Completed The Black Marks[Dreadlords]

[Amos]

"Plague?" Amos asked inquisitively, his lips thinning for a brief moment. "I don't have any experi-"

His words were cut off as the Professor waved her hand, nodding her head at the same time. "I know I know my boy, but this plague is rather unique. It seems to be magical in nature."

A frown touched his lips for a brief moment. Magical plagues weren't exactly unheard of. They happened with relative frequency, though generally speaking not in Anirian territory. Most things of such nature came from Necromancers, or some other practitioner of the darker arts, people who most often did not wish to run afoul of Dreadlords.

So why was this one here? Even with recent troubles, there were more than enough Dreadlords.

"But, Professor, why would you come to m-" Cut off once more, the Professor supplied him with an answer.

"Because my boy!" She continued. "It seems to act like most other sort of plague; Cough, fever, pustules of black marks. But interestingly enough, these pustules seem to be epicenters not for the disease...but Magic!

Epiri - Eastern Anirian Territory

That was how Amos found himself in the Anirian town of Epiri.

One of four villages currently infected with what the locals called; 'Blackrot'. It, as far as most people knew, was the epicenter of the plague. Where it had all begun. The population within a matter of weeks had been reduced from just over a thousand to nearly half that number. The strange disease wracking through the town and leaving it feeling empty and barren.

So far the plague had not spread, thanks mostly to a quarantine set up around the area. Watched over by the Guard of course, as well as several Dreadlord Initiates. Apparently real Dreadlords being far too important to be assigned to maintain a simple quarantine.

Amos himself was in what had once been the Town Hall of Epiri, but now served as a medical ward, coordination center, and military headquarters. A combination of things that had caused more than a few scraped elbows and nasty words. He had arrived that morning and had immediately been thrust into the thick of things.

Apparently treating the disease was going nowhere, what townspeople remained were ready to riot, and the Guard thought all of this was some form of attack.

A mess, if Amos had ever seen one, not that any of it was his to worry about save the first.

"Would someone mind escorting me into town?" Amos said as he stepped into the main lobby of the town hall, noting that there were several Guardsmen, Initiates, and other figures there. Probably either waiting for orders or simply trying to get away from the more chaotic main lobby where those in charge were still arguing. "I'd go alone, but I'm afraid I need someone to carry my supplies."

He said with a gesture towards a small box which sat on the corner behind him, a gentle cough racking his chest.

 

[Ivan Skender]

In a corner of the Epiri town hall's main lobby, Ivan was "enjoying" his meal when Amos walked in. Composed of a foul-smelling broth where a few chunks of something he hoped was meat floated, it was further accompanied by stale, slightly mouldy bread, and a pint of beer that tasted more like burned oil, than a beverage. Indeed, the only fortunate thing about this meal was that he would not be able to finish it, as he would soon have to head out.

Unlike the rest of the initiates present at Epiri, Ivan had not been assigned to assist the guard, but rather to support the medical teams. By using his decay magic on the human body, he was capable of rotting flesh in such a way as to mimic some of the symptoms of the blackrot - like the magic-imbued pustules that were so iconic of the disease - while avoiding making someone else actually sick. This had made him a valuable asset to the healers working in the town and meant he was often tasked to go with them as they studied the corpses of the freshly deceased. What all of this meant was that, when not enjoying Epiri’s wonderful gastronomy, he was usually out and about, covered in ooze and pus as the healers used his magic for whatever trial-and-error tests they fancied.

Speaking of which:

- “I’m heading that way.” - He said to Amos, pushing his broth aside. - “I’ll take you there.” - Walking over to the man, he picked up the small box by the corner.​

 

[Amos]

"Ah, thank you." Amos said kindly to the young man, flashing a quick smile before he shifted his weight. Taking a deep breath, his he focused himself and slowly began to make his way out the door, holding it open so that Ivan could pass through while he held the crate.

As soon as they stepped outside the lines of tents and other temporary buildings came into view within the town square.

Setup originally to hold patients, most of them were now either empty or only held supplies for those in quarantine. It was a sad fact, Amos knew. Hundred had died because they had not found the source of this disease, and they were now no closer than they had been. "You are Ivan, yes?"

Amos asked, his voice soft as he stifled another cough racking his chest.

"One of the Dreadlord Initiates?" Though he lead the way, Amos was noticeably slower than most people would have been. Ivan would easily be able to tell that the young man was sickly in some way, though clearly distinct from the plague which had taken hold of the town. "I believe Dr. Belkor mentioned you had been helping."

 

[Ivan Skender]

He made it through the door and into the town square. The crate he was carrying did not feel all that heavy on his arms, and so he proceeded at a leisurely pace, as he accompanied the new arrival through the deserted tents and pavilions. When he had originally arrived, a fair few of them had still been occupied, but by now the place really looked like a ghost town.

- "Yes I am, and yes I have." - He responded, looking over his companion from head to toe. - "And you must be the new guy." - It had been the mention of Dr. Belkor that led to his guess. His comrades in the healer corps had been talking about a newcomer for a few days now, and although Ivan usually ended up ignoring the majority of gossip the medics had, he couldn’t help it if some of it sunk in.

- "You're a... uh... professor?" - Again, he really couldn't have cared less about healer gossip, so, even though he had been hearing about this new guy here and there for some time, he still wasn’t sure about his profile. That being said, he did hope this newcomer wasn't a teacher. He had enough of those waiting for him back at the Academy.

Ivan noticed he had started to trail ahead.

While he couldn’t have possibly missed the seemingly sporadic coughs, it was the slowness in the step of his companion, allied with the fact he’d asked for help in carrying a simple box, that led Ivan to speculate about the health of the man. On the one hand, by this point, Ivan knew fully well that whatever afflicted this newcomer wasn’t any sort of blackrot-related symptom, however on the other hand, he neither could nor cared to, divine what was wrong with him.

- "Do you…?" - He started, brow raised in uncertainty at how to proceed. - "need to rest for a bit?" - ​

 

[Amos]

A small chuckle escaped Amos' throat, almost starting another string of coughs in the process. "No, nothing so prestigious I'm afraid."

Though perhaps that would have been his path one day, becoming a Professor in the gilded halls of Vel Zaphris took many years. Time and Patronage were of an essence in the university system of Vel Anir, and although he had the latter, the former was not something he expected.

"A student of a sort, I suppose, though much of my time is spent in research and not the classroom." He smiled at the Initiate even as he began to range ahead. "I study magics, you see, and this disease is close to a theory I have developed."

At least it appeared to be that way, though Amos wasn't entirely sure that was yet true.

He smiled at Ivan when the boy turned. "Ah, no, I'm alright. My pace is simply slower than I would like, but our destination is just ahead."

Amos said, pointing to a small house on the other end of the street.

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Well, that sounds incredibly--" - "Boring" was the way he was going to complete his remark about Amos' routine as a researcher.

The second comment on the theory about the disease did catch his attention, however. Since his powers resembled the epidemic to the point of him being able to mimic its effects, he figured that if this nerd found anything about the disease; how it had started, how it had been meant to be used, and, above all, what gave it such power, then he was fairly sure he could use it to enhance his own powers.

- "interesting." - He concluded instead, slowing his pace to match Amos'.

As they approached the small house, he noticed that was the place he was meant to go to as well. Ivan wondered if his companion would be the one responsible for him ending up covered in pus and ooze, as he was wont to do these days.

- "And what have you theorized so far?" - He asked, trying to probe the researcher for more information.
​

 

[Amos]

Amos paused at the door to the cabin. It was one of the smaller homes in Epiri, belonging to a Hunter named Erastil. The man was one of the few not sick, though when combing through the copious notes kept by the medical staff Amos had noticed something that apparently everyone else had missed; the man's dog had been sick.

"The researchers here have long since concluded that Blackrot is not natural." Though there were a few magical diseases in the world, this particular one did not match any known to the Anirians. That in it of itself was not shocking, nor was the fact that this had likely been created by someone.

"The prevailing thought, as you know, is that someone may have poisoned the food or water supply." There were several reasons thought of as to why someone might have done it. A rogue Dreadlord causing chaos, another nation attempting to sow seeds of doubt in the Republic, some random necromancer experiment. All possibilities, and Amos wouldn't narrow it down. "I do not think this is true however. I think Epiri is a consequence...not a target."

Before Ivan could question him Amos continued.

"I believe Blackrot is...a mistake. Not a purposeful attack." He explained to Ivar as he reached out and knocked on the door. "Furthermore, I think it was carried into town."

Now he just needed the evidence for that theory.

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Carried?" - He asked, raising his brow. Much like everyone else, Ivan had believed the established theory that some magically-concocted poison had been to blame for the epidemic. That had been the reason why he had nagged the healers at Epiri almost non-stop since he'd arrived.

Again, he really couldn't care less for the scientific ramifications of the discovery, but if he could enhance his decay powers through whatever was happening here, then all the gibberish he'd had to put up with from the dorks of the medical corps would have been worth it.

As it turned out, however, it would seem as though he had bet on the wrong horse.

"Epiri is a consequence... not a target."

From that, he guessed that the rot had originated elsewhere and then spread to the village... which, in turn, meant that - if Amos was indeed correct - it had been carried by someone, or something, which travelled in and out of the village without causing suspicion. With Epiri being a small settlement in the middle of nowhere, it usually did not see that much in the way of traveller influxes.

Hence the hunter's cabin.

Erastil the hunter was one of the few people in the town that made his way across the land every now and then, and while he - as far as Ivan knew - had not been infected with the disease, that did not mean the rot could not have entered in other ways.

- "Right." - He said at last. - "And you think… what? That one of Erastil’s quarries brought it in?" - That would explain why Belkor had assigned him to do a check-up on the hunter’s lodge. - Or maybe his horse?" - He raised his brow again. - His hunting dogs?" -​

 

[Amos]

"The latter, I think." Amos said, sounding quite pleased with himself.

It had taken him a little while to actually puzzle the fact out. Really only managing to piece it together as he'd been treating some of the people who had actually managed to survive the rot. Most of them all spoke about falling ill around the same time; when Erastil had sold meat from one of his trips.

At first he'd thought it was the meat itself, but that notion had quickly been dashed. Not longer after the breakdown of that theory he'd learned of Erastil's dog. Apparently he'd buried the poor thing just a day before people first became ill.

"I fackin told you I-" A voice called out as the door to the cabin was yanked open. "Oh-Shit, sorry. Thought you were more Guardsmen telling me to get out of here."

Amos looked up at the giant of a man standing before him, studying him closely and noting a distinct lack of the blackrot on him. "No, no guardsmen Sir, however I have come to ask you some questions."

He glanced at Ivan.

"If you wouldn't mind." Amos flashed a brief smile, trying his best to suppress the cough in his chest.

 

[Ivan Skender]

A grimace formed on his face, as they entered the hunter's abode. Having been in Epiri for some time, Ivan had already got acquainted with the huntsman beforehand, and so he felt he could reliably guess that the man would probably not take too kindly to anyone interfering with his affairs... especially if Amos tried anything with Erastil's dogs.

- "Please be nice, Erastil." - Ivan added to Amos' request. - "My colleague is new here. Let's not leave a bad impression on him, shall we?" -

He got off to Amos' side, and put down the box by one of the tables the huntsman used to flay his quarries.​

 

[Amos]

The huntsman was clearly uncomfortable, glancing at Ivan for a brief moment before he frowned and looked back towards Amos. His head tipped in a nod, and together the three of them entered the small cabin.

It was a cozy thing, by all rights, just two rooms and with what was probably a bathroom tucked away in the corner. Hunting trophies lay all around, though noticeably there were no dogs in the cabin. Though there was plenty sign of them having been there in the past.

A clue it didn't take a genius to find. "I'm sure you know why were here."

Erastil nodded.

"I ain't no fool'." He declared, and Amos smiled.

"I did not figure you for one. I am sorry to intrude, so I'll go directly to it." Cutting to the chase, as it were. "I believe it was you who first brought Blackrot to Epiri-not on purpose mind you-"

Erastil's face contorted, and it looked as though he would interrupted before Amos corrected himself. "But I think accidentally. You are the only one who ventures far, from what I've gathered."

A frown touched the mans lips. "Have you found anything...unusual on your travels? Before all this started."

Hesitation flickered over the mans features, and he briefly looked rather suspect.

"I won't get into any trouble?" He asked, looking more at Ivan than Amos.

 

[Ivan Skender]

The direction of the conversation caused a shift in the initiate's demeanour. While before Ivan would have tried caution with the huntsman, Erastil's quasi-admission of guilt caused a hint of annoyance to flicker through his features.

The little prick had been hiding something from them.

- "Out with it." - He said dryly, his tone making it hard for an outside observer to discern whether it was one curiosity or annoyance.

- "It can't get any worse than if I return to headquarters and report you have been withholding information, now can it?" - He took a step towards the huntsman, with a sanguine look on his face.

- "So, just tell us what you found, will you?" - His tone grew more and more assertive with each word, so that by the end he sounded more like a Proctor at the Academy than a simple initiate out on assignment.​

 

[Amos]

Erastil almost immediately took half a step back and away from Ivan as the boy squared up slightly in front of him. The Huntsman was a large man, fierce, but he knew well what the boy was. A Dreadlord, even an Initiate, was not something to trifle with.

"I-there's some ruins, to the north of here." He said quickly, looking between the two boys as if it might make a difference whom he spoke to.

"Old, ancient from what I can tells." He cleared his throat. "Generally I stay clear of em, but I caught a buck just outside and I think Macy..."

"Macy?" Amos asked inquisitively.

"My dog sir, she is...was, one of my best hunting dogs, but I think..." He frowned. "She picked something up in those ruins, died just...just a few days before everyone started to get sick. Darner helped me bury her, he was the first to get the 'Rot."

Almost immediately Amos tried to keep the flicker of excitement from showing on his face. Instead forcing himself to keep a stoic mask. "I see."

He glanced briefly at Ivan, then asked. "Where are the ruins? I think they might be key to figuring this all out."

 

[Ivan Skender]

Ivan frowned. Erastil, that little shit, had known he'd been to blame for the rot ever since the beginning, yet he had chosen to keep it hidden. While he could certainly understand why - popular justice, in these little villages of the interior, was, after all, always a gruesome affair - it did annoy him that the huntsman's omission had cost him and everyone else involved precious time that could otherwise have been spent somewhere else other than this shithole at the end of the world… that not to mention they wouldn’t have a bunch of dead peasants on-hand.

In any case, this wasn’t the time to mourn for lost times - nor dead commoners. He stifled his frown and took another step towards the huntsman. The angle he advanced on meant Erastil was trapped between him and one of the walls of the house.

- "Also, did you see anything out of the ordinary while you were there?" - He added to Amos’ question. If indeed the rot had come from these ruins, it was best to know if they should expect something out of the ordinary if they went to investigate. Kress knew they couldn’t count on Erastil to give them all the details.

Apart from whether the huntsman had witnessed anything bizarre, there was something else that was gnawing at the back of Ivan’s mind since Eratil’s confession:

- "And did you pick up anything from these ruins?" - Though Amos’ initial guess that the rot had been carried into Epiri had seemingly proven itself accurate, that did not mean he was correct about the dogs. Macy the hound could have been infected by something brought over from the ruins after its owner came back home.​

 

[Amos]

"No! No I swear! I've never gone close enough to take a good look at anything. Never gone inside!" The Hunter said quickly, stepping back and away from Ivan. It was clear that the man was in no way trying to argue, in fact he seemed outright willing to give the Initiate whatever he wanted.

Handy, really.

It reminded Amos of some of the leg-breakers back in the Gutters. He supposed that was really all Soldiers were, leg-breakers for the state, and Dreadlords were the best soldiers of them all. A frown touched his lips, but he said nothing as Erastil continued.

"I didn't pick anything up!" The Hunter insisted. "Neither did Macy! She got sick...but that was all, I swear, nothing shiny or valuable or..."

Amos frowned for a moment, then glanced over at Ivan. "I believe, the answer to our question might yet still be found with Macy."

The student said, earning a confused look from Erastil.

"But Macy is a dog...a dead dog." He said. "She can't tell you nuthin."

Amos only smiled. "But I believe her stomach still can."

 

[Ivan Skender]

A very perceptible look of annoyance flickered through his features, as he heard the remark about Macy's stomach.

He knew it. He fucking knew it.

Ivan knew this newcomer would, sooner or later, cause him to end up covered in ooze, pus, or an even nastier combination of the two. Now here he was... about to be covered in the ooze and pus of a dead dog.

Kress, he hated nerds.

With an equally perceptible, very annoyed sigh, he glanced at Erastil. Though the huntsman had been so far very clearly intimidated by Ivan's vicious demeanour, the initiate couldn't tell how he'd react to the prospect of having to desecrate the resting place of his prized hunting dog, on the whim of a newly-arrived healer.

Even so, if it helped getting him out of that shithole of a village any faster, Ivan was willing to play along.

- "You heard him. Lead on, Erastil." -​

 

[Amos]

"Her stomach!? You can't be serious thats-" Before the man could finish speaking Ivan interrupted him, making it clear that this was going to happen.

Amos offered a small, almost imperceptible smile. In truth he no more wanted to do this than either his companion or the Hunter. He much preferred working with metal than flesh, but...well the theory had to be tested.

Slowly he stood, using the back of the chair for leverage. "Apologies, I wish there was another way."

Erastil shook his head, muttering to himself, but he glanced once more at Ivan and then let out another sigh.

Not much longer later, the three of them stood around an open grave. The body of a recently dead dog placed carefully upon a large old blanket that Erastil had brought out with them. Amos had not done much, any, of the digging, but he was now closest to the corpse.

The smell of which was almost overwhelming.

From the small box that Ivan had carried to the hunter's cabin, Amos pulled a scalpel as well as an odd sort of looking glass. He placed the glass over one of his eyes, fixing it in place on his head with a strap. "This may...make the smell worse."

Amos said as he leaned forward and cut into the hounds stomach.

His predictions quickly proving truthful.

An awful wretched smell filled the air almost instantly, and it was all that Amos could do not to violently vomit. His fingers, gloved of course, quickly moved into the incision. Widening it and digging for just a few seconds until finally he spoke again.

"Ah, here." He said, pulling out a small piece of metal. It was circular in question, about the size of a coin. Amos' thumb rubbed some of the gore from it, revealing the depiction of a strange creature. "A strange thing for a dog to eat..."

Amos said with a frown.

 

[Ivan Skender]

Ivan stood just on the edge of the open grave, an emotionless expression stamped on his face. By this point, the nauseating smell of decay did not bother him anymore, though one good look at the initiate would easily reveal he most certainly did not feel comfortable.

As he'd predicted, most of the work in disinterring the dead hound had fallen upon him. As he had also expected, he now stood covered in dirt from the grave, as well as an unhealthy amount of ooze that had fallen all over his chest and face when they'd been hoisting the corpse onto the blanket. What a joyous day.

As Amos extracted the coin from the hound's stomach, Ivan glanced over the object but made no further effort to move closer.

"A strange thing for a dog to eat..."

- "Isn't it just?" - He replied dryly.

With a sigh, he took out a map from his back pocket. Unfolding it on the grass, just a few steps away from the open grave, Ivan stretched out the paper so that his two companions could see it depicted Epiri and its surroundings, over a radius of a few kilometers.

- "Where is this ruin?" - He asked Erastil, motioning towards the paper.​

 

[Amos]

Erastil didn't hesitate this time. Either due to the grim sight of seeing his beloved hound cut open, or because he had actually started to believe the two who had come to his door. "It's 'round here."

The man said, pointing west of the city to a section of the forest that was nearby a large lake. Amos frowned for a moment, noting that it was several miles from the town itself. He had not expected the hunter to range so far, but he supposed it made sense.

"Do you know anything about the ruins?" Amos asked as he slowly stood, grabbing a rag from the box that Ivan had brought and beginning to clean off his hands.

"No, like I said, I don't venture into 'em." The Hunter said eagerly, as if trying to convince Amos. "Tully might have known better, he was the mayor and his family kept track of the histories but..."

Erastil didn't have to finish the sentence. The mayor had passed away almost in the first wave of deaths. "I suppose then, we will have to investigate them ourselves. No?"

Amos said, looking at Ivan with a smile.

 

[Ivan Skender]

Ivan looked down at Amos, raising his brow at the other's smile.

So be it.

- "Yes, let's take a look." - He responded to Amos' "invitation" to go explore the ruins. At least there he would probably not end up covered in ooze… he hoped.

He glanced around at the mess they'd made to disinter Erastil's hound.

He shook his head.

Placing a hand on the huntsman's shoulder, rather gently this time, he motioned towards the corpse of the hound.

- "Come on Erastil. I'll help you bury Macy again." - He said.

Once that was done, as him and Amos were on their way out of the huntsman's cabin, Ivan would be sure to ask:

- "What do you reckon was that symbol on the coin?" - Due to the distance between him and Amos at the time, Ivan had not gotten a clear glimpse of the object his companion had extracted from the hound's stomach, though he had managed to make out a strange form carved on the metal.​

 

[Amos]

Amos smiled as Ivan offered to once again help bury Erastil's hound. It was a gesture that he would not have expected from a Dreadlord, even an Initiate, and it made the other boy go up a few rungs in his estimations. Not that he'd been low before. So far he'd proven more than amiable, even friendly.

Still, the gesture warmed him, especially since Amos could not have done it himself.

By the time the two of them were making their way through the ruins, Amos had considered the exact same question that Ivan had asked almost a dozen times. The creature upon the coin reminded him of more than a few myths and legends, though one stuck out above all else. "Careful not to touch the metal."

He said, fishing the small coin out of his pocket. He had wrapped it in a handkerchief and offered it to Ivan. "It appears similar to a Gorgon."

"But, it's...different than many of the depictions I have seen." Amos waited for Ivan to unwrap and take a look himself. He would see what Amos said was true. The depiction was of a Gorgon, snake like hair and all, yet there was something off about it. "I don't know if the coin itself is important."

He confessed. "But I do believe Marcy was patient zero, and the coin carried whatever pathogen began the Blackrot."

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Uh-uh." - He nodded absent-mindedly to the remark about Erastil's hound being patient zero, as he took the coin. - "Do you think the gorgon has any significance?" -

He studied the small metal circle intently. While the coin might end up not having any importance for Amos or their mission in Epiri, Ivan knew it was interesting for him.

Through his powers he could enchant objects to act as agents of corrosion; that was, make it so they could rot anything they came into contact with, without him having to put in the effort directly. While the coin seemed to work similarly, should Amos' hypothesis about it carrying the pathogen be correct, his enchanted objects did not even come close to the magical potency stored in this small piece of metal.

If only he could find out what powered it...

As he stared at the coin though, a shiver ran through him, and a sense of discomfort washed over his body. For a second, it felt as though he'd been beaten to a pulp.

The next moment, however, it was gone.

Ivan shook his head, handed the coin back to Amos, and instead focused on the ruins that now rose in front of the two of them.

- "What do you figure we'll find here?" - ​

 

[Amos]

"Possibly, though I've never read myths of A Gorgon spreading disease." Though, the study of monsters was hardly his field of expertise. He'd read the accounts of a few hunters and even some Templar before, but it had been more for...entertainment than scholarly purposes.

Never in a million years had he thought he would find himself in a situation like this.

It was exciting in a way. Most of the time he was stuck in a laboratory, working behind a desk. His illness didn't really permit him the ability to venture out much, and even now he could feel himself tire. Yet as they walked the young researcher continued to be stoked forward, the excitement carrying him more than anything else.

"I'm not sure." Amos said as he shook his head, taking the coin. "My guess is something has befouled the place, and the coin someho-"

He suddenly cut himself off as an acrid rotting smell entered the air.

His nose crinkled, and he looked over at Ivan to make sure that he caught the scent as well. Lips thinned, and just a few hundred meters the beginnings of the ruins came into view. "Erastil did not mention anything about a smell..."

Amos said, caution entering his voice.

 

[Ivan Skender]

The foul scent of rot pierced through his nostrils with such an intensity that he felt he was being impaled through his nose. Additionally, the same sense of discomfort he'd felt the first time he'd held the coin washed over him once more, making him feel dizzy, and his head heavy. He ran a hand through his forehead, wincing in the direction of the ruins that had just came into view.

As this feeling of queasiness slowly abated, he felt himself growing more and more alert, his behaviour mirroring that of his companion. At once, he unsheathed the sword he'd carried with him from Epiri. In truth, he didn't even know if wielding a sword here would be of any use, but that was just the point: he did not know what to expect.

- "He did not." - He assented to Amos. - "So stay close, and keep your eyes peeled." - He said, as he ventured forward into the first set of ruined stone constructions.​

 

[Amos]

Amos glanced over towards Ivan as the ringing sound of a sheath leaving it's swords echoed through the forest. A frown touched his lips, and the sickly researcher couldn't help but wonder if he should have brought one of those with him.

Not that he knew how to use it. "Right."

He said with a cautious nod, lips thinning for a brief moment before he took a few steps closer towards his companion.

Slowly the two of them began to tread into the ruin, and almost immediately Amos began to notice something. The walls were covered in thick vines, though they appeared not made of plant. Instead their color was sickly pale, like flesh, darkened with the same pustules those afflicted in Epiri had.

With a silent gesture, Amos pointed towards the vines. "Careful, ther-"

Before he could finish, a voice rang out from ahead of them.

"Do you like our little experiment? Admittedly it went a bit too far, but..."​

The voice carried as the two Anirians stepped into a small chamber. No roof sat atop the great stone walls that surrounded them, but the vines spread out from the center of the room. There stood a great fountain, and hanging above it was a Gorgon. Her hands were tied behind her back, her snake like hairs dangled, and her throat was cut.

Blood still dripped from her body and into brackish water below, it seemed to bubble, and the stench of rot spread out from her corpse like a wave.

Amos froze at the sight, not even seeing the man that stood besides the fountain.