Quest Loot Runners #4: A Quiet Place

[Jair]

Treasure 3​

"To arms, once more!"

There are stories from a time forgotten, where a fellowship of heroes were fighting in a mine, and encountered a cave troll the wrecked havoc to the entire party. Jair was the cave troll metaphorically speaking. He doubled up his fist, and punched the nearest goblin, sending it flying into a near by wall before rising to his full twenty feet of height.

Once he was on his feet the metal began flying, the eldritch giant cinched his anchor, and rope up to it's base, and hurreled it into the nearest groups of creatures, and then yanked it back cutting a furrow in the earth a foot deep on its return trip, ripping the marble floor from the ground.

The giant didn't so much aim for individuals, but more for groups, taking out five, ten... seventeen goblins was his record for one sweep. One poor unfortunate goblin had the misfortune of being skewered by the fluke of Jairs anchor, and remained alive for long enough to smash into a trio of his brethern before finally slipping off, cartwheeling through the air, and smashing into a pile of pews, before pinballing off a wall.

He was a giant, in spite of his eldritchness, in spite of working for the benefit of people, he was still a giant, and he found great mirth in crushing things, and began laughing as he swung his anchor about.

He was precise, surgerical on his application of force with his chosen weapon, his swings, and throws were not the wild machinations of some stone giant, but there was a grace, a finesse to his attacks, a beautiful work of violence.

The eldritch giant didn't so much stomp around the place, his steps were light for a giant, as he stayed on the balls of his feet, he stepped over pews, danced around stone pillars, and even pirouette in some sort of persevere game with the goblinoids, all the while laughing in what was likely a mook horror show.

((tag Mathis Majister Mejeure))

 

[Myrcella Bochanan]

Treasure 1.


Myrcella laughed to herself as Richard Henry the Eighth commented on her hair. Yes it did manage to stay neat. But that was only due to all of her efforts at keeping it well washed and maintained at home. Her dresses were another matter, for it was house staff that did her laundry and mending, not herself.

As he spoke of them needing to be focused, she nodded in response. "I am, my dearest." And to prove it she darted her eyes in every direction, keeping an eye out for the slightest of movement. She even looked to the ground in case of a tripwire or hidden pit that they could fall into. As for animal or monster tracks, Myrcella wouldn't be able to define any of them.

 

[Richard Henry the Eighth]

Treasure 1

Dearest? Looks like Myrcella Bochanan is thinking of every cute name to call Richard. He didn't mind the only problem was finding which one that he liked the most. Was it love or dear? Oh how the agony of preferring one or the other! "Both?" Richard thought as he came across a flight of stairs that lead to a seemingly empty house. "Both sounded good."

Or better yet it was best to have Myrcella call Richard other affectionate names that way he would have a wider array. "So far nothing," Richard said looking around. "How are things on your end?"

 

[Myrcella Bochanan]

Treasure 1.

Myrcella wasn't sure if she felt any safer going into a house than she did outside. All the other houses that they had gone to seemed to be okay, yet she just couldn't trust that.

The air inside felt...strange. Almost deadlier somehow. But maybe that was merely her mind playing tricks on her. Yet how could she explain that to Richard Henry the Eighth ? "I don't quite know, darling...It feels odd. But I don't see anything." Maybe they just needed to hear? Myrcella cupped a free hand around one of her ears to listen. There was almost a rustling sound that was heard, yet she wasn't sure if that was merely the wind from outside.

 

[Richard Henry the Eighth]

Treasure 1.

Ah darling! That's another one to add to the list, Richard didn't want to tell Myrcella Bochanan that he was listing the affectionate nicknames so he can choose which ones that he can personally like. Myrcella probably has a ton though given their relationship when they first met along with Mrycella's mistreatment of Celty it probably was dwarfed the number of insults.

"It is quite humid," Richard added as they reached the top of the stairs. Like back in the mountains, the house was covered in moss and vines. Pieces of what appears to be an Elven statue was strewn all over the overgrown grass. "It's not like the Elves to prefer humid areas," Richard frowned. "They love the cool embrace of the forest. Unless they're of course Sand Elves but they are the only Elven subspecies to prefer it."

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

TREASURE 3: LOWER DISTRICT​

My, my, suffice it to say that this surely would have gone noticeably less smooth had they not chanced upon Jair and his absolutely delightful knack for pulverizing goblins. If a scribe was here and dutifully recording the battle, the parchment would have been small and the lines written thusly: And then Majister...

Hm. Spruce that up a touch.

And then the majestically handsome Majister and his fellows did stand aside and out of the giant's way. Bravely they fought against the...

"Onesies and twosies" was far too colloquial, even if the layman's phrase was perhaps the most appropriate. How about...

Bravely they fought against the devious skirmishers which did attempt to flank the giant. In short time all of the vile goblins were dispatched, and so Majister and Jair did proceed to find...

Oh, now this was the best part. Why not play it up a bit?

And so did Majister and Jair did proceed to find the item of legend, the Bammaram, and a hoard of golden coins equivalent to their combined weight sequestered by the foul creatures within the great Church.

Lovely story, that. One so defining the Age of Chronicles for future generations looking back into the past with curious eyes and hungry hearts yearning for an epic of adventure. Well, that last part remained to be seen, but the goblin smashing was accurate.

Majister and Darla and Krull had kept back, giving Jair all the room he needed to unleash a sweeping hell on the suicidally ferocious goblins. Of course they had their own handful of goblins to deal with, those that purposely avoided the giant or single-mindedly charged the trio with no apparent regard of Jair at all, but it was accurate to say that this effort was positively meager in comparison to Jair's own.

But he enjoyed it, Jair did. Laughed and had for himself a merry time swatting the squat bastards like the vile pests that they were. And the proverbial (and literal) dust settled soon after the initial crashing of the Church's giant door, ending with the shrieking members of the large goblin pack slain and the Nave quiet and reverential once more.

Quite unlike their first fight, Majister and his raiders were merely a touch winded as opposed to haltingly exhausted.

Darla bopped Krull on the shoulder. Said, "Still got my helm."

Krull looked to her. Pointed. Mentioned, "But it seems they've managed to ruin your hair."

Pure alarm from Darla. "What?? I knew I should've worn it in--" As she felt the spot below the back of her helm, she discovered that, in fact, her hair was still there and intact. An annoyed look to Krull. "You ass."

Majister again wiped the blood from his rapier on a fallen body, sheathed it, then said, "Jair, you've the jolly spirit of a warrior who truly loves his trade! Oh yes indeed, I'll have you know that I have on several occasions mused about hiring a scribe to catalogue my escapades and you, my dear friend, would make for a fine chapter in such a chronicle! Fantastic show. Truly outstanding!"

With the descent of a relative calm and stillness back into the Nave, his voice echoed throughout the--and it was no overstatement to describe it so--cavernous interior. Where the doors had dwarfed Jair, the height of the ceiling above surely inspired a degree of swooning dizziness if stared up at for too long. Pillars as thick as the mightiest trees of Falwood held up this ceiling, standing strong in defiance of time, a stubborn rebellion against the truth of Dar'dell's fall. Many of the pews had been broken and scavenged by the goblins, but not all--even if those that were still relatively intact were defiled by filth of discernible origins (the goblins seemed fond of defecating near where they slept) and filth of an indescribable quality (what exactly was that black muck, and how long had it been there)? Through the high windows came the fresh breeze from the outside, for most of the glass had long been shattered and mere remnants clung with their jagged edges to the windows' peripheries.

Majister opened up his arms with his palms up toward the ceiling. Said, "Now then! The best is no longer yet to come, but upon us as I speak! For the battle is done, and here we can claim what we have all come for, the spoils of our perilous endeavors: the loot, my friends. Our treasures await! We need only find them in this squalid Nave!"

Majister, Darla, and Krull split up. Each going to different general areas of the Nave, beginning their search of the crude goblin dwellings.

And Majister, in particular, made his way toward the pulpit.

Jair

 

[Colette]

Treasure 2

It sort of figured that right as Donric was going to pay a well earned complement to his companion they'd be interrupted by this horrible creature. Colette couldn't even tell if this... whatever it was... had a mouth. Or eyes. All she could tell for certain was that it scared her.

The stitched together violation of nature slowly shambled towards the pair, illuminated by the torchlight and the shimmering of the glass onlookers. Her ally lay his satchel and crossbow aside, taking a weapon in each hand. He looked ready to cause some serious damage to whatever this foul beast was.

Amidst the dripping of whatever dour material was dripping from the ceiling, among the whispers of the rich patrons who may be preparing to watch them die, the sunny haired girl felt an odd sense of peace. It was brief but comforting and it quickly transitioned into fear as she saw how serious Donric was looking.

"Right behind you," Colette managed to squeak out. Without her bow she felt significantly less secure. She raised her sword in one hand, steadied Donric's shield on her opposite arm, and rushed fowards swinging violently at the beast from the angle she approached in.

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

He flexed his muscles, the fire didn't seem to destroy that. He curled his fingers than dug into his satchel to pull out a small vial of water. Nothing magical but he figured he needed to fit the aesthetic, uncorking the cap and swallowing the small clear liquid, he threw it back in his bag. He repeated this four times just to get as much as a cup full of liquid into him.

He pulled himself up off his arse, the sticky slime swallowing colour and leaving him a mired green. He was cut from head to toe, his arm still felt a little limp and he was covered in slime. All in all? Not the worst dungeon delve he'd ever had the displeasure of. At least the company wasn't dumb. "Ideally, we should have another hour before they break the spell. Unless someone goes in there and disturbs them, but I don't know anyone who'd do that." He said, foreshadowingly as Caliane took the head. He followed suit.

For someone that dressed in more colours than the rainbow, he sure did enjoy darkness.
​

He dragged his hand through the umbral tide like a child might through the foam of the tide. It didn't seem strange that the umbral darkness seemed to drip from his fingertips. At least, for a few moments, he pulled his hand out of it, the darkness a strange sludge that he shrugged off, tossing it back into it's sulking tide.

Passing on that the floor still seemed slick with foul excretion, only the halfway throne seemed to be cleaned, maybe literally for the sake of cool factor. Sometimes style points was enough. But it did raise an interesting question. Where were the Scythir? "I mean, it looks like a sword. I don't tend to use swords. And you seem to use magic." He stated, he walked up the podium, the rest of the corridor still seemed green and slick but the podium was cleared. Whether by design or by mere facet of style points he wasn't sure. He stretched out a hand to it as he continued, "What is your stance on selling it?" He said, before he was swept up by a moving Tendril and tide, green eyes shined in the moving darkness, a row of sharp fangs grinned yellow, it's figure made to the whims.

"Ahsonofabitch!"

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Donric Mannir]

Donric studied the best and swallowed audibly. The more he considered it's grotesque and lumbering form, the more his doubt and uncertainty swelled. Its body lined with shrunken heads and bulbous growths, it was designed to instil fear within him. He breathed and remembered his training. Whatever this thing, it wasn't a Dreadlord. It wasn't an insurmountable weapon. It wouldn't burn him where he stood, nor would it turn him inside out. The words of his late mentor rang in his head. If it ain't a mage, it could always be worse. He wasn't a bright man, but Donric always found comfort in his words.

Nodding briefly towards Colette, Donric launched himself at the beast. The beast stood silently, unresponsive to the efforts of him and his colleague, but as they neared it shifted. The shrunken and pickled heads that littered the monster suddenly released a hideous and deafening cacophony of screams and screeches. The shockwave from the blast sent Donric hurtling backwards into the hard stone wall.

Padded armour helped, to an extent, but he felt his innards bruising from the force of the sudden impact. He was winded, his vision blurring from the initial shock. The beast stood still, again, unmoving except for one thing. The heads that had released the burst of sound shrank and retracted into the body of it.

"We can do this Colette, that stupid wizard wouldn't have a massacre. This is your classic underdog scenario." He spluttered to Colette, feigning a certain air of confidence. He had no idea what the organisers of this game were capable of, nor was he sure of how to fight this creature. He didn't want to let Colette down though.

A few seconds passed before Donric managed to peel himself off from the wall. Several shakes of the head and he returned to his senses, beginning to circle the creature cautiously.

"Any ideas?" He said curiously.

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

"I use swords too," Cali commented, her voice light and almost... happy? It was near the end of the challenge and she could go and find the nearest spring and get rid of all this green slime. It was hardening as they moved meaning her wings - if they hadn't been already - were almost entirely out of action now. "I was a Hunter for my people," she offered when he glanced to her. "We are not all magic beings and it is easier to remain undetected in the Spine when you do not create a fire bomb every few minutes." The image actually amused her slightly. In fact if anything it was considered reckless to constantly use magic, especially the Soul-Magic that Caliane was gifted with. The fire was its own beast and to keep releasing it was playing a fine game of chicken. "But I do not mind sel-"

The angel was cut off. As Farzard had reached for their target a tentacle shot from the shadows caused by the eerie blue light and ripped him from his past. Cali took a step back towards the door as she watched in horror as the creature made its way into the eerie light. Two glowing orange eyes appeared first above a Cheshire cat like grin. Then another eye, and another, and another. The winged elf swallowed a lump in her throat as she beheld the monster that loomed over them. Her first bizzarre thought was exactly how the creature had managed to fit into a room she had thought was tiny. It was the type of thought the truly frozen wondered as they could do nothing more than watch as their death came snaking towards them. Death today would apparently be in the form of the sharp razor teeth that lined the mouth of each tentacle - wide enough to fit a human in.

Another tentacle smashed down where Cali stood. Saved by primal instinct and years of training by a General father the redhead dived out of the way. With her wings out of action the only real play she had was fire but that risked Farzard getting hurt.

The tentacle smashed again towards her as another snaked along the ground in an attempt to sweep her off her feet. Fighting on foot was not an Avariel strong suit but her father hadn't intended to raise a weak elf. As the offending limb went for her ankles Cali leapt forward into a handstand which turned into a forward roll. It put her by the plinth the sword was on. With no heed for the magics around it she threw her hand into it and grasped the blade by the handle. The light went out as she pulled it free, plunging the trio into an even darker room lit only by the light trickling in from the door behind Cali.

The monster howled in victory. The darkness was its domain.

But Cali was the sword in the dark. Literally. As she called on the fire the sword in her hand lit up with the same ethereal blue flame until her whole body was awash in it, then shot shot after Fazard. On light elvish feet she sprung onto one tentacle then another, using the beast as a step ladder before she was level with the one that had claimed her partner.

Time to test this blade, she thought as she brought it crashing down upon the tentacle to send the limb and Farzard falling to the ground. The beast screamed, the walls vibrating with its contained anger and it retreated to the darker depths to nurse its first wound. Her victory however was short lived. The spray from the blood made everything sticky and as she landed her feet melded to the floor as if she were standing in tar.

"I don't suppose you happen to have another spell do you?!" Cali asked, tugging at her feet to try and free them.

* * *

Farzad Oldsummer​

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

"One."
​

He was detached from the creature, teeth snared into his flesh as he rolled on the ground, the scarf that covered his mouth fell off, his teeth gritted as he grabbed a scroll from his side. This was the big spell. A large scroll. And about his last spell he had. He rolled backwards, getting a proper look at the mammoth construction of dark flesh and cruel twistings. He gave it a smile to match the million fanged monstrosity. He had seen demons and this twisted abomination made Pandemonium look bearable by comparison.

He dug his nail underneath the wax seal, paper peeled with it, and the scroll unfurled, the creature swung a massive arm to Farzad, a deft dodge on his part. Through the blood, through the pain, he seemed focused. Calculated. Determined. The first image formed in a circle of crackling light, gold text sparkled and fuzzed in the air, Farzad's hair seemed to tingle, than slowly flow upwards. The scroll started to wisp and burn at it's edges, words slowly fizzling life. The creature swung it's arms two more times, distracted between the two of them. The first cracked Farzad's head, his hat whizzing off as he rolled with the blow, body pressed against the ground where the sword had been. Lightning started to snap.

Farzad was in a haze and a daze in his movements, swinging back and fourth with a limp arm as the other done all the legwork, his fingers seemed to be snapped between trickles of lightning as he took in a deep breath, words coming and formed.

"La Fournae Dar"
​

There was respite in his words, a final call of determination. His body had been mauled, and cut, scythed and poisoned. Now, it was put to it's final task. The scroll seemed to slowly sliver away, inch by inch as electricity turned to fire than ash, a large halo of electricity forming in front of it. The beast swung another arm, the halo zapping like a bugzapper orb to a mosquito. Though this buzapper struck with an arm of lightning before a grumble started to be heard.

It finally came in full, it emerged like a great tendril of force, a long serpentine body erupted with a scream through the halo and penetrated the darkness and the monster, bolts of lightning swung in wild and unruly force as it struck and tore asunder a hole through half of the monster, penetrating the old cobble and exposing the dark corridor with a great wave of light. The mirrors popped and watched from behind, the great beast stumbled, it's arms flailed with electrical control as the great serpent rose up to the sky, striking the clouds and parting with violent force. There wasn't much more Farzad could do, the creature spun with an electrical wobble, Farzad held himself up if only for the spectacle of future investors. The rest, he could only leave up to Caliane as he braced himself to stand with nothing more than sheer willpower.

Caliane Ruinë​

 

[Myrcella Bochanan]

Treasure 1.

"So....maybe this isn't an Elvish city? Or maybe...something else moved in?" Myrcella chewed the inside of her cheek, knowing very well that she wasn't very knowledgable in the other races. It was going to be bad enough later after Richard Henry the Eighth and her were married. She'd have to spend her time navigating through politics. No doubt she'd gave to learn about the other races there in Elbion as well.

She looked to the statues and thought about their latest quest. Were the statues related somehow?

"What monsters lurk here, I wonder?" Myrcella voiced the thought that she was sure that Richard was thinking as well.

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Treasure One
_________________________

Cali's breathing was becoming ragged as she spent the last bits of her strength on dodging the tentacles as they swiped at her. Once she had seared one of them from the mass of horror the rest and it had recovered, it had relaunched its attach on the winged elf with vigour. Like one might try and swat at an irritating wasp. It was a tumble of limbs she wove her way through, the slimy limbs coiled and writhed like live snakes. Ducking one, slashing the other way, using another as a ledge to launch another attack. She was a blur of a figure in the darkness.

Her only warning was the electrical tingle in the air. It made all the hairs on her arms stand on end - even her feathers fluffed up at the current. Desperately she sought for an exit and through herself from the limbs with seconds to spare before the lightning hit. With a groan she hit the floor awkwardly with her shoulder and rolled until her back hit the wall with a great thud. She had dropped the Crystal Katana which lay a little in front of her in a pool of the creatures blood mingled with her own. She crawled on her belly, reaching for it, the moment of the lightning strike.

The current ripped across the beast and it screamed. The noise could probably have been heard across the whole of the city so shrill it was. Unfortunately the current also went down and across the floor slick with slime and blood. As her hands clasped around the Katana she gave her own shout as the electricity pulsed through her. Her arms trembled as they sought to keep her plank position on the ground.

Get up, Cali.

Twitching as the current still ran through her she brought one knee under, then the other, and somehow got to her feet. The lightning crackled over her wings, ridding them of the slime and gunk that had made them useless. Her broken wing screamed as she opened them, giving them a test. The force of the blast had sent the monster soaring into the sky, debris from the roof came crashing down all around them but she hardly seemed to be paying attention to the wood, tiles, motor and brick, even when one came close to falling on her. Cali's green eyes never left the monster.

"Cover your eyes," was the only warning she offered to her comrade as she crouched. Her body still twitched with the volts but it was fading and as it did the fire that was her soul returned. It spread over her wings to chase the last shocks of lightning away, consumed the power for itself. The winged elf ran from her position near the wall, leapt, her left foot hit one pile of rubble, propelled to to a taller one which she hit in a crouch on her right foot. Her stronger leg. With one push of her whole body she propelled herself into the air after the monster.

Before her she held the sword and fire shot down its length turning blue due to the magical qualities of the blade. Anyone in the area would have their eyes drawn up to the commotion as the angel of fire hit the beast. There was a wet squelch as her blade pierced the beast, forcing the fire deep inside his core. It was helped by the hole Farzard had already created, meant her blade could pierce right to the heart of the animal. Fire exploded out from it in a wave, wiping out the few Scythar's that had been unaffected by the spell below and had been drawn to the commotion.

If the wizard had thought the bugs smelt bad then the rancid smell this creature created when it rained down in pieces was unspeakable. And Cali was covered in the stuff. She landed back in the centre of the now destroyed room panting. One leg gave way and she took a knee, the blade laid out in front of her on the ground still shimmering an eerie blue. Her breathing was ragged, arms shaking.

Blood and ash rained down around them.

* * *

Farzad Oldsummer​

 

[Colette]

Treasure 2

Colette was thrown back by the same colossal screech as Donric. She winced as the pain in her shoulder was re-aggravated by the sudden impact and shot down the rest of her body. The girl steadied herself and rose to her feet, vision was already blurring again but she could still see well enough. Approaching her comrade right as he was making his way back up and asking for suggestions.

"I'm not sure," she began as she racked her brain. Were her injuries not limiting her the first instinct would've been to pull out her bow and take a few shots. See how many of those creepy heads she could strike off from the beast.

Then she thought back to the flare up of the torch, to Don's crossbow, and to the unbelievably sluggish pace of that monstrosity.

In a scrunched face of contemplation she said, "do you have any incendiary bolts? Light one ablaze and fire it at the meatiest part of that thing's body."

She'd never fought a monster before but Colette reasoned that few things on Arethil wouldn't be severely injured from being set on fire. Maybe a stone golem or a ghost or something. Anything else probably burned up pretty damn well.

 

[Jair]

Treasure 3​

There was one thing that sucked about being the biggest guy in the room? No city, and that was when arrows started flying, they usually started flying at him. Now giants skin was made of stern stuff, and his cloths, while comparitivly thin for a giant, were incredibly thick for most normal sized beings. That said Jair found a spot ( a pile of ruble) to sit, and pluck arrows out of his cloths, and skin like a kid who ran through a thicket of thorns, and brambles.

Taking a break, Jair quipped "so this thing you're looking for is human sized right?" The eldritch giant held up a hand to about 6 feet off the ground. "which would mean that it most likely has a handle about this big" Jair pinched his fingers close together as if measuring out and inch but you know giant sized so more like six inches or so....hey no size comparison jokes....

"It's likely I wouldn't be able to use it, so you can have it." With that, Jair started over turning things that looked like they would be hiding something.

(Tag Mathis Majister Mejeure)

 

[Donric Mannir]

Donric paused and chewed on her suggestion. The beast seemed to have a heavy plating on its back, so he suspected physical attacks would be little use unless they could hit it from below. That said, their previous attempts at rushing it had been repelled by the sonic wave that assailed them. He sighed, but an idea slowly wound itself into his head. Carefully, without taking his eyes off the creature, he ducked back towards his medical kit and dropped his sword to rummage around the satchel.

"Right. I have an idea." He breathed, taking out a bottle of clear liquid and a bandage. The creature regarded them curiously, its body twitching unnaturally. Quickly, he poured a bit of the liquid onto the bandage and stuffed threaded the damp fabric through the neck of it. Moving slowly, so as not to provoke the strange beast, he collected back his sword and passed the bottle to Colette.

"I'm going to distract it, I need you to light this on one of the torches and throw it when its' guard is down." He had no idea if the shrunken heads on the beasts back could see, but he was certain the beast would simply repel any attacks back at them with its screech if they attacked head-on.

He sighed, and slowly backed away from Colette. Whistling with each step as he carefully circled around the beast gathering its' attention. What amounted to the creature's head tilted and followed Donric. After a few moments, he ran for the monster. A scream met him at the half-way mark and the man found himself propelled back into the wall. Tapping followed. The beast scurried after him, its strange scythe-like arms batting away at his form.

Half dazed, the first lunge struck his arm. His protective plating was left rent and warped, but otherwise, it held - for the time being at least. The second attack struck him in the abdomen, the armour protecting him again, but a familiar crack was heard as a rib fractured inside him. Donric wheezed as he was left doubly winded from the blow and the collision with the wall.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

TREASURE 3: LOWER DISTRICT​

so this thing you're looking for is human sized right?

"Correct, my gargantuan friend!" Majister said, stepping onto the pulpit. The wood of the steps was solid, enduring even after so much lost time, and it did not creak or give way under Majister's weight.

And, oh, how gorgeous! How absolutely perfect! Jair was completely disinterested in the Bammaram. Understandably so, for as far as Majister knew the Bammaram was indeed human-sized. Why, it would have been ridiculous if Grangomelle had hidden an artifact that possibly no one could have even used, only by slim chance a giant such as Jair wandering upon the game he had devised.

Majister ascended the few steps of the pulpit and stood close to the lectern. Examined it. Hmm, well, nothing immediately out of the ordinary from what one might reasonably expect of a elven relic left in the care of goblins. Dirty, dingy, and no apparent hidden levers or switches or anything.

"Find something, Darla?" Majister called out.

"What's the going rate for goblin shit?" Darla called back from elsewhere among the makeshift huts and tents.

"How about you, Krull?" said Majister as he started to pace around the large pulpit.

"Nothing but spoiled wishful thinking," Krull called back as he kicked over another pile of scraps, hide and linen and things best left unmentioned.

Majister was about to ask Jair...but his next step upon the pulpit caught his attention. Where all of his steps thus far had a certain sound to them, there, in the center of the raised platform, his bootfall upon the wood sounded deliciously hollow.

Majister grinned. Began to walk and tap and walk and tap until he had a reasonable idea as to the size of this hidden trove inside the pulpit itself. Curious though, he saw no obvious indications of a trap door's tiny gaps or a concealed handle. Those crafty elves, the mechanism to open it was likely elsewhere in the Nave, very likely magical in nature.

But! Why struggle unnecessarily with combing over every nook of the Nave for some esoteric switch or lever or magical panel to press? Yes, indeed, why do this when you had a giant, armed with an anchor and a hammer and enough gusto to up-end the whole pulpit if he so desired.

"Oh, Jair!" Majister called to the giant. "I believe I may have found something that your astonishing strength could trivialize! Come! See here, in the center of this platform there is a curious hollowness. Why, if you could be a lad and pry or smash through the wood, we'll all have our eyes feasting on the treasures undoubtedly inside!"

Oh yes. Yes. It was an ironclad rule of the world, it seemed. Behind any locked door, inside any hidden compartment, there were items of value. Oh, and the sheer pleasure of discovery! Of laying his gaze on things that he should never have seen, let alone take. Hmmmm...it never grew old.

This life of looting. Of plunder. This was Majister's calling.

Jair

 

[Colette]

Treasure 2

---

It was rare for Colette to like any of Donric's ideas. Typically they involved something dangerous or they were extremely crude soldier humor. The kinds of things her mother wouldn't approve of. But in this instance she did not protest. The man had, quite possibly, just saved her life and she was fresh out of thoughts for how they could deal with this abomination of flesh and shrunken heads.

"Right, but do be careful," she said compliantly. Whatever he was planning sounded dangerous.

In horror the wide eyed girl watched as Donric casually strolled towards the creature as if it was a long last pal. He was moving in a pattern similar to when he was about to ask her to come drinking with the rest of their platoon. Calm, careless, and with an almost inviting stance. What on earth are you thinking?

Then, the medic shouted and valiantly charged at the beast. Weapons drawn. Colette's heart raced. He was going to get himself killed trying to be a hero. How many times had he scolded her for being headstrong? He'd told her stories of other veterans who tried to do something courageous and they all ended up dead. Now here he was, breaking all of those rules and acting the savior.

He was thrown at the wall like a ragdoll, a sinister crack of bone was audible and it caused Colette to grimace. She didn't want to let his sacrifice be in vain though, she quickly lit the end of the cloth, cocked back her good arm, and let the concoction fly at the beast. It was engulfed in a mighty flame as it winced and screeched in agony. Back away from the duo into the dimness of the room, illuminating its surroundings with its own burning flesh. Individual heads that poked out of its bloated body popped like kernels of corn and emitted a horrid stench that caused the girl's nose to scrunch up.

She wasted no time as the amalgamated creature seemed to back away. She ran over to Donric, fell to her knees, and queried, "that was reckless. Are you injured? Are you hurt? Never do something that stupid ever again!"

 

[Donric Mannir]

Donric couldn't help but smile at his companion's concern. Although the subsequent breath brought a wracking pain through him that made him forget the brief touching feeling he'd just felt. "Look, I had one bottle of that stuff and it needed to land." He wheezed. As the beast set ablaze across the room, Donric pressed himself against the wall and carefully used the boundary as a prop to help him rise to his feet.

A deep breath, more debilitating pain. Slowly, he began to walk - always pressed against the wall - to his satchel. Carefully, so as not to exacerbate his rib, he bent awkwardly and at an angle - keeping the fractured rib as straight as possible. A few moments passed and he withdrew a single vial of a curious purple liquid, popped the cork, and downed the contents of the glassware.

Bliss. Pure ecstasy washed over him. Wyrn Root found commonly in the steppes. It was the most potent painkiller the Guard had at their disposal, although each medic was only allowed a single dosage at any one time. It was highly addictive and, it was hoped, by the time the dosage wore off the patient would either be dead or within a field hospital. He sighed when he realised he would be neither once this was over and that the pain would come back in full force. Pausing, slightly, as he realised he could have given Colette a painkiller - he shrugged.

He'd need to be careful, without the indicator of pain he could worsen his injury, but Donric had few choices. Drawing back to Colette he picked up his fallen sword and held it firmly in the opposite grasp to his injury. "Right. I have about an hour of painkiller inside me, that's our time limit. We finish up then we're out of here." He said, leaving no room for arguments.

Without missing a beat, he stepped forward, his blade moving in a precise practised motion. Donric wasn't a bad swordsman by any means, but he relied heavily on his large bearing and strength. Thankfully, when the opponent was distracted by being aflame, it mattered little.

With the shrunken heads shrivelled and immolated, the swordsman stepped forward and begun to hack his way through the giant beast. "I might need a hand here..." He said, mid-way through slicing a burning scythe-like appendage.

 

[Colette]

Treasure 2

---

Donric's explanation for his rash behavior made sense to her. They only had one shot and had that gamble not worked, well, neither of them might be alive right now. She watched quietly as he shuffled his way over to his medpack and retrieved some other vial of fluid. Kicking it back before explaining that it was a pain killer.

Wait. He had pain killers this entire time? Oh well, Colette shrugged off her own pain as the look on the field medic's face made it obvious that he was hurting far more than she was. Her vision on the other hand, well, it was starting to get fuzzy again. She really didn't want to feel the sting of those eyedrops again though.

"Yes, let's hurry. I want to be rid of this place," she said in agreement while her comrade continued to get his blade and make his way to the burnt-out corpse of that beast.

Colette complied with his request and began cutting up its odd flesh. Doing her best to breath through her mouth to limit how much of the rotten smell entered her nasal cavity. After a bit of hacking and the two of them working in shifts to conserve their energy they had gotten through the beast. A few more passageways lay ahead of them and the two walked in unison down it until they reached a staircase which seemed to go up to an unexplored trap door.

Behind them were a series of large iron doors, all locked, and by the sounds rustling within them they housed more plague ghouls. Colette ascended the steps, looking back at Donric and reassuring, "doesn't seem to be any other way than through here..."

She waited at the trap door, hand on the knob, for Donric to give the word that they should proceed through.

 

[Donric Mannir]

"Yeah, I want to be rid of this accursed place. Honestly, if payroll doesn't give us a sodding bonus after what we've been through I'm going to clobber some of those damned paper pushers." He grumbled. Donric almost always directed his anger at these unseen 'bureaucrats' and 'paper pushers'. He wasn't particularly sure these people existed and, if they did, where they were based. But gods forbid if he ever found out the location of them...

He nodded towards Colette, her hand turning in response. Before them opened up a small room almost identical in shape and size to the arena they had just left from. In the centre of the room stood a lone statue of a humanoid, not an elf, and in front of him lay a table with several mugs and bottles and three chairs - two on one side and one in front of the statue.

Donric jumped slightly. The shape of the statue In the dimly lit room reminded him of the blurry demon that had assailed him when they first entered this castle. He sighed, stepping into the room and taking a closer look at the statue before him.

It was a curious thing. Carved out of stone, it possessed a straw hat, some overalls, bucked teeth and appeared to be chewing on a bit of wheat. Before he had a chance to get closer, however, the statue started stirring and slowly came to life.

The, now animated, stonework moved slowly and quietly. Taking a seat in the chair before him and pouring some clear liquid into the three mugs set out on the table. He took a swig for good measure, topped up the glass, then regarded the trio curiously.

"Howdy partners, if'n yer hankerin' th' treasure, yo'll hafta beat me in this hyar drinkin' corntess, hyuck." It smiled a crooked smile, displaying gaps in its teeth.

Donric turned towards Colette, bewildered and amused, before hissing in her direction. "What does it want?" She had always been better at foreign languages than Donric. At least, he assumed so because she had gone to school.

 

[Colette]

Colette rolled her eyes as Donric grumbled about payroll. It had been explained to him before, Colette herself even sat him down to explain the math twice, that payrates were determined by ones rank within the Guard. As they were only the rank of "Soldier" they were paid the least. Donric never wanted to talk about why he had been at the entry rank for so long and he typically brushed off Colette's nagging that if he took his duties a bit more seriously he'd surely advance.

Regardless, the blonde soldier opened the hatch and the pair ascended into the most decorative room yet. Donric, and Colette, jumped in place as the stone statue in the center of the room came to life. It spoke in a very distinctive Anirian dialect though it was not from the part of the city Colette hailed from.

"The statue is speaking our language Donnie," she reassured the medic, "it's an odd dialect. My auntie speaks like that. He's challenging us to a drinking contest... I'm assuming the cups and bottles are filled with alcohol?"

His crooked stone-carved teeth displayed again as he confirmed, "yes'm me laddie all man'er o' drank, hic!"

Colette stared oddly at Donric for a brief second before speaking her concerns aloud, "is this... is this like an elven joke about humans?" She had never seen someone openly mock humans. Especially not Anirians. Was this how the elves perceived them? A bunch of drunkards who spoke with such an unusual accent?

The slender guardswoman approached the table, sheathed her blade, and took a seat to the stone creation's left. She grasped the tankard before her and took a deep whiff, it was definitely alcohol. Strong too. Wrinkles formed on her nose as she called over to Donric, "you better join us. This swill is, well, potent by the smell of it. I think you may be a bit better at this than I'll be."

Then again... the only time they had gone out for drinks Colette ended up having to aid Donric back to the barracks... perhaps she'd need to be the one to step up here.

 

[Donric Mannir]

"Maybe he's just taking the accent of a voice familiar to you..." He paused, shaking his head at the idea. It wouldn't make sense for the creature to mimic an accent familiar to one and completely alien to the other. "Do you think... This is how we sound to other people?" He shuddered. Putting that thought on hold quickly and trying his best to ignore it.

"Well, if it is taking the piss out of us, I suggest we show it what the Guard are made of and settle this with a time-honoured drinking contest." He said confidently. Although, as he pulled a chair aside and sat down in front of the table, he soon remembered he was currently under the influence of some very potent pain medication.

He leaned in close to Colette, whispering in her ear. "Uh, this one might be on you kiddo, alcohol doesn't mix with Wyrn Root." That said, he wasn't going to pass up free alcohol and would simply resign himself to a maximum of five mugs.

Overall Donric favoured their chances in this contest. The first time he'd drunk with Colette, she'd managed to drink the entire squadron under the table. Even managing to best Very Drunk Viktor, who had spent his whole life dedicated to the consumption of anything and everything alcoholic.

His attention was brought back to the situation at hand as the statue started moving. Its mouth erupted into a toothy grin, exposing several gaps within its smile and he began to pour several different bottles into several different mugs. Eventually, once he was content with the measures, he shifted his attention back towards the duo and began to explain the rules.

"Right, th' rules is thet yo' drink until yo' pass out. Eff'n yo' puke yo' lose, eff'n yo' both lose yo' die. Plus, yo' hafta finish yer intire drink befo'e yo' move on t'th' next. Enny quesshuns?" He hiccuped as he finished his sentence.

Donric leant back towards Colette. "Uh... What did he say?"

 

[Jair]

"Oh, Jair! I believe I may have found something that your astonishing strength could trivialize! Come! See here, in the center of this platform there is a curious hollowness. Why, if you could be a lad and pry or smash through the wood, we'll all have our eyes feasting on the treasures undoubtedly inside!"

The eldritch going chuffed, and made his way over to the pulpit. Taking a cursory look at the predicament he nodded once, and moved the corresponding debris from in his way. Then he took a good look at the secret compartment. He might have used his spectral vision but decided against it, such place as these tended to be blinding when looked at in such ways.

But he saw enough of it to know where to start prying. Kneeling down, and bracing with one hand gripped the panel with the other, and began to lift. Boards began to groan, then pop as the giant pried away at the treasure. Then the first hewen oak board snapped cartwheeling through the air, followed by another and another.

Metal ground against stone as the steal strong box was ripped from its cradle. Taking the box in both hands Jair lifted it above his head, and slammed it into the marble floor cracking it like an egg spilling all the golden goody inside.

(Tag Majister)

 

[Colette]

It was abundantly clear that Donric had never heard the country accent of Vel Anir. It wasn't common in the city and it likely hadn't made its way to Vel Luin, where the medic was from. At least he'd come to the same conclusion that she had. That the elves who built this place were using this statue to mock humans. Or at least, to mock Anirians.

"This whole thing is in very poor taste," she informed the statue, "Anirians aren't drunkards and they don't sound as uneducated as you are making us out to be. We treat elves very fairly." She wasn't exactly certain if that was true, there were always rumors and the elves and Anirians had warred in the past. But, the leaflets and criers always talked about the generous things that Vel Anir did for the elves which was always repaid with some dastardly betrayal.

Then Donric informed her that she'd be the one to carry the weight of their drinking team. "Donric. Let me get this straight. I get hurt, am in pain, and have blurry vision. So you save your pain meds for yourself. Then, because you took the pain remedy you can't keep up with this," she gestured at the crude humanoid statue dismissively, "stupid stone thing!" Colette's face had turned such a bright shade of scarlet that it looked like the blood vessels in her forehead might actually rupture.

It was true, the last time she'd been out with the platoon for drinks she wasn't even tipsy yet by the time they were all acting silly. But it was mostly a fact of growing up in a family that consumed wine by the case. She'd tried to delay showing her particular... talent off but, well, there was a lot of pressure to fit in as a new recruit. And she'd felt quite smug when the career soldiers couldn't hold a candle to her in the drinking department.

As the statuette clarified the rules her face went back to white and her eyes softened a bit more. Donric, unsurprisingly, still hadn't comprehended anything. "He explained the rules. We drink until we pass out or vomit. You have to fully empty your mug until you can pour another. If we both lose he says we die." She eyed the statue over one. It was true, the two of them were injured, but she figured they could still take the statue. If it came to that. Maybe not if they were drunk though.

Colette picked up her mug and downed the first cup. The alcohol was bitter, bland, some sort of clear liquor that did not have any pleasantness to it. She began to pour a second though she waited for the statue, and Donric, to catch up first.