teeth that the Hagaan bared at the back of the man who had taken his find. Taking things from a curious berserker of any sort seemed a dangerous gamble, but Ahkrum managed temper it for now, burying it to dig up later as needed. His lips closed over the relatively large teeth as he growled and returned to the back of his spider mount. "L'akolb. Done here." He hissed the words as he settled down, once again crossing his legs, but folding his body over so that he could bury his face in his arms, eyes hidden beneath the shadow of his hood peering out over criss-crossed forearms. The spider complied and moved as its master pointed to direct it. The larger people seemed to be dealing with that survivor-apparent, meaning that the fae found no reason to bother dealing with such a thing that so far seemed inconsequential. Either a trap, a diversion, an infiltrator, or just some poor unfortunate soul that was too weak to do any good, but too lucky to be dead. The group was descending now, into the earth by way of a tunnel, hidden away from plain sight. A simple mechanism of a lifting wall, an interesting trick that Ahkrum would have to be sure to take home with him. Most of the party took the stairs, but L'akolb took the ceiling. Thanks to some crafty boots, Ahkrum could place his feet firmly on the back of the spider to not fall from his place atop it. It allowed him a nice little benefit of being able to see above the heads of the large members of the party. Either the way forward would be lit by others, or Ahkrum would find himself relying heavily on L'akolb's natural senses. Either way, he had nothing to worry about in traveling down the tunnel. Chatter chatter. Ahkrum had no interest in it. Then again he was more used to having trouble shutting up between life-threatening missions rather than on them. For the Ilok Aracak, silence and ambushes were critical, with the most speech shared between them being orders and warnings barked in the heat of battle. Besides, he knew none of these people, so there was hardly anything pushing him to feel like communicating with them, and the frustrations instilled upon him by their accompaniment left him in a mood not wanting for words other than to cast insults upon the larger being. L'akolb came to a sudden turn in the path upon which it walked. Wisely detecting the incredibly rise in ceiling, it began to turn towards the ground, keeping with the rest of the party. More bickering. Bicker, chatter. Whatever. Not so many insects around here, nothing really to feast upon. What a shame. He really should have taken advantage of what flies there were above when he had the chance, as they would have made delectable meals, but he had become distracted by disrespect. A lost thought and a lost opportunity, more rage to add to his internal resevoir. Woe be to whoever received this stockpiled fury. He needed something to do. Something to divert his attention. No matter what he did, there were going to be those who dressed like dragons. They were leaving a foul taste in his mouth, and that was something rather difficult to do with the Hagaan's wide and far-reaching appetites. Quietly, still wanting to avoid edging himself into attacking one of the Norwood pompous peoples out of blind berserker wrath, he would accompany the blonde man who was going down the left bridge. Maybe they would get lucky. Maybe he could dump the anger onto something. Maybe it would dissipate enough for him to actually try introducing himself to what allies might be accompanying him down this path. |
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Hearne | Fri Mar 24, 2017 1:03 pm Post #28 |
![]() ![]()
|
Hearne busied himself setting up camp, a low melodic humming coming from the space within ivory and grey cloth. He opened his satchel and produced a tightly-rolled blanket and a single bottle from its depths. Whipping out the blanket, he lay it over the stone beneath and folded it over itself to form a thin cushion. Crossing legs beneath himself, he produced a nasty-looking knife carved from bone. Straight-edged with a curved handle, its surface was carved depicting scenes from elven folklore and demonic script, a suspiciously carmine susbstance worked deep into the carvings where it would be hard to clean out. He used the knife to cut the wax seal on the bottle and tucked it back into his bags. Reaching out with one six-fingered hand, he neatly plucked a crystal glass from the air with an accompanying wisp of vapor that immediately dissipated on the wind, pouring himself a glass. The liquid was a clear, pale lavender color that reflected an odd light as he brought it close to sip. When it left his seemingly empty hood, the edge of the glass was trailing the same white vapor as before. A slight hissing came from within the hood, but the humming never paused for the drink. He sipped for a short while while others made their preparations and grinned at Keelin's little outburst. He topped off his glass and corked the bottle, sliding it away for the time being. Rising from his seat without spilling a drop, he approached the elf. "Quite a temper this fine evening. Why not relax? We have good company," He pointed out several of their companions, placing a hand firmly to his own chest last, "excellent sights," He waved a hand out at the beautiful buildings that reminded him of the halls of the Thedran mines "and wonderful drink." He lifted his goblet, taking a hefty drink. "What's got your tail in a twist? I wouldn't have expected to see you around here." Keelin initially returned Hearne's words with a glare, but she struggled to maintain it after a few seconds. "Relaxing? Do we even have that luxury? As much as I've focused on the Dal'mar, there's still something skulking around here." She ripped the bottle out of her friend-enemy's hand and took a long swig, then shoved it back into his chest. Staring at the fire, she hugged one knee and grumbled. "You're awful optimistic tonight." "We almost certainly do not. That being said, I find it preferable to make your own luxury when none is provided. And I've noticed. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop." Hearne let her take the bottle and grinned at the rush of following stabs at him. He regarded the space near the fire calculatingly for a moment before taking a seat beside her, setting the bottle between them. "And if I weren't so optimistic I'd start to think this was a damned fine trap we've wandered into. In a dingy, somewhat musty cave with little in the way of creature comforts and a complete set of tools leading us around by the bit. It's a good thing I'm not being paid to be here or I'd be bitter about not being paid enough." He drained and discarded the goblet, letting it roll across the stone before fading away. The elf looked at him sidelong. "Been a while, Hearne. Or Harin, as it were. You even still with the League? Keep on digging into my past? And why'd you cover yourself in all those magical patterns, huh? Hiding something from me?" After a pause, she sighed, taking off her hat to run her fingers through her hair. "S-sorry. Got a bit carried away there. This mission..." Keelin pinched the bridge of her nose, making an agitated noise. "Maybe I just need some sleep. Uh, let's start over. How've you been?" "Doing quite well as of late. Got stuck up in foreign matters for a bit there, but my schedule has loosened up considerably. How about yourself?" He took a drink from the bottle, joining her in staring into the flames. "Pleasantries aside, I'm still your friend, Madaricatu. However things may seem. And as for hiding," He untucked an end of cloth at his left wrist, slowly unwinding the strip from each of his six fingers and away from his palm. A sort of thick, charged fog roiling against a paper-thin barrier was shown, seemingly solid from a short distance but ethereal up close. He flexed the fingers in a wave, once forward and once backward with equal ease, the joints moving unnaturally. "I was. This almost certainly warrants an unpleasant discussion later on with very impolite words and any number of sharp objects, but for the time being let's make this an exercise in trusting your allies." He pulled an object from the folds of his robe, a mask of iron set with symmetrical ivory plates. A line ran down the middle from chin to hairline, splitting the mask in two connected parts. They opened into a single cyclopian eyehole in the center. Resting the inside against his face, it took hold and stayed put when he brought his hand away. The mask gave something to look at and address, bypassing his memory-sidewinding appearance. The eyehole lit with holy light that did not extend far beyond the confines of his hood, the brightest point in the circle darting around to show where his gaze rested. He lifted it briefly to take a swig from the bottle. Hearne watched his party from a short distance away, having struck his camp in a new spot after leaving Keelin's charming company. He had stopped his humming, instead taking to idly playing with a deck of cards he'd brought along. He lost himself in the motions of shuffling, waterfalling, and performing odd tricks that were difficult to follow with the eye, appearing to be a combination of floating cards and great feats of balance. Nimble fingers running through the motions, he let his mind drift. After a short while he found himself holding a small structure of cards. They had been balanced on perfectly still hands, the only shiver running through them a result of others nearby disturbing the air. with a twist of the wrist they fell mostly into a small pile. Reorganizing and tucking them away, Hearne brought out a small, soggy cigar end he'd picked off the floor behind their meandering party. Placing it between two hands he began to rub them together, rolling the end between them. Opening them released a puff of smoke. Setting the soggy end on the stone floor he reached out with those long-fingered hands and began tracing in the air, coaxing and waving through the smoke just this way and that, bringing in stray wisps like sheep wandering from the herd. He shaped it into a thick mass of foggy smoke, slowly taking on a peculiar shape. With every second the shape became more and more real, gaining an incredible level of definition until each smoky strand of fur could be made out. It was something between a wild cat and a wolverine in build, holding the long fur of some popular Tarasian house cats. Even curled there in on itself, long and deadly claws kept extending from large paws that might have been mistaken for bulbous fingers. The smoke working's tail wisped like smoke might, but kept its shape and whipped now and then as he shaped the face. The working gained color, a tabby pattern with a creamy belly. It opened its eyes. Startling amber orange. Opening its mouth as wide as any natural beast could it ran a tongue over razor teeth and opened even wider, stretching almost literally from ear to ear. Pleased, Hearne placed a hand against the side of its face. It swatted his hand with one of six big paws, then gave it a sandpapery lick before nipping. Swatting it gently, he began piecing a spell together. The feline sat patiently watching his fingers twist and dance, bowing its head when he rested the spell-laden appendage on the back of its neck. His mind fell into that of the big cat, looking through its eyes and hearing through its ears. He shared its senses and kept a firm hold on its mind. "Off we go, little one." He voiced the words in their link, but to his ears they echoed from its mouth. She turned and slunk along between the two buildings and into the mouth-like chasm beyond. Mmm
Edited by Hearne, Fri Mar 24, 2017 1:08 pm.
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Mistalee | Fri Mar 24, 2017 3:03 pm Post #29 |
![]() ![]()
|
She glared hard at Keelin. The woman's loud yawning and constant anger was starting to seriously annoy her. "Might I advise you stop such actions," she said in a low spoken but stern voice, careful to try and not let her voice carry to far. "You are clearly attempting to anger the rest of us, which is immature and unprofessional. I would hope that I would not need to remind you where we are and how sound carries here. The last thing I want is enemies hearing you yawn." A sigh escaped her lips as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. This was part of why she preferred to work alone at times. Every time she joined a group there always seemed to be someone who caused trouble in the group. This was not the time to get hung up on that though. They needed to find their missing people and get back to the surface. At their camp she ignored most of the discussion going on and instead decided to do a bit of scouting with her spirit animal. As she padded down the path within the cat she wishes she could have access to the the feline's sense of smell, but the magic limited her to sight and sound. She would just have to make do with those senses. Once she had gotten past the rubble, she figured she had gone far enough for now. She knew she only had a limited range anyways. The gem on her headpiece glowed softly again as she severed the link and unsummoned the spirit animal. Quickly she relaid what she had found. "The city down that path seems abandoned, but I could not shake the feeling of being watched even as a cat. I saw no guards, but they could have magical surveillance set up. There was a previously collapsed path that someone has clearly tried to keep usable. It leads to a path that has little dust and seems to be use quite regularly. That is as far as I went." Since the other two paths were already being scouted by others and she was already tired from their trip she decided now was the time for her to rest a bit. She pulled out some of her rations and drank some water while carefully scanning the darkness. Once she was done with her quick meal she got up and started to do a walk of the perimeter of the camp before she would decided to sleep....if they even got to sleep. Edited by Mistalee, Fri Mar 24, 2017 3:06 pm.
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| Kalim | Fri Mar 24, 2017 5:24 pm Post #30 |
![]()
|
No traps. No defenders. No defenders. Just some dark seemingly endless tunnel behind a simple false wall. The lack of conflict gave him no release for his nerves, and the handful of hours spent walking in silence in the tunnel was spent pondering to himself. Well, mostly in silence. He occasionally glanced at Keelin, frowning behind his faceplate. He wasn't sure whether to be irritated or amused with the woman's sarcastic comments and obvious indifference. On one hand, he would have preferred a more...invested companion than this, but on the other, she was likely simply saying aloud what many of them were thinking. The Dal'mar's overall arrogance was a little grating to him too, but he was ignoring it for the most part in favor of focusing on more important things. Things between the mercenaries and their "handlers", as it felt right now, would come to a head eventually, and he would see how things went then. When they finally came to a stop, Kalim sighed in relief and began to stretch. The long walk had hardly fatigued him, one of the benefits of his training and days trekking under the Istan sun, but hours of silence in a cramped tunnel where enemies could approach at any moment had put his nerves on edge. He took quick stock of their surroundings, noted the footprints the Dal'mar pointed out, then peered deeper into the city, straining his already enhanced vision to see what he could make out. After a moment, he spoke. "Well, now that we're in the danger zone, might be a good idea to make sure we're all on the same page." His voice was slightly muffled by the helm's faceplate. The mercenary turned around and glanced at Taeral. "By the way, the attack on Valdea, how quickly did the aggressors flee after securing the hostages and supplies? That was likely their primary target, so they're probably being kept in a workshop somewhere, not a dark hole in this unholy mess. Knowing what the technicians were working on would be helpful as well, especially if it was weapons. We might find ourselves coming up against them." With that said, he turned to the others. "For now, I want to get an idea of our immediate surroundings to see just how safe we really are here. I'll take a look across the left bridge. Anyone want to accompany me?" Taeral and Keail exhanged guarded looks before responding to his question, and Kalim grinded his teeth. There's another. If they don't trust us, they should just come out and say so. Kalim scowled. It was obvious he wasn't happy with more secrets. The last bit that Keail said, about the lords having learned their lesson, wasn't lost on him either. So, whatever it was, it was something that had been used before. By...Norwood itself, against them? He stared hard at the elf's face. "I understand you need to keep your secrets, but if it does become relevant to the mission, an advance warning would be nice. If they went though so much trouble to acquire your people instead of killing them, it was obviously for a reason." Desipite his budding irritation, he nodded to Tyrist. "I don't mind you coming. I did say I looked forward to seeing you people in action." One of their other companions approached him. He had almost forgotten she was there; she hadn't spoken up much, so this was his first time getting a better look at her. Though there was no light to shine off it, through the eyes of his helmet he could tell that her body was entirely made out of metal. He grunted. Golems had become a common sight in Istan recently, so it was obvious that's what she was, though this was his first time seeing one built so short. More surprising were her words to him. "You're right. I don't remember ever working with a golem. None of the jobs the army gave me were ever important enough to deploy one." It felt a little strange speaking so casually to an elemental. "You're another mercenary, then? If we're both still alive, that means the job went well, at least." She posed him another question, and he slowly shook his head. "No...nothing that the rest of you haven't heard for yourselves. They obviously don't trust us to act for the sake of Norwood's well-being." He glanced over at the dragon-helmed soldiers. One hand fingered a weapon at his side. "Makes me wonder what they'll do if we do come across something they don't want anyone knowing about down here. I don't really distrust them, but I don't like feeling like I'm being herded. Anyway, you seem like you have a solid head on your shoulders...," he turned his gaze back to Kagiso, saw her metal face, blinked, and continued sheepishly. "Uh, right. So keep an eye on them. I'd rather have someone I know I've worked and came out alive with watching my back then these guys." With the discussion over, he glanced at Tyrist, jerked his head towards the bridge, and began walking in that direction. It seemed the mercenary leader in their group, Shirine, was planning to go scouting with her own group as well; he gave her a short nod as he passed her but otherwise didn't say anything. He tended to try to avoid other established mercenary groups. When he saw the small creature, Ahkrum as Kalim had heard him refer to himself several time, approached though, his greeting was a little more warm. "Glad to have you along. You're probably more adept with this sort of thing than I am, and I was starting to think that...," He trailed off, glanced at Tyrist, and shrugged. That he would be alone with a man whose intentions he hadn't yet determined. He did give the little Hagaan's mount a wary look, however. "It doesn't bite, does it?" "We should be back soon," he announced to the rest of the group. "I don't plan on going far." With that, he turned and strode purposefully into the darkness. The mercenary turned a small knob on the side of his helmet to activate it's heat seeing capabilities, drew the siegeblade sheathed at his hip with his right hand. He stuck to the side of the road, near any ancient buildings in preparation to duck inside in case of an ambush. Anytime he passed any open doorway or window, he glanced inside, but otherwise simply looked, taking note of the area while keeping his senses alert for attack. OOC
Edited by Kalim, Fri Mar 24, 2017 5:50 pm.
|
| Offline Profile | Quote To Top |
| 0 users reading this topic | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Kingdom of Norwood · Next Topic » |














7:28 PM Jul 11

