Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 3, 2023 1:18:18 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones Luca searched for mushrooms in the shadow of the heavy-bearded oaks and cedars of the Kingswood’s bouldery Southwest. The day was winding down, but beyond the green holin, there was still enough light for the unsuspecting traveler to see by - the same could not be said of those who stalked the forest. Precious little light reached the ground through the thick canopy. He didn’t mind; his subterranean heritage rarely came to his aid, but these twilit woods were bright in comparison to the caves and sewers he chose to inhabit. When his keen eyes spied several ladders of sulfur shelf creeping up the side of a tree, Luca visibly brightened, even if his surroundings did not. The boy eased his way down a sloping embankment toward his prize, using the strapling trees growing at strange angles as handholds. He had nearly reached the basin when a deep sense of foreboding ran through him like a gust of wind. Caught off his guard, he fumbled a step and slid down the last three feet to the bottom of the hill, scuffing his back against the exposed, eroded limestone. He grunted, leaning his head back against the rock and grabbing a fistful of his woolen poncho as his heart raced ahead of itself. Which sense had been tripped? He was certain he hadn’t heard anything, but -He peered into the shade of the foliage with wide eyes and perked, oscillating ears, doing an impressive imitation of a startled deer. The silence gave him nothing, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was approaching , that there was little he could do to prevent its arrival. |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Oct 3, 2023 13:51:39 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
A cold rush of wind eerily passed over the dark elfs face as a hooded figure slowly emerged from the shadowy undergrowth of the forest. Almost as if rising out of the darkness itself. The robbed humanoid held what appeared to be a high steel scimitar in his right hand, glistening in the fading light of the sun that strained to break through the canopy.
No sound was made as the mysterious man finally dropped his hood. Revealing a gleaming mithril mask intricately carved with two perfectly clear glass eyes that seemed to capture and bend the light around it. His hands were gloved and while no open skin could be seen, the stench of death was obvious to any who had noses.
With a fiercely dry and course voice, that seemed to almost gasp for air, he finally spoke, "The names Fels... you took something of mine." He ever so slightly lowered his head in the elfs direction before raising his hand and with a simple flick of the wrist, a flash in the eyes, a rush of innocuous hand gestures and a sudden stinging sensation on his left arm, an illusion was cast.
The forest seemed to almost flip on its head, as if a hallucination of tree roots, flowing like water. Grass, fruit and flowers began inverting on themselves as Feels forcibly attempted to overload Lucas senses. The masked man smiled, not that anyone could see beneath his mask. A powerful illusion of disorientation and confusion, but never guaranteed to work. "The dragon bones, I want them back..."
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 3, 2023 15:44:42 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones Wind tore through Luca’s dusty hair. He didn’t know where it came from - with a hill at his six and thicket on all sides, he should’ve been shielded from the elements. The strange weather ceased to matter when that silhouette materialized from the shade as if surfacing from a deep pond, a harder black than its surroundings. Luca had never experienced that before - his ears could be deceived, but his eyes saw what hid in the shadows quite clearly. He knew it hadn’t been there before. The only thing that seemed real and solid about it was the glint of its blade. This had to be some sort of apparition - a spirit, a shade or something. Luca didn’t know; this was out of his wheelhouse. He’d been perfectly happy not knowing! By this point, the elf had flattened himself against the rock at his back and crouched down, slowly, holding his breath to silence anything that might give him away. It was no use; when the figure dropped its hood, he knew it had come for him. A low, drawn-out whine crawled out the back of Luca’s throat, muffled by the flat line he’d pressed his mouth into. It introduced itself. Luca licked his lips, the pinprick, soft red glow of his eyes winking in and out of view as he cast his gaze onto his surroundings, searching for something that could help him. His own silhouette melted against the dark, damp rock simply because his complexion was that deep (perhaps a paler than usual), though in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to actually phase through it. “...Hi, Fels,” he mumbled. He wasn’t going to give this thing his name. He didn’t know what it was talking about - he wouldn’t have minded getting hands on that creepy mask with the fetching metal (was that mithril?), but he didn’t particularly want to see what it hid. He couldn’t imagine stealing from a thing like this. “I’m - I’m almost certain I didn’t. I would’ve remembered robbing you.”The world lurched, spinning head over ankle into dizzying space. Disoriented, for a moment Luca thought he’d been flipped telekinetically. The truth was more frightening - the features of the forest were scrambled like the hawk eggs waiting for him back at camp, the ones he’d been hoping to fix up with mushrooms. Dinner seemed so distant now. He was fairly certain he was about to die. The subtle whining had become a more vocal hyperventilation. Terror made him honest. “Bones?? You mean the ones from the abandoned camp? I - I sold those onto a traveling merchant about a week and half ago. Whh, were too heavy to keep - I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have if I’d known who they belonged to! She gave me all the gems she had for them, you can take whatever you want -” |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Oct 3, 2023 17:31:41 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
Ethuar gave an ominous dry chuckle as if purposefully faking a laugh. His gloved fingers crept closer to the young elf. Near translucent, almost invisible needles at the tips of each gloved finger, dripping with the paralytic venom of a basilisk. He considered paralyzing the boy and moving to a safer location, but knowing the Ichorborne that always seemed to be one step behind him, he decided to wait on paralyzation for the moment.
The dreadful stench of the Liche grew ever more noticable as he leaned closer. His gleaming scimitar pointing out to the side as if blocking a possible escape route. "Foolish boy... what need have I for jewels? What I require is PARTS! Flesh and blood, skin and bone, muscle and organs. All the things Needed for my creations to function."
The Liche watched the dark elf curiously whine and complain. Being an emotionless bastard the undead fiend felt no empathy, but had a strange sense of humor and felt amused by the youngsters terror. "Perhaps... there is another way you could make it up to me... unless you'd rather just owe me favor in the future."
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 3, 2023 18:53:37 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones Luca didn’t witness the poison-tipped fingers menacing him because he’d buried his face in his hands. It was unusual for him; in any other potentially lethal scenario he’d be scrutinizing every minute movement like a hawk, but with the world spinning so violently, his options were either to close his eyes and shut the madness out, or vomit on the creature’s robes. He did dry heave as it loomed over him, covering all points of exit. The stench was unbelievable. Luca had encountered dead rats with a better perfume. He wouldn't waste his breath, pleading for his life - if this thing wanted his skin and bones for its nefarious purposes, he doubted there was anything he could say to change that outcome. Maybe with it so close, he could drive his fist into its stomach and try to flee - did it have organs? Could it feel anything?”There is another way you could make it up to me.”Luca dragged his hands down his face, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth as he fixated on the only stationary thing under the illusion, the Liche himself. His eyes had grown a little bright with frightened, unshed tears, but the look in them was unmistakable - the look of a fox in a snare, prepared to chew through its leg to free itself. That sounded an awful lot like a contract. Luca could do contracts. Nice and simple - nothing weird about doing business with horrible monsters, no. Of course, he wasn’t going to agree to something without hearing the terms. He cleared his throat, trying to find his professional voice. “What’s it you want me to do?” |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Oct 3, 2023 21:09:41 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
Ethuar mumbled under his breath and he reached into his cloak. Revealing a rolled up scroll with the architectural map of what appeared to be some kind of tomb or dungeon. The Liche tossed the map at the dark elf's feet and whispered menacingly, in what sounded like a hushed snarl.
"I want you to help me loot this family tomb full of old drayke. I'd do it myself, but unfortunately it's been trapped to all hell." Fels then lifted his blade, pointing north west. "About a days travel in that direction. Overgrown and nigh impossible for one such as myself to enter... you see, the entrance requires someone with... living blood, in order for it to open."
The ominous figure of Fels finally stepped back and sheathed it's blade, allowing the elf to stand if it wished. He obviously didn't trust this elf, but a skilled thief was hard to come by. Having the young elf as fodder to trigger the traps, or hopefully disarm them would make the task much simpler.
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 4, 2023 20:33:28 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones Luca reached for the map, only to flinch hard at his assailant’s harsh voice. His hand hovered over the scroll as he glanced upward, checking for permission or deception, before he took it. It wasn’t often he had the benefit of floor plans before he burgled a place. He slid the scroll from its casing and carefully unrolled the sheaf of parchment, mindful not to crack the material. He couldn't read the labels, but he knew the symbols for figures - the dimensions of each chamber was what was important, anyway. With a practical problem to distract him from the horror of the situation, the fear took a back seat, replaced by a pinched expression of scrutiny. The thief stood a little unsteadily, pointedly keeping his attention on the map. It was the only safe thing to look at. At this point, he was beginning to suspect that that reality was not actually folding in on itself, but whatever magic Fels was using for the deception hadn’t been dismissed. “Alright, yeah. This looks…doable.” He traced over the marked entrance on the diagram. “This is a mausoleum and not a crypt, right? I mean, it’s not a problem if it is a crypt, but I’ll need to know which temple or estate. Actually, where is ‘a day’s travel in that direction’? Is this out in the middle of nowhere, or a cemetery, what? Nearby towns or landmarks?”
Realizing how many questions he was asking, Luca clamped his mouth shut, worried he’d pissed this thing off. He had plenty more questions that needed to be answered to have any modicum of success, scrounge up the right tools, but he couldn’t forget that this was not a normal client. |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Oct 5, 2023 13:29:53 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
Ethuar seemed to tilt his head and audibly growl in annoyance. For a moment fading light of the sun shines brightly upon the mask. Revealing two empty skeletal sockets behind the transparent glass eyes of the mask. The Liche curled it's long gloved fingers and pointed to the dark elf's chest. As if pondering using his paralytic touch.
He groaned with frustration before finally responding. "It's a crypt, the old Drayke estate fell into disuse forty years ago after the master of the house died and the villagers were tragically killed by a plague. In time, the Kingswood grew around the abandoned hamlet. Now the crypt of the old Drayke lords family is just sitting there, overgrown, locked and forgotten."
Seeing the young elf's sudden focus and interest he decided this might not of been a bad idea. With a swift motion of his left hand, a muttering of some incantation and a faint glimmer of the mask Fels dismissed the hallucination and watched to see Lucas reaction. Less interested in his well being, then his willingness to do as he was told.
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 15, 2023 0:45:17 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones As the sickly liquefaction of his surroundings stilled and solidified in his peripherals, Luca's attention was diverted from the plans. He straightened cautiously, still feeling a bit queasy, and checked over the topography and vegetation as if looking for tangible evidence that something had happened - but everything was exactly as it had been before. So it had been some kind of trick. The thought of bolting did cross his mind, but as Luca was neither stupid nor suicidal, he remained where he was. "Alright, it's Drayke, so that means it's pretty damn old, right? A rim lock, then? Warded?" He was reluctant to lean any closer to Fels, but he needed to in order to show the liche what he meant. Tilting his shoulder out of the way, he traced the outlined entrance of the crypt with a ragged nail, circling the short, thin hallway between the stairwell and the wider internment chamber. "...This entree, here - I've seen old estates where they've added a second set of grates after the fact, so they don't show up on the architectural plans. Should I plan for bear locks, too?"His gaze drifted from the plans and landed on the phantom's shoulder, too timid to look Fels directly in the eye sockets but not so cowed that he couldn't aim a leery side-eye in his general direction. "You say forgotten like it's unoccupied," Luca commented, clearly skeptical of that implication despite his carefully polite tone. "So what's with the magic seal - 'living blood', and all that? Was that to keep you out, or them in?"On that note, if the place was magicked enough to detect the dead and bar them from entry, it wasn't a stretch to say some of the traps were arcane in nature, either. An expression crossed Luca's face like he'd swallowed something rancid, but he held his tongue. Great. Now he'd need to bring probes and dummies to trip the runes, and in a disused underground chamber like that, there was no such thing as a safe distance - an explosion could easily become the ground floor caving in on top of him. |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Oct 17, 2023 0:15:14 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
The Liche tilted his head in amusement as the young dark elf became more focused on the job at hand. He raised a hand as if to silence the elf before responding. "It's warded against undead, both within and without. Meaning I can't enter without one of living blood, and I can't leave without you either. Though we won't be the only ones leaving that crypt... I intend to raise the Drayke and take them with me."
Examining the map, he pointed to a smaller structure just behind the ruined mansion. "That is the main entrance, Though being a two hundred year old structure there are tunnels dug out underground as you can see here." Pointing to the fainter drawn layout of the tunnels he pointed closer to the western side of the estate.
"This chamber here, is where the family and their ancestors are buried. At least sixteen drayke are locked away here. I have no doubt attempting to enter that room without a key will trigger its defenses. How functional the traps are after all this time is a mystery. But that's where you come in."
In an ominous, yet demanding tone the Liche pointed to several locations where various traps were placed, at least the ones he knew of. "I expect you to disarm any traps and open that door without triggering the alarm... which unleashes the golems..."
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 18, 2023 3:26:50 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones Luca watched his chances of making it through the encounter still breathing deteriorate with every element the Liche introduced. Between the sixteen zombies frumping brainlessly around a crypt armed to the teeth with traps and the terrifying specter that somehow knew exactly where to find him, things were already so bleak. Why worry about those alarms? Might as well add golems to the mix too. The moment Fels had finished pointing out the various problems he wanted dealt with, Luca buried his face in his hands again and exhaled raggedly into his palms. He knew he’d been dealt a bad hand, because he was worrying more about mechanical traps he’d seen than the arcane ones, and by that stringent tone it didn’t seem like Fels was going to accept ‘I'm not skilled enough for this, will you take a raincheck?’ He mumbled something like, “I just wanted mushrooms,” to himself before a fortifying intake of breath. “Okay. Are the noisemakers arcane or mech, uh, mechani - you know what? ‘Salright. I’ll just bring…everything.” He worried his lip with a chipped canine, staring resolutely at the plans as he debated if attempting to reason with the liche would result in a swift and excruciating death. But it had been willing to work with him, so far. Sort of. And if it was leading Luca around with a dagger to his throat the whole time, there was no doubt he was going to bungle the job. You're a professional, he reminded himself. You need room to work. Surely, even this creature understood that.“It’s not really a mystery, is it? Those pressure plates, they always degrade the same way. Two hundred years means the springs beneath the plates are warped and the tethers beneath the floor are brittle - I’m not guessing, I know - so they’re less sensitive when you step directly on them but more sensitive to disturbance over an area. If I sneeze from across the room ‘cause it’s too dusty? I’ll be splatters on the wall and you’ll be stuck in there until the surface caves into the Felands and the Dark swallows us all.
"I’m not saying I won’t do it. What I’m saying is I need to do it slow and careful, and I need the right tools. I wanna scour the place and give the all clear before you raise your draykes. Anything we don’t account for could fuck us. And if you don’t wanna do it that way, bring some cards for solitaire.” |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Oct 22, 2023 0:03:12 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
Fels snickered and laughed uproariously as if being trapped in a tomb playing cards was the joke of the century. A strange sound, dry and hollow yet filled with sarcasm. "Well that's fine by me, cause we both know what happens to you if you fuck this up... Oh, but don't worry! No pressure..." The tone of his voice suddenly shifted, revealing an obviously veiled threat.
Yet despite his apparent friendliness the Liche was patient enough to see how this would play out. "I have no idea regarding the alarm besides the fact that there is one. It's unclear in this map how many golems were constructed, but based on the indentations scattered across the interior of the walls and the hollow spaces within them, I'd bet there's at least six or more lying dormant."
Reaching into his cloak, the mithril masked, glass eyed undead pulled out a ring. A polished black elementum band, with a brilliantly carved, multicolored Crystalline gem. Carvings of infernal script along the exterior and interior of the band. "You say you need to collect your tools... Then that's exactly what we shall do. Tell me boy, what do you know of Shadow Travel?"
With a flick of the wrist he tossed the ring into the air toward Luca, expecting him to catch it. "What you see there is called a Ring of The Veil. Lucky for you it's enchantment is of excellent quality and should allow for up to six hours of shadow travel per day... Veil time that is." The Liche then raised his poison tipped glove toward the elf with a speed that seemed unnatural.
"I intend to reach the crypt before morning tomorrow. Fulfill this mission in its entirety and that ring is yours to do with as you please..." The liches scimitar sudden appeared less then an inch from Lucas throat. It's paralytic toxin barely visible as the infused liquid poison slowly dripped off the tip of the blade. "But make no mistake boy, betray me and I'll hunt you down to the ends of the world. I'll raise you to life after I kill you. I'll make you a possessed shade and lock your spirit within a rotting corpse. Forced to obey my will. Are we clear?"
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 23, 2023 2:45:59 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones The dark elf's attention snapped onto the glister of precious minerals, pupils dilating. His first thought was that the gemstone the band had been set with contained fractals he'd only ever seen cast by authentic crystal glass pieces from Halkris. He'd never seen a stone come in so many colors. He barely registered the question about Shadow Travel. "'It's more expensive than a bribe for a treasoner's pardon," he answered, distantly. He didn't understand a thing about the magic itself, but being a thief in the port closest to the Magocracy, he acquired a familiarity with the worth of various enchantments. He followed the arc of the ring like a cat with its eye on a bird and snatched it from the air just as gracefully. Unable to help himself, he took a moment just to admire the piece as the liche explained what it did. The realization that it was the single most valuable thing he'd held in his entire life hit Luca with the intensity of a military airship at eighty knots. It was worth even more in its potential as a tool - a thief could become the stuff of myth, the hand of Oshune herself, with that sort of power. He careened from utter dread to delirious joy, his grin a quick, white slash on his face. The pendulum swung back a moment later with Ethuar's scimitar. And interesting play of emotions crossed Luca's face as he was threatened, and then his expression went entirely still and neutral, like the liche was already draining the life from him. "Are we clear?" It asked. "Yyal ashari, yyal ebris, Era." The words came hurried, hush, and husked. It was a rare event for Luca to speak before measuring what he'd say. It was so rare that, now that it was happening, it took him a moment to realize he'd slipped into a different tongue - 'as commanded, so I do, Elder' he'd rattled off, the gravity of Fels' threat having gouged something old and Deep out of him. Choking, he rushed to correct himself, nearly forgetting that he had a blade to his throat. Before he could squirm forward and cut himself on that poisoned edge, he flattened himself against the stone face at his back - a little too forcefully, audibly cracking his head against the rock. Pain blossomed at the back of his skull. He barely reacted. "Ir - I mean, I understand. Sir."That wasn't a perfect translation. Era was a neutral term of respect, from what he could remember. Had this thing been a man, once upon a time? Had it ever been alive? The stench of rot was overwhelming. Only things that once lived could rot. He thought about being conscious within a decaying corpse, strung along like a puppet and unable to even scream. Luca always had strange and frightening dreams, but even his worst nightmares had the decency to end with simple oblivion. The horror of undeath was something he never considered before. Swallowing thickly, he closed his eyes - his expression was still carefully deadened, but his breath came hard and uneven like a horse someone had run too hard, voice wavering unsteadily. "I'm not gonna pull one over on you. Whatever you want. Let - let me live as I am."
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Oct 24, 2023 19:40:17 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
A sudden calmness came over the Liche as he slowly lowered and sheathed his blade. Quickly returning to his usual friendly facade, smiling beneath his mask, he stepped back a few paces and allowed the poor elf a moment to collect himself. "Well then with out of the way, there's no time to waste!"
Gesturing for Luca to put on the ring he abruptly transitioned to a more practical conversation. "Like most enchanted items, you will have to infuse soul energy into it to activate it. Simply quiet your mind and calm your heart to a more tranquil state."
Fels snickered at the elf as if calming ones mind was the easiest thing in the world. He watched the elf in silence for a moment as he attempted to activate the ring. Only to take a step closer and point towards his chest. Being careful not to physically touch the traumatized boy.
"Breath... Breath deep, exhale, close your eyes and imagine the world fading away. Until your heartbeat is the only sensation you can feel and hear. Gather that energy found with your heart and imagine it flowing out into your hand and into the ring itself." Fels stepped back and stood in silence until Lucas ring finally began to glow. "Yes... That's it, now open your eyes."
Fels and Luca vanished from sight in a sudden mist of shadow. Only to realize they remained in the same place. The light faded and grey, the colors of the trees ever so faintly dulled. The ever present sound of the forest was muted and the smell of fresh fruit and flowers had vanished entirely.
Even the wind itself seemed stale as everything around them moved in extreme slow motion. A butterfly remained hovering in the air before Lucas eyes, the flapping of it's wings barely noticable as time with the veil moved faster then that of the living world. "Welcome to Irkalla, the veil of the dead."
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 24, 2023 23:29:32 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones Luca felt a little off. Distressed, obviously - he couldn't recall a trial as stressful as the one he was being put through in that moment. Even when Iedan had him at gunpoint, or when he was on his knees in terrified anticipation of the warden's flog, or when he was waiting on execution, or when he had a dire boar held by the tusks and was desperately trying to outmaneuver it before it gored him, he was fully cognizant of his surroundings and actions. Fear had always left him sharp, senses whetted, aware of every nerve and muscle in his body. Maybe this was a different sort of fear; he'd never lost time, before, never felt like his limbs were foreign entities, but that was exactly what was happening. Reality was distant, shying away when he reached for it. The liche's words would not penetrate. Face blank and ashen, he followed Ethuar's demands to don the ring as if in Reverie - sized for a human, it slid off two slim elven fingers before he came back to to the world, brow pinched. Context chased the confusion from his expression, and thankfully, the ring fit his thumb just fine. Simply quiet your mind, it said. Luca worked hard to keep the incredulous scowl threatening to curl his lip at bay. "Hnn," he grunted, thin and strangled, in acknowledgement, but the task set before him was impossible. He had no idea how to 'infuse soul energy' into the ring and even the strange way items sometimes tugged at his sternum was beyond him. The creature watched him struggle. There was no more room at Luca's back to retreat when it drew closer and lifted a wretched finger toward his chest. But strangely, Luca had no trouble following Ethuar into the veil once he asked the elf to imagine the world fading - it'd been a struggle to keep from slipping back into that peaceful numbness when the reality of his situation was so terrible in contrast, surrendered to it with nothing short of shuddering relief. He did not meditate himself to the In-Between so much as disassociate into it. There was a butterfly between himself and the liche. One of the cabbage ones, pale with a little black dot on either wing. There was nothing particularly interesting or especially beautiful about it - they were common in the early spring, not even worth pinning to a cork board for documentation in the eyes of zoologists and alchemists. But the down sweep of its wing was sluggish, as if it were fighting against water. He could see the dust it shed furl through the air like foam on a wave, could watch every particle push against the next, millisecond by millisecond. There was time to identify every microscopic cause. There was time to watch each effect unfold. Slowly, he came to the understanding that the problem wasn't with himself - or at least, slowly within the Veil. His eyes had been crossed to watch the spectacle of a butterfly slowed to a fraction of its speed, but now that he noticed the desolate version of reality he'd been pulled into, he couldn't decide where to focus his attention. Gasping, he took advantage of the space Fels had given him, stumbling blindly away from the slope and into the basin of the glade. The clay did not suck at his boots and the briar did not cling to his pants; he passed through the thicket like a ghost, turning in a wide circle. He looked up through a translucent canopy to a pale sky that somehow shed no light. He startled at the liche's voice, turning sharply toward the source of the sound - but it sounded like it was coming from everywhere. It approached before anything had actually been said, like a backwards echo , layered like the feedback in an old automaton's voice when it had one foot in the grave. "The dead?!?" He repeated, and was immediately disturbed by the way the Veil predicted what he would say before he said it. His own voice had been preceded by a similar echo. |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Oct 25, 2023 18:49:27 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
Fels snickered again, his throat cold and dry as if coughing up sand with every laugh. The air itself felt thick and near viscous enough to swim through. Breathable, but stale with a scent of decay smothering the misty air around them. He turned to the elf and nodded. The liches eyes still examining the area.
A faint glint of light sparkled through the trees behind Luca for a brief moment before vanishing from sight. The Liche stepped closer snapped his gloved fingers. The echo resonating around the small clearing like a barrier as he muttered a brief incantation in infernal.
"Lead the way boy, in this place time is plentiful. But never drop your guard... There are worse things then ghosts in the realm of wandering souls." Fels patiently waited for Luca to get his bearings before finally choosing a direction. It took less then a minute for a sudden rush of cold air to take hold of the spiritual barrier Fels created.
As the temperature dropped, the Liche raised a hand and motioned for Luca to stop. A subtle dripping sound, like water flowing from a river caught his attention. Normally this would be totally normal to hear. But in the veil, nothing was normal and fels knew that too well. "Keep your eyes peeled, I doubt we will encounter anything, but rivers only make a sound here when something moves through them. So watch your step..."
As they continued, Fels wondered as to the unusual activity in this forest. Typically activity in the veil was fairly rare to encounter. The world was a big place after all. Yet something about this area of the forest seemed more aware of their presence then usual. Best to keep moving, he thought to himself. No common ghost is stupid enough to interrupt a Liche.
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 29, 2023 0:28:40 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones "There are worse things than ghosts in the realm of wandering souls."Luca had to agree; Fels was currently in it, and Fels was the worst thing to happen to him in some time. He clamped down on the impulse to say something smart and just nodded in resigned, anxious comprehension. "Alright. It's due South, down by the Highway."Being that Fels was the worst thing he'd encountered, Luca didn't really want to lead the liche back to his demesne, but there was no refusing it. He needed those tools and he doubted he could convince his 'client' to rendezvous. At least there was no need to slog back up that steep hill if 'time in this place was plentiful' - he didn't particularly want to try, when the air felt so thick and heavy (and when the ground itself didn't quite feel corporeal). At the liche's behest, he lead them back towards the road, picking his way through the leaf litter like he expected the earth itself to give out under his weight. They'd barely made any progress before the air grew frigid and the liche was signalling for him to stop. He could hear the burble of distant water, but it didn't seem to matter which way he tilted his ears - it was coming from everywhere. Unsettled at Fels' explanation of that, Luca turned back to the liche, his lips pressed in a pensive line. "That's, uh. We're headed towards the closest running water, least as far as I'm aware. So that's not great, right?"
Gods willing, whatever spell the liche had cast would hold. Luca wasn't relying on something he didn't fully understand, however, so he paused every twelve paces to survey their surroundings and jumped at every wavering shadow.
The thief's hideout wasn't fortified or grand as some bandit encampments, but it was halfway to luxurious and well disguised for how precariously close to the highway it happened to be. There were small but sprawling tributaries that connected the two great rivers of the heartlands, and it was these streams that the roads around Western Kingswood tended to follow - though of those roads, there weren't many. Why transport by cart what can be done by skiff, after all? In any case, Luca's favorite road to harass followed one such stream. There was a narrow gulch six feet across and some twenty yards from the highway where the creek it followed became an underground stream, banks wide enough that a sow might choose to make its den there (and one had, earlier that year, to Luca's dismay). What wasn't hidden by the earth was disguised by heavy thicket on either bank and a great oak above the mouth of the cave itself, which was just wide enough to persuade a merchant's cart through. Luca approached his camp more cautiously than he had since the dire boar encounter, pushing back the partition of roots, beard lichen, and muslin he'd shredded to imitate the natural surroundings to reveal one such cart turn on its side and pressed flat against a wall of earth, as far away from the narrow stream as possible. He'd cut the reigns to free the mule he'd used to haul it in, then lashed them to an exposed elbow of roots in case of flash flooding. With some branches bound together to form shelves, it served nicely as storage and boasted a truly eclectic menagerie of items - useless knick-knacks and small statuettes, leather bound volumes with titles in gold leaf, perfumes and pots of spices, pretty little daggers with jewel-encrusted hilts, bottles of cognac and wine, furs, and and a great number of carved boxes. He crossed his camp - insulated and decorated with ornate rugs and cushions and a single ottoman with a flixan hide thrown over it, as if he'd robbed a haberdasher (which he had) - to rifle through a box on the lower shelf, close to the well-used pile of feather-stuffed pillows and the enclosed firepit. For the briefest moment, it felt like his fingers passed through the beech wood. Then the world slid forward into solid and unforgiving corporeality. The return to to Mortus felt a lot like gravity, like the ground rushing up to smash his face in; Luca splayed his hands out to catch himself, but remained perfectly vertical. It still took a moment to reorient himself. It was chilling how quickly he forgot what reality felt like. As lockpicks and probes and files and other such instruments disappeared into the folds of his poncho or the knot where he tied his hair back, he kept glancing into depths of the cave. It narrowed to a fraction of its size further in. He kept expecting some horror with sloughing flesh and yawning eye sockets to crawl out from the squeeze - he normally felt so secure here, but something about having viewed it through the Veil made it seem like it wasn't his anymore. The hollow-eyed thing at his back didn't help, either. |
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 30, 2023 4:45:22 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones Luca was excavating a small satchel from between the cushions to carry what couldn't be conveniently hidden in his hair or sleeves when a shiver ran down his spine. Normally, he'd dismiss that as a draft, but with circumstances being what they were...he turned to check on his 'guest'. The liche wasn't there. Alarmed, Luca stiffened and ducked to check under the lichen that curtained the world outside from view, but in the same moment the shadows in the pitchy recesses of the cavern spilled like upturned ink. And there Fels was. The dark elf startled badly, sucking in a muffled shriek through clenched teeth. Luca was struck with déjà vu, like he was deluded for thinking the liche had been anywhere else . What was it Fels had said about the Veil? 'Time was plentiful.' There was that cabbage butterfly suspended in the air and moving centimeter by centimeter, and there was the way moving through that realm felt like treading water. Was that time he was fighting against? Considering how slowly that butterfly was moving, if time moved just as slowly everywhere else in Irkalla, that meant Fels hadn't just lingered a few seconds. The creature had whole minutes to do... something.In Luca's cave. Where he tranced. Where he dressed. Where he cooked his omelets. The elf looked on his own domain like it was covered in bat guano, running through the stages of grief rapidly as he came to terms with the fact that he'd have to move again - he'd really enjoyed this hideout, but he wasn't going to bed down next to whatever the liche had tracked through his door. He looped the satchel around his neck and stood, pulling the last of his gear - an unloaded flintlock and a tarnished case of bullets - from the top shelf before joining Ethuar at the mouth of the cave. "I don't suppose we're taking horses the rest of the way." He lifted the ring to his face, twisting the band around his thumb until he could see the brilliant stone it was set with. He wasn't sure he could activate it again - whatever state had taken over him, it wasn't coming when he called it, now. |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Oct 30, 2023 23:03:06 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
Fels snapped his fingers as if expecting Lucas question. With an eerie whistle that sounded like a bone flute, the trees behind the young elfs camp began to rustle. Two anima appeared from the brush, undead, zombified horses. Saddled and clothed in chain armor across their backs. Their skeletal figures partial visible and the stench of death exuding from their mouths.
"Was this what you had in mind?" The Liche laughed and pointed to the anima on the right. "Hop on, she won't bite... Unless I want her to." A fleeting sense of joy rushed over the mad necromancer as he gracefully leaped over the side of the undead horse and grabbed the reigns.
Looking back at the hesitant Luca he simply gestured to the horse again and snarled. "I won't have us waste time, just cause you're a bit squeamish. Get on and let's go, I don't have time to waste, damned ichorbornes probably got my scent by now." He waited a moment for Luca to finally get on the horse before making another whistle, shorter and louder this time.
There was a brief moment of calm for Ethuar as they began trotting further into the woods. Purposefully avoiding the trail he knew was likely being watched. Tilting his head he looked back toward the elf. His mithril mask glinting in the slowly fading sunlight. "If... He... Gets to us before I get those drake raised, it won't be fun for you."
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Oct 31, 2023 21:03:10 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones Somewhere, the monkey's paw curled. Luca was kicking himself for having said anything at all as the two hellish beasts cantered down the gulch, splashing through the silty water. Luca had always thought horses were handsome, magnificent creatures - like deer and antelope, they were spectacular to watch in motion - but seeing them with their skin off spoiled that for him somewhat. "Nope. Nope. Nah." He retreated a pace or two into his hideout, nearly pushed to the limit of his tolerance. Then he remembered how dismal his end would be if he deserted and discovered new reserves of tolerance he hadn't known he'd possessed. "Shit. Shit. Sun and Moon from Elua's thorny 'natch, spit in my drink."Was that a note of glee he detected in the liche's tone? He thought that Fels' heavy-handed cruelty was just to ensure he remained cowed and obedient, but now... The realization came with a touch of outrage; he was being toyed with. Like an unfortunate mouse, caught by a cat that refused to end things cleanly because it took sick pleasure in the game. He glowered at one of the flat rocks beneath his boots, jaw working. Luca knew he wasn't a good person, but at least he didn't play with his victims. Every indefensible thing he'd ever done was for a reason. "...You know it wasn't."
Considering the alternative was a half-existence lead under Fels' heel, he did approach the remaining horse, but he wasn't happy about it. He paused beside the anima, stiffening as it swung its creaking head around to regard him with unseeing eyes - 'she' looked like death's own steed. He'd had a few experiences with riding horseback - normally, he'd brace a hand on its shoulder and heave himself over, but this thing didn't seem as structurally sound as other horses. And it reeked as bad or worse than Fels. He'd never get the smell out of his hair. Normally, it would be the horse that jolted and splayed its ears back at a rider's snarl, but as the anima had no ears to move or soul to startle, Luca filled that role. He acted without thinking, scrambling onto the saddle and shuddering as his knee slipped in between the hollows of its ribs. They rode through the lengthening shadows of the wilderness, lit more by the fireflies that rose from blackberry bushes and small meadows of lupine like embers than the light on the horizon. There was a long silence between them, Fels perhaps lost in thought and Luca in despondency. Fels was the first to break it. "If...he...gets to us before I get those drayke raised, it won't be fun for you."Luca raised his head, his eye drawn to the glint of mithril like the magpie he was. He'd pulled his shawl up to cover his nose, unable to acclimate to the stench of the three undead he shared a space with, but his brows were furrowed with worry. He couldn't tell if Fels was being needlessly cruel again or if he mentioned this because there was something Luca could do to prevent 'his' arrival. "Okay," he said, very carefully. "Who's 'he'?" |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Nov 1, 2023 17:11:52 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
The Liche scowled beneath the mask as he waved a hand in dismissal of Lucas questions. His own frustration over the hunter chasing him for the past several months. "Don't worry about that hunter bastard. He's a day or so behind me. And we have a half days travel north west on horseback at best, to get to that crypt."
Ethuar was unsure about the hunters whereabouts, but he knew shadow travel didn't leave tracks. These horses might, but with the elf kid currently unable to activate the ring he didn't have the time or patience to figure it out.
As they continued for roughly an hour, following a small stream northwest, through the thickening forest. Fels noticed something that he intended to avoid entirely. "Damnit... The trail. If that fucker sees tracks through here he'll be on my ass in a heartbeat."
The anima made a bone chilling snort, stomping their feet and clacking their skeletal teeth together. Something was clearly watching the road and fels knew he couldn't afford another run in with the Ichorborne. Especially not before he found his prize.
Fels turned his head to face Luca, the eery blackness behind the glass eyes of his mask ominous and foreboding. "You will try the ring again... This time, keep your hands on the horse. Don't have time for whining, just do it."
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Nov 2, 2023 1:44:32 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones Just like the stench, there was no way to grow comfortable in Fels' harrowing presence. Luca passed the hour in a cold sweat, his head bowed to hide his face behind his hair, and the four-beat grind and click of the horses' unnatural locomotion provided a rapid marching beat to keep his stuttering heart in time. He worried about the hunter, despite being told not to, because if he were in the liche's shoes and something were hunting him, he wouldn't slow until there was at least a week of travel between them. The minutes dragged and the sun fell under the horizon. When he realized that the reanimated mare would not respond to any of his directions, as if it were following an invisible track, Luca withdrew the floor plans to the crypt from his sleeve and poured over them again and again. It helped, a little, to translate the lines to three dimensions in his mind's eye. It was good preparation and it took him away from the present. The horses came to an abrupt stop. Luca bit the inside of his cheek as that worry caught up to them, carefully rolling the scroll up and concealing it behind layers of wool and cotton. The forest didn't seem any more or less silent than on any evening to his ears, but who knew what extrasensory perception Fels was using to gather his information. Perhaps the undead could just sense ichorborne. He ducked into his shoulders to avoid the liche's empty gaze, twisting the ring around his finger and squeezing his eyes shut. A staccato heartbeat pounded in his ears. This whole charade felt like an execution with more steps, but he supposed the liche had nothing but time to kill on charades. He thought about the gallows at the end of Obelan's Thoroughfare, the bodies that swung over the crumbling city walls of Portos. On execution days, the guards dragged criminals to the highest ramparts, bound them, and kicked them over the edge - some were hung, and some were given such long leads that no matter were they were tied the force of the drop would break them beyond repair, but others were bound by their ankles and left to suffer for days. When you died like that, it was ugly. All your blood pooled in your head and your organs packed into your rib cage until you either asphyxiated or hemorrhaged. He'd had Gwin read to him about it, once. But he always thought it was a strange mercy, being hung so high up. You'd be able to see over the city skyline. You'd be able to watch the ocean. Pain lanced through his palms and he jerked back with a gasp that was preceded by echoes. When he opened his eyes, he was grey-knuckling the horse's vertebrae so hard that the bleached bones had cut into the base of one palm, thin lines of blood staining them red. He forced his fingers to uncurl and had enough presence of mind to keep his uninjured hand on the horse while he examined the wound, testing his range of motion. Nothing compromised, it just hurt. Good. Swallowing thickly, he stared into the somber forests of the Veil as the anima carried them ever closer to their destination, fighting hard against time pushing back against them, rushing like wind in the world of the living. He prayed to whoever would listen for Fels to not have anything else to say to him. |
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Nov 3, 2023 14:55:08 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones The night was spent in misery, six hours lost to a slog through the sterile realm of the dead and another ten until sunrise. By morning, Luca had lost feeling in everything south of his waist, and he was pretty sure he'd herniated a disc - he was hale and preternaturally flexible with Sylvan joints, but no one could sit in one position so long without suffering some damage, let alone on horseback. Luca had become painfully aware of muscles and ligaments he hadn’t known he had, lactic acid building until his anxious thoughts had mostly been drowned out by the agony, ruthless and insistent in his pulse. He couldn’t recommend the jump from having ridden a small number of normal, mortal horses in one’s life to a twenty-four hour joyride atop a skeletal monstrosity. There was no way to balance correctly on something that had no fat or muscles to absorb the shock of its galloping - the only thing he could do was lean forward and hold onto the mare’s neck for dear life as it sped through the brushwood and bounded over obstacles, feeling every jostle like a knife. Despite this, Ethuar wouldn’t hear a peep of protest or complaint from him. The suffering was preferable to becoming material for the liche, and Luca could take a day of boredom, fear, and hunger like a buckler could parry a thrust. Reverie was caught in ten-minute counts of time, slow blinking at the rush of pebbles and leaf litter beneath the horse until his subconscious reminded him that he wasn’t safe, each time sitting up with a sharp intake of breath and reassessing where they were out of mechanical habit. The only thing he was really worried about was the lack of water and the damage this was doing to his body. The only reason the gouge in his palm had concerned him was because, if he’d caught a tendon or a nerve, he’d be of no use as a lockpick. That would hardly matter if his legs couldn’t carry him to the traps. The horses came to a clattering halt. Luca jerked forward, catching himself on the horse’s shoulder blade before he could pitch forward and break his neck. When he tried to dismount, however, all he managed to do was slip sideways off the saddle and land with a huff on the ground beside her. He took a moment just to shut his eyes, luxuriating in the solidity of the ground and living vegetation curling at his ears and neck. He shifted, arching his back, and earned himself a nauseating eight part crack that was so loud he would’ve thought it had come from the horses if he hadn’t felt it in his spine. He laid there, breathing shallowly through bared teeth in the effort to not make noise, forcing himself to stretch out the sore muscles before they locked up, until the Liche either threatened or manhandled him into action. To his surprise and immense relief, he could stand - albeit shakily, hobbled like an elf two centuries and then some older. Well past the point of caring about how horrifying the anima were, he held onto the mare’s saddle as he examined the layout of the rotting, squat little buildings arranged haphazardly around disused footpaths and the forgotten mansion. “...Are we going in through the front door, or one of -” His voice cracked, dry and reedy with pain. He swallowed and tried again, but his throat didn’t want to voice the rest of that question. |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Nov 4, 2023 17:32:12 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
Fels leaped gracefully off his skeleton horse and gently landed upon the overgrown grassy clearing that lay before them. He examined the area from a distance before raising a hand and motioning for Luca to follow. "Entrance to the crypt is behind the mansion, near the edge of the old gardens out back."
As the two continued forward, the Liche seemed to slowly inch forward, hunched down which his head below the waist high tall grass. An unusual cautiousness that Luca had yet to see from the undead monstrosity. They quietly made their way around the side of the mansion, until the old gardens came into view.
The mansion itself was at least four stories tall, covered in vines and other plant growth. But as they entered the garden around back it became clear how utterly overgrown and wild this place had become. Thorns and bristleing bushes so long and so sharp they'd cut flesh and bone alike. Flowering plants dripping poisonous nectar, fruit trees covered in spines soaked in some strange murky liquid. Rusted barbed wires thrust into the midst of it.
All of it tangled haphazardly in a jumbled mess of overgrowth and colorful death. In the center of it all, was a old cobbled structure, with a thick stone doorway and a faintly glowing, dull blue runic sigil, written in what appeared to be celestial. Fels flinched as his boot brushed against one of the spines on a fruit tree. Cutting into the boney rotting flesh of his foot. "Wait... was that... pain I just felt?"
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Lucalrith
GOLD
Posts: 45
Registered: Oct 1, 2023 0:14:32 GMT
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Post by Lucalrith on Nov 6, 2023 1:25:38 GMT
in the night they stole it; left you skin and bones Motion was the lotion. What began as a stiff walk through the village became an exercise in agility, slinking through the unmanicured fields with his legs bent in a lawbreaker's crouch. It occurred to Luca that he never thought to ask what guarded the rest of the mansion - if it were ichorborne inspiring Fel's caution, that was one thing, but golems wouldn't be good for Luca's health, either. The carcass of the house loomed over them, its roof shorn like skin peeled away, its timber ribcage unfolded blood eagle under the clouds. He couldn't say the garden was devoid of beauty, but what little could be found was beauty of poisonous things; bright, dazzling colors that said stay away. He pulled his arms tight around himself, trying to present a smaller target to the thorns and bristles more accurately described as pikes that bowered over them. Not even the ground was safe. Luca had been watching it for trip wires and pits, but apparently the shrubbery provided its own defenses. You just hate to see it, he thought vindictively. Still, he didn't miss the implication of the liche's disbelief. He cast Fels a scrutinizing look as he overtook him, making for the heavy doors of the crypt. He wondered how much of this was coincidence - with a seal made to prevent the dead from entering and leaving, and plants that could harm something that couldn’t feel pain, everything was purpose built to deter the undead. Why go to such lengths to prevent one specific type of grave-robber? He came to a stop before the stonewall ruins that lead to crypts, crouching down to get a closer look at the sigil. Some lesser runes could be made inert by simply breaking the lines - kicking apart a circle on the ground, or dragging a hand over a chalk symbol - but it was risky, because if they were of any quality breaking them could be as dangerous as activating them. The only surefire way of deactivating them without risking life or limb was to accurately follow the same strokes the artificer had made. It required a good eye for script and stonework, a steady hand, and a stylus with varying highsteel nibs that matched the tool the rune was carved or written with. Luca possessed all of these to some extent, including a flat-headed nib wide enough, but this particular rune was split between two doors. It’d be tricky. He left it alone for the time being, searching for triggers hooked to the door itself. He looked for a good place amongst the briars to put his weight down, on his hands and one knee and brushing away the decaying leaves and twigs that blanketed the structure’s steps. Some careful examination, a few different instruments exchanged as he looked for the right size, and a number of colorful phrases later, a sound like coins falling down a chute sounded from the hollowed frame around the door. Luca sat up with a hiss, sitting back on his knees and bracing his hands on his hips, stretching away the way his body protested at being forced into awkward positions so soon after escaping Fels’ nightmare ride. “Okay, so if I hold this door open for you is that gonna be enough?” |
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Ethuar Felson
GOLD
Posts: 51
Registered: Sept 12, 2023 0:44:05 GMT
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Post by Ethuar Felson on Nov 7, 2023 20:04:33 GMT
Late Afternoon - Southwest Kingswood
Ethuar stood behind the elf in utter silence. Glancing back over his shoulders every minute or so as if expecting an enemy to pounce on them at any moment. As the morning sun slowly rose higher in the sky his patience began to wain. Until finally the sudden click of the door caught his attention.
He tentatively took a few steps forward as the thick stone door seemed to slowly glide effortlessly inward. Kicking up dust and debris as it did which made a cloud of dust particles which filled the chamber. As he cautiously looked inward, he noticed a cracked stone stairway leading deeper underground.
He motioned for Luca to stand in front of him and before the poor boy had a chance to speak. The liche pulled out a thick but painfully sharp needle from his cloak. Or more accurately a thin, foot long, pointed spike. Grabbing the boys hand he pricked Lucas finger, the spike absorbing several drops of blood.
In a single delicate movement Fels stabbed the spike into his own shoulder. The living blood seeping out and spreading like veins across his skeletal figure. Placing the tool back in a pocket of his cloak he finally spoke. "You first..." He gently pushed him forward down the steps. A sudden blue flash of light on the ceiling revealing a second ward.
Ethuar paused for a moment, but seeing as the boy was alive, he clearly didn't trigger the alarm. The liche then took a single step past the door and into the crypt. The same blue flash accepting him as a living being. "And that's what the blood was for, wasn't sure that'd actually work. But seeing as I'm able to enter, we can continue. This blood masking only lasts a few minutes."
As Ethuar listened to the boy gripe and complain he smiled beneath his mask, clearly enjoying himself. The staircase was steep, but only went down about twenty feet before opening up in a main hallway. A ten foot high ceiling and about twenty feet wide. With various branching rooms and tunnels stretching out beneath the entire property. "Pull out the map, we're gonna need it... And watch your step."
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Cadeus Durosh
SILVER
Posts: 28
Registered: Sept 15, 2023 1:08:33 GMT
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Post by Cadeus Durosh on Nov 14, 2023 18:47:30 GMT
![]() The Hedonist Satyr | Ichorborne Hunter |
Two weeks he'd been tracking this Liche, always one step behind the undead fiend. But finally cade had made some decent progress. He was certain he was only a few hours behind this time. Stumbling upon a series of tracks that seemed to appear in one area, vanish then appear in another.
Sure he knew about the undead ability to shadow travel, this wasn't his first encounter with a necromancer of his caliber, but something felt off. He knew the thing was in this part of the forest, but this set of tracks revealed two riders on horseback. Too light to be flesh and blood... Anima maybe?
It wasn't the fact that when tracing the tracks they seemed to appear out of nowhere only to travel northwest at breakneck speed. No, it was the second rider that caught his attention. Why would they travel part way through the veil only to spend the majority of their journey in Mortus.
There was a deeper mystery here and the monster hunter was determined to solve it. Many hours he followed these tracks, based on his knowledge of the region their most likely location was evident on a map. But why an abandoned old mansion reclaimed by nature, and why bring a second person with him?
Using his collection of long lasting swiftness and stamina potions he almost ran out of his supply by the time the sun appeared over the horizon. He was certain he'd nearly caught up at this point. Even a skeletal horse couldn't outmatch his speed of travel when he was fully stocked.
But as he hid among the trees outlining the clearing, the second voice caught him by surprise. Wasn't that the same dark elf kid he had saved from an ogre attack a while back? The satyr was terrible at remembering faces, but he could pinpoint a voice out of a roaring crowed like a champ.
As he quietly made his way closer he pulled out his dragons breath potion, only elixir left besides the oil for his blade, but cade didnt care. This damned Liche had kidnapped a young man and it was time for his grand entrance. As they entered the crypt out back he cautiously crawled closer, peering through the brambling weeds like a professional stalker.
Ha, the bastard might as well have cornered himself. As he silently unsheathed his short sword and raised his giant boar spear, the satyr grinned with satisfaction. This was almost too easy, yet another win for the undead slayer. "This should be fun."
TAGS - Ethuar Felson Lucalrith
Cadeus Durosh
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