Quest The City That Can't Forget

[Dante di Inverno]

"Big?" Dante said to Alona Hawse with a wink. "More like huge. But don't worry. You'll see over the course of this expedition, dearling, that I am anything but common." Shaking his head, Dante smiled. He was enjoying the brown-haired hellion and her banter. It went a long way toward making this insufferable trip more bearable.

With the conversation effectively ended due to the winged creature and the storm it had caused, the blond aristocrat turned his attention to unloading the carts and making camp. No sooner had he finished unloading and setting up his tent than the storm's beating heart shifted from curiosity to malevolence. He turned around at the sellsword's scream, just in time to see the winds become a gale, the sand crystals become daggers, the man and horse become a twisted spectacle. He didn't stick around to see what happened next.

Though it would gall Dante later to admit, he ran. Pride and position were thrown from his mind in the face of such destruction, and he was overtaken by sheer instinct. No longer was his mind on supplies. Instead, he was focused on self-preservation at all costs. Douglas Haley's scream came as if from a distance, but the name he gave to the storm did not. Dante had learned of Biamhac in his studies, and he had no intention of going head-to-head with the ungodly number that likely encircled the camp. At least, not until he had a chance to assess the situation and come up with a plan of action.

With breath sawing from his chest, Dante entered the ruins. His tent had been at the far end of camp, so he was one of the last in their party to make it to safety. He arrived just in time to see the winged being swoop in with Galen cradled in his arms. Although the street urchin was a less than ideal companion, Dante thought to check on his well-being. After all, where the street urchin went, intriguing conversations usually followed.

His aid became unnecessary, however, when Telemachus and Douglas chose to confront the creature.

Well then, he thought to himself. It appears the elf finds this being even more insufferable than his apprentice. That doesn't bode well for its wings or its continued presence.

Steeling his veins with ice to compose himself, Dante strode toward the spectacle. Even if he couldn't use magic to subdue the creature and freeze its wings, he would still make himself available to help strong-arm it if necessary.

Kyver | Jason | Sinnata Wynralei | Raziel Shirai | Telemachus | Galen | Douglas Haley | Alona Hawse | Raigryn Vayd

 

[Jason]

Screams were all around them and creatures flew through the air as if the biamhac were a vengeful spirit seeking revenge on life itself. It was a truly amazing once in a lifetime sight, for anyone would probably not survive a second encounter.

Jason quickly threw his bow and quiver over his back and grabbed Sargent's reins. He ran with the other toward the ruins with his friend in tow as Raziel swooped past with the dark elf's apprentice in his arms. After calming his horse, he walked over to the squabble that was forming.

"No matter what you all decide about Raziel's continued presence with the company, he stays here at least until this biamhac moves on."

Douglas Haley | Raziel Shirai | Telemachus | Galen | Dante di Inverno

 

[Urberus]

Galen stumbled away, waving his dagger wildly. The soothing words fell on ears deaf to their gentleness. How often had he seen friends hanged from bridges, their legs kicking over the river, for believing words they'd thought kind? He had seen too much mortal cruelty to believe a winged creature's charity. The apprentice looked over his shoulder, planning to run deeper inside the temple, then froze.

Amidst the swirling storm, the raised voices, and a sudden flurry of action between Telemachus, the bird man, and Douglas, Galen thought he saw shapes, some denizens of these decrepit ruins who yet drew breath. Two beings, just there in the corner conversing, their language one Galen had never before heard. He blinked. They were gone.

A shiver ran up his spine.

He turned away, fearing to think on what he'd seen, and looked back on the brewing conflict. So many thoughts swirled through his head, mixing with the emotions leaking from his chest. He frowned, shaking his head, tousled dark hair thick with sand falling to cover his eyes.

Dagger still clutched in a white knuckled grip, he looked down to find he still held his grimoire and let out a snort. The luck of Elbion, 'twas. The blood of the city ran thick in his veins. It's why they took to callin' him Galen Ninelife, or at least that was part of it. The other part being the cat burgling. He looked around and wondered how he had come to be so far from his home city.

Time enough for sad thoughts later, he thought to himself. Now was the time for figuring out how to survive.

 

[Kara Orin]

Everyone in Kyver’s party managed to make it into the ruins.

Immediately, Sinnata Wynralei hugged Aepha. The mage returned the hug with trembling arms.

Abir immediately threw down his bag and shield – which was almost as large as the man himself. He took several deep breaths before screaming, “Wha… what was that?!”

Caran placed his backpack down. He squatted down. Eyes looked to the ground.

“A biamhac,” answered the dark elf with a flat voice, “Didn’t think I’d be dying so young.”

“Too soon for your jokes!” yelled Abir.

A single “Heh” escaped Caran’s mouth as he looked up. His gaze traveled toward Kyver.

Kyver stood to the side. His own backpack sat next to his legs. He clutched his gauntlet covered hand over his chest. His breaths were deep. Rapid. Eyes wide.

“How many have we lost?” Kyver echoed Alona Hawse.

Then, Kyver looked around the ruins. He first saw the group confronting Raziel Shirai again. His eyes continued to pan around.

“Fifteen… sixteen… sixteen… sixteen…” Kyver counted.

“At least a dozen gone,” Kyver said aloud, “I must've miscounted, though…”

 

[Acillio Nazzaro]

The dust picked up. A strong breeze sent Acillio stumbling far to the left and in a matter of seconds he had lost sight of the caravan. His squinting gaze could see nothing but dust and the terrible howling of nature. He stood still for a moment, looking around to try and discern which direction the caravan was but it was futile. He would have to guess and stick to it. He planted his feet into the sand for a moment, becoming as sturdy as a tree while the strong gust passed.

As the dust settled once more, and the breeze died away for now, he began to march. He pulled at the cloth wrapping his face and was met with a sandy slap. He grit his teeth and forced himself forwards. In the distance he could see the outline of the rear caravan once more. He closed the distance as they came to a stop. They had either noticed Acillio went missing for a shortwhile or they were setting up camp. His throat was dry and he lusted for the sweet beautiful plainness of water.

He made it to the rear caravan, then towards the front where he spied the winged beast. "What in the name is that," he muttered, regretting the choice to speak instantly as sand was forced into his mouth by the wind. He tried to spit it out but some lingered between his teeth. Just seconds after spying the winged man-thing, the storm picked up roughly. He felt his clothes whip about. He felt lighter and those around him were suddenly raised off their feet, flesh and muscle stripped from bone. Their dying screams piercing even the loudest howling of the storm.

He didn't understand what was happening, only that the storm had increased in intensity with the arrival of the winged man. His mind raced; beast, demon, devil? Something demonic. "Kill the demon!" Acillio shouted, but such was the storm that his words were lost in the wind. He picked up a hardy rock and hurled it towards Raziel, but to his failure the wind redirected the rock and hurled it back towards Acillio. It hit him cross in the face and knocked him to the ground. He saw their retreating backs as they fled into the ruins without him. A caravan was hurled with the ferocity of the storm and rolled over the swordsman and all went dark for Acillio Nazzaro.

 

[Alona Hawse]

“Fifteen… sixteen… sixteen… sixteen…” Kyver counted.

“At least a dozen gone,” Kyver said aloud, “I must've miscounted, though…”

"Doubtful we'd miscount so similarly..." Alona replied to Kyver, her tone almost dead pan. She glanced at Kyver, Sinnata Wynralei, and the rest of their group for a moment and nodded. Her eyes then drew back to the group confronting Raziel Shirai, and she stepped towards them. Her hand strayed to the amulet she kept tucked beneath her armor as she did. She had found it on her very first outing as a mercenary for the Blades of Alliria, and had carried it with her ever since. Her research had showed that it was a holy symbol for a minor deity, but she hadn't delved further than that. It called to her, there was no denying that, and it also kept her calm as she approached the group.

Without any introductions, she placed herself between Raziel and those arrayed against/around him (Douglas Haley, Telemachus, Jason, Galen). She slowly turned, making sure she met everyones eyes. She ignored any words said, but made sure that she was between them all when she spoke.

"We've lost at least a dozen to that storm. I am not versed in what it is, but it is deadly to anything that comes near it. No one is being turned out into that storm. Period." She took a deep breath, her voice held steady, but emotion had come back into it. Edged with anger, though the direction of that anger wasn't clear at the moment. "Sit, take a breath, collect yourselves."

Alona could almost feel the anger that Douglas and Telemachus felt towards the winged being, but she herself had not seen what had happened. It was obvious that they blamed the newcomer, and Alona felt she needed to get to the bottom of why.

"When you've all calmed down and taken stock of yourselves, can one of you tell me what that Biamhac is, and what led to you two..." she pointed at Douglas and Telemachus "...blaming this one..." she pointed at Raziel "...for it and the deaths it caused?"

 

[Douglas Haley]

West of Vel Anir, among the ruins of Valen...
Cirqa 369

Interacting with Galen │ Raziel Shirai │ Telemachus │ Alona Hawse
________________________

With idle hands, Douglas rubbed away the emotion that had built up in his slowly reddening face. His eyes had moved from watchful, to pensive in only a moment, as though he had moved miles with the weight of the dead on his shoulders; and sudden, unequaled tiredness that spoke to what the event had done to him. With sand still caked to the blood on his expression, he looked to Alona, speaking in a surprisingly calm, slow manner;

“A Biamhac is magical echoes of a spell or ritual from before, so long as they’re strong enough to… charge the air.”, he said, pausing in the middle to find the word he was looking for.

“It likely picked up at the presence of so many magic users, they have a tendency to upset agitated currents like that but…”, he paused as the thought of the dead passed through his mind once more.

“... But the spell he cast, after I had told him to leave. When he wanted to prove he could be useful to the caravan, when I had already told him no… It was what caused the winds to change so suddenly. The final push they needed.”

He seemed to exhale as he finished, moving to bury his head in his hands once more as the final words he spoke were muffled by his hands;

“Now they’re dead. Relin, Bereford, James, even Acillio...”​

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Raigryn entirely ignored the commotion behind him. They could squabble all they wanted for all he cared right now. He was more interested in the immediate situation than whose fault it was right now and he had missed whatever had caused this drama. A younger Raigryn might have stepped up and tried to defuse the situation, help others find balance. Right now he just wanted to see this through. Already losing the horses was close to a death sentence for them all.

He cast his eyes around the ruins. From the iconography and few flecks of long lost gilding he would have guessed a temple of sorts.

Raigryn turned and face back towards the entrance. The swirling emotions would have been easy to draw from, but even that might have attracted the Biamhac. They were still out there. They didn't feel like sentient spirits. To him, it was closer to the sensation of an active curse.

He had a good supply of Misery now and if they were similar in nature to a curse he could use it to form some form of counter-curse. Unfortunately that required more knowledge than he had available. A curse was like a sailor's knot. If you know the right counter a gentle tug could have it all unravel. If you didn't, it took far more effort to undo the the curse than it took to create it in the first place. Raigryn simply didn't have the stored up Aspects to take something like that head on. At the very least, a touch of Avarice could likely summon a barrier over the entrance to buy them a little time.

The wind howled past the entrance, depositing a heap of sand across the worn flagstones. The air inside was relatively still, the beams of light that broke through carving out paths through the haze of dust.

"They don't appear to be following us," he called back to the others, but he didn't turn his back to the storm.

 

[Telemachus]

Telemachus raised an eyebrow, anger abating momentarily to make way for confusion. Left behind? Raziel made it sound like Telemachus had left Galen squirming in the dirt, wounded and helpless. Perhaps in the addled mind of the 'angel', that was what happened. The reality of the situation was less dramatic. Telemachus had ventured to safety, having previously been looking for Douglas. Galen would have followed suit shortly after, being that he was a boy of sound mind and body, were it not for the assault.

The conjurer's anger quickly returned. "How very dare you...?"

Timely intervention from Jason and Alona Hawse stymied Telemachus' impending rant. Both guards were adamant that Raziel remained. Telemachus admired their sense of mercy, however misplaced he felt it was. He inhaled deeply and remained silent while Douglas fully explained Raziel's transgressions. Once that was done, he chimed back in, tone once more adjusted for careful neutrality

"Master Haley's assessment is correct," he resumed, though now he was speaking to Jason and Alona. "But with respect to your... Wishes, the creature may remain until the Biamhac subsides."

It would be nothing short of tragic, after all, for Raziel to fall to as grisly a fate as he had brought down on roughly half the caravan. Telemachus turned now and narrowed his eyes at the angel. "After that, I'm afraid I must insist the abomination leave our company immediately."

He bowed respectfully towards the other three. "If you will excuse me, I must see to my apprentice."

With that, Telemachus left, seeking out Galen... Wherever the boy had stumbled off to.

Dante di Inverno | Galen | Alona Hawse | Kyver | Jason | Douglas Haley | Sinnata Wynralei
Raziel Shirai | Raigryn Vayd​

 

[Urberus]

His gaze traveled between the bickering group and the winged man, then back to the where he had seen the shadowy figures. He noticed now that there was an open doorway where they had stood. Whatever door, if there had been one, had long since rotted away, leaving only a gaping mouth and blackness beyond.

Curiosity got the better of Galen and he wandered away from the group, footsteps carrying him past the darkened threshold and down a corridor, which led somewhere only the Naspar, the Great Scarab knew.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Keeping his eyes out on the storm, Raigryn managed to turn just enough to point square at Galen

"Someone go with him. Don't let anyone explore on their own."

It was a long time since he had let his voice ring out with a commanding tone. A long time since anyone had been told to follow his lead. This group probably wouldn't heed his words either, but the last thing they needed now was someone running off alone and being picked off by the spirits or some other threat that had remained undisturbed here.

"Is there any way to undo a Biamhac?" he asked more quietly, turning his shoulders to face the entrance square on once more. There was always a way to undo anything, but when stories were passed down by word of mouth the oldest dangers were often the least understood.

 

[Alona Hawse]

"Someone go with him. Don't let anyone explore on their own."

Alona looked at the group around her for a moment, then nodded.

"I'll go with him. This lot doesn't look quite as murderous as before." She replied, then jogged to catch up with Galen.

"Where to, young mage?" She said, trying to force lightness into her tone after the tense flight from death and the group tension thereafter.

 

[Douglas Haley]

West of Vel Anir, among the ruins of Valen...
Cirqa 369

Dungeon Master Post - Dante di Inverno │ Galen │ Telemachus │ Jason │ Kyver │ Sinnata Wynralei │ Alona Hawse │@Tezio Gomst │ Acillio Nazzaro │ Raziel Shirai
____________________________

As the few walked with Galen, they’d see how far this abysmal hallway went. Treading in a straight line into the cliffside with no hint at stopping, but only a few hesitant steps into the darkness and they’d be met with nothing but a harsh, cold wind that blew them back the other way. It was sudden, driving into their bones with a piercing presence that seemed almost an affront to the temperatures they just faced outside; yet here in the blackness of the corridor, it seemed all too well at home.

Even still, as the pressure of the wind drove them back for just a moment, the heartbeat once only felt through magic itself seemed to echo in its rhythmic, bassy tones, moving exclusively through the hallway and no further. It was nigh deafening, so loud and imposing it seemed to alter the heartbeat of one’s own chest to fall in line, beat after beat, even if it was slower than a conventional heart. Yet, it was not where the oddness of their discovery would end.

In the midst of it all, littered between the cold wind and the thrumming heartbeat, footsteps began to fall; one after another. The click of unseen heels in the darkness offered no emotion, no presence, only the insistence that something lay just beyond the line of sight they could offer; coming closer with very little distinction on how far from it, it actually was. No words came, no responses if they called out, just the constant stream of footsteps, heartbeats, and wind…

---

Back in the temple itself, Douglas glanced up to Raigryn with a simple shake of his head, unsure of how to properly answer.

“Hard to say… They’re not even considered a fact by all mainstream scholars.”, he said with pain still holding back the weight in his voice.

“Most that witness them claim that they simply die out over time, follow the natural laws of entropy and magic; but it's hard to say how long that can take… I suppose with all rational thought, one could theoretically separate the agitated currents themselves, but it’d be a tough and dangerous task for anyone short of a Maester of the Fifth Order; and even then.”

Quietly, Douglas moved to stand, lifting his shirt to wipe away some of the blood that now threatened to inhibit his vision. It was a quick, almost subtle movement, but one that at least got some of the foreign matter away from where it shouldn’t have been. The sooner he got the blood off of him, the sooner he could put his mind to ease at the death’s he had just caused.

The question on his mind now was what to do next…

“With a ward on the door, it shouldn’t bother us for the time being. I suppose now we have to think of a plan for staying alive.”, he said before wiping his eye for the last time.

“Got any ideas? We could wait it out, maybe push deeper into the ruins, but I don't think we should stay here if we don't have the supplies needed to wait out the Biamhac.”

Summary -

• Those that followed Galen will notice strange things in the hallway he had entered. Once past the precipice of the door, the familiar magical heartbeat is noticeable, though actually can be heard rather than felt. A cold wind pushes them back to the temple, and footsteps can be heard in the distance, but it doesn't seem to respond to anyone calling out to it.
• Back in the temple, the conversation of 'what to do next' has come up. Deciding on staying in the temple, travelling farther into the ruins, or looking to retreat could have dramatic effects on the expedition as a whole. Discussion is encouraged.

 

[Dante di Inverno]

As Dante drew closer to the group, he saw Galen break off and head toward a decrepit doorway that was more a hole than a portal to another room. Telemachus, then Alona, followed shortly behind.

Although the ice mage didn't countenance elves in most situations, he had a feeling the dark one and his street-smart apprentice would be good companions in exploring the temple. Besides that, Telemachus was a famed mage who had shown skills with water in the scorching heat. Dante was intent on finding out how he did so with such ease, no matter how distasteful interacting with an elf may be.

His mind made up, Dante strode after them. As soon as he crossed the door's threshold, a cold wind began to push him back toward the room he had left behind. Its cold tendrils thrilled his icy veins. The thrumming heartbeat from before reached him once more, this time through hearing, rather than magical abilities.

Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump

The beat drew him, its powerful pounding inciting a similar response in his own heart.

Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump

The faint sound of footsteps also reached his ears. Their presence seemed important, yet they were faint, as if from a great distance.

Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump

"Do you hear that as well," Dante asked his companions. "It's the heartbeat from earlier."

Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump

Alona Hawse | Telemachus | Galen

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Instead of turning his back on the door, Raigryn stepped backwards until Douglas Haley was in his peripheral vision. He dared not turn away. Not after the sounds he had heard ripped from those left behind. Sometimes, Raigryn wished he could siphon away his own feelings.

"The ruins are large. If those things are spread all across them then we're done for anyway," the ageing empath reasoned. "Let's find another way. A shame we won't get to stay long. With the horses gone we need to check our water supplies. And hope we can return to what's left of the caravan once the storm moves on."

If the storm moved on, he thought to himself. A small hand very slowly pushed out of the mouth of his bag. The six, padded fingers slowly clasped around the drawstring.

 

[Douglas Haley]

West of Vel Anir, among the ruins of Valen...
Cirqa 369

Dungeon Master Post - Dante di Inverno │ Galen │ Telemachus │ Jason │ Kyver │ Sinnata Wynralei │ Alona Hawse │@Tezio Gomst │ Acillio Nazzaro │ Raziel Shirai
____________________________

The thought of the dead still lingered on Douglas’s mind, momentary mental images of the horse-man modern art project the Biamhac had wrought with what seemed to be such little effort. Metal mixed with bone in a way where it was almost difficult to tell where one began and one ended, held together by sinew and gore; all of which drew his attention into the abyss and back again, his breath short and broken as it threatened to drive him into shock. Douglas was not a stranger to the world at large, but the idea of death, the mere thought that mortality was such a vexing problem in his world seemed to slowly be making its way into his young psyche. There was little comfort to be found as he resisted the urge to hyperventilate, quietly standing and turning away from the group as he clenched his face muscles to resist the urge to collapse.

To Raigryn, the emotions he felt were strong. A good source of energy if he needed it, but it was obvious how hard the reality of the situation wore on him. Even still, he shot out a few short commands to the other still remaining groups;

“Do a quick inventory of what we have left, and a headcount to make sure we ration it properly.”

One of the groups of soldiers tending to a few scholars who had fallen into shock simply nodded, quietly standing and moving through the paces. Walking to each group, asking what they were able to grab, and moving on; marking it down on a small journal with charcoal they had managed to tuck in a small pocket in their belt. A common practice amongst sellswords guiding scholars, it seemed.

When they were done, they moved back to Douglas, who still stood silent as he held himself tight, eye’s closed as he tried to focus on anything but his expedition’s short mortality;

“Seventeen in the room, ‘bout a week worth of food and water even if we ration it right, Douglas.”

“Seventeen?”, Douglas said as he looked up suddenly.

“That’s what I said, yeah.”

“Didn’t we lose 16?”, he asked again, with a silent curiosity.

“Last head count, yeah, I suppose we did…”

“Then who else joined? Even with the angel, we only had thirty-two total.”

Summary -

• After a headcount, it appears that the group has a stowaway. With the addition of the angel, the group should only have 32, yet it stands at a total of 33; meaning someone has joined amidst the chaos. For those with magical sensitivity, it would be impossible to look around the group and identify any specific oddity, especially over the nearby roar of the magical storm. Even still, something is wrong.
• Supplies have been counted, and there is a week worth of water and food; but the nearest settlement east is longer. As it stands, it'd be tough to tell if retreat is even possible.

 

[Alona Hawse]

Alona braced herself against the sudden wind, but found herself unable to make headway forward. She looked and saw that Dante di Inverno and Telemachus had joined her and Galen in scouting around. Three mages and swordswoman, should have been able to handle most things left in an abandoned ruin, but sourceless wind and odd sounds were hard to fight back against.

"Do you hear that as well," Dante asked his companions. "It's the heartbeat from earlier."

"From earlier?" She asked, momentarily confused, then figuring it out. "Magic based, then." She'd never been able to utilize magic, but she'd learned a great deal of it, having two Maesters as parents. "Can any of you counter the wind, or are we letting it turn us back?"

 

[Khehe]

When Sinnata finally loosed Aepha from the tight hug, Galen already moving toward the hallway and away from the argument that ensued in the opposite corner. Making a point to ignore her own group's jokes and banter (some regular coping on their parts), she kept her hands on the young woman's arms, for her own support as much for Aepha. When Kyver and Alona began counting, she turned to look about.

"Sixteen?" Sinnata's voice seemed far away, even to herself. Sixteen people ended, just like that. They had encountered some dangerous things in their travels, but nothing like this... Biamhac, or whatever. It rattled her to realize they'd all been meer feet from their deaths.

She wasn't processing the why or how right now, though. Finally letting her hands drop from Aepha's arms, she performed the menial task of taking inventory of her portion of the group's supplies when the call to do so arose. She had a few days' provisions for herself, consisting mostly of dried meats as an emergency backup for when she got woozy. But she could power through a wobbly fit if it meant helping feed her comrades.

As they were doing so, however, she looked over at Caran's pack and the small wooden crate he was opening to inventory. It was a half-crate of wine, housing six unbroken bottles.

"We were dying and you grabbed the wine??" she squeaked. Sinnata wasnt sure if she was horrified or pleased.

Regardless, they reported their portions to the soldiers, who related the totals of the whole entourage's supply to Douglas. A week wasn't a long time. How long would it take them to reach the nearest settlement on foot? Her mind turned dark; she wasnt keen on the idea of having to salvage mangled horse parts, if the Biamhac had left anything to salvage...

Douglas' concern over their group number had gotten her attention, though. She glanced about, frowning. She didn't know most of the people here, so she wasnt going to be much help in sorting out who the odd number was among them. Still, a chill ran down her spine as she glanced at each person.

Kyver // Alona Hawse // Galen // Telemachus // Dante di Inverno // Tezio Gomst // Douglas Haley // Raziel Shirai// Raigryn Vayd // Jason​

 

[Telemachus]

Location: Deeper in the Ruins, Corridor
Company: Galen | Alona Hawse | Dante di Inverno

Who was that with them now? Dante. How sweet of him to care enough for the safety of someone else's apprentice. Either that or he was just chasing the tail of the woman sellsword he had been exchanging foul remarks with earlier. Whatever his agenda, he would be a useful companion in exploring these ancient halls. Most likely as a shield.

As they drew further in, a blast of frigid air confronted them. Telemachus stopped in his tracks, gritting his teeth so as not to shiver. Somewhere under his robes, he had an amulet that warded him against the heat. A simple trinket he had picked up for this expedition, and why he had been perfectly comfortable in the crowded caravan despite the oppressive heat. Of course it did nothing for freezing air.

The heartbeat was constant, but familiar. The footsteps were new.

"I find the sound of movement more concerning," he replied to them both. The winds were likely some enchantment, an exotic ward powered by an unknown source. The footsteps could be coming from anything. "I see no reason to forge ahead with limited information."

Whatever it was lay just beyond their sight, but there were ways to expand their field of vision without braving the winds. Telemachus held his staff aloft, and an ethereal, glowing orb appeared on top of it. Light. Pure and simple, utterly harmless. It wasn't even bright enough to hurt someone's eyes. But it would light the way, and presumably illuminate whoever was skittering about out of sight.

He aimed his staff at a rough approximation of the source's sound. The orb flew forward, intangible and undettered by the winds. It would continue down the length of the hallway, evaporating only a few moments after it impacted a surface.

 

[Douglas Haley]

West of Vel Anir, among the ruins of Valen...
Cirqa 369

Dungeon Master Post - Dante di Inverno │ Galen │ Telemachus │ Jason │ Kyver │ Sinnata Wynralei │ Alona Hawse │@Tezio Gomst │ Acillio Nazzaro │ Raziel Shirai
____________________________

With light rushing down the hall, eating away at the darkness like acid on metal; a single figure stood in the distance. The momentary flash of his presence gave little to who it was, as the ball of light rushed towards the endless darkness behind him, eventually hitting a side wall and carefully falling apart like a flare on a dim lit morning. A second later, and a light in the mysterious figure’s hand illuminated his features himself, offering a subtle smile.

His features were simple, black, tied up hair and pale skin. With eyes a pale blue, he seemed as much a scholar with his matching robed garb, as any of those within the expedition itself. The man offered a wave to the group as his smooth, enticing voice broke through the darkness;

“Hello, strangers!”, he cried out, the light hearted nature of his voice over encompassing the heartbeat that seemed to come from somewhere behind him.

“The name is Rundal; what brings you to these parts?”, he said as he got close enough to make out the details of the various members who stood near the doorway to greet him.

“I heard a bit of commotion a bit earlier… You uh, weren’t hit by one of those storms, were you?”

Summary -

• A mysterious figure calling themselves Rundal has come from the hallway the few had attempted to go down, introducing himself with a mildly pleasant nature, a quick reprieve from the issues they had just seen. Close inspection shows he's dripping in magic, but the purpose for such is hard to distinguish on immediate glance.

 

[Telemachus]

Location: Deeper in the Ruins, Corridor
Company: Galen | Alona Hawse | Dante di Inverno

"That is close enough, Rundal," Telemachus commanded, intent to keep ample space between this small group and the stranger.

As a robed figure dripping in magic himself, Telemachus was wary of figures that were similarly robed and similarly dripping with magic. Especially this one. An unknown variable, laying about in ancient ruins. Telemachus would not put it past this stranger to be the source of these mysterious, and prohibitive, winds.

How many tiresome strangers were they going to encounter on this expedition, anyway? This realm was supposed to be abandoned. Would this one also call down a Biamhac in an attempt to prove his usefulness?

"Call off these winds; then we may be inclined to discuss our circumstances."

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

His fingers found the pommel of his sword. A gentle tug and he had a grip on the sword, sliding it a few inches free as he turned. There was nothing magical about his bastard swords. Nothing but quality steel. No use against a wind spirit, but it would be perfectly effective against an intruder.

Raigryn hadn't memorised every face in the party. It was dark in the ruins but he gave everyone a slow, considered appraisal.

"Are you counted correctly?" Raigryn asked. His hand opened, his sword sliding fully back into its scabbard. There was no one he didn't at least partial recognise. That meant that either the unknown party had followed the others deep into the ruin or they had miscounted. The latter would not have surprised him. They were all reeling from the attack. It would be easy to double count someone. Half their number had died. The situation looked dire, but with some luck the Biamhac's had left some supplies intact. They might still be able to make the trip back to the nearest water supplies.

 

[Douglas Haley]

West of Vel Anir, among the ruins of Valen...
Cirqa 369

Dungeon Master Post - Dante di Inverno │ Galen │ Telemachus │ Jason │ Kyver │ Sinnata Wynralei │ Alona Hawse │@Tezio Gomst │ Acillio Nazzaro │ Raziel Shirai
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Rundal stopped at Telemachus’s command, raising both hands as if to show him he was no threat to the group. With a small nod, the winds cut off, slowing to a halt as the group stood quiet;

“Apologies, they’re a safety net. Not everyone who visits seems to be friendly…”, he said idly.

The youthful scholar then dropped his stance back to something more inviting, his smile once against plastered upon his expression. He closed the rest of the distance to the group before he spoke again, looking to Telemachus specifically, since he seemed to be the ringleader;

With a hand outstretched, and offered as a shake, he greeted Telemachus directly;

“A pleasure to meet you. Like I said, I’m Rundal… You are?”, he said, first focusing on the elf, before looking to the others in the party, as if waiting for each of their introductions.

---

“Sure as a harvest comes in fall.”, the guard spoke up, all the while a few of the still living scholars nearby began to whisper, fear lining their general expression.

Although the group had fallen in numbers, whoever still stood among them seemed to know what they were doing in terms of magic. Their very essence had fallen so perfectly in line with the crowd, that they were seamless; trained in the arts of subterfuge more than likely, or extremely lucky to have avoided the Biamhac and still gotten into the group. The question stood not only who they were, but what exactly it was they had infiltrated the group to accomplish.

The hope was it wasn’t to strike out against them, but one could never be sure.

“Without my ledger, I can’t cross reference the names of our group.”, Douglas chimed in as he regained what composure he still had.

“While that storm is going, I’m not sure we’ll know who happened to join… I’m curious however, why would anyone be out here?”, he said, slowly feeling the creeping, magical beating of the distant heart fill his senses once more.​

 

[Urberus]

Galen shivered, though the wind no longer blew. The thrum of the heart beat, like a deep drum, boomed in his ears almost as if it were his own, as if he could feel the rush of blood in his head with every thud.

He took a step backward from the stranger, eyes flicking to Telemachus for guidance. His body tensed, like an alley cat, ready to run. Strangers in strange hallways in stranger ruins put him on edge, even had the last stranger they'd met not laid hands on him. Still, this one did not appear to have wings and for that small fortune, Galen was thankful.

Still, impulsively, he answered the stranger.

"Galen."

 

[Alona Hawse]

“A pleasure to meet you. Like I said, I’m Rundal… You are?”,

"Alona Hawse..." She replied, her tone speaking volumes on her lack of trust. Her body was still in a partial fighting stance, sword seemingly relaxed on her shoulder.

Alona moved her attention off of the newcomer, noting the words and actions of Telemachus and Galen and knowing they would be the ones to deal with this odd magus. Alona kept her eyes open for other possible threats.