Fate - First Reply An Encircling Enigma Begins

[Ktaris]

A Shadow Cannot Change their Path, only confuse others into not revealing it.​

Southern Eretejva
Ice Taiga, under the Tundra Reaches Valley
Enigma City. Real name unknown.
Obsidian Sanctum
Deep Underground in Enigma's Emerald Vaults.

Chapter 2 - An Encircling Enigma Begins
Following: What lies Beneath the Spinebreaker

At the lies of Engima City, in the unknown Obsidian Sanctum, deep within Emerald Vaults, made of thick black obsidian and adorned with deep emerald cuts, darker than the stone should be, because shade blighted even the most precious of gems. Green light seemed to want to move between the gems, but faded into obscurity as it touched jet-black obsidian.

Three elven agents stood beside their leader Daiches, all dark-clad Tundra Elves, all awaiting Daiches word as he read through the carefully misspoken Shadon lies, the senior elf spoke in a rasping tongue, with high accents on vowels and sometimes a guttural proclamation. An incantation of lies and a way to lose the knowledge of this place forever. A language written in riddles and half-truths, mysteries to infuriate and blind the untrained eye. Patience was eternal to master it, silence a virtue to not be drawn into bewilderment. The great arch had been meticulously recovered from orc lands around the spine of the world, rebuilt here, not without cost in life but what is life to eternity, another voice, another vessel to speak within it.

The Obsidian Sanctum was a huge web of black stone pathways, the vaults themselves were indeed endless, you could easily get lost in these dark twisting corridors with little more than faint emerald shimmers to guide you, shadows were cast everywhere and with good reason, some even seemed to move of their own accord. There were no markings to guide or inform you, such things would be heresy.

So very few outsiders knew of Engima, and their very nature, no their religion and god demanded they remain in anonymity. Agents worked to keep it this way in subtle gestures. Shadows all. Any price was paid to keep it that way. Others knew what the Shadow Court wanted them to know, that mindless black minotaurs prowled the ice taga above and they were hostile to strangers who wandered too close. One such Minotaur stood towering behind Ktaris, he had subdued him at the spine of the world, and bent him to his service.

An agent of the Shadow Court, An Agent of the Blind Mind, he an agent of the Tome Keepers, all with different agendas in service to Eleth the Unknowable. Overseeing Daiches speech was the blight born, a hood with no face, eternally a void of anything but encompassing shadow and anonymity, and perhaps the most unnerving of all. For all here, it was a reward for them recovering the arch, a recognition of their service.

During the ritual to blind the world to the truth of this gateway, a curious phenomenon began to occur. The arch's stone form itself slowly began to change...

The Outside world would never know, or would they? Surely none of the Gods or Mortals had the foresight to send or by chance direct an unlucky observer here right now and quash this in its infancy? This gate was the beginning of something terrible beautiful, and it was starting right now, perhaps those magically inclined might sense something subtly slipping.

 

[Ingrid]

It was hard not to notice a bear, especially in such a pace as Enigma City, so Ingrid was in her Nordenfiir form. Her unusually large size still stood out; there were not many Nordenfiir in this portion of Eretejva; Enigma City was dominated by the Tundra Elves.

Ingrid walked above ground, her sword hidden by her fur cape so as not to draw any more attention than necessary. She had left the quiet, dark town behind her and had stopped at a particularly rocky outcropping. The rock was jet black obsidian, and it seemed to absorb all light that hit it, save for the faint green glow that came from a tunnel beneath. This was where it was coming from.

She shut her eyes and reached for her other half. When she opened her eyes she was in her bear form; a massive black bear with a gray marking on its front left shoulder, marking it as a Nordenfiir bear. Her senses heightened, and Ingrid could feel the magic closer.

She lumbered down the descending tunnel, her large paws silent on the obsidian rock. She didn't know how long she was walking when her heightened hearing heard the muttering of another language. It sounded like Elvish, but she couldn't be sure. She raised her head, sniffing the air. There were definitely people ahead; how many, she didn't know.

Even in her bear form, she could feel the magic rippling out from in front of her as she took silent steps forward.

 

[Ktaris]

Ingrid

Silent steps from a magical hunter. It was said the Emerald Vaults themselves were a maze without answer, no one here would know how many walked its halls, or were lost there. Even the shadows that watched them, to become unknowable was the highest goal of any architectural Enigma design.

Shadon Incantation seemed to taint the smell of the air, in a questioning way, curiosity but no answers to its scent, its nature to hold interest perhaps indefinitely, much like the design of the vault. There were many platforms leading into the open area which contained the ceremony and stone arch, steps upward and down, with no discernable uniform orientation.

Ingrid may be above them, below them, to the side, or underneath, all were possible in this place which seemed to converge several of the vaults passageways into a nexus of sorts, perhaps one of many in the obsidian sanctum's underground level.

Within a dim huge room, with but flickers of green light, Ingrid might see six elves and one black minotaur on guard. One elf loudly reading a tome on a pedastool, three in black watching, one unnerving faceless hooded figure watching them, and off to the side yet one more unseen presence watching them. The final observer looked slightly different, with long silver hair and crouching out of sight on a lower platform, she was armed with a bow... and a book.

Ktaris watched the stone design begin to slowly darken like its surrounding, but more, to take on the form of the gateway it was connected to once open, the edges seeming to phase. This was a relic of times before, before this world became as it is now. Where it was physically located didn't matter as much as what it connected to.

There was a pop of the air, that led to a bleeding of noise, and the voice reading loudly seemed to be almost underwater now to those listening. Did that shadow by Ingrid move? If she looked again the separated female watcher was desperately sketching something down, recording what was before it changed. Another dull popping sound, was it in the ear, in the mind or out there?

 

[Ingrid]

The massive black bear moved further through the tunnel. It suddenly ended in a steep drop broken by jagged rocks that could either be steps to help the wanderer down or knives to impale the wanderer instead. Nordenfiir in general were not very graceful or agile, and Ingrid was even more so in her bear form. From her position by the edge of the path, she could see six elves, a silver-haired woman, and a Minotaur. Two of the elves were hooded, their features shadowed even more than the others.

One elf seemed to be speaking the words of an ancient ritual. While Ingrid couldn't understand the words he was speaking, a shiver still ran down her spine. The stone arch floated, separate from its gate. The already dim green light dimmed further and the shadow of Ingrid's bear faded away from the wall behind her.

Suddenly, there was a pop in the air, as if the pressure had changed. Ingrid let out a low rumble, rolling her massive head to the side and opening her jaws in an attempt to return her hearing to normal. When she refocused on the group below, they seemed to be more frenzied- the silver haired woman was drawing furiously as if her life depended on it.

Ingrid lowered on her haunches as there was another, softer pop. She was ready to either launch herself into the cavern below or turn and bolt. Fleeing was never a Nordenfiir trait.

 

[Ktaris]

In the truth north: Winter is always coming.

Ingrid​

Ancestral spirits had once guarded this arch, given their eternal service to its protection, and here it was taken by Eleth's servants, now twisting to his unknowable domain. It became phased further to the spiritual realm it was connected to, allowing a horrible blending of shadow and spirit to occur around the edges. The pathway inside the arch began to take shape... and that's when it happened.

Scribes of fate, watchful gods, Eleth itself, or just middling tale spinners didn't like one-sided affairs. As fate would have it, Ingrid wasn't the only one who was paused to act. The silver-haired watcher, whispering prayers to her arrow, took aim and fired. Her open book was one of truth, with the arch's true form infused into it. Truth and judgment flew toward the Shadon speaker, his eyes snapped up and the tome was raised to block the arrow, quick to act but fatal for the balance of the ritual. Truth burned into the twisted tome, like a searing hot reminder of how the world really was.

A muffled soft thunder followed, the sound still as if underwater, the ritual wasn't ended but it was perilously balanced now. All eyes looked for the shooter, their elven eyesight helped them here but they were still trying to find her amongst the naturally shifting shadows. Ktaris drew his blade, and others began to do the same. Daiches pulled an underling into his place to continue the ritual, some young apprentice no doubt, he was far too ambitious to die here, and soon exited to save his skin.

"FIND THEM..." One of the elves shouted, right before being hit square in his chest with an arrow, staggering back a pace, and then dropping to the floor. Bestial roaring, the large muscular minotaur had a better sense of smell, stampeding toward the shooter, gigantic axe gripped in hand, the floor scratching under his cloven feet.

There was confusion, two elves less, the minotaur engaged elsewhere, a window to act and now merely a minor apprentice trying to speak Shadon to hold the ritual together. Chance, the gods or just fate had made an opportunity for Ingrid to flee or stop this, but it was a one-shot deal. Narrowing his eyes, Ktaris took position behind a small wall, readying a grey flask of some sort.

Just two faceless hooded figures remained standing in front of the young ritual speaker, marble voids with barely any features to their face, a sword-wielding lesser shadowkin, while the other of more commanding presence continued to merely watch events, arrogantly not even drawing his weapon, but perhaps they were not expecting a bear...

 

[Ingrid]

Suddenly everything burst into action. Arrows flew, killing one elf and upsetting the ritual. A smaller figure stepped up and took over the reading, while the Minotaur turned to attack the silver haired woman who had now disappeared into the shadows.

Taking her chance, Ingrid lowered even further on her haunches and then launched herself forward. The leap was powerful enough to land her right behind the smaller elf reading from the big book. She reached out a paw and pinned him to the ground, dragging the still open book from underneath him with a sharp claw. The pages tore underneath her claw and the growing light around the arch flickered and dimmed for a minute as the ritual was put even more off balance.

Still in bear form, Ingrid would prick an ear and lifted her snout, listening and smelling for the Minotaur. She swiped away the book with a paw so that it skittered away across the floor into the dark corners of the large cavern.

She couldn't understand the ritual or why it was happening, but she could understand it wasn't good; especially as she saw the faint glow of a hand attempt to reach out past the arch from the gateway. It quickly disappeared, but it still signaled impending danger.

 

[Ktaris]

Ingrid

As the speaker was partially crushed beneath the bear and the tome sliced, sound seeped back into the room more clearly, partially audible, and partially subdued. Shadow began fading from the arch, though its aftereffects were lingering on the stone's outer edges, the ritual having found some purchase but not enough. An ancestral spirit's hand was pulled forward from the arch, inside you could see its arm was that of a ghost, but the fingers as they were pulled forward were dimmed, tainted like this place.

Another arrow flew out between the minotaur's legs, straight into one of the shadow figures, there was a rasping hiss, showing Ingrid the wounded shadowkin danger behind it. Then came a scream as the minotaur smashed his axe into an upper platform, finally burying the nimble shooter in obsidian shards. The 7ft tall beast turned to face Ingrid, snarling viciously, showing the possibility of frenzy they were known for. The sight of too much loss around, them or too many wounds, made them all the more dangerous to themselves and to their opponents.

Ktaris cursed in Forsaken tongue, the scattered tome in pieces, and the apprentice battered. He pointed his hand crossbow at the floor and shot the prone speaker for his incompetence, taking a chance to eliminate a rival. An ominous chuckle came from the more imposing shadowy watcher at the unfolding events, which only caused Ktaris to scowl. The elf raced after the scattered book, and threw the flask directly at the ground, landing behind where the others were fighting, hopefully buying him time to collect the pieces safe from any arrows.

There was a hissing smokey residue rising in the center of the room, purely a smoke bomb but an effective shield, as the liquid pooling on the floor began to send smoke in all directions behind Ingrid. Time enough perhaps for the Tome Keeper to piece back together the works for another day, and gain status for their recovery in his mentor's eyes.

"That went well?" The shadowy watcher mocked, walking closer to a large shadow on the wall.

Remaining silent, offering the mockery nothing. The blight born was one name that thing used, a man born as if part of this place naturally, and a rival to his mentor Daiches. A forsaken thing of some power that would need to be dealt with in time.

One might think guards would come to the vaults, if they could find their way through the maze, but Eleth liked unknown surprises, Enigma city was built on that as one of its founding laws. Uncertainty was always welcomed and encouraged, instead, the shadows moved around them as they liked to do, merely watching, for now.

 

[Ingrid]

Ingrid stepped back as Ktaris shot the young boy on the floor. She turned her head to charge the minotaur and hopefully rescue the silver-haired woman, but it was too late. The minotaur turned to face her and she pulled back her lips, giving the creature her own snarl. As he charged towards her, she rose onto her hind legs, extending her forelegs. Her paws landed hard on the exposed flesh of his human shoulders, and she dug her claws into his skin and pushed him backwards hard enough that it would send even the bulky minotaur onto his back.

She turned her head as Ktaris threw his peculiar gray flask down and ran for the book. Changing course, she would charge after him. When she was parallel with him she knocked him with her right flank, hard enough to send him to the ground. She would then place a paw on his chest, not putting a deadly amount of pressure on him, but also enough to hold him still and warn him that if he tried to get to the book, she would end his life quicker than it had begun.

It was too dark for him to see anything more than a massive black bear; no one would be able to see the gray marking on her left shoulder to identify her as Nordenfiir.

 

[Ktaris]

With a rapidly dwindling amount of people standing, the bear came through the smoke sideways at Ktaris, knocking him to the ground in a tumble, and though she brought her warning paw down towards his chest, the elf's body wasn't there to press against. Tumbling sideways, a flash of a silver blade slashed for her paw to make room, another slash rising upward protectively to allow him space to push off, and roll backward. Both were more defensive than offensive.

She certainly had size but Ktaris was no slouch. He threw a dagger of his own at the damaged book, aiming to knock it safely away or slide it across the floor again. The key thing here was to try and step between the bear and the remains of the tome. Keeping his weapon outstretched and slashing for any paws as they came, sideways on to make for a smaller target, he was well trained but no master with the sword.

Unable to see the markings, Ktaris was still thinking he was dealing with a wild but intelligent animal that had barged in or been released to kill them all by a rival. Speaking of animals, their horned minotaur was snorting on the ground as it pulled itself up to sit, blood running down its black fur, shaking its head, and snarling again as if it had just been hit by a tree trunk. Which was close to the truth.

Amidst groans from the buried elf archer as she tried to stir, "Karakoss" Ktaris said in a dull hissing Shadon to the minotaur and anything alive, sound was returning to the room, but that word's pronunciation still sounded like it belonged far underwater. Perhaps a rallying cry or an instruction, it was hard to tell. Ingrid had a moment before the horned beast got back to its feet. Another choice, she could stay to fight for the scraps of the book, leave cleanly having successfully disrupted the day, or perhaps even save the injured friendly archer, to get more information on what exactly was going on. Achieving all three might be difficult.

The remaining Shadowy watcher, void of any identifying marks, stared at the buried elf, almost as if looking into her shadow. Wedged in the darkness he began to step into it, disappearing and...

 

[Ingrid]

Ingrid's paw hit the stone floor which pulsed with a strange warmth. She turned her head as Ktaris ran towards the book, flinging his flimsy sword around to keep her at bay. She stayed where she was and watched as he stumbled closer to the book, throwing a dagger towards it; to do what, she had no idea. Its not like it could fight back. While Ktaris was definitely stronger and taller than a regular human, Ingrid was still stronger than him. When she heard the faintest whisper of pain, she decided the book was already destroyed enough and the ritual already ruined past salvation, and she charged towards where she had last seen the silver haired woman.

The minotaur lay a few feet to her left, grumbling as he got to his feet. When he saw her again, she figured a little reminder of what she could do wouldn't hurt. She changed course slightly and mowed down the still-sitting minotaur. If she didn't crush his ribs she would likely puncture and tear his flesh. Not many survived getting mauled by a bear, especially not a Nordenfiir.

Ingrid would turn back to the downed warrior right as the shadowy figure moved towards her shadow, lifting a dark foot to step into it. Her hind legs tensed and she leapt, tackling the unknown figure as it tried to disappear through the buried archer's shadow. She snarled as the shadowkin let out a shriek of pain, a black substance somewhere between gas and blood leaking from his wounds. She raised a paw and snapped the creature's neck, leaving it motionless for the time being.

She turned to the woman buried under the black rocks, and in the blink of an eye, transformed back to her humanoid form. She pulled the rocks of the woman, freeing her. Her skin was darkened with dirt and blood and while she seemed to still be alive, she was greatly weakened. The woman met Ingrid's grey eyes and an unspoken understanding passed between the women. "Get onto my back," she said softly, her voice strangely gentle, contrasting with her appearance.

She shifted into a bear, and the woman managed to pull her self up onto Ingrid's lowered back. She gave a low growl of warning before she took off running back the way she had come. She would attempt to make it out of here; she wanted no more to do with this strange group of people.

 

[Ktaris]

Ingrid

While he was no Ru Horvos or champion of their people, the wounded black minotaur was still a ferocious beast and its Rage grew, slammed back down again into the floor, there was a sickening crack of a rib, and blood spat upon the obsidian floor. More crimson liquid ran down its furry torso. This seemed to only further enrage the beast, sending it into a blood frenzy. Thankfully it was momentarily dazed as it tried to pick itself up again, and all it could do was roll thrashing around.

The old saying, the longer a Black Minotaur fights the more dangerous it gets for all involved was still true, but only if it was standing.

After another bear-snap from a shadowy neck, the central piece of the room began to twist and click, stone rolling against stone to put it into a new place, the nexus here a center point still for a myriad of different passageways.

Ktaris took the opportunity to grab the remnants of the book, and so the ticket for his ascension in the Tome Keeper ranks, the opportunity presented by a black bear and just a mere handful of corpses. He could not see Ingrid's transformation into human form, but the shadows around them did. The final death of one of their own caused a stir within the obsidian vaults, forms began to twist along the walls, and hands might reach for stray limbs. These grasping weak hands especially came from the ceiling, because nothing here was predictable, even Ingrid's way out by now might have changed or been hidden from her. There would be an exit to the Demi-Cara level of the city, but which direction it might take who knew, still anywhere would be better than here right now.

Central to the huge room. There was a feeling that something horrific was happening. The ceiling above began to pool inward like liquid, Ktaris saw it, squinted, and bolted, faster than his mentor Daiches had left the room, using the shadows to cover his escape. The Betrayal of absence lowered through the swirling black pool onto the floor, and what little light there was in the vaults dimmed to almost nothing. As he touched the ground, even the green gems around the walls seemed to discolor. With the same rasping tongue from the ritual, hissing into the foundations, the walls, and the air, turning it thicker, dull, and harder to hear again. Bodies of those dead began to have those same shadowy hands wrap themselves around their torsos, soon being dragged into oblivion. An effective way to clean the room if nothing else.

The elf on Ingrid's back tried to reach for something but was too weak, all she could do was murmur something and then squeeze Ingrid's arm weakly perhaps in thanks or warning. The battered elven body was thankfully very light to carry and likely wouldn't slow her much. They might make it all the way out almost when one of many weak shadowy hand's tried to grasp a wrist, an ankle...

 

[Ingrid]

As the room suddenly darkened, Ingrid growled low. She could still see in the dark, but it was harder to find the exit. She kept running even as she heard the minotaur rolling around on the ground, grumbling in pain. The rising shadows would take care of him.

The warrior on Ingrid's back mumbled something incoherent and squeezed Ingrid's thick, furry arm. Ingrid stayed alert in case the woman was warning her. She started climbing the rocks up to the tunnel she had entered through; it was noticeable by the misplaced and broken rocks at the bottom from her landing into the gods forsaken cavern.

Shadows reached out wispy fingers, attempting to grab at anything on Ingrid, but she managed to pull away from them without much effect.

Ingrid pulled herself and the elven warrior on her back up over the ledge. Once in the relative safety of the tunnel she would pause for a minute to see what had happened. Something hard was digging into Ingrid's back and for a minute she thought it was the horrid tome, but it was smaller and she realized it was the elf's sketchbook. Perfect. She would have a witness and physical evidence.

She gave one last look to the cavern and snorted, her breath fogging in the cold air. She turned forward and lumbered out of underground tunnel.