Knights of Anathaeum Unto a Place most Unbeautiful.

[Orsolya Embermoss]

(OOC: consider this session 0, so it is a short one, where I will be hopefully gathering five players if there is interest. How this will work is throughout the week you are free to RP amongst yourselves and the environment, and there will be a weekly post to move the plot forward and introduce encounters until Halloween. In between I will be DMing the results of what players do in small updates. So, this is session 0, and session 1 will likely be in three days once I know who is joining.)

A bright full moon loomed overhead, its light setting a soft glow to the fresh, unmarred snow that laid before them. Warmth beckoned from the windows of the inner keeps of the castle. But from wherever this group of knights came, be it a dinner stew or a tankard of ale or perhaps the comfort of a book from the castle’s library, the grounds they would walk to their waiting beds were so very cold. So very silent save for the sound of their steps and perhaps the conversation they held between themselves, no doubt hushed as though not to wake this sleeping world.

Step after step they trudged in the cold, the air kept still by the castle walls. As the knights would stop amidst the blanket of white, their breath would steam as they said their partings in their intent to rest.

And they would be interrupted.

A snarl, a growl, a shrill scream of a voice if recognized would be known to be so very quiet.

They would no doubt turn and see three glowing eyes in the dark doorway that led to a basement laboratory, the creature not long after retreating into the shadows that waited. If they dared approach, if they braved the steps downward into the laboratory, they would find themselves trailing flecks of red.

 

[Nasrin Fyldirae]

Rin had finished her trial and now all that was left was to have to official swearing ceremony, which at this point was more a formality than anything. As she trudged through the snow heading back to the stables where she'd been caring for Ghost, the young knight could feel the stitches rubbing against the bandages she wore still. The bruises she'd received were still a little painful, but had mostly healed.

As she approached the front doors to the monastery, there were a few others gathered outside the doors coming from where ever they had been and heading to their own beds.

"Good evening brothers and sisters." She greeted as she pulled her cloak tighter around herself to protect her from the chill.

She opened the door to the monastery to allow the others in when a growl and a scream echoed out from the basement. She looked to the others before heading toward the noise. Orsolya's room was down there and Rin could feel her worry for the other woman rising. Along the stone steps, she could pick out drops of blood. She wanted to call out to make sure the other woman was fine, but whatever was down here she didn't want to give anyone away.

 

[Bebin Theros]

"Squire Fyldirae," the Pursuant said without looking up. His eyes scanned the pages of an open tome, more stacked before him, framing his bearded visage as the oily glow of candle light petered and burned orange and white.

Come the scream, Bebin stood, his eyes snapped to the mouth of the stairwell that lead down to deeper secrets. That mouth that let so shrill and horrible a sound out into the room.

Red eyes, three, stared at Bebin Theros, and he stared back. They bled away into the darkness. The shadow's swirling.

Without a word, the beturbaned knight closed his eyes. Wove runes and words in the eye of his mind.

Something had pierced the spell-ward columns that kept this place safe from most evils magick nature. What exactly? Well, he would find out.

When his eyes came open, they shimmered blue with moonlight's pulse, silvery as the ripples moved across the surface of his gaze of loch. His sword came next, curved blade pulled free from its sheath as he stared at the trail of red that seemed to burn so bright in his magicked vision.

He went down toward the laboratory. Step by silent step.

Nasrin Fyldirae Orsolya Embermoss

 

[Faramund]

The bitter cold sunk its teeth into Faramund as he worked to replenish the monastery's supply of dry firewood. Raising his axe on high, the big man brought it down with razor precision. Splitting logs wasn't difficult. Any man with half a brain and two functioning hands could manage. Perhaps that was why his brothers and sisters had voted to send him out. A simple task for a simple man. What could possibly go wrong?

Raising his axe again, Faramund paused mid-swing as something sinister whispered in his ear. Familiar, and yet somehow frightful, the voice carried through the darkened hallways and empty spaces to lure the poor dawnling in. Faramund, it snarled, three red eyes in a sea of black. Faramund~, it beckoned again, becoming a growl as the man in question returned the axe to his side.

Faramund! It screamed in his ear, and the knight felt his blood run cold.

"Orsolya?" He asked, the silence of the monastery grounds suddenly too much to bear. Forgetting his task, the knight of dawn trudged through the snows after the voice of his comrade. But where she was and where he thought her to be were two separate places. Looking, searching, Faramund's feet carried him to the basement entrance. Within, the shadows swirled and whispered. A figure moved, there, in the deep black of a place far from certain.

Gripping his axe tightly in both hands, Faramund descended into the dark after the figure his eyes had perceived. Familiar, and yet somehow frightening.

Orsolya Embermoss Nasrin Fyldirae Bebin Theros

 

[Innis]

Something deeper and colder than the snow that was falling outside startled Innis awake. She had been wandering sleepily down the Dusk dorm's corridors, up late from another night of candlelit study, ready to mumble out a greeting to Nasrin who was just on the other side of the open door, when the scream let out.

Eyes flashed in the dark, an open cellar door looming like the gaping maw of some carcass half-buried in the snow.

"Syr Bebin, what's going on?" she asked as the elder Dusker strode past her, a grim purpose in his step and the gleam of Loch in his eye. When he did not respond right away, she followed after him, curiosity prevailing over any sense of self-preservation. Syr Faramund was there too, and as both of the knights brandished their weapons, Innis began to question if she ought to be there.

She hovered just inside the doorway, standing on the first step looking down, torn between running for help and sticking close.

 

[Tarid Ra’leem]

Dinner had been a feast. Elk, fresh bread and beer had made for a fine meal, but the sun had fallen and cold had taken the land by the time he had finished. Tarid hurriedly made his way back, shivering from the biting cold that assailed him. Even the heavy coat he wore did only so much to stave it off. The warm fire that he imagined would await him was motivation, and his mind remained focused on it until he heard Nasrin.

"Good evening brothers and sisters." She spoke. Before Tarid could reply, a scream interrupted them.

Motions stilled in an instant, and his hand instinctively reached to the handle of the scimitar sheathed at his waist. Syr Bebin was already there, his focused mind likely scrying for answers that Tarid had none of.

"Syr Bebin, what's going on?" Innis asked before he could, but he gave no response. He drew his scimitar and stormed inside, and that was all the instruction Tarid required.

Drawing his own scimitar from its sheath, Tarid followed him inside towards whatever creature lay within. He prepared for battle as best he could, but there would not be one. The beast slunk back into the shadows, and in its place remained flecks of red.

“Whatever's going on, I think there's a sign here. It doesn't look good.” Tarid announced, eyes on the ground to see where the flecks might lead.

 

[Orsolya Embermoss]

For Nasrin:

As she entered she would smell garden flowers, she may remember the smell of the particular flower, and would know that she had never seen them in Orsolya’s laboratory before. But she would see them, stepping on one first as they grew from between the stonework. Orange lilies. She would know that the quiet witch had always hated orange lilies.

For Bebin:

In his magic sight he would sense the creature. No, creatures, on the first floor of the workshop. They jumped and thrashed wildly, their magic a foul orange light that pulsed through their veins, the rest of their form as black as pitch as they seemed to thrum in and out of existence along the floor. Though they moved erratically, he would notice that they made no sound.

For Faramund:

“Faramund,” the voice would whisper, familiar and yet not. The laboratory was darker than he would remember, and would feel so very much colder, as if its very essence had been drained. “Faramund,” the voice called once more, before cackling a mad, shrill laugh. “Over here,” it would say into his right ear, the voice abrupt but hushed.

But if he swung his axe in response there would be nothing to find but a flower vase and the table upon which it rested.

—

The room would grow silent completely as the group paused. Not even Bebin would see the creatures now. The room’s scent grew strong with the smell of rotten earth and earth, the notes of wildflowers punctuating the smell was as though it sought to befoul that which was beautiful.

And then the creatures would make themselves known. Two at first, from the doorway at the far end of the room emerging from the shadows, growling, chittering. They looked not unlike large, lithe dogs, their hair bristling like cactus thorns from their backs, mottled in places with the growth of flowers and moss. Two long tails emerged from their hinds, ending in large spiked rose-thorns. They looked toward the group, wiggling their hind legs and settling down into a pouncing stance as their three red eyes glowed brighter.

—

For Innis:

Innis would see the two beasts emerge, and would no doubt be watching what they would do with the rest. It was then that she would hear a chittering behind her. And then she would feel a hot breath upon her shoulders. If she turned she would see a third creature, hanging from the ceiling by a rafter in its hind claws. It would scream, and it would swipe!

For Tarid:

A fourth beast would pop into existence before him, its back twisting as its maw snapped for his neck. But the agile squire would be fast enough to dodge it in just enough time. It landed, skidding on the stone behind him, its tails writhing behind it as it prepared for another attack.

—

The four creatures would scream in unison, a howl unlike any beasts of this world. And they would attack the group as one with gnashing fangs and slashing claws and wildly flailing tails, blinking in and out of this world as they closed the distance.

(OOC - okay, a bit of a light one, sorry for the delay, IRL and work busy-ness attacked me when I had meant to post. Feel free to play this combat out as you want. I will roll with whatever your characters wish to do! And feel free to continue posting amongst yourselves as you wish until the next DM post. As I said before, my plan is to pop in and reply to certain actions as it goes until the next DM post. As far as the laboratory goes, it’s very dark, but most of you would have visited it before. It will have all of the things an alchemist lab would have to work with, vials, counters, tables, shelves, and potions. So feel free to make use of that sort of setting as you wish. If there are any questions or concerns at all please ask on Discord).

 

[Bebin Theros]

Like stones, set to skip across the surface of a midnight pond, the things of red-orange light, as wicked as a full moon draped in smoken-silk, moved through the darkness in bounds and flashes.

Their three eyes, three times mad, bled through the shadows ahead of him, like the afterglow of red bolts, and in their soundless wake he followed.

Breath steady, his step light, Bebin went deeper down the stairwell, as memories whispered their reminders, sweet, into his ear. Hunters. He could hear that whimpering voice. Servants of the fae. She was younger then. Her lavender eyes wide with a horror that haunted her. Small hands balled into fists. She almost seemed desperate. As if she knew something she could never tell. A child, clinging to their blanket of silence.

His fingers reworked their hold against the leather-bound grip of his cold-iron blade.

Come the laboratory. The viles of glass. The components of practice and experiments strewn and set about. It was a room he knew well, the acrid smell of acids and bases, the sickly sweetness, so feint, of potions and poisons that bubbled and rest. Yet its usual keeper was no where to be seen. Not through the doorframe so marked by the finger smeared traces of iron that were dragged across the top.

He passed through.

Come the desolation. A silence most unnatural. "Ready iron," he warned as he closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, the stale air about him, so laden with the moisture of roots and deep earth, pulsed out gently from his epicenter as his free hand rest at his chest, middle and pointer finger twisted into braid of bone and flesh. "we deal with agents of the fae,"

From thin air, the creatures emerged, and Bebin's loch-lit eyes opened to see them before their cruel and twisted forms blinked back into the dark. With a rush of breath sucked into his lungs, Bebin felt the air behind him swirl and shift, his body twist about and his sword cut at an angle to catch fang and bone and jaw clamped about its curved edge.

The second spine-hound had found its mark, biting into his leg, though his teeth did not punch through flesh-turned steel tough.

"Iron powder!" Bebin called out as both beasts shook at him in attempt to tear away at what they grabbed between their maws. "Find it!" he grunt as he kicked his leg free from one jaw, and was bashed by tail of thorns.

 

[Nasrin Fyldirae]

The smell that came from Orsolya's laboratory was familiar and it sent her heart racing. Something crunched underfoot and Rin looked down seeing the orange lily there smashed into the stone. Her knight sister hated orange lilies and she was sure it had to do with her youth. Ahead of them the lilies grew out of the stone work, growing thicker the further that they went in toward the woman's workroom.

The small group entered the workroom and the room smelled fowl, the lilies smelling of rotten flesh and death. An odd smell for the beautiful flower, but then again wasn't that the trickery of the fae. Ensnare and trap with beauty only for that beauty to fade to dust in your hand. Before she had a chance to look around the room for Orsolya, two large dog like creatures appeared from the shadows ahead of her growling and making strange noises.

Beside her Syr Bebin drew his blade identifying the creatures to be those of the Fae as they both jumped toward him. She could hear similar noises behind her, making her think there were more than just the two beasts, but seeing as how she'd worked down her with Orsolya regularly when Bebin called for someone to find Iron Powder, she knew it would be best for her to get it.

Rin dashed toward a crumbled cupboard, but as she grew closer a fifth creature appeared toward her right running at her. In her way, a table that if she took the time to go around the beast would certainly reach her and while she had her weapons she hadn't exactly been armored when she'd gone to care for her horse this evening. Her thick winter coat might afford some protection against those teeth, but not as good as chainmail would have.

In a quick decision, Rin leaped and slid along the work table that blocked her from the cupboard where she knew the vials in question were stored. The beast jumped at her but was unable to control it's slide along the table, giving her needed moments in her search as it hit the ground heavily. The vials and jars were all scattered some broken on the floor like something had tried to destroy the workshop or Orsolya had already had to fight for her life. Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom, why did her friend have so many damn mushrooms!

Finally she found what she was looking for. Iron Powder. A growl behind her made her freeze as her hand clutched at the jar. The fae wolf was back. She fumbled to open the jar, grabbed some of the powder in her fingers and turned throwing it into the open jaws of the beast as it leaped to bite at her. The creature cried out in pain as the bare iron touched the sensitive flesh of it's throat. It pawed at it's throat before turning to run deeper into the lab.

 

[Innis]

At the base of the stairs, in the dim light, Innis saw the prowling creatures approach Syr Theros. She made to run down the steps and call after him, but a hot breath prickled at the back of her neck, where there should have only been the night air.

Innis was not quite in her pajamas, but she might as well have been, for how prepared she was to deal with a wailing monstrous thing flinging itself at her from the ceiling. She'd set out for an evening of reading dusty old books in the Dusk library, not live combat, and all she had on her was her hat and coat and a holey pair of woolen gloves to ward off the cold.

Innis screamed at the thing too as it scrambled to a landing on her back. Mercifully, its claws dug into the padded leather of her duster and not her skin. Wrenching her arms behind her, Innis grabbed at the thing and flung it off, down the stairs. It didn't travel as far as she would have liked. The beast bristled up like a cat, black spines obscuring its bulk. It had long, human-like limbs and a blunt face, red trio of eyes gleaming round and terrible.

Chattering, the beast knuckled its way up the stairs.

Innis crouched low, looking around the shallow landing for anything resembling a weapon. Boot brush, wicker basket, empty jugs lined up, an umbrella leaning against the wall - umbrella!

She dove for it, twirled the thing open just as the beast leapt again at her. Claws tore lines through the waxed fabric. Thank god for dwarven ingenuity, with their keenness for sturdy materials. And all those intricate metal tines. Sharp enough to cut. Prying one of the rods out of its socket, she stabbed blindly at the creature from behind her makeshift shield.

It wailed, and she felt its weight scuffle off the umbrella. After a moment of not getting attacked again, Innis stood up, umbrella in tatters and one end sagging from the missing rod. Regardless she held it in front of her, peering over its edge as she stepped cautiously forward.

Orange blood dripped from the metal in her shaking hand onto the stone steps. She tried to still her breath. Sounds of struggle echoed up from the bottom of the staircase.

Innis descended into the workshop, where Bebin and Nasrin surely were, and the beasts, too.

 

[Tarid Ra’leem]

No sooner had he spoke the warning did he notice the beast snarling before him. The attack had been a surprise, and through Tarid was expecting trouble he had been caught off guard in the moment. He turned his head up to look at the thing just as it pushed off its hind legs to leap forth, jaws open and teeth bared towards his neck.

He'd only a moment to react, and the nimble squire deftly dodged the attempted bite by dropping to the floor. The beast sailed over him and tumbled to the ground being him, while Tarid clambered back up to his feet with his scimitar held in hand. He still faced the beast that had just jumped over him, and it was already back on its feet and prepared to assail him again.

It leapt through the air as before, but the squire was more prepared for the attack that followed. Rather than downward, Tarid moved to the side while a swing of his arm brought his scimitar to slash forth against the beast's open maw. Power was placed into the strike with it, and he aimed to leave a wound severe enough to incapacitate the beast. An ordinary creature would might discouraged by such an attack, but this beast clearly wasn't hunting prey for the purpose of food. Tarid held no misgivings that the beast was unlikely of natural nature, and that fight he'd found himself in was bound to be to the death.

Were his counterattack successful, he'd not hesitate to rush forth and deliver a further strike to follow up on it, preferably to the beast's neck. If not, he'd adopt a defensive posture in hopes of repelling a third attack that was sure to follow in such a case.

 

[Orsolya Embermoss]

For Bebin:

The hound whipped its tails wildly as it hissed, steam visible from its maw where it had been cut by cold steel. It pounced backward and its eyes seemed to narrow. The corners of its mouth curled upward in what looked like a cruel, mocking grin.

For the faintest of moments Bebin’s vision of the Loch would see the hound’s form shift into the silhouette of a person. A young man? Before blinking from existence and leaving only the monstrous hound in its place. The hound would turn, lashing out one last time with its tail before bounding into the dark beyond. Bebin would know that this went deeper into the laboratory.

For Nasrin:

The hound fell to its haunches, claws scrambling at its throat as it coughed violently, ash and fire. The squire would watch the beasts’ throat dissolve, pooling in vile muck that smelled like burning leaves at her feet. The hound would cry out, or try, one last time before curling into a clump along the stone floor. Nasrin would not know if it had ever breathed, or had a beating heart, but it was perfectly still and silent now.

For Innis:

The hound hesitated at first, confused by the contraption that opened in front of it. It would lunge, catching on the rod and its fabric, flailing wildly and gnashing its jaws at the knight. Her makeshift rapier would pierce the creature, its fleshing popping as it was driven through. The monstrosity fell backward, shifting its hips into a pouncing stance. But before it could, its ears fell back flat against its head and its long, barbed tails curled beneath it. It looked toward Innis, as though considering, before turning to bound into the darkness.

For Tarid:

Tarid and his hound dance back and forth, exchanging attacks that never quite made their purchase. The hound was fast, but eventually the man’s scimitar proved faster. It struck the creature’s neck true, nearly severing its head clean through, catching in the bone of its spine. The hound let loose a shrill howl. It was a sound of pain, of anger, of fear. It shook on its legs that wobbled now, lifting its head as bright orange blood coated its flowers and fur. The hound gave one last, pitiful biting motion toward the warrior before collapsing.

—

The rest of the hounds regroup, following the first deeper into laboratory, leaving the knights in a laboratory full of broken vials and jars, a ruined umbrella, and aside from the mess they had made of Orsolya’s workshop it was now again just as it had been when they entered. Cold, dark, silent. The knights would no doubt regroup, knowing that the only path to find Orsolya lie deeper into the workshop.
And when they were ready they would descend yet more stairs. There would be no light here, aside from whatever torches or spells they could conjure. And if they did they would find a narrow room lined in cages, locked doors of heavy wood and wrought iron bars. This place was a prison, or a zoo. Orsolya had never told them about this place beneath her workshop, in fact, some of them may remember that she never let anyone into the second basement. And now they would see why.

At the end of the hallway they would find double doors much like the others, though this one was massive, with wood as thick as the trunks of trees on either door that would open outward and a bar not unlike a battering ram along a set of gears that was meant to keep it locked from the outside.

These mammoth doors were open now.

And the scent of wildflowers lay beyond.

If the knights ventured inward they would smell rot, and blood, and meat. Carcasses piled in the corner, deer and elk and perhaps one would recognize the skull of a bear, all stained brown with old dried blood.

At the center of the room there was a small creature, face down, a goblin wearing a wide mushroom hat. Or, would have worn, for it had fallen from his head when he too fell to the stones. He was breathing, though faintly, and beyond him, deeper in the room that gave way to a cave, was a hint of daylight. Daylight, here, deep beneath the earth. And despite the stench of flesh a breeze that would carry on it the scents of a forest.

 

[Bebin Theros]

Flesh, turned steel tough, still felt the punch of needle bones punching through, as the beast came away and its horrid smile mocked the Pursuant of the Loch, whose steel fang still curled out before him, his stance strong, his posture taught.

Poisons worked their way through his body. Maddening things that entered through the pin-prick puncture at his chest, and as his vision, lit by the loch, blurred, he saw the face of a young man before him. "Shape changer," he muttered as he felt his muscles grow tense, and the rack of pain split the fibers of his strained chords. A breath in through the nose. He felt the flow of his own waters, his blood, his bile. The wound upon his chest oozed out the alien taint.

The beast snarled still, whipped its body round and again its barbed tail lashed out. A whirl of steel, blade edge cut in an arch that blurred there in the dark, a clang as the tail's boney head met the swords true metal. A spark there in the dark, and the creature bound away.

"Report!" Bebin called out, turning his eyes to those squires that fought alongside him. His eyes counted the bodies of the dead dogs, while his ears waited to hear their words. "You did well, Squires of Anathaeum," he bowed his head to each in turn. "But the night grows darker still," he said as he looked to the freshly made corpses. "Would that we could study those things we have felled," Bebin said as he jut his chin to each downed hunter of the fae. "But there is no time," The mind delver fell into the depth of his own thoughts. Felt the ripples of Loch that spread about and bounced against the wells of each mind.

One beyond the lab. He sent a pulse. A thought. Intruders in the Laboratories, Fae in nature, hunting dogs, Orsolya is missing. Report to the Captains. 1 Pursuant, 3 squires currently venturing forward.

His eyes came open once more, and he did not know who had found, or if the message was clear. What he did know is, he had burned through his magicks quick, and now he could only hold the strange poison at bay.

The doors came open, secret things he could not say he had seen before. Strange, sickly sweet, was the smell that wafted from the maw. Bebin huffed. "We press on, those who stay, know that no judgement shall be passed harshly unto thee, but go, and report what we have found, study the beasts if you have not the heart to venture further."

Bebin ventured further. Into the room with the butchery, with the festering and the rot. Another hot huff of breath. His eyes still lit by the light of loch, he saw the small figure at the center, a being of raw magical power. He clenched his jaw, and hurried over to the being. Bending low to it, he used his vision to check for poisons, and potential traps before he gingerly turned them over.

Nasrin Fyldirae Tarid Ra’leem Innis Orsolya Embermoss Faramund

 

[Nasrin Fyldirae]

Rin took in deep breaths as the monster fell at her feat. The creature's throat dissolving thanks to the iron powder. Probably a painful way to die and she couldn't help but feeling sorry for the creature. Perhaps in another life, in another time things could have been different. The young squire bowed her head toward the creature briefly, wishing it well on the next stage of it's journey before standing up and checking the half destroyed shelving behind her now that the other hounds had retreated into the dark.

She pocketed the iron sand, better to take this with her now just in case. She didn't have her armor and just had a long dagger that had been tucked into her belt. She hadn't expected to need her weapons and armor within the monastery, though since this wasn't the first instance of evil lurking within the sanctum's very walls Rin might just start carrying her swords more regularly. She found some other useful herbs, some medicinal and others dangerous, and a small amount of spare linen that might be useful as they continued to search for the woman. Orsolya always had a well stocked laboratory.

She turned back and joined the others, stepping over the dead beast at her feet. She heard Syr Bebin give the option to leave, but that would not be something that Rin would do. Not when Orsolya needed her help. She followed down the stairs to a hallway filled with cages, this was not something that Rin had been aware of in the knight's workshop. What had she kept down here?

The smell of rotting flesh hit Rin in the face as they moved through the large double doors at the end of the hall and for a moment, she found herself worried, though the source would only turn out to be various dead animals in a corner. She did not know Orsolya to be wasteful that she'd just leave the carcasses like this, so what had been their purpose.

They approached the small figure laying on the stones, the goblin's breath faint as if he barely held onto life. Rin moved closer kneeling opposite Bebin and reaching out moving her hands slowly and surely down the form looking for the injuries within. She could see the life force of a person when she focused her magic, see where the blockages were that indicated damage, like little dams against the rivers of a person's life force. She began to work restoring the goblin's health.

She didn't see anything indicating the goblin had any injuries himself, but there was this shadowy tendril that seemed to connect to him drawing his lifeforce slowly through itself and toward something else. Left to continue the goblin's life would eventually end as whatever cast the spell drained him of all life. Reaching out again, she broke the draining spell and the shadowy tendril recoiled and the goblin's breathing seemed to ease.

Rin just happened to glance up at Syr Bebin before she ended her own spell and noticed the poison like a gloom around his wound. Digging in her belt purse where she'd put some of the things she sorted through the vials until a label caught her eye. She pulled it out and held it out to Bebin. "Something from Orsoyla's lab. An antidote to fight the poison. I grabbed a few things from Orsolya's stocks earlier. At the worst, it'll help temporarily."

Rin knew that Orsolya kept Fae related potions and curers in her lab, but she'd tried to find those specifically as she searched the vials earlier. However, she was not as knowledgeable about the concoctions as her friend.

 

[Tarid Ra’leem]

The beast ducked its head and twisted its body, receiving only a shallow cut from the edge of his scimitar. By the time he had spun around, it had already sprung forth to attack the squire again. He deftly ducked the attack with the beasts jaws snapping overhead. Quick as Tarid was, the beast was faster and was already poised to attack anew before he could rise to his feet. It was sprinting straight towards him on all fours as Tarid swung his scimitar again, forcing the beast to leap aside to avoid the attack.

The attacked had failed to connect, but it had bought the young squire time. He quickly returned to his feet, his sword held out point first towards the beast before him. It leapt forth again with jaws open for another attempted bite, but the squire struck first with his scimitar slashing against the beasts nose, causing its jaws to snap shut moments before it made impact with Tarid. Both tumbled to the ground, and with a roll of his body and an overhand swing, he brought the scimitar slashing down upon the beast again, this time with a strike aimed at its neck. The blade struck true, orange blood gushing from the slice that cleaved down to the bone of its vertebrae. It howled in pain with its head nearly removed, and Tarid readied a further attack.

But he'd need not bother, for the beast collapsed without further aggression. More remained, but those one turned about and retreated deeper within the laboratory, prompting Tarid to follow with his sword still brandished.

"Report!" Syr Bebin called out.

“I've slain one, but the others fled.” Tarid called out, reporting on both his kill and the presence of more beasts. Perhaps they would regroup and attack again, and it seemed best to be ready for such a likely possibility. Cautious footsteps took him into the laboratory alongside the rest, nostrils filled with a sweet, flowery scent mixed in with something horrid. It took little time to come across a remarkable discovery beyond the wide opened doors

"Would that we could study those things we have felled, but there is no time. We press on, those who stay, know that no judgement shall be passed harshly unto thee, but go, and report what we have found, study the beasts if you have not the heart to venture further." Syr Bebin added, and the Knight Sworn spoke true. There was little time, and neither did Tarid have much inclination to remain behind.

What lay ahead was hardly for the faint of heart. The corpses of many were littered among the flowers in a macabre scene, with blood and stench all around. At the rooms centre was a strange goblin that was scarcely still breathing, a felled mushroom hat atop the stone floor beside him. But further beyond him was a cave from which daylight poured forth, despite their underground location. Nasrin attempted healing on the goblin, but soon ceased.

"Something from Orsoyla's lab. An antidote to fight the poison. I grabbed a few things from Orsolya's stocks earlier. At the worst, it'll help temporarily." Nasrin spoke, offering Bebin the vial as Tarid remained watching the bright cavern entrance. It looked like there was an entire world behind it. If that beast was from it, then it was surely one filled with danger.

Orsolya Embermoss Nasrin Fyldirae Bebin Theros Faramund Innis

 

[Faramund]

The deep black of Orsolya's laboratory swallowed Faramund up as he reached the bottom of the steps. "Bebin!" He whispered, the echo of his voice made harsh by the cold, clawing grasp of winter. "Oy, Bebs!" He tried again, casting about him in the dark, his axe held at the ready. Walls damp and cold to the touch spread apart in opposing direction, leading off into the labyrinth Orsolya called home.

Rare was the occasion Faramund found himself venturing down here voluntarily. What madness had inspired him to come here? And why was it so goddamned dark?

Taking a few tentative steps forward, Faramund pondered the questions, only to come up empty. "Bebin? Syr Bebin?! Answer me, damn it!" Silence devoured his words. Gritting his teeth, Faramund decided to follow the tunnels to the left. Wall sconces burned here and there along the chosen path, the blurred, flickering light they emitted doing little to illuminate the world around the knight as he pressed on, deeper and deeper into the maze.

Darkness stretched before and behind, muted sounds making the experience all the more unnerving for the lone knight.

This is nothing like I remember, the dawnling thought, his footsteps soft but far too loud for his liking.

Where is Orsolya? Where is Bebin? Hells, where is anyone?!

Sidling into the chamber at the end of the tunnel, Fara took a moment to calm himself. His heart beat hard against his chest as he took in the chamber's contents; the rows of empty vials, the shelves thick with alchemical ingredients, crossbeams covered in blooming creepers. And a desk.

Upon the desk sat a leather-bound tome, bloated with pages turned yellow with age.

Strolling over to it, the knight laid his axe down on the desktop as he made to unbind the clasp keeping the tome's contents hidden from prying eyes. Faramund could not have said what had inspired him to do so. He had yet to master the written word, much to Brother Gilbert's chagrin. Pulling at the clasp, Faramund felt his hands grow cold and clumsy in a heartbeat.

"~Faramund~" Fake Orsolya whispered into his ear, her voice startling him. Snatching up his axe, Faramund span about, ready to bring the heavy blade down on-... on... A vase? Picking up the tome with his freehand, Fara took a step towards the table. He hadn't noticed it when he'd entered the chamber, but here it was, clear as day. Odd.

Feeling a fool, the knight nudged the flowers held within the vase with the head of his axe. In a blink, they began to wither and die. "What the fuck is going on here?" He asked the darkness gathering around him. It laughed in reply. "~what the fuck is going on here?~" Fake Orsolya repeated, maniacal laughter growing louder and louder.

Faramund felt something cold strike him in the back. He fell.

And woke up at the bottom of the cellar steps, tome in hand. Voices called back to him from further within the laboratory. He recognised the familiar lilt of Bebin's accent, heard Squires Ra'leem and Fyldirae talking. Without a second's thought, Faramund jumped to his feet and began to run after them.

Laughter dogged his heels.

Orsolya Embermoss Bebin Theros Tarid Ra’leem Nasrin Fyldirae Innis

 

[Innis]

Report!

The senior dusker's sharp call had Innis freezing as soon as she got down the stairs to where the others stood. "Unharmed, Syr!" She said automatically in response, boots clunking together as she stood at attention in such a way. Though she didn't feel very squirely in that moment, umbrella pieces still clutched in her hands.

Bebin continued to speak, and only when the Knight turned to venture forth did Innis relax her posture. Should she really follow after, unarmed and unknighted as she was? Well, Innis didn't spend too long on that quandary. Instead, she followed Nasrin as the other woman rifled through Orsolya's workshop looking for something. Doing the same, Innis shuffled around for anything better that she could defend herself with.

She climbed onto a table to get to an upper shelf, and her knee knocked into a glass vial. It toppled and shattered against cobblestone, splattering a sweet-smelling green liquid everywhere. Innis winced. "Sorry, miss Orsolya..." she apologized to nobody in a low voice, and then kept stretching to grab the thing she had climbed up for.

A rough looking dagger, not so much a weapon as a utility item used so far into dullness that it was only good for hacking and prying now. Well, better than an umbrella tine.

Innis was stepping back down to the ground to catch up with the others when she heard footsteps, running towards her. A split second decision - fight or hide - had Innis scrambling forward, newly acquired knife brandished, ready to face whatever beast came at her this time. Just as soon as she was ready to lunge in for the first attack, she came up short, as what rounded the corner was distinctly not beast-shaped.

"Syr Faramund?" Innis stashed the knife into one of her belt loops. She wasn't surprised to see him there, it was only natural that someone would've heard the commotion and come investigate.

"Everyone's down this way, let's go," she turned her back to him and when through those looming doors, crossing into the rot and gloom that lurked beyond.