Fable - Ask Citadel of the Lost

[Krunk]

A long, long time ago...

Madness. Madness had gripped the world. The Gate was besieged again, for the sixth time in the past five months. The wards were buckling, as they had last time, and the seals failing one by one. In theory, the portals simply connected each other across the vast distances of the world, but something else occupied the space between worlds now, something otherworldly and demonic in nature. If it had only been one Gate, it would have been less alarming...but it was not only one Gate.

Arbiter Malial sat on the seat of power, knuckles white from his grip on the arms. So tightly did he grasp it, that the bones occasionally popped. He looked out on a shimmering map of the known world, the seas gleaming as the sun reflected off of unseen waves, cutting through wispy clouds that looked as real as if he had looked overhead, if there had not been a mountain above him. The map was so real, it was easy to believe you could fall into it and be in the world. Only one more incredible show of magical prowess in an age filled with such marvels.

But it was an age that was coming to an end.

He was in the innermost sanctum of this ancient citadel, the Stormborne Basillica. The ancients that had come before even this great age had built it, and the people of the age had discovered it, and incorporated all of the miracles within it into their own magitech and constructs. It had seemed such a glorious idea, way back when it had been first crafted. A bulwark against the encroaching enemies from the lands to the east of the great Karill Mountains, where verdant forests yet grew. The blight was spreading there, too, of course.

"The lower levels are secure, your Honor," someone said. The Arbiter jumped a little in his seat, and cast a sidelong look at the speaker. The man wore the clothing of a Guardsman, loose fabric that served as a uniform the the seal on his arms and the familiar weapons the Guardians had used for the last several decades. A melding of magic and technology, it looked like nothing so much as a crossbow that fired bolts of lightning instead of wood and steel. "We have posted High Guardians on the Gate, and sealed it."

As if sealing it worked anywhere else. The Arbiter did not, of course, speak his mind. The world was falling apart, being ripped into tatters. One by one, the bastions of civilization fell to the hordes of the unknown entities. Eventually Stormeborne would fail, like the others. Eventually, the world would be awash in a sea of the impure demonic hordes, if they could not find a way to stem the tide. "Very well," he replied in a level tone that was out of keeping with his inner turmoil. He schooled hsi face to stillness, presenting to the world outside the face of calm stability. "Reinforce the warding, and keep a strong company of Guardians near to hand. if the seals fail..."

There was no need to finish the statement. The Guard knew as well as he did what was at stake. Malial had been present when Arematha had fallen to the twisted shapes pouring from the Gate there, had witnessed the strange ability of the demons to turn aside corrupt magic and defy the greatest instruments the world had to call on for its defense.

"And have them seal the main entrance into Stormeborne," he added as the Guardian turned to leave. "No one leaves until the Gate is secure. The blight cannot be allowed to escape here, as it has elsewhere..."

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Not long, long ago...
======================

It was rather cool so high into the mountains. Krunk did not appreciate this fact much at all; it made him feel sluggish and slow, like every move was through thick molasses. He wasn't what one would call a quick thinker at the best of times, but the chill brought on by altitude seemed to affect him more than the thin air affected the others in their party.

It was early in the morning, campfires rousted up from the torpid smoldering that had been left over from the night before. The trek had set out a week and a half prior. A wordy fellow that Krunk could not clearly recall had put out the call for adventurers of a particularly stout nature, and as he had long ago associated the word 'stout' with 'fighting', he had hurriedly signed up. There was some money being offered for the work, but he didn't really care all that much about the coin. He had little use for the stuff; every alley contained dinner, after all, and except for in the winter, any place was as good as any other to sleep. It wasn't as if there were many souls brave enough to try and rob him in his sleep.

Krunk huddled over a fire, completely disinterested in the conversation that was underway not far away. The party had camped in a saddle ridge some five thousand feet up the side of a mountain. It was still low enough that trees could grow, but the snowline wasn't very far up, and neither was the tree line. So early, the shadows stretched long. The valleys below still lay asleep in the pre-dawn light.

He looked up with sleepy eyes at the gash in the mountain side. A section of stone a hundred feet across and dozens of feet high had fractured and collapsed, sliding partway down the slope they had picked their way up the days before. Shattered boles of trees littered the scree, and chunks of stone five times the size of a man lay, exposed surfaces clearly fresh. And, in the dark hollow that had been scooped out by whatever natural disaster that had sent a part of the mountainside sliding away, a portal stood. It was made of a material that the others could not identify, untouched by time. It had been buried here for a long, long time. Even so, and perhaps as a result of its uncovering, it appeared to be damaged; cracks ran across its surface in a web, and the round shape of the portal seemed distorted. It was clearly circular in nature, or had been.

There were several members in this party. The Komodi wasn't keen on counting, unless it was counting teeth collected from fallen foes and even then the counting usually stopped at two. He knew there was some green-skinned fellow running about, the only member of the party that had taken any interest in him at all on the long trek into these mountains. The rest were dismissive of him, as was the wont of many other races in Arethil; Komodi were a known quantity, and while not easily dismissed in a number of avenues, great conversationalists they were not.

Especially him, though.

The warrior stood suddenly, tail stretching out to counterbalance his movements with ease. He needed to move, to loosen up, just in case. Picking up the absolutely enormous weapon off the rocky ground, he swung the great club-like thing onto his back, into a catch specifically designed for it. The thing looked as if it had been used to batter down stone walls, or possibly someones house or an inn. 'Sword' might have been a bit of a stretch, actually; club suited it better, although it did have a kind of edge to it.

He made his sluggish way to where the others had gathered, outside the portal. He caught a whiff of something foul as the wind, light and variable this morning, swirled something from somewhere that forced him to wrinkle his nose in distaste. It was a momentary offense; the sun shone on his back, and the warmth, slight though it was, was welcome and all that was required to make him forget the sense of wrongness.

A couple of people were up close to the portal, poking and prodding and muttering to each other as they did. One, a human, was a lady of middle age. Clearly not a fighter, as she wore no obvious weapons and wore a dress beside. The faintest of senses coming from her told the Komodo that she was a magician of some kind, and that the prodding she was doing wasn't all physical.

"I have seen this script somewhere before," the other, an elfin male, remarked. He traced a line of script that ran around the edge of the door - if that was what this was. "Out in the Amol-Kalit, in fact." He traced the script again, and shook his head. "If only we could read it."

The woman huffed at that, and shook her head. it set dangly earrings to swaying with her hair, which was festooned with beads that clicked as she did. "Capture the inscriptions, we must...but this door, it must be opened." She stepped back, both hands on her hips, and glared at the offending portal.

The Komodo stepped forward dutifully, and reached over his shoulder to take the hilt of the offensively oversized weapon on his back in hand. "Krunk smash? Door does not look so strong," he said as he stepped forward, and the human girl turned to fix him with a withering stare that froze him in his tracks. He offered her an apologetic smile. "Maybe later," he grumbled, seeming to deflate a bit. She shook her head.

"Where are the others?" The elf sounded as irritated as the woman looked, and no wonder. They had been prodding at this thing since they arrived the night before, and still didn't have any idea what to do about it. To Krunk, the answer was simple enough: battered the door down, and then go and explore like the wordy man back in whatever town it had been wanted. He watched on as the woman stepped forward, and touched the faint outline of a mural etched into the portal. It was difficult to make out what it was, at first; the cracks marred everything. After a moment, though, it looked like a storm as seen in the distance, with the shadow of rain falling beneath it and a lance of lightning stabbing down.

 

[Brock]

Brok has nodded off close to the fire. He had never felt winds quite like these before. At the very least they carried a chill that cut to the bone. Other times they carried little droplets of ice that pelted any exposed flesh. For now, the weather was fairly relaxed and Brok could enjoy some peace by the fire.

The orc wasn't after riches. He wasn't here for the joy of discovery. Brok had spent his life in a blacksmith, watching the Knights come and go with downright awe.

He had learned the hard way that he couldn't become a Knight the easy way, by blood. He didn't even know if he could become one the hard way or any way. Brok had galvanised his resolve around making a name for himself with brave deeds and set out from Elbion.

To date, he had achieved little but get himself hurt several times.

With his eyes half shut, he let the warm of the flickering fire wash over his face. His breathing slowed as he left this time to those who were inexplicably excited by a smooth piece of rock.

 

[Bellatrix]

"Oh do be careful!" Bellatrix DeVere exclaimed in exasperation as the help dropped her chest roughly on the ground. She hadn't been able to shut it entirely and the two pieces of the lock mechanism were fastened with a ribbon that bulged in protest as the contents shifted and strained against it. It would be clear at a glance what it was that filled it though; books. Considering the hefty oak chest was so large it had taken up the same amount of space on the saddle as a human would have, one could only hazard a guess at how many tomes she had managed to cram in there.

The two men who had hoisted it down and carried it inside of her tent glanced at one another and then bowed their apologies. They had served under her late grandfather and they knew their young mistresses love of parchment. She might have had a sharp tongue but she paid well and there were worse noble families in Oban to be serving. When they left she sighed and stalked over to it, unfastening the ribbon and catching the odd couple of books which fell out instantly. She handled them like a mother would a babe and piled them carefully onto the small foldable desk she had brought with her.

Trixie did not pack lightly.

"It is always important that ones camp is fit for the purpose of recording what you find," she muttered quietly to herself almost as if to pardon the extra work she was creating for her footsmen. Once her tent was set up how she liked she strode from it to go and investigate the rest of the party.

It was of course funded mostly by her, this excavation of sorts to find the ancient ruins of a kingdom that had been overrun by what the annuals described as 'demons'. The recent attack last year of the vile things and the disappearance of people the world over had piqued Bellatrix's curiosity and sparked several months of investigation into the origins of such creatures. All of that had brought her here. It was going to be dangerous, of course, but she thrived on that. Bella was not the only scholar interested in such things and over a few drinks in a private members club in Elbion she had met a few others of a similar inclination to her for such an expedition. There were three in total; her, another woman - Rosalie - and an elvish man - Alric - who had put in money to hire a crew.

It was them who she set out to find amongst the numerous campfires that had been set up throughout the camp.

"Ah there you are," Trix lifted her skirts a little as she picked her way across the rocky footpath and made her way over to the portal her fellows were gathered about. She cast her grey eyes over Krunk once then dismissed him immediately in favour of the object the other scholars were studying. "Dreadfully sorry about the delay, I had to pick up a few more supplies I thought we might need," Bellatrix barely gave them a look after that and instead turned her focus entirely to the portal and the words scrawled over it.

Like always when she looked at a strange new language there was a shimmer in her mind and the words shifted and changed into one she could read. She pursed her lips as if pretending it took a great effort to try and decipher it - as it should do.

"Ah yes I see... mmhm," she nodded carefully and then stood back and adjusted her hat a little then said with all the air of someone who thought everyone should be able to read a language Ages old. "It says that whomsoever wishes to enter should rethink and turn back now for ahead lies the Unending Death."

 

[Krunk]

"It doesn't look as though it was put there at the same time the other markings were," the witch said half to herself and half to the noblewoman. She ran a finger across the script, and shivered slightly. She unconsciously adjusted her shawl, deep red and marked with arcane sigils that may have eant something or nothing at all. "There is ancient magic in this portal, of a kind I have never encountered before." She paused a moment. "At least, not intact."

She turned and looked her fellow scholar in the eye with a bright smile. "Names' Allana. Glad to see we got someone here that can decipher ancient languages; this place appears to be quite old." She sounded excited by the prospect of entering a place that had been sealed for so long. The apparent danger did not seem to deter her in the slightest, nor to dampen the eagerness to be about their business.

The elfin scholar snorted. "Appears to be? Its buried in a mountain and has been for an eternity judging by outward appearances." He laid a hand on the portal, and shivered. Contact seemed to make the eerie feeling that pervaded this place stronger, as if the act created a connection to something as yet unseen. He pulled his hand back, and adjusted his belt. The fellow wore trousers and vest of a fine cut, proof that there was money in his family at least. Not uncommon for elves, though, who by dint of long lives tended towards wealth anyway. He did not offer his name to either of the women, though.

"Does it say anywhere on there how to open the damned thing?" Allana asked, even as the Komodo, with a switch of his tail, grinned. "Opening door is easy. I will show you how," he said. The woman rolled her eyes.

Krunk stepped forward with a lumbering gait that was, perhaps, a bit slow. Too cold, too cold by far up here in the mountains. It was not a place for Komodi to go. He came before the gate, and stared at it before placing a hand on the cold stone. The unnatural feeling swept through him but, unlike the others, he had no center of his brain that registered fear. He pushed against the portal, expecting it to open smoothly inward. It did not budge. A few flakes of whatever it was made of fell off, crunching on the ground as they did, but other than that there was no effect.

He stepped back with the most comical expression on his face, one of utter consternation. "Maybe I need to hit it," he suggested, and again reached for his weapon.

The elf quickly laid a hand on his arm. "Maybe not a good idea. No idea what is on the other side, we may want to close it in rather a hurry," he suggested. The massive creature regarded the spindly elf with unblinking reptilian eyes.

"Too much time spent outside. If you want in, why stop me from opening the gate?" He looked to the lady who had read the inscription with those same lethargic, unblinking eyes. "Maybe other lady wants it open more than you want it shut?"

 

[Brock]

Brok watched the parade with vague intrest. He would not have guessed that the weight being carried around by the staff was books.

Brok couldn't read, but he also would have truly struggled with the notion of forcing people to carry that weight of books all the way up this mountain.

Things seemed to be coming to a head around the engravings so Broke gave up the warmth of the fire. As soon as he stepped away he wrapped his arms tightly around his chest

...ahead lies the Unending Death."

That didn't sound good. That didn't sound good at all.

"Should I get my weapons and armor before you do...."

Brok didn't know what they were actually going to do. They seemed to like talking about what they could do.

 

[Bellatrix]

Trix did want the door open but she wanted it open in tact. She was, after all, a historian. The idea of the great lummox destroying something this old was simply abhorrent. The treasure hunter sniffed somewhat delicately and adjusted her hat, fingers sliding round the brim in an absentminded way like someone might fiddle with their cuffs or a piece of jewellery when lost in thought.

"As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm," Bellatrix offered the oaf a slightly pained smile before looking back towards the door. "If you will give me just a minute I think I may be able to figure out how to open it." She bustled past them again to get a closer look, having to rock onto the tips of her toes to read the curving script that ran along the top of the archway. Some of it had eroded with time and thus made it harder to decipher but enough of it was... there... to...

She had nearly had it when some new worker or some sort appeared. Irritably she waved at him without ever taking her eyes off the arch.

"Yes yes, being prepared is the number one rule of these sorts of things - aha!" she exclaimed as the wording finally came into focus. "It appears as though the door requires some sort of sacrifice of life," the notion didn't appear to deter her. Instead she took a blade from her belt - a hunting knife by the looks of it - and slit her palm open. She carefully dripped the blood into what would have passed for a lock no doubt when it was built. A few droplets and then it began to shimmer gold.

 

[Krunk]

Krunk offered her a smile that was as empty as his head. the cold was really not to his liking, after all. He watched dully as the human woman fiddled about with the door, and settled in to wait with the patience of someone who does not really understand the concept of boredom.

Her blood appeared to be enough of an offering, on the surface, to cause some reaction with the door. What was not expected, however, was the sudden and oppressive weight that fell on every single person there. Something was using the little sip of vital strength contained in the woman's blood and using it to draw something from everyone near the door. It was palpable and very nearly had a taste to it, like rancid grease with every breath. The shimmering golden light slowly shifted to an eldritch blue and faded, spreading across the entire stone door. Which then began to split open like an iris. The script that curved around the edge of the portal glowed a deeper color, and the thin band it was carved into seemed to absorb the substance of the door until there was nothing but the ring.

And another door. If it was possible, this one looked even older than the one that had covered it, but unlike the other, it was completely untouched by weather. There was no scratch, no chip, no marking of any kind on it. Just an apparently iron ring set into it.

Krunk did not wait a moment. As the magic, whatever it was, began to fade, leaving everyone feeling just a little drained, the komodo stepped forward and took the ring in hand, and then heaved it back. It resisted the attempt to open it in this way, so, quizzical look on his face, he pushed instead. It resisted for a moment, then suddenly lurched open on hinges that seemed untouched by time. All of this took a heartbeat.

Sunlight stabbed into the darkness beyond, illuminating a dark hallway that sloped slightly downwards into gloom. The air that poured from the aperture was unexpectedly warm and damp, and it washed over the party like a wave. There was something about it that was unnatural, but it was difficult to put a finger on what it was. The smell was clearly of an old tomb opened for the first time in years.

"See? No problem," the komodo said with a flick of his tail. His eyes dropped to the floor in front of thedoor, where the door had swung in it had dislodged the skeletal remains of something. Most of the bones turned to dust at the touch of the door, and what little was left was too fragmented to easily identify. The boneyard continued for a dozen yards from the door before petering out, and smooth stone ran on into the darkness.

The oaf took another step forward, booted feet crunching on fragments of bone. As he did, light emitted from the ceiling in front of him, flickering and dim and with no visible source. A few paces further in, a faint glow began to grow, and when the komodo took another step forward, the light brightened perceptibly. "Neat," he said absently.

He looked back at the others, oblivious to any reaction they might have had on his opening of the door, thoughtless an act as it was. "Time to look," he said, and spun around - knocking more pulverized bones aside with his tail - and started to go deeper, reddish light blooming to life ahead of him and dimming behind him as he went.

 

[Brock]

The tug of ancient magic at his very soul was not something he had expected. Brok had tensed, rocking his weight onto his heels. He had visions of a thousand horrors escaping the doorway, but not this.

The large half orc dropped to one knee. He just avoiding throwing up all over the ground.

"I am getting a weapon," he grunted. They were playing with magics that should have been left alone.

Brok stepped away, knowing it wasn't his place to point out such things. There was a straightforward job to get done. He returned to his gear and pulled his short sword from his pack. There was no time for his breastplate.

Brok didn't even tie the weapon to himself. He rushed back to the portal, following the trail the komodi had left in the bones.

"Why are there so many..."

 

[Bellatrix]

One had to ... admire the Komodi's enthusiasm for the job, Bellatrix mused as she watched him bulldoze his way into a city that hadn't been open for hundreds - if not thousands - of years. Who could have known what was beyond a door that warned of nothing but death beyond? They could have faced something subtle such as traps or as deadly as an army poised to strike and sweep through these lands to ravage anew. Trix was pleasantly surprised to just find the remains of the inhabitants and not what had killed them.

"Yes, yes, weapons," Bella waved dismissively towards the other orc. She might not have approved exactly of the Komodi's technique but now they were in ... well there was no sense in hanging around. There were so many things to discover, things that could see her going down in history as their discoverer. Even as she spoke she picked up her skirts and gingerly stepped through the bones after the retreating back of their intrepid blue leader.

When their orc bodyguard returned and asked the ever so important question of why, Trix took no small amount of pleasure in launching into her lecture.

"Well, you pose an interesting question there. Historians have debated for years about what it was that killed the inhabitants of the city. Some people thought it was a plague - although I would argue there they were translating the ancient word aegrotatio as its obvious meaning - illness - when actually it could refer to swarm instead," she moved delicately around a skull. "Which brings us on to the other popular theory which is something or someone killed them quickly. A swarm. Some even believe this swarm came from another world entirely."

 

[Krunk]

Questions of why did not enter his head. The unnatural warmth was starting to seep into his scaled hide, but it would be some time before the warmth moved through his blood and sped things up, as it were. For now, though, the notion of all the whys and wheres were lost to him. Quite clearly, he had been brought along for one thing and one thing only: to protect the people that had brains and understood what it was they were seeing.

It was quite clear that this place was old beyond measure. The magic - if that was what it was - that illuminated the hallway in red light did not always function well. The passage seemed to stretch endlessly ahead of them into pitch black, and behind them the square of light that marked the way in shrank to a point of light amid a sea of darkness itself. The lights sometimes did not come on in the passage, and a stretch of a dozen feet would descend into pitch darkness before fitful light picked up back. Krunk was rather dead to the sense of magic, but to the others it would feel like what it was - sorcery, ancient and failing. That it had not already done so was a testament to its makers.

"Only swarm here is dead," Krunk said after many long minutes had passed. The skeletal remains had decreased in number rapidly after clearing the portal in. "Nothing in here, only ghosts." To that, the great beast of a man made a warding gesture with one hand while he touched one of the charms at his waist with the other. He might be slow and thick witted, but he understood the clear and present danger that the spiritual world presented to him and everyone else here.

After a time, they finally found something that changed in the featureless passage from the surface. It was unclear how far down they had gone, and the light from the entrance was no longer visible, not even as a distant point. The passage leveled out perceptibly, and came to a junction. Ahead, bathed in the eternal darkness of the underworld, it continued onward, but two passages cut off to either side. There were no signs of decay, no ground fall, and the stone underfoot, while dusty, remained polished smooth and untouched by time.

Krunk stopped, unwilling to make a choice. That was for others to do.

 

[Brock]

"Well, you pose an interesting question there. Historians have debated for years about what it was that killed the inhabitants of the city. Some people thought it was a plague - although I would argue there they were translating the ancient word aegrotatio as its obvious meaning - illness - when actually it could refer to swarm instead," she moved delicately around a skull. "Which brings us on to the other popular theory which is something or someone killed them quickly. A swarm. Some even believe this swarm came from another world entirely."

"Well...a swarm would have run outta good a long time ago," Brok replied. He dropped to one knee when no one important was looking. He took a closer look at one of the skulls. Any flesh or soft tissue was long gone.

"I heard most of the old great cities died cos of mages jealous of what the dwarves did with their machines," Brok grunted.

He couldn't read and hadn't studied anything that wasn't found within a blacksmith. He was also not quite sensible and worldly enough to know to keep his mouth shut when scholars were discussing their favourite historical subjects.

He was here to go first. To find traps the hard nd painful way. The quick way.

 

[Bellatrix]

"Oh that is such poppycock, you know that rumour started with those dwarves? They do fancy themselves rather much," Bellatrix huffed as she continued to stomp after the komodi. She had had a multitude of debates with the dwarven scholars over just what an impact their cities had had on the world. Aside from with the Avariel and Sky Elves it seemed when it came down to it they had had very little real impact outside of the norm for a culture such as themselves.

She was so busy huffing over the very thought of her past arguments with them that she almost walked straight into the back of their muscled guide who had until now been doing a wonderful job of 'protecting' them all from whatever lay ahead. She peered around the side of him, pushing her hat back slightly to get a better look at the reason they had stopped.

After a few moments of poking around and finding no real signs as to what lay where, Trix took out a coin and flipped.

"Heads left, Tails right," she called and then lifted her hand to reveal the answer beneath.

Heads.

 

[Krunk]

The warmth of this place continued to work its way into chilled flesh.

Krunk flicked his tail, peering head into darkness to the right and forward of them, and then shrugged massive shoulders. He was not a leader, and never would be. This mission was more for the woman that muttered about dwarves and other things that meant rather little to the komodo. He stared blankly at her for a moment after she revealed the coin, reptilian eyes staring at it uncomprehendingly for a moment before making the connection and offering her a rather unpleasant, toothy grin. He cast an eye to the orc, but could not remember hearing his name. He was almost as wordy as the woman was, but at least most of the words he was using were within the bound of his knowledge.

"This place is not work of dwarves," he said simply. He cocked a head to one side, peering into the direction they were to head. There was nothing but inky blackness that way. "Very old, though. Many spirits here, I can feel them in the air." What an odd statement, that. A forked tongue probed the air, and he gave a grimace of distaste before setting off in the chosen direction.

Asdie from the surprisingly light dust on the floor, the corridor was remarkably empty. It ran for a hundred meters, every step of the way bathed in the red light coming from the ceiling, before finally something changed. The passage was lined with doors, and they stretched into the darkness, separated by a few dozen paces each, alternating on either side so that no door was in front of another. The doors in those portals all seemed to be wood, and despite the apparent age of the place they looked as solid as if they had been made the day before. No skeletal remains lay here, and everything looked more or less intact.

"What is this place," he queried of the others, but did not move to investigate further.

 

[Brock]

Brok had never been underground before. His home had been a blacksmith on the corner of a cobbled street. With each step forwards he felt the oppressive weight of the rock above them grow a little heavier. Each step was a little more forced.

"Spirits?" he asked no one in particular. Brok hadn't even tied his scabbard to his felt. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.

He wanted to be a Knight, yet he was no swordsman of repute. He could use it well enough, but more like a lumberjack used an axe. All of his training had been with a dummy in their back garden with discarded weapons or poor forge work.

"Who else would live in a place like this other than dwarves?"

 

[Bellatrix]

Trixxie was walking on the very tips of her delicate toes in an attempt to see past the giant lizard and into what lay beyond. She knew her family insisted on this ridiculous notion she hire muscle - literally, it appeared, in this case - in order to keep her safe but really, they didn't half spoil that moment when one saw a marvel for the first time. The Komodi's comment about spirits however, piqued her interest. She had read numerous volumes on conversing with the dead - it was of course every historians dream, to talk to whose who had once lived in the times one studied.

Would this finally be her chance?

"Well it is All Hallows Eve tomorrow, the veil will be at its thinnest," Bella couldn't keep the excitement from her voice.

"As for the question of who would have lived here..." she cast an eye over her shoulder and over the height of both of her sturdy companions. "From all of my notes it was actually humans who lived here, an ancient kingdom. Something killed them and I intend to find out what."

 

[Krunk]

Krunk didn't know much about this veil the woman was talking about, but it was rather unimportant to him in either case. All Hallows Eve didn't mean anything to the komodo, nothing in particular anyway.

He eyed the scholarly woman with amiable indifference. "Not all dead down here," he said, nostrils flaring. "Something alive, but cannot tell what. Nothing here. Only dust and bones here."

Dust, bones, and ancient contrivances long since corroded or disintegrated into unusablity or, in most cases, recognition. Not that any of the interlopers here would likely recognize any of the more interesting relics left from a forgotten age. The sturdier, and indeed the most interesting ones, were likely to be found deeper into the forgotten fortress city. The damp warmth of this place, so out of place in the alpine reaches of its entrance, hinted at hidden depths.

"How can the lady tell what killed someone long time ago?" He asked, stepping out of her way. The corridor ran on into darkness, but the way the voices echoed hinted at the limited scope of this level. "Only bones left behind. Nothing edible. Should leave this place and go deeper in," he said.

 

[Brock]

Brok raised a hand to ask a question, but it turned out to be exactly the same thing Krunk asked. He lowered it slowly. He wasn't supposed to be here to ask questions. He was there to be the first thing killed be any leftover traps.

The very well spoken lady seemed very enthusiastic about this site. If he was going to be a Knight then he needed to protect her no matter what.

"Hope its not a disease..." he muttered. He didn't want to find a whole bung of disease and die to that. There didn't seem to be much brave or honourable down that path.

 

[Bellatrix]

Bellatrix almost missed the question because of the whispers of voices she could hear. She strained for them eagerly, trying to make out some sort of word, a clue, as to what had happened here. There was a very good bottle of port on the line if it turned out that she were right and Sebastian was wrong; wouldn't that be the cheery on top to her delightful adventure? But the komodi's voice drowned out the faint voices and she gave up trying to make out what it was they said.

"Oh there are signs, things one learns," she waved her hand as if it were no big deal and then delicately lifted her skirts once more as she stepped over a bundle of bones. "For example - you see this fellow here?" she motioned to one of the bodies they were passing. His skull was split in two. "You can see quite clearly it was a blow to the head that ended his life. Judging by the depth of the blow and the size of the cut I would have said a daneaxe of some thing. Then you can see the dents in people's armour, the little joints where the weapon must have slipped through. Magic is harder to sense but there are signs there too. Bones take on a yellowish hue when magic has been used on the body for example."

 

[Krunk]

It was all nonsense to the lizard-brained fellow with the sword on his back. He was not paid to be a thinker, which was just as well because the box of bulbs he came out of was defective and were not only dim, but half of them didn't work.

Trying to fit into the conversation, the komodi pointed to another body a little further up the corridor. "What about that one," he asked of the scholar. It was seated on a pile of bones, leaning forward with its desiccated chin in a desiccated, skeletal hand. Flesh and sinew seemed to have withered away until they were little more than a reddish brown lacquer.

The skull, those empty sockets, seemed to be staring right at them. Very faintly, Krunk thought he could hear something speaking to him...but it was distant, as if from a mile away. Regardless, it did not interest him in the way it did the others.

You need to go deeper.

He raised his head and cocked it one way, and then the other. That voice had been crystal clear, but though he looked around wildly for the source, he could find nothing. "Spirits below," he muttered under his breath. He made a complex warding gesture with his four-fingered hands, and then turned to go back the way they had come. "Nothing down here. Maybe look elsewhere?"

..deeper....in the....mountain... that spectral voice whispered, and the Komodi wondered if he was going mad or if the others heard it, too.

 

[Brock]

Brok stood over the skeleton. He stopped scanning the shadows for danger to kneel down and take a look. It wasn't hard to see that it was a blow to the head from the cracked skull.

"Yellow hue for magic," he muttered under his breath. He wondered if, when he was a knight, such skills would be necessary.

The half-orc stood up, looking around them. It was still dawning on him that they were stepping into such an old structure, built deep into the ground.

 

[Bellatrix]

Trix seemed to be the only one of the little trio who was enjoying themselves despite the slightly sinister atmosphere. As the Komodi and Orc paused here and there to check on something or other that didn't look at all dangerous to the naive human, Bella continued on her merry way. Much like a magpie she was not drawn to the bodies and weapons but rather to the odd little trinkets, the symbols of life that were scattered throughout the area. The deeper they got she had spotted more of them; an overturned chalice here, an overturned table with dice there.

All of these little things told the story of what life had been like thousands of years ago. It was exhilarating. Suddenly there was a moment of cold and in front of her appeared a figure of a young man, no more than 17 years of age. He looked anxious.

"Oh hello there," Bella raised a brow and stepped forward. He didn't seem to be able to see her nor hear her and she watched with morbid curiosity as he took several fearful steps back, curled up in a corner and screamed as whatever had killed him finally reached him. The echo faded and all that was left behind was the skeleton.

"Interesting."