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Post by jarahamee on Oct 4, 2019 22:01:26 GMT -6
[Cassius takes an unlit torch. Cassius pushes on the corner of the door to get to the chamber beyond. He's cautiously attentive about any possible traps, and waits to walk inside.]
Cassius took a moment to catch his breath. He was grimy, but that was hardly anything new for him. If nothing else, the dust and moist dirt clinging to his feet would help soften his tracks and make them more quiet, which was what he needed.
Cassius stared at the door. He didn't trust good feelings anymore; they tended to be nothing but his brain trying to convince him things were the right thing to do, and most of the time, they were not. However, there was no good way to go forth besides here, and he did not feel drawn to the dangerous alternative.
He positioned himself against the side of the strange doors, and gave them one hard push towards the edge to move it inwards, preparing for whatever came beyond. He was strong enough he felt confident that if it was meant to be moved, or indeed, possible to move, he would be able to accomplish it.
Before leaving, Cassius took one of the many unlit torches. There was no way to create light with them yet, but there would be, he was sure. He hesitated a moment, before peering at what came beyond, with all due caution, straining his senses for anything that seemed concerningly foreign.
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Post by MP on Oct 5, 2019 1:21:03 GMT -6
Ari: Items: hunting horn, rusty knife x 2, maned pelt Flakes of rust scrape against Ari’s bare skin, leaving white score marks as he moves. It’s not a comfortable feeling, but the scratches too shallow to draw blood, and the knives are secure. The pelt, trailing claws and a blunt, lolling head, is warm and snug around Ari’s midriff. Even when he opens the chosen door and the walls drop away into disconcertingly open space, its weight is a comforting presence.
He is in a wide hall, face by a line of man-shaped columns at the opposite wall. The ceiling is black with shadows, cavernous and oppressive all at once. To his left, at the left end of the room, there are doors in the left and far walls. The tugging instinct of the bond leads through the left door and beyond. But to Ari’s right, at the top of a long tiered path, two massive chariots watch over the room. Two chariots and, atop the near chariot, a woman with a distinct reptilian tail.
Faolan: Items: unlit torch, flint necklace Black-shelled bodies bounce off Faolan’s body as he runs, spiny legs and clicking mandibles stinging against his skin. As the dark seeps in from the righthand door, the insects fly into a frenzy. The sound of chittering rises to a deafening chorus, drowning out the metallic sounds entirely. Faolan can barely see. Can barely breathe. He finds the surface of the door. Crazed mandibles sink into his legs, his neck, the side of his face. The stone is weighted, reluctant to open. Faolan can’t breathe. The darkness is complete, and he can’t breathe.
Then, amid the chaos, a sliver of sight. The door is open, and the darkness ends at the threshold as Faolan stumbles though. He is in a narrow hallway, covered in swelling insect bites, half suffocated, and seemingly at a dead end. A collapse has blocked the passage with rubble almost to the ceiling, leaving Faolan with little option but to climb. A half dozen beetles have been carried into the hallway on Faolan's skin, but they're no longer biting. In fact, they scuttle placidly over his arms as if they've forgotten his existence entirely.
The door swings shut behind Faolan. The sound of scuttling fades - almost. Should Faolan look behind him, the door is propped open. Nothing comes through. But a hand - a dead, leathery hand, is lying motionless across the threshold, the fingers splayed if it had reached for Faolan and only just missed.
Edge: Items: simple knife The man moves with a purposeful stride, covering the long room at an impressive pace. His head is angled, as if listening to something in the distance. When he sees Edge looking, he taps the side of his head. Puts a hand to his ear.
There is, now that the Darai is prompted, an odd feeling in the back of his skull. An awareness, a squirming discomfort, of something off to their distant right. It feels like a vibration. Like a growl. Like the ancient grind of rock over rock. Sure enough, when Edge's guide reaches the opposite corner, he takes the door to the right, leading them toward the feeling.
The door opens to a four-way intersection. Narrow passages stretch in each direction. From what Edge can see from the doorway, the walls are utterly featureless save for long stretches of curtain over the left and right pathways. His guide reaches the intersection and turns down the right path, heading directly for the sound. His hand is on the hilt of the sword, and his eyes are fixed on the passage ahead. He seems too preoccupied to notice should Edge attempt to slip away.
Jedidiah: For all his careful excavation, Jedidiah doesn't uncover much of particular note. The gold, while heavy, is too shallow to bury large objects, and it appears that the most valuable items are grouped toward the center of the trove. However, he does find two objects that seem out of place: the first is a tiny vial of liquid, no larger than his thumb, which clinks off his knuckle as he brushes some coins aside. The liquid within has a watery consistency and is a dirty shade of gray. It doesn't seem to match any substance the doctor is familiar with. The second object is a scrap of vellum, torn on one side as if from a book. The page is packed with spidery, unfamiliar characters. But as Jedidiah stares, the language waver as if through a dizzy spell. When his vision clears, it has resolved into readable text:
Many seem almost to embrace the affliction - to use it. I would not go so far as to suggest they give themselves over to it, as less rational minds may accuse. But like a disease, like the affliction itself, they seem to spread their brand of madness to those around them. I have heard our emperor’s voice in my mind, as have his sons. A broken shadow of the man he was, and yet the General will not act. He is his own kind of shadow, just as impotent. Just as weak. Surely such a man can see we cannot wait for signs to come mature.
Kira: Items: disgusting mold blob Through the sliver of the open door, the twitch of claws; the pant of breath; the white of pallid flesh. What Kira glimpses through the mold-splattered door can only be described as a monster. The tangled mass of flesh is kneeling at the left wall, shivering, pawing at the wall. Lumps and protrusions around it flex, and Kira sees that these are countless emaciated arms, curled around its waist, folded against its chest, draped over its shoulders. Hands screening its scalp, its jaw, its eyes. Twitching. Groping. Not enough to muffle its panting. Twisted stumps of humanoid legs trail uselessly behind it, but the pair of elongated arms at its back look made for crawling. They're gruesomely shaped, an extra joint giving them the look of something twisted and profane.
The monster is standing near a hole - more than a hole, a lightless well that gapes in the center of the room - and the fact that the thing would have to skirt the hole to get to her is the only comfort the burbat can hope for.
Sara: Sara's words echo in the dark space. Repeating. Fading. Gone. Again, there is no response from the chariots or the strange, dormant feeling of presence in the room. But after a moment, there's an answering sound. The echoing grate of stone.
Looking down from the top of the stairs, with the added height from the chariot, Sara can see that the door at the far left end of the room has opened. A small dark figure with a darker bristling pelt around its waist is pushing through the gap.
Hau: Items: human effigy Hau's scrutiny turns up no other exits, and the door he started at leads in the opposite direction entirely. The only way towards the strange pull lies past the far door. It has no scent to it but the dry smell of dust and stale air. Like its twin, it's a flat slab of stone. Exceedingly heavy and slow to open if pushed, but otherwise unremarkable. Should he listen through the wall, he will hear nothing - on the other side, at least.
There is now a low grinding sound behind him, the movement of one heavy stone over another, and a tall, furred humanoid standing in the doorway.
Marchelute: Aside from the four chests in the room, there's nothing Marchelute can use to prop open his door. Once he releases it, it grinds shut behind him, sealing with a low clunk. And he is alone.
The walls are bare. The floor is bare. The chests - two ivory flanking Marchelute's door and two cherrywood flanking a door at the opposite wall - are the only objects in the room apart from a door in the righthand wall. The ivory chest to Marchelute's left is currently open, baring ruined and moth-eaten old robes, a silver chain, and various other finery. The other chests, of similar make, have nothing in the way of locks or distinguishing marks, although the righthand cherrywood chest that Marche examines has a distinctly cleaner scent.
Grace: The pulp between Grace's toes squishes, squishes, but eventually scrapes off as she continues down the hall. For all her wishing, there is no wake up call. No buzz of the alarm. The scent of blood and rot is strong enough to set the eyes watering and the stomach heaving.
The door ahead offers some small relief. It's made of heavy stone, dusty to the touch and catching on bits of rubble. With Grace's size and strength, it pushes wider, wider, finally rewarding her with a draft of fresh - relative to the putrid air of the hall at least - tomb air. The eyes staring back at her may feel slightly less rewarding.
The wall is set with alcoves all around the room. Each is occupied by a life-sized human statue facing an empty altar at the center of the room. The clay faces are streaked with age. Their eyes, the paint on them long-since faded, are blank grey orbs that seem to follow her around the room. There is a door in the opposite wall, and this too is occupied. There is a blue-haired man there, examining the closed door. Should Grace choose to sneak around him, this isn't her only exit. In the left and right center alcoves, she notices an open passage behind the statues. The clay figures stand before these exits as if at guard, but she can likely squeeze around them with only minor difficulty.
Cassius: Items: unlit torch The torch comes free from its holder easily, and now Cassius has a light. Or the start of one, at least. The end of it has a waxen texture that feels promising, should he find something to spark a fire.
The door, though heavy against his shoulder, is equally obliging. It opens to a room containing four chests. The torches on the walls are dark and offer nothing to lift the gloom, but Cassius can see that the chests on either side of his door are made of some kind of darkwood, while the two chests flanking the opposite door are made of carved ivory. The righthand ivory chest, he may note, has already been opened. But this thought is interrupted by movement out of the corner of Cassius' eye.
There is a small creature snuffling about the middle of the room. Curled and fleshy, barely larger than a rabbit, it looks up with beady white eyes and a soft, flabby mouth completely devoid of teeth. The pause is just long enough for Cassius to identify the object in its mouth - a bottle of healing elixir, not much different from his own recipes.
The creature readjusts the prize, choking it further down its throat like a snake, stuffing it down with tiny rodent's paws, and bolts toward Cassius' left, where a third door is set in the wall. The creature reaches this dead end and, with a frantic wriggling motion, squeezes itself through the impossible hairline space between the stones. It flattens like putty - potion and all - and vanishes under the door.
Draggo: The dragon's investigation of the two doors reveals neither lock nor trap. However, there are two very different sights behind it. As far as he can see through the open sliver, the righthand door (with the mural at his back) leads to a sunken and flooded section of room, the water black and tarlike. The lefthand door opens to a gloomy stone room with two darkwood chests at the far wall and an ivory chest visible just to the right of his door.
As the dragon is peering through at the chests, however, there a low grating sound behind him. Should he turn to look, there are two small changes to the room. The first, and perhaps most pressing, is the fact that the door to the right (standing with the mural at his back) has cracked ever so slightly open. The second is a small green feather near the well.
The feather, at least, is a familiar sight. It has a habit of innocuously moving, vanishing from where the dragon last left it only to turn up somewhere close at hand. He never remembers moving it. and he's never managed to lose it for more than an hour or so - even in this unnatural place, it would seem.
But before he can pick up the feather, something else moves first. A soft little shape darts from the corner of his eye - a flopping, pale thing that drops down the wall and snatches up the feather in its doughlike hands. Its jaws are flabby and devoid of teeth, but it pushes its prize into its mouth regardless, crumpling the feather in half.
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Post by qhostqrowls on Oct 5, 2019 6:46:33 GMT -6
[Faolan shoves the door shut, and begins to carefully climb up the rubble]
Faolan stumbled through the doorway, vision darkening at the edges for the lack of oxygen. The weight in his chest was crushing, but finally he was able to take in a harsh, heaving breath of stale tomb air, now he was free of the room. Chest rising and falling rapidly, he turned swiftly - he couldn't let the swarm come in here, he'd be eaten alive - but as he placed his palms against the stone to shove it shut, he realised that the frantic buzzing had stopped completely. The beetles crawling in his hair and along his arms were placid. Normal. With a shudder, batted at them in a frantic get-it-off motion - only to freeze again at the sight of the outstretched hand on the threshold.
He took a quick step backwards, terrified the fingers would twitch to life and grab at his ankle. But the dead hand lay still, and the doctor shoved the door closed before it could do anything else - hoping he'd squish it as he did so.
It was silent and dark in the corridor. Faolan bent over with a silent, near sob of a gasp, hands on his knees. Once he'd caught his breath, he slipped the flint necklace into his pocket, and strode forwards and towards the massive pile of rubble, eyeing it suspiciously. He pushed carefully at the base of the pile, testing how loose the stones were, and then began to climb. He kept careful note of where he placed his feet and his hands, going slow and steady while he still could. There was no point in rushing, he'd only cause a landslide. And being buried alive was just as bad as being bitten to death, really. He swore he could still feel the nasty little insect feet crawling over him, and shivered, before focusing again on the climb. He was a little worried about the bites, actually, and hoped that there weren't any eggs or maggots or venom or the like.
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Post by Vaitris on Oct 5, 2019 9:16:57 GMT -6
[OOC: Hau is surprised. He addresses the stranger while at the same time trying to open the door that leads towards whatever he senses.]
There was a door facing the in very direction he wanted to go. Hau examined it, but other than the dense, heavy stone it was made out of he could tell nothing else about it. Not even what might be on the other side. There didn’t seem to be anything as menacing as he had experienced just moments before emanating from it, at least. Bracing himself against the door, he was readying himself to push when the one at the opposite end of the room scraped open.
He whipped around in surprise. Given the general aura of this place and the creeping threat that he was expecting to return, Hau was immediately on the defensive. He pressed his back against his door, still trying to ease it open while he appraised the creature at the other end of the room. Bigfoot immediately leapt to mind as he struggled to process it. The creature was taller than him by more than a foot and covered in think dark fur, except for the face which appeared surprisingly human-like. It was also staggeringly out of place here. Not unlike him.
Hau decided to try the diplomatic approach and see what happened. If it was dangerous, if it attacked him, he only had a few seconds to take action. His eyes fleetingly settled on the altar before flicking back up to the stranger across from him. “Uh, hello?”
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Post by Pearl Dragon on Oct 5, 2019 12:07:36 GMT -6
[Kira looks the thing up and down...ew ugly. She then moves forward, tip toe-ing, and tries to stay quiet. If the thing shows signs of hearing her, she will toss the mold clump towards the wall it is nearest to and then move opposite it around the hole. Her hope once again is to cause distraction with the sound. If it ignores her, she will keep moving opposite it to get around the hole.]
As the door opened slightly at Kira's touch, she peered through at the gloomy interior and immediately froze as the panting sound reached her ears once more. It was more distant than before, but still close enough after all. She also caught the sound of claws scraping or pawing at stone. Up ahead, her eyes caught the kneeling shape of a messy looking creature, its entire physique hard to look at or identify. Kira stared, half in and half out, at the beast as it reached up with gangly limbs to paw at the walls near it. Even in the gloom, she could see all of its misplaced limbs and corded flesh covered in lumps and protrusions. The legs it had were limp and twisted behind it, but the elongated arms were promising of making up for what it lacked in that area, unnaturally long and full of additional joints. Near it, on the ground, Kira could make out a dark space that could only be some sort of hole or pit. She clutched the spongey clump now in her hands with fear, frozen in place as she decided what to do.
She could try to skirt the thing, move opposite of it around the hole, but what if it headed her off? Kira hesitated, mind torn between what to do and where to go when finally she squeezed through the doorway. She wouldn't go back, at least not if she had a chance at going forward. The thing seemed pretty preoccupied with the wall, at least at the moment, and as far as she could tell its eyes were covered by the many hands and limbs. If she could perhaps sneak past it, she might have a chance...
Carefully, Kira began to step towards the hole. She remained relatively center with it, placing each foot down with soft almost toe-by-toe precision to minimize any noise. If the thing showed any sign of noticing her, she would stop and watch to see what it did. If she managed to get close enough to the hole or if it noticed any sound, she would wait for a lull in its scratching before tossing the mold clump towards the side of the hole it was closest too. The moment it went for the sound, she would move opposite of it to skirt the edge of the hole as quietly as she could. If the creature remained unaware, she would still move opposite of it to try and keep her stealth.
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Post by kilnarak on Oct 5, 2019 13:43:41 GMT -6
[ Ari starts toward the Marchelute-This-Way door, then notices Sara and stops to call out to her. ]
The pelt was oddly comforting - not what one would expect from a dead thing found in a creepy tomb. Ari wondered yet again what it had been when it was still alive. His hands absently stroked the fur whenever he reached down to adjust it, or to adjust the knives so that they did not press as sharply against his skin. Maybe the knives had been a bad idea... Well, hopefully they would be useful and he wouldn't end up stabbing himself with them!
He followed the pull of the Pact out into a wide hall. It was still dark, but here at least it wasn't as if a fog pressed in around him, clouding his vision - not like that first room where the darkness clung to everything. His night vision could make out doorways along the left wall, as well as at the far, far end of the hallway. The Pact pulled him toward the closest left door, and he began to pad barefoot that way.
His gaze swept down, looking for any tiles in the floor that looked... off. But then it swept back up - he wasn't entirely sure why. Movement? Or perhaps a faint sound? His gaze drifted, finding statue chariots high up along one wall - he almost swept over them, but then movement caught his eye and he spied a distressingly familiar tail. He froze a moment, half-remembered images of a time before, that tail and something gleaming metallic, spider legs and pain. He shoved the memory off with a shiver, then cupped a hand to his mouth to call out.
"S-Sara? It's Sara right? I-I'm down here. Are you okay?"
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Post by tsukikoko on Oct 5, 2019 15:40:03 GMT -6
[OOC: Tries to ignore Ari, finds she can't and warns him of the slippery parallel lines on the floor, then attempts to take one of the spears.]
All in all, the climb went better than expected; still nothing had moved, or jumped out at her, she hadn't fallen off. Sara soon found herself stood next to one of the clay men in the chariot, none the worse for wear. With nothing outwardly interesting up there and still in no apparent danger, she found herself looking between the spears and the large, immovable door, wondering if perhaps she could just take the spears and try them in the notches at the edges of the door. She could simply try to open one of the smaller doors, but that didn't feel like the main puzzle, which she was more curious about. Really, she just wanted something to happen. The waiting felt like a dagger, hanging above her but never quite falling and that was somehow worse.
She hadn't expected that something to be one of the doors opening, though.
For a few seconds, at the crunching scrape of a stone door, the shifter froze atop the chariot, head half turned. Part of it uncontrollable instinct, part of it an expectation that the vampire, wendigo, or whichever other one of her inner demons had finally come to join the party. Instead, it was a fur-laden figure. Not coated in a layer of fur so much as wearing a pelt about their person. In the gloom, she couldn't make out their features - a facet of her dreams Sara had most definitely experienced before. But, despite that, something about the situation didn't ring true to the idea she'd manufactured. The obfuscation of their features, their movements as they moved through the partially opened door... all seemed so real.
So she turned away and busied herself with reaching for the spear. Desperate denial fought for control, tried to preserve the fabrication because that was easier than facing what might be reality.
But then, he spoke.
She tried to ignore him, tried to cling to the idea that this was still all in her head. But as one second rolled into two, a crawling, creeping sensation permeated her skin. Guilt and shame crowded, berated her for being so rude and callous. Because if this was real, then he was stuck here too. How could she just turn away? He knew her name, that meant they were at least acquaintances. Of course he would, if he's in your head another voice hissed, but it was quiet, much quieter than her rising need to help him.
A choking sob tried to form, the return of her fear and dread. For him, for anyone else here. It was the horror, all over again. Dragging them in, killing them all.
Except, they hadn't really died, had they?
The realisation struck her like a punch to the chest. Slamming into her panic and curtailing it's spread. In the moment, yes, their deaths had looked and felt as real as any other experience. But it hadn't lasted. This was like a game. A sick, twisted game.
Anger boiled. Protective of those who might have been dragged in too. Jedidiah. The man currently below her. Who else had been at the start? She hadn't been looking. Some of the anger turned inwards, for pretending the issue hadn't existed in the first place. But mostly, the anger was directed at the unknown 'they'. Whatever was doing this. Quite frankly, they could go fuck themselves.
Sara's anger focused her. She wasn't going to lay down and die, give them that satisfaction. She could figure out these puzzles, get people out of here, stop further trauma. Or at least, she could give it a damn good try. First, though, the matter of the man who's called her name.
"Why aye, I.... I'm alreet, like." She said, finally glancing Ari's way. Now that she was looking at him, the man rung familiar. In an acquaintances type of fashion. Though, at first, she sounded unsure, she shifter's voice gained strength over time. "Are you alreet too? Oh an' just- just be careful, like, the uh, the floor 'as these parallel lines." With one hand on the spear, she pointed down at the floor, tracing a route for Ari's sake. "Slippery. Reckon they 'ave somethin' tah do with these chariots, like. Big door 'as nowt but notches at the side." She found herself explaining her thoughts in a sudden flurry. To see what he would think, to fill the air between them, to keep her own emotions in check? Sara didn't even know herself. With a glance in Ari's direction, she gave him a small smile and a 'what-can-you-do' shrug, before returning her attention to an attempt at taking a spear. "Thought I meet, like, 'ave a crack at stickin' a spear in there, ya know, see what 'appens. That or 'ave a gander at what 'appens when blood touches the wheels, proper 'orror game style."
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Post by NightshadeVII on Oct 5, 2019 16:16:54 GMT -6
[OOC: Edge continues to follow the scarred man, but tries to memorize the path they’re taking (both visually and with the use of “space sense”), should he need to get out of there quickly.]
This was getting more and more strange. The scarred man still hasn’t spoken, so the idea that maybe he couldn’t speak at all seemed more and more plausible, and now, he made Edge aware of a sound, which had really always been there, but he had never noticed it. Rock on rock, somewhere in the distance. What could even make a sound like this?
Then he noticed that the scarred man was already on his way again and followed suit quickly, not wanting to loose sight of the other, now that he had decided to follow him. He still wasn’t sure if this was a good decision, but for now, it was all he had, and at the moment, it was better than aimlessly wandering the halls without knowing where to go. Even though Edge was tall, and long-legged, it took some effort to keep up with the other. He stayed a little behind and to the side, so he could see the scarred man’s facial expression. For now, the other’s eyes were fixed straight ahead, focused. The scarred man seemed to know where he was going, but the Darai still wasn’t sure if they were going anywhere good. The fact that the other kept a hand on the hilt of his sword did nothing to soothe Edge’s worries. Should this turn ugly, which he hoped it didn’t, he wanted to get out of here quickly.
Edge began to take note of the space around him, there was nothing visibly recognizable, but he noted down whatever turns and pathways they took. To be on the safe side, he began mapping the walls mentally, reaching out with mind and essence as he had done earlier, sensing where walls and stones connected, where the path twisted, like tracing a pattern with a finger. It was all there already, he just had to concern himself with remembering the right route to take. If he needed to get away, he couldn’t waste time running into dead ends. In an odd way this was calming. Despite the bizarre, unsettling circumstances, what he did now was something he knew how to do, it was something soothing and known, in the middle of the unknown and unsettling. Though he remained alert and was by no means relaxed or at ease in the situation, he could breathe a little easier.
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Post by beastly on Oct 5, 2019 17:55:01 GMT -6
Ooc:Grace is relieved to see another (live) person. She approaches slowly, noticing that HAU is trying to open the door.
--- She is so glad to be out of that hallway, she nearly stumbles walking into the room.
Grace freezes when She sees Hau seeing her. She puts her hands up a little, showing she has no weapons. Just a torch. That isnt on fire.
"Um. Hello..."
This is a weird dream. What's this blue guy doing here? ... She did play sonic a few days ago, but this isn't sonic the hedgehog.
"Are you, um. Lost as well?" She notices hes trying to open the door. She could help? She takes a cautious step over.
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Post by jarahamee on Oct 5, 2019 18:44:56 GMT -6
(Cassius opens the other ivory chest carefully, making mental note of where the horrible little rodent creature disappeared.)
Cassius watched with rapt, predatory interest at the strange little rodent creature. Some part of his nature compelled him to chase and capture the little beast. Especially after noticing the very useful potion. He made a mad dash for the little creature, only to see it disappear into the nooks between the door and the floor.
Too late.
He then turned to the chests. Some of them might be trapped. Maybe all the remaining chests, but he had to try something. He hesitated a moment, and then opened the remaining ivory chest, half-expecting something to occur in the meantime. Nothing in life was free, even in this strange world. The other two, he was unsure he trusted. After all, there seemed to be a solution to all of these rooms. A way to go about them.
If nothing overly concerning happened, he would turns his attention to the door where the rodent-like creature escaped to, and moved to follow after it.
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Post by Sharei on Oct 5, 2019 18:46:46 GMT -6
[OOC: The juvenile sees the creature eat the feather and tries to lunge for it.]
Two doors, neither of them locked or trapped. One leading to a damp, water-logged room, the other to a room full of chests. Chests were good, although he was leery of them. Sometimes they contained treasure, but sometimes they were a nasty mimic or trapped with spells and exploded in your face when you opened them. Sohl had been the victim of one such spell, and his hair had stood up on end for nearly an hour.
The dragon was about to go through the door to the chest room to play Russian Roulette when he heard the noise. His head turned, catching sight of the little green feather at once. His hand went to his chest to feel for the token, but he'd left it by the bedside - and of course, that was why it was there. It was uncomfortably close to the well, though, and --
"HEY!" the juvenile shouted, lunging after the small creature with a sudden burst of energy - around the well, not over it, thankfully. He wasn't quite that stupid, even if he was mad. "Don't eat that!!"
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Post by okami1reeka333 on Oct 5, 2019 19:01:04 GMT -6
Jedidiah:
[OOC: intrigued by the vellum, he studies it as well as the vial abit, since the door way did not seem to hold anything else in regard of the inlay. he takes them for now to see if he can figure out where they might need to go. . . maybe he might be able to find the book the torn page was from? he then puts his ear to the door to see if he can hear anything from the other side. ]
as he carefully excavated the doorway, a vellum as well as a vial of strange liquid catch his eye. . . .they looked out of place to him. . .largely out of place. . . reading the vellum, he was intrigued. . . as well as concerned. affliction? what were the symptoms? another question was were any of them in danger of encountering this? perhaps it was waterborne or airborne? perhaps exposed via cut or an fluid transfer? then there was the vial. . . the liquid, he could not recognize outright. . . if he had a means of studying it, then perhaps he could gain an better idea as to what it was? then there was the question of if the two were connected? the language itself was odd. . . .it was not natural how it came to view where he could understand it either. . .
where was he? where were the others? where was the puppy? were they in danger of this affliction? perhaps of kidnappers and murderers or what else might stir where they were. . . but was this an additional issue they need to deal with? well, he cant stay in the treasure room forever. . . but busting out of the area would be an terrible idea if he were to do so. . . .draw too much attention. . .so he opted to place his ear against the door to see if he could hear anything on the otherside, breathing, heatbeats, perhaps the shifting of weight when sand rolls and cracks under someone's foot. . .anything that would suggest someone or something was waiting for him on the otherside. . .
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Post by Marshmallow on Oct 5, 2019 20:05:45 GMT -6
[OOC: Marchelute checks the clean-smelling chest, hoping for a useful tool or a clue to his whereabouts.]
The room he entered was small and unremarkable, occupied only by four old chests - two to a door. One of them lay open already. The contents of it seemed worth no more than a passing glance however, and Marchelute didn't linger. He considered the other three, the the first he had sighted still held his attention. It had a different scent, oddly clean compared to its companions. None of the chests had any special markings that he could see, nor any visible locks. Probably unimportant. Probably a waste of time.
Marchelute grasped the lid of the clean-scented chest and tested it, to see if it would indeed open. If there was a chance that the contents might hold a clue to this strange place, like a map or even something with a name, he chose to take it.
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Post by MP on Oct 6, 2019 1:27:19 GMT -6
Hau and Grace: Hau's items: human effigy Grace's items: unlit torch As Hau and Grace converse, they find themselves leaning closer together. Squinting to make out detail. Trying to catch their breath. The room is getting darker. Steadily. And as the fact becomes apparent, as the statues around them smudge to silhouettes, Hau feels a nudge at his back.
The door is pushing open. The door is pushing open, and there is no one behind it. Instead, the two can see a long, dark hallway. Then a dark hallway. Then only the dark. The shadow is moving toward them down the passageway. One by one, the stones are swallowed up. It's at the threshold. It's through the door. It seeps into the room with them, blinding, suffocating. The dark fills every corner of the room, but Hau and Grace can feel someone there - a prickling presence standing just beside them. There is a metallic rasp in the blind dark. The sound of something being drawn from a sheath.
Kira: Items: disgusting mold blob Limbs spasm. Fingers tense over sickly flesh. The nightmare turns on the spot with a hideous sound, but its covered features make it hard to determine the direction it's facing. It shivers and pants. Hands readjust over doughy flesh with a soft, peeling sound. Then it lunges forward on a dozen scrabbling hands, charging at Kira's door.
The dragging legs and twisted limbs belie how fast the creature moves. It's on the door in seconds, hands prying prying it open, dragging its body forward, snatching at Kira's fur. The unnatural joints of the two shoulder arms give it deceptive reach. One hand snaps out, dragging bloody streaks down Kira's leg. The ropy fingers lock around her ankle. The panting rises. With a wiry strength despite emaciated arms, the creature begins to reel her in.
Ari and Sara: Ari's items: hunting horn, rusty knife x 2, maned pelt Sara's items: old spear Dust falls from the charioteer in faint clouds as Sara turns to address Ari. The male figure is cracked with age, fine flaws running through the clay and across the stained face, and the shifter's movements cause tiny chips to flake away. Her attempts to remove the spear only worsen its condition. A crack opens in the statue's hand and lower arm, splitting wider as the weapon works loose. The spear begins to slide from the fingers. A fragment of clay falls from the lower arm, and something black and withered can be seen beneath the shell.
Then the spear, worked loose until the statue holds it only by the end of its shaft, finally tips and falls. The spearhead strikes the opposing chariot with a hollow clank, the sound echoing and echoing over the empty space. The far edge of the room darkens. And for a moment - just a moment, the horses seem to stir.
Sara now has a spear. The wood is light and splintering with age, but the spearhead is largely free of rust or damage and still surprisingly sharp. However, it's much too small to fit into either of the odd grooved slits.
Faolan: Items: unlit torch, flint necklace The gap in the rubble is easily large enough to admit a man of Faolan's stature. Loose stones around the bottom indicate that the debris may have recently been shifted, and the going is easy even for his swelling arms and legs. But the closer he gets to the gap, the worse the air becomes. The familiar stench of rot is back, less concentrated than in the darkwood chest, but fresher - meatier. An iron smell fills his nostrils, and as Faolan comes down on the other side of the rubble, something squishes underfoot.
He is standing on the pulped remains of a head - a muzzle with disturbingly humanoid elements. Broken skin and blood slick Faolan's foot. The rest of the creature is buried by fallen rock. There's no way any creature could live through such an injury. But even motionless, the teeth are disturbingly long. There's something glinting between them, lodged at the back of the creature's throat.
Edge: Items: simple knife Edge's senses tell him that the corridor is a long four way intersection. The ends of it are beyond his range, but he can feel that the curtains hide empty alcoves. The path his guide has led him down is a simple one: a right turn from the bright room, a right turn at the intersection. It ends at a plain stone door, no different from the others. His guide pushes it open without a moment's pause, holding it open for Edge.
They're in a square room lined all around with large, empty alcoves. A door stands opposite their own. At the center of the room, there's an altar with a ring of small indentations in its surface. All of it, walls and alcoves and altar, is gummed with a thin gray sludge.
The stuff pulses lazily, spongy underfoot should Edge fully enter the room. The largest mass is by the opposite door, growing up the side of it like fungus on a tree. It's roughly the size of a head. Calloused and wet and bulbous. Smaller growths are scattered around it, linked by fine gray veins. The scarred man is moving toward it. His sword is out. With a short glance at Edge, he stabs the largest pustule. It pops with a small squirt, belching smoke. Watching it sag and still, Edge feels the foreign awareness begin to fade from his mind.
The man stabs a smaller pustule. Then another. Then he looks to Edge. Steps back. He points at his scar-lined face. Points the sword down at the growths. He flicks the blade at the remaining pustules. Stares at Edge. A clear prompt.
Cassius: Items: unlit torch, sturdy rope The ivory chest opens without incident, revealing stacks upon stacks of ruined clothes. Though the patterns are faded and the silk is eaten through with holes, there is enough detail left to tell that every stack seems to be a matched set of outfits. The fabric would be easy to shred and reuse if necessary. The only other item of note is a long length of rope binding the stacks together. Compared to the clothes, it has weathered the unknown years remarkably well. The fibers are thick and strong with only minimal signs of fraying.
The door the rodent escaped through is marked by grooves identical to the ones Cassius encountered in the room previous. It hasn't changed since he opened the chest - but something else has. There is no one else in the room. No sound or sign of entry. But both ivory chests on the opposite wall are now standing open.
Draggo: As fast as the flopping creature runs, Draggo is faster. He catches the thing as it tries to squirm through the door. Its skin is dry and fleshy, and it oozes ichor as the dragon seizes it. The stone grinds open under their combined weight, putting them halfway between the well room and a long, sunken room. Only several feet from the dragon, the floor drops into black, sludgy water, leaving a threshold of stone at the dragon's door and another at the door in the opposite wall. Narrow rims of stone line the edges of the room, slick with black mold and damp. A many-faced sculpture, crude and sunken in the center of the lake, watches the unfolding struggle.
The creature is trying to escape into the water. It kicks at the dragon's hands, soft pulpy feet against his fingers, and writhes like a hooked fish. However, its flabby body and watery muscles seem incapable of hurting him. When it's unable to escape his grip, it stuffs its prize deeper into its mouth, almost spitefully. The delicate green vane crackles and folds, barbs breaking in the jaws. The creature shuts its mouth, head bobbing in an attempt to swallow, and makes another writhing lunge for the water.
Jedidah: Items: gray vial, scholar's note 4 The door is a heavy thing, and the surface is so uneven that Jedidiah can hear the movement of air between his ear and the stone when he leans in close to listen.
For a long minute, he hears nothing but silence. The natural movement of air. The slide of coins down a nearby pile. The soft clink of gold whenever he shifts his weight. Then, muffled through the door, an echoing clatter. It sounds like metal against stone. Like something falling. He hears it only once. Then the sound fades into disturbing silence.
Marchelute: The contents of the wooden chest are surprisingly well-preserved. There is an assortment of equipment inside - jesses, leashes, falcon hoods of varying size. Perhaps the sturdy leather was the reason the contents were able to survive for so long. A thick leather glove is topmost on the pile. On any human individual, it would cover the entirety of the lower arm, with layers of buckskin continuing along the upper arm for further protection. On the ifrit, however, it only extends partway up the arm.
When Marchelute turns back to the room, the cherrywood chest across from him is open as well. It mirrors his ivory chest, yawning wide, and the ifrit can see tattered and moth-eaten bundles of clothes inside. There is no sign of the mechanism that opened it, nor any trace of life.
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Post by kilnarak on Oct 6, 2019 2:47:56 GMT -6
[ Ari wants to go Marche-ward, and he doesn't trust the marks on the floor in this room, but he finds himself needing to discuss it with Sara first. After the discussion, he will continue through the left door toward where the Pact-bond leads him. ]
"Uh, that's... I-I'm okay, still... you know. Wh-Whole." He had fidgeted during the stretch of silence between his call and her answer - Ari had begun to consider turning and continuing on his way, if she meant to ignore him. Her answer seemed to startle him a little, but he didn't leave, not just yet.
"The... The floor?" He glanced down to make note of the marks Sara was talking about, uncertain, and backed away from the nearest set of marks frowning. It looked more like a trap than anything else, at least to him. The sort of thing that would shoot up a wall of blades or garrote-thin wires. But maybe it was a track?
"Y-You can try... I-I guess you wanna go through the big door then? I... um. Maybe it'd be best to stay together, but... I... I want to go this way." He gestured toward the door to his left, then edged that way, making sure he wasn't standing on any of the marks on the floor and being careful and quick in crossing them. He moved until he was beside the door. "Marchelute is... He's this way, I think. I mean it... feels like he's this way, so..."
A part of him wanted to just... go. Let her keep puzzling through making the door open if she wanted, that way wasn't where he was going just now. But another part insisted that it would be safer to keep in a group. He bit his lip, hesitating. "If... If I go this way, you can... you can call out this way, if you get the door open? I can... we can come back this way and-and group up with you again. It's... safer with others, right?"
He waited for her answer, waited to see if she would come with him, and then he headed off through the door, toward where he felt Marchelute was.
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