• Closed • Into The Deep (Graded)

[Patrick]

Cylus 12 718; Early Hours

Location: Orimar - The Lost Bastion of Crystal and Stone

The group of adventures had arrived in a very sticky situation. The first to reach the gates of Orimar but however, captives of Raimeus now that everyone entered the gates. It was a bit of a mess for everyone but with a bit of leeway given to their leashes, the gang was allowed to explore whatever parts of the ruin they chose. Save for one...

Orimar looked to be a city once beautifully carved and decorated, ornate masonry now seemed cracked and aged with time. The eerie blue that seemed to illuminate the caverns from above often glimmered brighter, before fading to a dim yet again as though whatever power fueled the lighting waned. It seemed as though the crystals all throughout the caverns and the city did so in unison, as though the lights they gave off were an eerie sign of life within the confined walls. Did the city truly breathe? Much was left to speculate as many of the expedition remarked upon things, namely the fact that the place felt more a forsaken shadow of what it once was.

That was not all. Shadows felt as though they watched the four-hundred men and women gathered there, and barely a quarter would even make it out of the doomed city alive...

Oberan

Given a private message earlier written from Patrick, the man was instructed to open it when he was specifically alone. That was before he went out on his own to investigate, like many of the others who had come in search of treasure. From what appeared to be the remains of the town square where the main camp was, the Mortalborn headed west into the ruins of the city. Much to the surprise of everyone who ventured that way that section of the city seemed more intact, compared to the southern parts of the ruins which were crumbled away into the shimmering waters beneath it. Still irrigation did seem backed up as small portions of glimmering water trailed along the street, and the further along the he walked the deeper sadness seemed to sink in.

What was life like here? Did the Orimatsu always live underground like this? Why did all this sadness seem to seep into him? No matter how he dealt with the sudden dreary feeling that seeped into him, Oberan would find some of the miners and mercenary guards diverted towards the south, while his direction took him towards a rather large building tucked deeper within. He could've tread deeper into the city if he wanted to but straying too far felt dangerous, and the fact he still felt watched didn't make going alone any easier. His brief encounter with The Guardian had been left with a lingering effect, one where he felt under constant supervision by some otherworldly entity. Did it despise him entering? Did it want him to leave?

Thus far nothing had made itself known to him, only the echoes of people in the distance remained behind him. He was the first and only one to discover the building he'd come across, finding that the stone door which blocked him from entering wouldn't budge. A look at the door itself implied it could open somehow, but the markings etched into the surface were not only weathered a faded; they were indecipherable without someone there to translate. Yet a loot at the doorway carved intricately around it revealed something, a porthole of some kind that looked to be empty or perhaps broken. The Mortalborn could've easily waved his fingers and used a bit of his power, and then perhaps the door would open at whim for him. Or he could've inspected and tested the porthole to see if it remained well enough intact, and perhaps find the missing component that would help open it.

The question was... would Oberan risk it?

Ellen

The water seemed to shimmer and glow as it flowed across stone, the huntress's arrival near the bridge met with a multitude of looks from men. Many there seemed to be human mostly, therefore seeing someone such as Ellen was met with unusual looks all around. Compared to the bulk of miners which seemed to move east from the camp, a small number of mercenaries had been given the order to patrol the entrance. While nobody else would be following the expedition to this extraordinary place, the leaders considered it important to make sure no other unexpected guests found their way in.

Yet just the entrance alone had been an amazing sight and even then, things were an immense mixture of awe and pensiveness when one looked around. One could only wonder what memories this place once had, as much of the southern reaches of the city had crumbled away into ruins. Even now one look into that appeared to be the shimmering lake next to Orimar, once could see remnants of buildings as they were half submerged. Empty shells filled with whatever essence remained flowing throughout this lost bastion. Upon her stop there she'd noticed Crowley had moved past her in a hurry, and met with Patrick as they both stood next to something peculiar.

A large stone arch.

One carved with delicate designs and even runes, and a large crystalline core at the center of it's head. Just beyond it there was the large body of water and within it, the remaining half of what appeared to be an immense coliseum of a sorts. Not quite as impressive as the one in Rharne or anywhere else, but still fairly large when one looked at it. The fact part of it still stood while the other half seemed lost within the lake amazed Patrick, as he figured it a place easy to note for what would soon come to pass. An escape. Though not being staged yet it was a plan slowly being set into motion, under great discretion since he and Crowley both were being heavily watched by Raimeus's men.

"Any luck?" The Rharnian murmured as he looked from the coliseum to Crowley, who panted for a moment before he finally caught his breath.

"Thankfully yes, Tresah promised to give Finn the note; while making sure Raimeus or Kleo don't see it."

"Okay, then we're set. I gave Oberan the other note, so all that remains is to get bucket-head free from camp; and then we'll get the hell out of here."

Crowley nodded as he watched Pat speak with a serious tone, evidently the Rharnian felt troubled by something others couldn't feel. "Sounds like a plan." The man suddenly realized what his hands brushed upon when he looked away, first to the coliseum then towards the head of the arch above them. "What do you think this is?"

"I dunno," Patrick answered as he looked past Crowley to notice Ellen, "if you can though... see what these markings might mean? You're still the better decoder when it comes this stuff."

"Heh, right." He remarked as Patrick walked past with a gentle slap of the hand on the man's shoulder, a soft smile briefly shot to Ellen as he approached the huntress.

"Are you okay?" He checked to more or less see how she was taking all this in. "Glad I found you, or rather that you found me. I was just about to show you something." When he made that last statement it was slightly louder, but still spoken in a regular tone as he normally would. It became obvious though Patrick wanted something else with Ellen, as he nudged his head to the side so that they might stand near the edges of the water.

Finn

"This looks promising." Raimeus remarked as he and Kleo seemed to take the lead before Finn, alongside Tresah as he seemed fanatically interested in what they stumbled upon. Eastward across the river that shimmered across the stone floor, the three moved into a large open area that looked to be another square. This one however appeared to be more intricate with it's design compared to the other one the expedition made camp in, as large crystalline lines seemed to dart and connect in unusual ways. From up close it took a moment to inspect but after a short amount of time observing the entire spot, the lines appeared to create several shapes within shapes. Triangles which were inverted as their tips crossed over one another, resembling some ancient sight of which no longer bore a purpose.

And yet he felt something. The 'water' that flowed throughout the ruins felt unnatural to him, especially Finn given the fact he was a Defier, and everywhere he went caution seemed to be felt in the wind. Ever since the arrival mostly he was the most exposed to the unnatural state of the ruins, feeling his Spark resonate with a continuous hum that almost pulsated. Like a heartbeat. Before too long he would've even been able to tell, that the pulsations were felt with each elongated glimmer of the crystal structures overhead. "This had to be the sacred site where they performed their rites." Kleo muttered as she knelt down to touch the lines of crystal, a faint glow emanated under her fingertips the moment they made contact.

"Then we're close to the temple aren't we?" Raimeus inquired as he looked to Kleo, while Tresah watched the two of them briefly. The scholar had to adjust his spectacles while he walked to approach Finn, as the other two kept continued their conversation.

"Yes. According to the scriptures Tresah and Crowley managed to decipher, the temple should be that building right there." She pointed out nearly ecstatic as she rose to a stand, her finger directed at a large building carved with pillars and murals that swirled across the outer walls. Meanwhile Tresah turned with his back to Finn, the note Crowley sent to him held out so only the boy could see it. Even the guards that was with them seemed too occupied to notice the slip, meanwhile Tresah pretended to be innocently clasping his own wrists behind his back.

"From what I know," the scholar chimed in as he waited for Finn to grab the note, "The Orimatsun held their ceremonies in this square. It was where the Seers were given their rite of passage, before going inside to commune with the Emean Jewel." At that note Kleo looked to her companion Raimeus, who seemed to grin eagerly upon hearing those words.

"Then let's get a move on, our fortune awaits." There was almost excitement in the man's tone, but a menacing greed that nothing other emotion could replace. In that time Finn had to read the note, if he had taken it, then the contents of the message would be clear. The writing surely Crowley's own; it instructed for the boy to slip away when he could, and to hide away inside the coliseum until the others arrived to find him. But the question remained... would Finn head this warning?

Being so close to the fabled treasure they all came for...

Would he slip away now at such a golden opportunity, or would he remain beside Kleo and see if the legend was true? "Finn?" Kleo's voice seemed call out as the three stood together now, all looking at the boy as the moment came for him to decide what next.

Peleus

Even with the immense amount of lanterns and lighting from the campfires, the city square the main encampment was in still felt the eerie blue glow of the crystal above. The structure practically mimicked a chandelier with it's faint glow as many miner and mercenary alike wandered through, all laughing and remarking upon the amazing discovery of this ancient city. Peleus was kept at the main camp more so due to his volatile reaction before, and remained bound at the wrists to the shaft of a fallen stone pillar. Cracked halfway down as the upper half rested on the stone floor next to him, Peleus could've either struggled or accepted his fate of captivity. While he was blind to the condition of the shaft his arms were clasped behind, the fact he felt loose stone discomfort his back implied he might be able to work himself free.

Yet at the risk of being caught.

Every once in a while a mercenary guard patrolling the camp would walk by to check on him, making sure he was kept in line while others brought back their plunder. The man would be able to see it all but teasingly so, as samples of crystal were mostly brought back. However some of the expeditionists that headed eastward into the city, came back with unusual table wares such as plates and jugs as well; all crafted from the same crystalline material found throughout the city. "There's a whole bunch of empty buildings over that way, practically ripe for the picking since they've been left emptied."

"Tell me about it!" Another scavenger raved to his companion. "The place I went into it looked as though whoever lived there left the dinner table all set! Whoever lived here surely won't need all this stuff now, it's bound to fetch a pretty handful of nel once we're back in the city!"

Just as their conversation seemed to continue Peleus's current guard dog came back, a gruffy looking mercenary who had taken a stroll to the lakeside earlier. With a flask filled with water he took a long and hearty swig, a very obnoxiously satisfied sigh intentionally made as he took a seat on the fallen pillar. He looked to Peleus hard as though he were thinking something, and then a smile cracked at his lips not long after he eyed the captive warrior. "Funny how someone like you can be so dangerous, but the higher ups weren't happy when you knifed one of their men on the fly. Thirsty?" He seemed to offer the canteen for a moment, as though willing to provide Peleus a chance at drinking from the flask.

Whether or not he seemed about to accept or deny it, the guard changed his mind and tilted the flask back to his mouth. Taunting the poor man as shimmering water seemed to trickle into his mouth, ending with another hard swallow of the substance as he wiped his lips off with his wrist. "Sorry. I'm not the sharing type." He mused with a brief chuckle as he sealed the the flask once more, eyes still heavily focused on Peleus as he leaned forward a bit.

Off Topic

Here we go! Please proceed to post your entries with the prompts I've written out for all of you, you each will have an essential 'goal' in mind as we work our way to the jewel; this will be a very fun experience (harrowing for the PC's naturally) as we approach the conclusion of this plot. I've got a brief outline below of the situations you're about to deal with, as well as the current setup you'll all have going on also. Oberan and Finn, please do get with me on the contents of those notes; and I'll specifically write them out for the both of you.

Right here is the map as you can see, each with the starting points you have all managed to choose; except you Gangui as Peleus was taken into custody after attempting to kill Raimeus in the last thread. Also we are all essentially without weapons at this point in time, as they have been confiscated and held by the guards back in the main camp.

Oberan
You chose Point C which actually "The Repository" of the city, tucked away within the corner of the map, and therefore have two options in your prompt. You can either find and use the mechanism to undo the lock and open the door, or use your Mortalborn powers to open the door at your own risk. Yes; at your own risk. There could be a chance of repercussions since The Guardian is watching you, and know that you are currently alone save for a few stragglers some odd yards nearby. Everyone else is too busy finding buildings that isn't sealed off, so what you stumble upon -may- actually be worth substantial value. Risk = reward right? Looking forward to seeing what you do.

Ellen
You chose Point D which is the 'mysterious arch' located near the ruins of the ancient coliseum, nothing seriously important to note at the moment but this spot is crucial for the conclusion of the thread. Ironically you chose the same starting place as Patrick, as I didn't reveal his starting location at all, so brownie points for that! Patrick is about to ask you a pretty big favor in order to orchestrate his last minute escape plan, but the thing is this favor will have options so expect each one to be difficult.

Finn
Because you won over Kleo in your glorious fake teared performance, you are now at Point E and on the way to the temple on the upper right corner. You and Patrick both are the only 'mages' present so therefore, the both of you feel that something is very off about this place. You also have a choice at the end of your starting prompt; to either stick with the three adults and discover what awaits in the temple, or split from the group and try to go it on your own until the rest of of your group find you. Both are risky and will provide outrageous insight on what happened to the city, and I especially look forward to seeing what you'll decide.

Gangui (Peleus)
Your situation is harry due to the fact you're chained to an old pillar! However it -feels- like you might be able to wiggle yourself free, only you have a guard watching you so doing so is very risky. Starting at Point A where the camp is you're at the middle ground where all the stuff is going on, it's chaotic but almost in an organized fashion since there scavengers are coming and going from the camp. You also have help on it's way so essentially your options are to either wait, or attempt escape on your own with the risks imposed. Good luck buddy! Looking forward to seeing what you do.

[Ellen'wyn]

Ellen might have been visibly excited if not for being surrounded by enemies. The lake stretched out before them, shimmering under the faint light given off by crystal. It hummed with a soft sort of life, like a faint struggling heartbeat. She was flanked by two men, but they were well out of arm's reach. They learned quickly during their hike through the ruins that she wasn't to be touched. One had a deep bite on his wrist, and she'd clawed the other's ear.

Her nails had grown quite long during their journey to find the lost city, and they'd sliced his lobe like a knife. But the commotion had been broken up quickly, and after a few rough cuffs to the back of the head she decided to behave. Still, they kept their distance and watched her warily. Every time they caught her eye she bared her teeth, and word had quickly spread to avoid the feral thing following Patrick and Crowley.

Ellen stood with her arms folded, face gloomy and ominous, watching over the pair of men as they talked. Her eyes traced the strange architecture of the arch, lingering on the crystal before moving out again across the water. Although most of it was submerged, it was still impressive. Nothing like the little treehouses in Desnind, or even what stone structures there were in Etzos and Foster's Landing. Patrick and Crowley looked quite intent as they conversed by the water's edge, but that was no surprise. They were prisoners after all, with no way out.

At least for the others.

The redhead looked up to the far-off ceiling of the enormous cavern. There was a crack--a fissure of some kind, and she could see stars beyond. It would be easy enough to the half-breed to make her getaway through the crevice, but she couldn't leave the others. She couldn't leave Patrick. Ellen looked at him again, noticing he was moving toward her now. She went to intercept him and could hear some of Raimeus' men move a little closer as well. She bristled visibly but didn't look back.

The half-blood gritted her teeth and tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace.

"We're being held prisoner in some old forgotten ruins--underground. I'm as good as can be expected." A muscle under her eye twitched nervously, but she took his hint. Ellen followed close behind, moving to the lake's edge, peeking at the mercenaries out of the corner of her eye. "What is it? You have a plan?" She looked again at the crevice, now behind and above his shoulder in the distance, and a small sigh left her.

[Oberan]

Oberan had managed to calm down a bit since his first encounter with what he presumed was the Guardian Patrick and Crowley had mentioned. The initial shock had worn off, more or less, and the current situation was starting to occupy his mind instead. Good thing too, since they were in deep shit. Raimeus had waltzed in with his personal army. Everyone was now his captive, except for Finn, who’d managed to convince the woman explorer that he’d been taken here against his will. Not that that freed him from any suspicion though. Oberan was certain that Raimeus had him watched, just to be sure.

That Turkey meathead was chained to a pole at the base camp the mercenaries had set up, probably ridiculed and mocked for his stupidity. The others had left to explore –except for Niv, whose whereabouts were unknown. It didn’t really matter whether or not the twig had escaped, really. What was a tiny plant going to do? Perhaps if they’d all been tied up and left in a cage in base camp, yes, she might come in handy, but as things stood, Patrick’s group had simply been stripped of their weapons, but left with the freedom to go where they pleased.

It was one of the reasons why the Mortalborn was glad he knew some unarmed combat. If worst came to worst, he could at least defend himself somewhat decently. That said though, he wasn’t unarmed in the slightest. Swords and daggers and bows had all been confiscated, yes, but those were all weapons that could be easily spotted. If hidden under clothes, they could be frisked. However, Oberan had nothing of the sort on him. What he did have was a pouch full of pebbles, and an odd leather bracelet around one of his wrists.

The former had drawn some attention, but since Oberan had been staring into space with wide –and slightly mad—eyes, the mercenary tasked with removing all weapons had thought him to be a nutcase, and had left it alone. Pebbles hardly were dangerous weapons, after all. Even if he were to throw them, it’d hurt just enough to be annoying. Not to mention, there was more than enough debris strewn around that taking the pouch wouldn’t make any difference.

He trudged through the water running all over the place, glad it wasn’t deep enough to get his feet wet, taking in the scenery around him. The initial awe had worn off rather quickly once they’d set foot into the city, thus relinquishing the magnificent view. Buildings were in ruins for the most part, and though they were relatively intact in the part Oberan had wandered into, they were still damaged and corroded by time.

Once he was certain none of the Raimeus’ mercs were watching him, the Mortalbron fished a scrap of paper out of a pocket and read it quickly, then stuffed it back inside his clothing. Those instructions weren’t really applicable yet. While waiting for the signal, there should be enough time for some investigation of his own.

Which happened to be some building with a door with carvings on it, and some sort of hole in the wall right next to it. If he had to guess –and he was rather good at evaluating these kinds of things. It came with the profession—the hole was the correct way to open the door. Whether it worked still or not was hard to tell from a glance, and if it needed a specialized key, he either hoped it was around here somewhere, since it wasn’t sitting in the hole.

Of course, the God Key would be very helpful in breaking this building right open. Anything that could be opened would be opened by it, no matter how simple or complex. Barricaded, broken, or simply ancient, it didn’t matter. And yet— he shivered at the thought. Oberan didn’t know how the entity had cancelled out his ability. Perhaps if it was some sort of Immortal of Locks, he would have understood. Their powers would probably cancel each other out when used on the same object. That would make sense. However, he wasn’t sure if this indeed was the identity of the presumed Guardian.

Perhaps he should risk it after all, just to see what would happen. The entity was watching though, he could feel it. Would it interfere again? That would mean another key wasted, and he didn’t have an infinite supply. Also, last time had been a warning, what would it do if Oberan ignored it? It felt a little too risky for just a way to pass time. So instead he cautiously stuck his hand in the porthole, and began carefully feeling around.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Into The Deep

Cylus 12, 718

Orimar greeted them with a sigh of cool air that seemed to emanate from the rock itself. Ghostly footfalls bounced around the hidden city as Raimeus’s men flooded in with lights in their hands and a glimmer in their eyes. Finn forgot all grievances he’d ever harbored, too overwhelmed by the sheer, dream-like splendor of the space. Time had worn and cracked the ancient rock and crumbled the long emptied homes of many people, and yet a presence seemed to linger, observing the strangers who invaded its sacred home.

Finn stuck to Kleo’s side as they shuffled into the maw of the Lost City, his eyes glued to the ceiling from which great stalactites hung like daggers and amid them, crystals glistened in baleful light. It seemed suitable that this threat would hang over them, for the very air was rife with some brooding malevolence that slipped away from him every time he tried to grasp at it.

Bile rose to his throat as a breeze carried a warning from the cavernous depths. It’s not safe. It’s not natural, he thought to himself. A quick glance around the group only put him further on edge as he read wonderment, joy, and greed on their faces. Wonderment, but not fear, no awareness of the danger he felt so strongly rising from the rocks, whispering in the wind, and laced through the ghostly waters.

He almost bumped into Kleo when she came to a sudden halt and pointed out a site, though he scarcely paid attention to her explanation. He grimaced and rubbed his chest with one hand as something ached and pulsed inside, something he’d never felt before. Again, he looked around and again he concluded to his dismay that he appeared to be the only one afflicted.

The throbbing pulsations only grew stronger and his face ever paler as he struggled to comprehend what curse had befallen him. Tresah’s words were but a distant mumble as he stared down at his boots and reached out to the earth, the air, the fire on the torches, and the mystical veins of water. Their voices were low and haughty, nothing like the friends he’d come to know and trust, as though some overriding force had tampered with them.

“Huh?”

His voice was but a faint, ghostly echo of the one that had challenged Raimeus a little while ago. Blinking sheepishly he tried to hide his distress and gave a little nod, though he hadn’t even registered what the question was.

“We should head back,” he muttered. “We’re not welcome here.”

He hardly expected any of them to turn around and call the whole expedition off simply because their youthful prisoner told them to.

“I can know,” he continued almost as inaudibly. Some things were best left unsaid and simply shown, and by that token the flame from the nearest torch flickered, then jumped to his arm and snaked around it without causing any harm before fizzling out a blink later. “I can… I can speak with the elements,” he sighed, “and while the earth is good and strong here and the air cool and the flames breathe easily, the same cannot be said for this… water.” He ventured a step forward to the nearest stream or puddle and loomed over it for a while, lost in thought before spinning around the next moment and speaking much more clearly now. “This doesn’t feel like water at all. This whole place… something’s wrong, I can just feel it. We should go back while we still can.”

His eyes landed on Raimeus now, determined far beyond his years.

“We are not welcome here.”

[Gangui]

Young Peleus

As the guard leaned forward a bit, Peleus stared into his eyes with quiet vitriol.

The cold wet floor of the subterranean nightmare did nothing to dampen the embers that now burned in his stomach. Although the young man wasn’t consciously aware of it, all he desired was to be in control of this situation. After all he was a bonafide turkey-zealot and anyone who joined such an organization had the natural disposition to compulsively take actions to see it that the justice was brought to those who did not think the same way that they did.

“You are a fool,” Peleus mumbled, “When did Etzori mercenaries get so fucking weak?”

The kid believed that all the warriors must have been natives as a foreign army landing on the shores of the country would have been contested and an impasse would have occured long before they could march to Orimaar.

“What was that, boy?” The bags under his eyes and the wrinkles in his face spelled that of an old drunk, a man given the easiest job in the camp to watch the boy.

Peleus struggled in his chains, wiggling to try to get closer to the man, the stone pillar seemed to shift under him, “Hear me out old-timer,”

The guard laughed now and shook his head, “Shut-the-fuck up,”

“Raimeus is leading you all to your death--”

The guard began to stand up.

“He is a foreigner with no real power here and he has convinced you all to lead him to a treasure beyond your wildest imagination and he is not sharing it with you!”

The old man raised his hand in preparation to backhand Peleus.

“Fool!” Shining blue eyes flashed in defiance, “You are all getting burned--”

The metallic ring of a gauntleted hand falling upon a bare chin echoed in the young man’s mind. It took him an entire tick to gain his senses back, blood and metal swirling in his mouth. The rebellious spirit of man was now pumping through his heart.

“I pray that you listen to the simplicity of common sense!” Peleus spouted a mouthful of blood, struggling with the chains which were now slowly breaking free.

The guard raised his gauntleted fist once again, but paused as if he was listening.

“Raimeus is going to fuck you and bury you in this crystalline tomb! You don’t believe me? He hasn't killed me despite killing one of your own. What kind of leader is he? You are getting paid pennies to lead this foreign scum to true wealth. Do you really believe that he will allow you to get out of here alive? He is a cock-sucker-of-the-gods-foreigner! Any Etzori would know not to trust him, plus look at his actions.”

[Patrick]

As the members of Patrick's group were busy getting a handle on the situation, the rest of the expedition slowly spreaded further and further into the ruins. Each gradual discovery of an intact part of the city became flagged as a hotspot, where many of the treasure hunters and mercenaries branched further out. Miners were even busy hacking at stone walls were the crystalline spikes seemed to hum out, all while wagons of glimmering crystal slowly creaked throughout the ancient streets of the city.

Strange. For a place that had seen no activity for what felt like eons when one looked at it, now it suddenly appeared vibrant with the faint signs of life again. As one such group wandered, they found another part nearly sealed off by the collapse of a structure. Their movement through the rubble had been slow and sluggish, but the men altogether knew something more had to await beyond. As the final hunter of this group crawled his way through however, he found that the rest of his crew had vanished... and the torch he'd handed to the one just before him now laid on the floor.

The hunter narrowed his eyes as he saw movement, a brief smile cast to his companions as he approached the dropped torch. "Ha ha, nice try." He commended to them as he approached, however he noticed that something was off just a moment. What flowed across the floor wasn't the shiny blue water, but steaming crimson red with an intense iron smell. He focused on the figure and before he could react, even scream, a flurry of limbs lashed out to ensnare his form.

As the sound of muscle tearing and bone cracking filled the room, death in the form of a silent gust blew out the torch...

Oberan


Oberan's decision to avoid using the Godkey had struck intrigue with the entity that watched him, as he seemed intent to inspect the porthole with his own hand instead. The fact he took to heart the warning of The Guardian showed he not only had principle, but consideration towards the boundaries that the entity set in place. As he reached inside he found that whatever mechanism rested within, it wasn't as simple as a handle waiting to be pulled or twisted. Fingertips brushed and rubbed against a slimy surface, one which seemed to possess several smaller holes within. Was that a stone cog?

Apparently whatever engineering the Orimatsu used seemed to operate with gears, which meant if he wanted to turn them he needed to find the handle. Possibly a wheel that he could plug into the doorframe, but where in this ancient ruin would he find them. Suddenly a breeze wafted through and Oberan could smell something foul, more sour than the scent of sulfur when burned by a flame. Did something nearby watch him?

As soon as he might've looked to investigate it nothing seemed to reside there, and as the stench weakened something else started to build up. That same pressure he felt surrounding his entire form, the impressive entity which he easily recalled encountering before Raimeus showed up. Was it The Guardian though? What did it actually want with him? The air suddenly felt charged and then things suddenly started to get weird, the air felt lighter around him to the point where pebbles and water droplets floated.

"Vortem." The very fabric of space around him hummed with a deep tone. "Larctus genal mo'or?" It sounded so very ancient and yet somehow, even with his lack of understanding the words he felt it's meaning. An offer for help perhaps, if the Mortalborn would accept this offer.

Ellen


Patrick could only frown when he saw how tense Ellen really seemed to be, indeed he too wasn't a fan of this dire situation he'd brought upon them. What started out as a simple idea of a fun treasure hunt, now suddenly became a situation of life or death if he couldn't find a way out. What's worse was the fact nobody knew if this place was truly safe, everybody just assumed that no real threat of danger existed in this forgotten place. But why?

Was it the fact this city remained buried within mountains? Or that even in its current state, the somber air felt mixed with forlorn peril? No... Something had to have happened here, cities just didn't up and vanish from history without cause. "Sorry Elly, we'll get through this I promise." He assured her moments before he signaled for their private conversation, which soon took place over by the shimmering water that flowed into the lake. He noticed her looking up and followed her gaze, impressed with her knack for survival even in places such as this. Though incredibly high she could easily fly her way out, practically leave the group behind to live another day.

But for the group's sake Patrick hoped she wouldn't... He needed her especially, if they were to attempt a rescue and get away from here. Even if they all came seeking fortune and treasure, the Rharnian never wanted it to accost them their potential lives. "Somewhat of a plan, it's still in the works but if it all comes together... He checked back past them to make sure the mercenaries watching them weren't too close. "We're all leaving Orimar in one piece."

Patrick seemed to wince a little after that statement but remained indifferent about it, with a hand clutched over his chest as he felt something very off about him. Not necessarily him... but something within him. He had never paid much attention to it before but now, ever since they walked inside the city, his Spark seemed to fluctuate eagerly. As though it were tugging at him and begging for him to let it act out, opening portals with it's own will thanks to some unusual burst of energy. Quite honestly it hurt and alarmed him to attempt trying to suppress it, mostly because he never had to focus so hard on keeping it contained.

"What I need you to do is keep an eye on the guards watching our stuff in the camp. Oberan and Finn know something is about to go down, they just have to wait for me to signal them. First things first though we need to be able to get to our stuff, and that can only happen if I cause a distraction. Maybe if I cause a scene with the patrol watching over that Turkey blockhead, then that'll lead the guards watching our stuff away and you can move in to dispatch them." He looked at Ellen firmly to make it clear what he wanted her to do. "You understand? I want you to grab that bow and take down as many guards as you can, Crowley will watch your back in this."

Just as he said this a few of the men screamed back at camp, loud enough for those nearby to hear...

Finn


At his warning for them to head back Raimeus could only scoff with disinterest, clearly determined to see his journey for the jewel to it's very end. But Kleo? She looked to Finn with concern, and surprise immediately filled her eyes when the boy displayed his spectacular talent. A Defier. While the show of flame surely baffled both of the expedition leaders, Kleo certainly seemed a little apprehensive to approach him for attempt at comfort. It wasn't that she didn't trust him now, just that the show of magic warned both her and Raimeus of Finn's potential danger.

Finn's earnest plea to convince them carried a lofty weight in the words, as the sentences he spoke sounded far too deep for a mere child to speak. And right he was... Something very wrong about this place lingered and the feeling dwelt within the ruins, while the vast majority were ignorant of the signs one could only tell; if they were to actually stop and pay attention to all around. "Finn..." Kleo started but Raimeus seemed to take a step forward, a hand raised to cut Kleo off as he approached the boy.

He didn't glare nor stare down at the boy, but rather bent to stand eye level with the Defier. "You think I don't know that?" He remarked with a somber expression to Finn, his eyes cast to the stalactites above with their crystal filled structure. "From the moment we arrived boy, I knew good and well something is wrong here; and that's why I've wasted no time in pursuing what I specifically came for." He looked back into Finn's eyes almost with sincerity as he brought a hand to rest on the boy's shoulder, his guards ready to react in the event Finn decided to attempt anything against him. "I care not for whatever lurks within the shadows, as far as those who came here with me are concerned; they're responsible for themselves and frankly... less money out of my pocket if whatever haunts this cursed place dispatches them."

At that moment his lips curved into a slender grin as the look in his eyes became menacing, power-driven as though hunger consumed him from deep within. "None of them matter because in the end, my destiny awaits me within that temple there." With a pat on Finn's shoulder Raimeus then rose to a full stand, his back turned to the boy as he once more took the lead towards the temple. "You have two options boy; either stick with me and my partner and live or go back to your friends where you can all die."

"Raimeus!" Kleo attempted to interject.

"I won't stop you," The firm man pressed on, "but you'll find your chances of survival better with me." Either way Raimeus seemed determined to seek out his 'destiny' with his guards to follow, while Kleo and Tresah both hesitated as they watched to see if Finn would make his choice. It became clear now whichever he chose, there would be no going back on the decision.

Peleus


After his beatings and the break the guard had taken to drink his water, Peleus found that the chains of his cuffs caught something. The more he tried to wiggle them the more he found, that the links were wedged into the stone of the pillar base he was cuffed to. If he were to attempt wiggling it would be far to obvious now, as the noise would immediately alert his watchdog of his intentions.

Nevertheless his attempt to sway the man didn't fall on deaf ears, if anything he had the guard laughing loudly as if any of that mattered. Much of it sounded like nonsense to him in truth, and it was probably because the "foreign scum" actually was paying him shit in comparison. While the initial payout wouldn't be substantial to whatever reward his leader reaped, the copious amounts of ancient crystal artifacts being drug back to base camp made up for it.

"Lissen to yourself!" He cried as he wiped his cheekbones from the hard laughter. "What load of shit have you been spoonfed, might as well learn quick that the only thing that matters in this world is money." He jeered with another pop of the cork as the canteen he held up was tilted, so that more of the shimmering water was consumed before Peleus. As the trapped man watched real hard he'd notice something strange, that everyone who still lingered within the camp had been doing the same.

All of them.

Sure enough the signs would become more visible, and Peleus would see it prominent within the veins of his guard dog. The mercenary's veins had started to glow beneath his skin, with an eerie blue that mimicked the very crystals that illuminated the city. Yet all seemed ignorant of this sudden development, at first, until they took the moment to stop drinking the water. And then... then everybody began to realize something was very wrong now. From the looks of it everyone started to suffer cramps, as containers were dropped on the spot to clutch at their stomachs and chests.

"The.... Fek...." Peleus's guard started to pale as his skin and muscle shriveled, making the outline of his bone structure more prominent while the veins still glowed. He opened his mouth to cry out and right next to Peleus, a surge of glowing bile spouted onto the stone next to him. The others followed suit as their forms shriveled, their bodies writhed and contorting as their eyes and mouths glowed the eerie blue from the water. Sure enough everybody in the camp save for the few guards who had yet drink fell over, lifeless, while those still alive immediately reacted with panic over the ones that had just now fallen.

Soon afterwards those still breathing screamed in horror at what just happened.

Off Topic

That's the first round done! Glad this is finally kicking off, hopefully you'll all find the development in this section more interesting.

Oberan
You have discovered a bit about the Orimatsu! Apparently they were engineers as well as jewel crafters, if the crystal wares hasn't made that obvious. You have also garnered the interest of a special entity: The Guardian! He has offered to lend you a hand since you refrained from using Godkey in his domain.

Ellen
Pretty straightforward plan for Phase A, Ellen is asked to find the moment to swipe a couple weapons from their stockpile. Crowley will be her support and even join in if she can find the right weapon for him to use!

Finn
You've learned more about our villain! Raimeus seems intent on seeing this through no matter the cost, which leaves you in the same situation as before and therefore; YOU MUST CHOOSE!

Peleus
Congratulations! Your window for escape just got a little bigger but with a minor hitch, as the chains are now wedged into the shaft of the pillar your NPC is chained to. Also you're now officially at 'Ground Zero' where all this is happening, enjoy being the first to see what happens when you drink the water in Orimar.


Let's speak statistics guys! Raimeus' expedition consisted of 400 volunteers when they all arrived, after this post that number has dwindled to 360 and counting. Enjoy the pending death in posts to come!

[Gangui]

Young Peleus

Peleus laughed wholeheartedly from deep within his gut at the words of the old timer. The man was an idiot. Money was just a way to keep track of things. A tool used by the smart to regulate those who are poor. Then again, the man was just a mercenary. Not an enlightened Turkey Zealot like himself.

That moment was when he realized that he could not persuade normal man to the way of truth and light with straight talk. A darkness fell upon him. He realized the pragmatic truth that was needed to be done in order to win. He laughed and laughed and laughed at his own stupidity. He laughed at the fact that he was so late to realize this fact.

The spirit of man was on his side though. For as quickly as the man’s proffered words were uttered, a plague begot him. His veins begin to glow blue, the same blue as the crystals in the place. Vomiting and lurching over to his death, Peleus kicked the corpse away from himself.

With a new source of energy burning within him, the young man began to jiggle the chains again. He didn’t even realize that the chains were stuck inbetween stone and pillar. He jiggled some more. Angry now. Sweat beading down his brow.

“Hiyaaah!” he screamed from deep within. He knew what he needed to do, “Hiyaaaah!” But it was no good. He could bring himself to rip the chains from the stone.

He screamed words now to some of the people panicking, “Free me!!! Freeeeeee meeee! I know how to get out!”

His words were simply a plight for help. A reaction to the chaos ensuing among the peoples who were lurching over and dying.

"HELP! HELP!"

[Oberan]

Oberan wished he hadn’t stuck his hand in there. Or that he’d worn gloves. One or the other, because that slimy feel had shivers running up his spine, and the Mortalborn retracted his hand out of instinct. An unexpected texture, quite the opposite of the dry stone he’d thought to find. He rubbed the fingers of his hand together for a moment, then brought them up to his nose to smell it. Frowning, he went back into the porthole, this time prepared. The fingers found a surface, tracing it lightly, coming across a multitude of holes. No random placement, but a deliberate and regular positioning.

Mechanics?

Then, the slime might be grease?

With his inserted hand, Oberan tried to move the cog inside, but it quickly became clear that he wouldn’t be making any progress that way. What he needed was the key for this door, and as long as that damn Guardian was floating about, he would just be wasting power and recourses. But maybe the key was lying around among the rubble? As long as it wasn’t broken into pieces too much, he should be able to get this—

Without warning, the hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end, rising like the fur on a spooked cat. A horrid stench wafted over him from… well, he didn’t know where it came from, but he was quite sure it hadn’t been smelling this bad in here until just now. It was like someone was making breakfast. Scrambled eggs and bacon, but the eggs were six arcs old, and the bacon had grown some hair since it had been removed from the pig.

Either those mining morons had opened up a hole to a foul-smelling part of the ruins, or this stench was the body odor of something with a personality equal to this scent; foul. Or, it came from those cracks in the door he’d been trying to open. The smell was quite a bit stronger there than anywhere else.

Of course, when he tried to peer through the cracks, he didn’t see anything, nor did he hear anything that might betray a presence inside. The smell itself was starting to lessen, as if its source was moving away. In its stead came the oppressive pressure he associate with the entity he believed to be the Guardian of Orimar.

And just when he was starting to get over it, here it was again, giving him the creeps, making all the hair on his body rise up, as if the air around him became charged with static electricity. Small pebbles and droplets of water began floating, and even parts of Oberan’s garb were drawn upwards, flapping as if caught by a gust of wind.

Very impressive parlor trick. Oberan could manifest the same effects by using the Shenanigan Sphere – or he had once, at least. The random nature of the ability made it very inconsistent.

For one reason or another, the Guardian didn’t scare him as much this time as he had before. Sure, he was unnerved because he knew what the being could do, but right now, it didn’t feel threatening. Maybe that was it. The fact that the entity hadn’t smothered his abilities, hadn’t wrapped him up in its presence, and hadn’t hissed angry warnings directly inside his head probably went a long way in making him feel a little more at ease.

It did still speak inside his mind though, but it wasn’t like before at all.

Despite not speaking the language, he got the gist of it through tone of voice and –well, the fact that it spoke to him inside his mind. Did the entity want to… help him? Them? With what? Opening this door?

Probably not that. That would just be stupid.

But then what—

A tortured scream ripped through the tranquil atmosphere of the ruins, destroying the relative quiet ambiance they’d been enjoying up to that point. Actually, not just one scream, but a chorus of them. A cacophony.

That… probably was very bad.

“Pretty sure we need all the help we can get if you of all--” people? Creatures? Things? “—if even you switch sides, it must be bad.”

Why would the Guardian even side with those intruding in the city anyway? Still, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Vortem lardtush genol more, yes please.”

Response or not, Oberan finally made up his mind, and ran towards the source of the screams he’d heard earlier, which really had come from all around, but a whole lot had come from the base camp, and that was where he was headed.

Screams, phantom farts, and the Guardian offering help? Something was going down, and Oberan was fairly certain he wasn’t going to like finding out what.

[Patrick]

Oberan


The moment Oberan gave consent for the Guardian he felt the air around him drop, almost as though the pressure rapidly increased when he tried to reiterate those ancient words. And then sure enough his entire being felt something seep into him, canceling out the aspects of his Divinity he inherited; so that something more ancient and primal rested inside his form. "The tongue of the Ori you shall now understand, only together for the time we share." The voice of the Guardian echoed within his mind now, it was a deep voice which sounded dry and archaic.

Bran's reasoning hadn't been far off and he certainly had the right idea, as the moment he started to turn back and head for camp; an insanely high pitched shriek echoed throughout the caves further away from where he ran from. More screams were heard as something hunted members of the expedition found in that direction, and sure enough the air soon smelt of a combination of iron and sulfur.

"For them too late now it is. Before they reach you, hurry and go you must!" The Guardian ushered as Oberan ran, hopeful to put as much distance between him and whatever it was that hunted them.

The Encampment


Patrick, Crowley, and Ellen all hurried to see what exactly had taken place at the encampment, only to find that pure shock and awe awaited them once they arrived. The shrivelled glowing bodies of all the men who'd rested here remained inactive, as though whatever they drank rapidly decayed their insides shortly after consumption. Peleus seemed to eagerly call out for help while the others who hadn't yet drank the water panicked, and the shriek which echoed from the direction Oberan went reached the camp.

"Crowley!" Patrick called out more or less to signal that now had to be the chance, probably the only chance they'd ever have to stage an escape. Not everyone was here though... Oberan would likely be on his way and Finn... Where was Finn?? Did he get away like the note instructed him to? There wasn't any time to worry about it, first they had to take action and that meant regaining all their confiscated weapons.

"On it!" Crowley reassured him as he made a move for the stockpile of tools and weaponry, while Patrick himself ran towards Peleus to see if he could help the man get free. One of the few remaining guards of the encampment tried to intervene with him though, and for a moment Patrick stood there unsure of when to pounce. Then more screams from further back where the Repository had to be, which created enough of a distraction on the guard's behalf. Patrick took initiative and charged into the man, tackled him down by using his shoulder as they both tumbled down.

Meanwhile Crowley and Ellen worked to sort out where their weapons cache was located, time being the most precious essence since another one of the remaining guards closed in on them. Crowley had been the one he challenged and in doing so, the old man tangled with the guard before a weapon was drawn thankfully. As the fight between men went down however something else started to happen, and if Peleus paid close attention he'd be the first to notice it. The body of the guard next to him twitched.

For a bit there was nothing but then after that, another twitch as if the nerves were stimulated. Sure enough the muscles slowly started to contract, and the dead guard slowly became animate before the chained soldier. Sounds started to come from the stirring carcass as though it choked on sandpaper, and the others that'd fallen in the camp started to do the same. Patrick managed to trade in some blows with the guard he fought with, until finally a hit from his fist caused the man to teeter; and lead him to scream out in pain as something tore into the flesh of his ankle.

The dead were rising now, and they appeared hungry with their vacant blue eyes. As the guard who'd now fallen thanks to his injury became kibble food for the undead, Patrick once again made his way towards Peleus with a heavy stomp made on the undead guard that made chomping noises at him. The skull cracked beneath his boot as the creature groaned in agony, before returning back to it's inanimate state beneath his foot. "Shit shit shit!" Patrick muttered when he moved to the pillar where Peleus was bound at, his hands gripped at the chain to yank it out from underneath the stone it'd caught on. "I got you Peleus!

At this point in time Oberan would finally arrive, and Crowley would have a weapon tossed for the Mortalborn to catch in turn. "Head's up!" He warned as he then pulled up another weapon, a broadsword within its scabbard, and tossed that weapon towards Patrick. At this point everyone but Peleus would have their weapons handy, and now that the Rharnian himself held a sword he readied it for the group of undead inside the camp. There were fourteen of those creatures and while five members of Pat's group in the camp, though only four had weapons to actually fight with at the moment.

Off Topic

Round 2!
So to keep this moving I'm now placing a time constraint on the thread, I'll be posting to it again on 4/12 which is next Friday! That's a full week from now, Ellen's turn has been missed, but you're welcome to resume at your leisure. Finn is no longer participating so he'll be NPC'd at the end when it's time.

The next round is a combat round! We have five members to fight but only four actually have weapons! Oberan you're welcome to choose one of whatever weapons your PC brought along this expedition, while Crowley has a crossbow and Ellen (assumably) has her bow. Peleus you have been freed from the pillar you were stuck on, but you're only 'weapon' is the chains still shackled to your wrist.

There is no limit to the amount of undead you get to kill, just remember there is only fourteen and that you should play considerably to your skill levels.

[Oberan]

Whatever it was he’d said in that odd tongue to the entity, the ancient being seemed to take it as its cue to get under his skin in a more literal way than the mortalborn would have liked. Cold and hot flashes tingled into and out of existence for a mere moment, both temperatures vying for his attention simultaneously. The air weighed heavier on his shoulders, and he felt as if a pressure was being exerted upon his whole body.

And then, like blood seeping out of a wound, but in reverse, something flowed inside of him. He was enveloped in it for a brief moment, a layer of something invisible and intangible, but obviously there, simply surrounding him like a shroud of nothingness. A shroud that grew tighter and tighter, almost constricting, choking, suffocating him. Both his vision and hearing went fuzzy as the pressure behind both eardrums and pupils built to an almost unbearable degree.

His body screamed and roared in defiance as something that should not be inside of him crept deeper and deeper inside, through layers of skin, muscle, bone, latching onto his mind, soul, and the very essence of his being. In and in it went, and the thickness of the shroud lessened and lessened, until with a sudden vanishing of the sensations, everything went back to normal.

Well, not everything.

Oberan felt different. As if part of him was no longer there and had been replaced with something else—no, that wasn’t quite accurate. It was still there, he was certain. This was more… as if part of him had fallen asleep, allowing very little to no stimulation to pass through, and no longer being under his full control. There was no strength in it, no precision, but it was still there. Only it had been forcefully folded up and compressed, and the free space had been filled by something different.

Something old and alien, which did not belong in there. Powerful, yes, that much was obvious, but it did not fit. It chafed, it pressed against the too-small confines, and yet it rattled about in them, too small to be snug. Oberan tried to ignore it, but just like a bad itch that refused to vanish, this couldn’t seem to leave his mind either.

“I don’t fucking like this at all,” the mortalborn muttered, as much to himself as the entity inside. Whatever the Guardian was capable of, he hoped it was worth temporarily losing his powers for. Mentally reaching out for the lock did nothing, and the signature heartbeat of energy he usually felt from usable keys couldn’t be detected. Nor could he assess his own level of excitation. The lack of stimuli coming was off-putting, to say the least. The guardian could have cut off both arms, and taken away his vision and hearing, and he’d feel about the same. “Well, I hope the tongue of the Ori will do me any good, ‘cause I sure feel crippled right now.”

Despite his grumbling he still ran as fast as he could, back to the camp, already regretting he’d uttered those words in Orimatsun. Sure, he’d been under scrutiny from the Guardian before, and the entity did seem more or less benign to him now, but that didn’t change the fact that he gave Oberan the creeps, and could now rattle useless commands inside his head that he could understand.

Hopefully there were more benefits to this rather than simply being able to communicate in the ancient tongue of the Orimatsu. If things were going as badly as he suspected and the Guardian seemed to think, he was going to need a little boost to live through it. The memory of those horrible screams alone sent shivers down his back, and any curiosity he felt towards it was drowned out by self-preservation telling him he really didn’t want to find out what was happening.

Boy was he right!

The dead had decided to flip both Vri and Famula a huge middle finger, and walked away from the whole afterlife schtick. Quite literally too. Corpses were moving around, a whole gang of them moving about in their fleshbags, going straight for the living.

Just like in the bedtime stories many a parent had told their kids to stop them from wandering about after dark. Only now it was real, and he’s see those unnaturally glowing blue eyes in his nightmares for weeks.

“Well Guardian, you’re up, do your thing!” Oberan implored, right before the Crowley fellow lobbed an axe into the mortalborn’s hands. It weighed a ton, and the thief was certain he wouldn’t hit one of those walking dead with it even if it was right in front of him, waiting patiently.

He dropped it, and instead quickly untied the odd-looking bracelet from his arm, which unfurled into a small pouch of leather with cords attached to each side. An egg-sized rock from the floor went into the pouch, and the mortalborn began spinning it above his head with supple motions of his wrist, then launched it at the nearest unliving monstrosity. It impacted on the left side of its forehead, snapping its head right back. The undead stopped momentarily in its tracks, righted its head, and continued its approach despite one half of the rock having buried itself inside its skull.

“Fuck,” Oberan exclaimed, swiftly dancing out of the way of the grasping hands of the undead guard, then swiveling around on one leg to kick the abomination in the neck with the other. It stumbled for a few paces, then resumed, and Oberan was forced to evade its next couple swipes.

“How do you kill these things?” he yelled, ducking and weaving under and away from a couple other creatures he’d attracted the attention of, getting a swift punch, kick, elbow or knee in wherever he could, though it didn’t appear to have any effect. Fortunately he was quick enough on his feet to avoid being grappled and pounced by several undead.

Midway his escape of the turned mercenaries, Oberan loaded up his sling again, whirling a piece of debris around while putting some distance between himself and his target. Despite his efforts, however, the shot went wide. Perhaps if he had a moment to focus between staying alive, keeping an eye on too many undead, and dealing with the presence of the Guardian inside of him—excuses, excuses. He just had to focus, be calm. Easier said than done.

The next shot struck the plate armor of an undead, but once again, despite the considerable impact, despite the large dent in the plate, the creature did not seem to mind.

His eyes frantically flitted across the battlefield, looking to his allies for inspiration. Perhaps they had better luck in dealing with the walking corpses. What he found was Peleus, fighting with his hands locked in manacles, held back considerably by that disadvantage. Maybe Oberan wasn’t able to deal with the undead, but he could help with the chains, at least. He kicked one zombie in the chest, swept the legs from underneath a second, and used a third’s head as a springboard to get closer to the Turkey warrior, and unleashed the God Key—

But nothing happened. Of course.

“Give me some space here, Guardian, you’re seriously stifling my usefulness right now!”

He tried again.