h e l l f i r e

opnaskr​:​

“miss celica!” he calls out back to her as the forest begins to crumble around them. the end of the forest— of this fight is in sight, and all askr can do is try to survive a while longer. he grits his teeth, ears flattening back as the ground rumbles beneath him.

[ askr rolls 18 and 14 and takes 5 damage from the forest falling apart + root pikes, 5/10 hp remaining ]

the ground is unearthed beneath all of them, and askr makes the mistake of stepping backwards into a larger fracture in the ground. he stumbles backwards, and a root-like pike rises from the ground beneath him just as he falls. it strikes hard against his stomach, tearing through flesh and leaving him bleeding as he tries to recovers.

he heaves out his next breathes, looking to where avlitis waits for his commands— if he so chooses to do so. “the others are in danger, again please avlitis!” he calls out, despite the fact that he’s in danger himself. the others were still more important.

[ askr rolls (with avlitis) to heal with that on the lotus leaves water rests, 7, +2  hp to all ]

another melody plays throughout the forest, this one more rushed with the haste that askr calls for it.

NEXT: @diadic​

( tw: impalement & exsanguination )

    Only one enemy remains before them, the one that taunted them all before… And just as Leif focuses his gaze on this gargantuan, monstrous tree, so does the tree focus his gaze on him, branches shooting out at him.

Melanthios attacks Leif with Poison Flowers. 1d20 roll: 1-14 = -13 Super duper miss! Leif’s HP: 10/10.

Leif counters with Light Brand at melee range. 1d20 roll: 16. Hit! (-1HP) Melanthios’ HP: 10.5/14.

Petals scatter in the wind as the prince dodges them deftly, jumping up into the air and drawing his blade out of its sheathe mid-leap. Leg kicks up in the air as he flips around, and as the branch and its poison flowers strike the ground beneath him, Leif falls back down to the ground and draws down the metal of his Light Brand, severing off that arm of the tree and watching as the rest of its stump retreats back.

Micaiah’s holy light and Celica’s blazing inferno ensnare the tree shortly afterwards, stripping it of its protective bark. For a brief period of time, he’s convinced this tree shall see the end, burning in light and fire magic alike, and all it needed was a little more to push it over the edge.

And that’s when it happens.

Roll = 5. -0HP (10/10HP)

The forest itself begins to fall apart, things falling everywhere and making it difficult to know just where might be safe to dodge or what was even traversable anymore. While the trees around them crumble down, root-like pikes reach up from the earth itself, piercing skywards all around them and their motley group.

Leif has the instinct to jump out of the way of one just underneath his feet when he feels the tremors of the earth, but he simply jumps away from one danger and straight into another.

Roll = 20. -9HP (1/10HP)

It all happens so fast, he barely gets a glimpse of it before it strikes him. Right underneath where he is about to land comes up suddenly another of the pikes, thrusting up and lancing him through first his thigh. And once the first one has hit him, others follow in quick succession.

It is first his thigh and then left arm and then straight through his torso and again and again and again, all a cluster of roots as if to tell him that they intend to make him a part of this forest too.

Umber eyes grow wide, and though Leif has been trained to be quiet since a young age for fear of being found and killed for that error, now he screams to rend the very heavens.

His very flesh tears itself against it as he scrounges up what willpower he still has to hack and slash with his blade, thrashing about to free himself of these impalements as fast as possible. It is a desperate bid to free himself, and he screams again and again and again— stopped only by the blood he has to spit out in reaction as he pulls one of the roots out of his very limbs.

He’s losing blood and fast. It is a miracle and a testament to his inhuman desperation to staying alive that he is able to keep himself from collapsing right there as agony wracks his body, but a balm comes in a small dose: the song of Avlitís.

Leif heals +2HP! Leif’s HP: 3/10.

Its power is enough to staunch the bleeding of some of his wounds, but when Leif runs forward, readjusting his grip on his holy sword, he leaves behind a trail of his blood.

He moves quickly, far more than someone of his state ought to, emboldened by the lingering warmth of healing magic and the magic that flows through him from the ring wrapped ‘round his finger, stolen from the mighty Executioner from before.

He has to run, move with such haste far more than anything else he’s ever done before, if he is to see himself out of this tale. This he tells himself as he scurries over roots and towards Melanthios, raising his Light Brand high in the sky once he is up close enough.

Leif attacks Melanthios with Light Brand at range. 1d20 roll: 7. Hit! (-3HP)

Melanthios counters with Poison Flowers. 1d20 roll: 18-4. Hit! (-1HP) Leif’s HP: 2/10. Leif is inflicted with Minor Poison!

A fierce light emits from the blade and shines before Leif waves it, sending a charge of holy magic to sear and burn through the monstrous tree in return. At the same time, his opponent shoots out another branch of flowers, and its petals dance across Leif’s cheek as he feels his skin pierced through again, straight venom shot into his veins and begging him to just fall to his knees already.

This is enough. You have done enough. It is time to sleep, his body tells him, but he refuses. He steadies himself on his sword, planting it into the ground as he uses it to keep himself upright.

He will not fall. He cannot. He cannot afford to die yet!!

50% Event: The forest begins to fall apart! Melanthios gains new abilities!

Arvis: Roll = 11. -2HP (7.5/10HP)

Despite the onslaught from above, Arvis had quickly become attuned to the movements of the holy tree’s roots below after his last attack. When he can sense their breach for another, he leaps from where he stands up to higher ground to avoid the roots.

25% Event: Root-like pikes shoot up from the ground! Melanthios will recover 25% of the HP dealt from this AoE!

Arvis: Roll = 3. -0HP (7.5/10HP)

From his vantage point, Arvis shifts his entire focus to Melanthios. This would only end with his death, and the regent begins to summon his magic in the clouds again. But through the chaos all around him, the gentle tune of before finds him again. The same memories call to him, ushering him to a peaceful sleep. He shakes his head, trying to force them away.

“No. Now is not the time...!”

Askr calls upon Avlitís. Avlitís casts That On the Lotus Leaves Water Rests. 1d20 roll: 7. (+2HP to all allies)

Arvis: 9.5/10HP

Arvis shakes himself from the spell, but between the memories, and a fresh pang of poison in his veins, his comet misses the mark as it descends.

Arvis takes Minor Poison damage (-0.5HP) Arvis’ HP: 9/10.

Arvis attacks Melanthios with Meteor. 1d20 roll: 1+2 = 3. Miss!

The tree’s gaze shifts violently to him. He is but a speck in the sand but the all seeing eyes find the meteor’s summons. The ground erupts into a fairy circle of poisonous plants around him, preparing to dispel their toxic spores.

Fire in hand, Arvis burns the buds back down to size before the payload can be delivered.

pridelessdaydreamer​:

His allies move quickly, and the Executioner’s blade and bloodthirsty eye is taken out of the battle before it gets the chance to harm anyone (save for that redhead girl, but she’s not dead, is she?)

Linhardt takes a closer look at her and the way she curls up into a ball to avoid the tree’s roots.

Definitely not dead.

Hang on a second…

His eyes snap to the tree suddenly, its roots reaching for all of them, and the thought occurs to him that earlier he climbed one to avoid the rot. Now the tree was the rot, wasn’t it?

Melanthios uses [Root of the Grudge]!

Roll [1d20 - 4]: 4 - 4 = 0. Miss!

[Linhardt HP: 10 / 10]

It’s a thought that occurs to him later than it should, but the presence of his allies makes him lighter on his feet than he would normally anticipate, and so the roots completely miss (that and he ran as far as he could in that minute time frame).

When his eyes scour the battlefield, he sees only a handful of allies got injured, but the sound of a gentle flute seems to fix that. It’s fascinating — the power of music — ah, but that’s not what’s important here!

Only one person remains injured: a man with long red hair (that’s, admittedly, somewhat unevenly cut) who directed a fox-like spirit earlier. Linhardt supposes that’s his target.

Linhardt casts [Heal]!

Roll [1d20]: 10 = +2 HP!

[Arvis HP: 9 / 10]

It’s not the best he’s done this battle, but it does the job well enough — he nearly looks as good as new! (Still a tad bloody, but—)

The battle, at least, seemed assuredly theirs.

     The pace of the battle might be quick, but St. Elimine’s blessing still smiles upon them, for even after tangled roots shoot from the great tree to sweep his allies off their feet, gentle flute-song is there to soothe wounds and revitalize their spirits. Another enemy is defeated in an impressive show of magic, and it seems that, for the moment, everyone is safe, even in the face of a great enemy as this.

     Lucius breathes easily again, though concern is still bare in his expression as he looks around at his allies, ready to soothe if necessary. He watches Linhardt approach the professor, who alone still looks to be injured, a pallid, sickly sheen to his skin suggesting more than just physical wounds alone may be responsible for his current status.

     He reaches out to the other in turn, touching the other’s arm lightly as a soft glow emerges from his fingertips, closing the last of the man’s cuts and bruises. He might not be able to help with the more serious, underlying condition, but he can at least ensure physical wounds do not cause the other anymore harm.

lucius activates selflessness! +1HP to arvis arvis hp: 10/10

     The moment’s respite is brought to a close as the remaining, deadened soldier draws near, gleaming axe brandished in hand. Before Lucius can even react, however, Khalkós steps in front of him, all four arms swinging at the ready. “Oh, no you don’t!” she shouts, before charging at the enemy.

khalkós attacks (10, 6, 9, 8): 4 damage soldier b hp: 5/10

     The enemy is knocked back and retreats, Khalkós crossing both sets of arms as she elects to stick close to her partner rather than chase the soldier down. “Try not to get hit, ok?” she says, “We didn’t come all this way just for me to watch you get axed by some random guy in the middle of the woods!”

     She’s said as much to him over the years many times, Lucius can remember, as the memories of the storybook life continue to trickle into his own mind. He knows, trusts, that she’ll be there to protect him, all the same.

“Mother...”

He whispers, but the battle unfolding comes quickly back into focus. The gentle touch he imagined he finds is that of his fellow professor, and he meets his regard with bleary, glazed over eyes. It is not just his health Lucius restores, as immediately after the man’s own pact-spirit blocks the onslaught from the soldier.

Arvis stands on shaky legs, and a twinge of pain still pinches his chest, but he lives. “Thank you,” He murmurs to Lucius, before channeling his unadulterated magic into the clouds.

Askr calls upon Avlitís. Avlitís casts That On the Lotus Leaves Water Rests. 1d20 roll: 14. (+4HP to all allies) Arvis’ HP: 7/10.

Linhardt casts Heal on Arvis. 1d20 roll: 10. (+2HP) Arvis’s HP: 9/10.

Lucius uses Selflessness on Arvis. (+1 HP) Arvis’ HP: 10/10.

Arvis takes minor poison damage (-0.5HP) Arvis’s HP: 9.5/10

“Allow me to return the debt.” With a flick of the wrist, a great flaming meteor descends upon the fleeing soldier.

Arvis attacks Soldier B with Meteor. 1d20 roll: 12 Hit! (-3.5HP) Soldier B’s HP: 1.5/10.

alluxerim​:

     There is a deep ache in Lucius’ heart as the story unfolds itself in his mind’s eye, a tale of loss and betrayal and resentment. A tragedy.

     The story bleeds away, then, and he finds himself standing at the base of yet another great tree, this time surrounded by faces old and new. The tale isn’t done, it seems, as their final enemies rise up before them. He has no shock nor indignation for the monster’s words — merely a promise, a plea. St. Elimine protect us.

     Glancing back at his familiar allies — Khalkós, readied for combat, and Linhardt, already moving to help one of the others — Lucius moves as well. Many of the others look much the worse for wear, and he approaches one of them, the silver-haired young woman who had called out to them earlier. As exhausted as she looks, her priority is still on the others around her.

     Just as you care for others, please, allow me to help you in turn. The prayer he utters weaves into a soothing blessing, briefly glowing around the other’s form before dissipating, taking the majority of her injuries with it.

lucius casts recover (9): +4HP micaiah hp: 9.5/10

     There is little time to offer words of encouragement, though, before another student cries out, and he turns, heart seizing as he watches her — too far away for him to help at the moment — get swept back by the enemy’s blade. He looks around, at all those already injured around him. Too many of them. If they can’t hold off the enemies before they unleash a devastating strike…

     He pushes himself forward, feeling his earlier wound throb again. Even if your faith should ever become boundless, your energy will not. Not even light magic can be used endlessly. Don’t be too foolhardy. Words from faraway past ring clearly in his mind, but another glance at the enemies makes his choice clear, and he approaches another injured student.

     For the sake of protecting those important to him, he would play the fool.

     A hand reaches out, gentle magic playing at its tips, but he can already tell it lacks the potency of his previous attempt. Any little bit that could keep them alive… He focuses harder, even as his next breath comes in a painful gasp from the strain.

lucius activates selflessness! +2HP to leif at the cost of -1HP from lucius leif hp: 7.5/10 lucius hp: 7/10

     It is all he can manage before the magic fully blinks out, but Lucius still smiles at the student, placing his hand briefly on the other’s shoulder. “It’s not… not much… please, be careful,” he says, gradually catching his breath.

     The fight has just begun, certainly, and so many of them are tired, but the enemies haven’t overwhelmed them yet. Khalkós hovers close, muttering something about not daring to go too far in case Mr. Dodgeless ends up getting slammed around too hard, and a warm feeling blooms within him, even through the exhaustion. Keep them safe, all of them, he repeats the prayer silently, and hopes it will not go unanswered.

@lionheartedsunflower or @diadic or @avemaera​ !

    In through the window and out of a dream, it’s all so… fantastical. And just as Leif realizes what game he’s been roped into underneath Dhanvi’s urging, granting validation for Arvis’s apprehensions, the very woman any ire or further questioning could have been placed unto is no longer with them, replaced by the faces of eight others and some spirits as well.

( Leif has the feeling that even if they confronted Dhanvi with this new knowledge, she would not have said anything more. Tight-lipped to the very end. )

Kiragi’s surprise at their existences being more than just ink scrawled onto parchment makes Leif realize that the archer too was no mere work of fiction, and he takes in the sight of everyone else gathered here too, wondering if he had misheard what one of them had called the other or perhaps it was just some far-fetched coincidence—

It is not. That is Lachesis. That is the woman who had escorted Leif from a burning palace and into an inky darkness, the woman Leif had promised his lover he would find one day again, the woman who had left them all for an impossible hunt across a deadly desert…

She looks just the same as the day she had saved him… Despite all these years, despite the great unlikelihood, despite everything… Here she was before he even set out to find her.

It all really was so fantastical… Leif has a hard time believing it’s still no fabrication.

But Leif’s attention is diverted away from her, from one blond to another. This one reaches for him, a soft warmth and glow exchanged from one body to another, as gentle words fight against some kind of pain that seems to ripple through the man’s voice.

In exchange, Leif feels his wounds heal faster.

“ No, it’s plenty, ”  Leif tells him in advance in lieu of a proper thanks. The thought to do so slips his mind, but he does tell him,  “ You’ve given me the strength to fight. If you can, fall back! ”

And despite being explicitly told to be careful, Leif does not do that. No, he takes his renewed vitality and rides it as a surge of momentum, brandishing his mother’s blade and charging forward to their wounded foe.

That thing’s almost dead, I know it!!!

The princeling leaps ups into the air into a fine arc, like that of a mighty pegasus’s first flight, before he brings his sword down and plummets like a sinking ship.

Leif attacks The Executioner with the Light Brand at melee range. Grounder activates! 1d20 roll: 14. Hit! (-2.5HP) The Executioner’s HP: 0/14.

What strikes The Executioner is not the blade of the Light Brand but instead the hilt, aimed precisely to knock the enemy down and out but not extinguish it completely. Perhaps it was useless to show mercy, but Leif’s mercy always comes at a price.

If they are all to make it out alive, out of this strange storybook and web of manipulation, Leif needed to get any advantage he could get, and he thought he saw something he recognized…

The Executioner has been captured! Leif steals the Speed Ring.

Rifling through his prey’s collapsed form as Leif binds it down, he manages to locate the band of silver melded around an orange sapphire he had thought he had caught a glimpse of, shimmering in the light: a speed ring, a treasure to boost one’s agility beyond their natural capabilities.

A fleeting glimpse of the story’s earliest lore faded from mind, and part of her was familiar with the tale from old archives the elders of Quiet Wood had recited to her, so mayhaps not all was soon forgotten. Yet, the dream faded from mind, and the confession of Ji’s nature… flame coursed the rivers of her veins. A tool! The stranger had made of the boy a puppet for his own wildest fantasies!

If not for the sting of her wounds (which now were healing) and the arrival of the strange man’s reinforcements, Lachesis might have thrown caution to the wind~~~ the white hot flame of anger a blinding fury. But… that would not do, not in the face of two familiar sights~~~ one younger and the other… The other?! The face of Belhalla! Oh, she’d see this through only so that she might sting the man’s face with a rightful slap!

And… then there was the younger~~~ a visage reminiscent of his father, felling a striking goon with the blade of his mother, champion of the present. Her ire softened, rounding at its edges. Maybe there was more to survive for than just a proper smack to a fool.

TURN

Lachesis rolled a 5 against Soldier A using Nosferatu! Barely Hit: -1dmg against Soldier A (Charm & Tactical Advantage; would otherwise be 0)

Soldier A (HP: 9/10)

Lachesis is healed by +1HP (Nosferatu) [HP: 8/10]

The cooling singe of old wounds ebbs away, and her muscles ache a little less.

COUNTER

Cannot counter

A powerful lord seeking false immortality from a merchant who peddled the genuine article. His eyes open and he is surrounded by his students and peers. Many look or call to him, but he merely stands in quiet contemplation of all that has happened. Of all that continues to happen. A face twists from a knot that protrudes from the great tree, and all Arvis can think is that he has been made a fool.

Rage boils in him, but it is quickly overtaken by the other venom still coursing within him. He grips his chest in pain before a ethereal vision of Hushen passes through him. As he does, Arvis can feel his fires spark to life again. To the full potential they once had. Hushen still remains, waving to his previous pact maker with the foxish grin he is known for.

“I see,” The regent says in subtle amusement. “then it is your turn to dance for me, Your Grace.” He calls with his most commanding voice. Sending the spirit after one of the weaker looking enemies.

“Let them enjoy your holy winds!”

Arvis takes Minor Poison damage (-0.5HP) Arvis’ HP: 6/10. 

Arvis calls upon Hushen. Hushen attacks Soldier A with Cyclone.

Number of hits: 1d5 roll: 3. 3d20 roll: 17, 9, 13. Hit! Hit! Hit! Soldier A’s HP: 3/10.

Soldier A unable to counterattack.

The enemy retaliates, coordinating their attacks upon Arvis, but their means are still bumbling.

Soldier A rallies Soldier B with Rally Strength. Soldier B receives Strength +2 for one round.

Soldier B attacks Arvis with Killer Axe. 1d20 roll: 10-6=4. Miss!

Arvis unable to counterattack.

With the lumbering weight of the axe, Arvis is able to easily evade the mindless soldier’s attack, but then the ground begins to shake with the great holy tree’s endeavor-

Melanthios attacks the party with Root of the Grudge.

Roll 1d20-4: [16]-4 = 12! Hit!

Arvis is hit for 2+1 damage (Destruction of the Damned). Arvis’ HP: 3/10.

Arvis is marked by Root. -6 SPD for one turn.

    Retracing their steps to find Morgan means taking their way back through the tunnel shortcut Dhanvi had shown them earlier, and although Arvis is preoccupied with interrogating the woman, it is Leif, the one who was on guard ironically enough, that gets attacked as soon as they enter and unable to dodge, the creatures that they had tried to outrun earlier hungry for seconds.

1d4 roll: 4-1. Leif takes critical damage!

The spring spirit may have healed Leif, but the wind is knocked out of him immediately, and it takes him a moment to kick the monster off of him and unsheathe his sword, keeping it at bay as he rejoins his party, now even more worse for wear.

No poison this time, at least. He can’t feel it, anyhow.

Once the group exits the cave and re-enter the first floor of the building though, Dhanvi stops the others with a frown. She seems to test the air for some time, brows knitted, before going up the stairs to the main floor without saying another word to Arvis or Leif.

She comes back down almost immediately.  “ No, nope, we’re leaving. Come on, ”  she announces and starts for one of the broken windows that the forest has reclaimed, where she takes out her knife and begins hacking away at the vines. Up until now, she had seemed calm and unbothered by anything that the forest threw at them, but now she’s noticeably agitated.

Leif quirks a brow.  “ What? I thought you said you wanted us to go find Morgan. ”

Dhanvi hacks a hole through the vines and starts to climb out through the window.  “ He’s not here here anymore, ”  she says, not looking back to answer.  “ But I know where he’s going. ”

“ And you know?? How??? ”

“ Call it… intuition. ”

He watches her cut through the vines sealing the window and begin to crawl out of it. Contemplating how she had been transparent about nothing this entire journey, least of all this now. Arvis straightens his back and stands to his full height.

“No.” He utters the single word with all the command and venom he is known for. “Our contract has been complete, Dhanvi. I will follow you no longer.”

He turns, and leisurely makes for the stairs. “Come, Leif. We will find Morgan on our own. Not follow this woman into whatever death awaits us.”

She does not pause in her work, and cuts the last vine loose.

‘Good luck getting out of the forest on your own.’

Arvis halts his steps, but does not turn back to face her.

amnesiac-pawn​:

// tw major injury [ read more ]

   By sheer willpower alone, Leif manages to cling onto consciousness like a rock to a drowning man— perhaps apt, considering everything that could have just been— and so when he’s back on land again, he is gasping for the air he has been so deprived of while restrained underwater.

Water in, air nowhere. Now it’s water out, and big gulps for air hopefully— so much so that he could choke on how he breathes for it.

He’s wet, Arvis is wet, they’re both messes but they’re both ashore. Leif may still be beaten and looking worse for wear, but the most important part is that he feels better.

How, he doesn’t know, just like how he doesn’t quite understand why Emperor Arvis of all people came to save him once the situation catches up to him. First, he didn’t ask because he couldn’t manage it out between those desperate bids for sweet oxygen, but now he doesn’t ask because he finds it so unimportant.

That’s how it is, isn’t it? An enemy saves you and you don’t pry. You just take it for what it is and count your blessings.

“ …I’m fine now, ”  he does manage, however. He can say that much, at least.   “ Better than before, somehow. …You have my thanks. ”

The prince’s heart is no closer to being thawed than his body is that much closer to being warm, but once he’s able to breathe more normally again, Dhanvi speaks up then.

To Morgan, she says. She needs to go find Morgan again.

“ Kfff— ”  Ah, damn, still not quite normal, actually. Leif picks himself up and wipes the water from his face.  “ Alright. Let’s go. ”

He pops off his boots to get rid of the water sloshing around in them before he slips them back on and starts on his way, not without hearing the water spirit from before sounding crestfallen at their departure.

He glances bacl over his shoulder with an awkward little nod of gratitude for what the spirit had done for him before turning back to keep up with the group towards Morgan again.

Did he expect gratitude? Not exactly. But the begrudging tone of a favor owed weighs upon his shoulders. As Leif pushes himself off the ground and away from Arvis, he feels oddly... dejected, and stands in place for a long while.

A glance is passed towards Dhanvi, and she calls for their return. The look is turned to Hushen, who pointedly returns it behind his fan. Arvis inhales, and finally drops his gaze to the herbs he so sought. Collecting handful after handful and stowing them into his satchel, before slowly following after the enigmatic merchant.

He lingers towards the back of the group as they cross through the underground tunnel again. ...Was it not Dhanvi who first said they should leave Morgan behind? And now she was adamant about returning to him...? Arvis feels the merchant has had more to gain from this venture than merely gold or herbs, but what, he could not place. He leans towards his fox spirit, conspiring with him once more.

“Your Grace,” He whispers, “what did you mean before... about Morgan being cursed?”

‘There are stories told here about humans despised by the forest. That boy's power to destroy trees could not possibly be anything but a curse.’

The man only hums in thought. Everything in this story was making less and less sense.

diadic​:

tw: drowning-like depictions

   “ Dhanvi! Emperor Arvis! ”  Leif calls out to the two of them.  “ Can you keep an eye on me, just in case? ”

That’s all he says before he turns back to the spring, preparing himself again to take the plunge. He needed to be faster this time but still more cautious. He keeps in mind where the Light Brand is on his hip and then edges closer.

Their game of cat and mouse ensues again, but this time, Leif manages to pull his hands away just in time before the spirit can hit him. Despite their failure, the spirit seemed delighted.  “ Again! Again! ”

“ What! You know I’m dying, ”  he spits back, indignant. Would this loop happen over and over?  “ I can’t do this forever. What do you want from me already?? ”

The water bubbles again with a long  “ Awww, ”  and then a moment of silence.  “ You don’t want to play anymore? ”

Leif thinks for a moment before he looses a groan and crouches back down to the edge of the spring.  “ If you help me live, I’ll play with you as much as you like after this. ”

His tone is hardly brotherly, hardly fatherly, hardly anything gentle at all. He has never been the type, and he does not try now. But he remembers this exasperation, this feeling of hope lining it, and he knows it’s worth a shot.

He had taken this chance on Sara and she had given him the world; he needed only accept her whimsy. Could this happen again?

He extends his hand as if in making a vow, the highest caliber of a gesture from him just short of him fusing his own blood into the process as a sign of devotion.

“ Understand? ”

But when webbed fingers dart out of the mud to meet him, they do not meet him in a hearty shake to reassure. No, they grab and pull, dragging him down deep into the spring, Leif screaming as he gets sucked in with a violent splash. He catches a glimpse of something serpentine and feels it coil around his body before he can fully kick and swim him way up to the top.

No matter the years spent swimming in Fiana’s coasts, his strength is no match for that which entraps him under the surface of the water, keeping him down there as his fights to live and be free. The more he fights, the tighter the coil around him, but instead of feeling the claws of death for this, he feels something warm.

He feels his energy return to him, his fever abating, a rebirth unparalleled.   // @amnesiac-pawn​ 

A few final steps bring him to the next door, whose handle reveals it to be unlocked, but pressing forward against it feels like trying to ram into a wall. Something alike a shrill screech erupts from his throat as he struggles against the door, the monster’s slow approach behind him heightening his panic to its fullest.

Taking a half-step back—dangerously close to the enemy, he acknowledges dimly—Morgan claps a hand to his shoulder and rolls his arm around to prepare for a hit. With a sound somewhere between a howl and hysterics, mage charges the door. (It echoes down the hall, where others in the building might hear…)

Shoulder drives into old wood with just enough force to push it open. The unexpected release causes him to stumble forward and nearly fall to a heap—and certainly to his death, if the beast had anything to say about it. Jumping back to balance, he spins around to slam the door shut again, hopefully knocking it so far into the frame that nothing could come through again.

Chest heaves to catch his breath. Rubbing a hand up and down his abused arm and shoulder, Morgan slowly turns down the corridor where a set of double doors lay in wait. 

That had to be the courtyard, right? Jurou wasn’t poking around his thoughts with any hints, but no building has double doors to just a regular old room.

He takes a step, and then another. Better find out fast before that beast figures out how to bash down that door, too.

“Leif?”

He ventures. Silence, before the regent breaks into a sprint. “Leif?!” He calls again; more angry, more desperate. He stops right before the water’s edge, fearing he may very well be dragged in next. Eyes search the surface, trying to make out the forms underneath. The spring was crystalline, and Arvis could see the struggle happening beneath the placid surface.

Thoughts race, heart and mind at war. The regent was incredibly vulnerable in water. The cold seeping away his strength. The weight of his own body dragging him down. Fingers deft in the careful art of spell binding or quill wielding only floundered in the barest ability to tread water. Jumping in would be akin to giving the beast a second course. He tosses his head over his shoulder, desperate for any help from Hushen or Dhanvi.

“Hushen! Dhanvi! Help! Can either of you swim?”

They are both going to be incredibly unhelpful.

Hushen: ‘And ruin my fur? A coat this beautiful and thick would take days to dry!’

Dhanvi: ‘I warned him not to make a bad deal.’

He somehow expected as much...

He looks around. Looks between the shadows in the darkness and anything around that he might be able to use. And then, by the forest’s edge, he sees a rotted log-

He dashes towards it, and with strength beyond his body, plucks it from the ground and throws it far across the stream. It is perhaps a futile attempt, but it is something before his final resort-

“Leif!” He yells to the water’s surface. “Swim to the log! Grab hold of it! It will keep you afloat!”

Something then rises from the depths, but it is far bigger than Leif should be-

Whether or not the log was intended for Leif, it distracts the water spirit enough to release him and launch itself upward to grab the log instead, catching it in its arms as it shoots from the water, then - laughing - dives in a large arc back into the water, allowing Arvis a glimpse of the muddy, algae-covered, serpentine body.

For a moment, Arvis is transfixed by the beast’s form, by the might and majesty on display as it arcs from the spring; but, just as quickly, Arvis’s wits return. Not allowing this chance to slip through his fingers, he wades into the spring finally, and grabs hold of the shadow left there. Dragging the boy to shore and urging him to lean forward and dispel anything swallowed.

diadic​:

    The moment Leif smells smoke, he is up faster than a shot of Thoron, the instinct to run at the scent flooding back into him in an instant despite how many years it has been. Back then, he knew not why he needed to run, and the same is true now.

He can see Arvis trying to stomp out some flames, yelling to his spirit companion about the matter. So there was another spirit here. But where? Oblivious to the source, Leif just yells out into the open:

“ What do you want?! ”

Was it the spirit that started that fire? Was it Arvis in response to something the spirit did? Leif curses himself for not knowing, not paying attention having been lulled into believing this could be a moment to rest but there never really is any such time for such things; he of all people should know that better than anyone else.

To his surprise, impish laughter comes from the water and then a splash. Leif whips his head down to point at the spring, watching as bubbles rise to the surface in its wake.  “ Don'tcha wanna come swim? ”  the voice asks.

To Dhanvi, Leif asks,  “ Is that the only thing we can do?? Have you swum with these things before?? ”

“ The spirits always want something, ”  she answers somewhat cryptically, keeping a respectable distance from the bank. The prince can see she’s currently preoccupied, plucking the herbs farthest away and stashing them in a bottle, but she indulges him by glancing up to at least respond to his questioning.  “ But don’t give in to their demands blindly or else you’ll wind up in a bad deal. I’m trying to find something that might slow that poison. ”

To that, Leif can only nod. She was helping him then in her pursuit and he shouldn’t meddle with that, so instead he searches the area and finds a sizeable rock, tossing it into the spring and watching as it breaks the surface with a ripple. He remembers doing something like this when he was youn—

The rock comes back.

Leif dodges it with a hop to the side, laughter from the water greeting him again.  “ Oh, you wanna play catch instead? ”

“ I’m not in the mood to swim, that’s it, ”  he answers, growing a bit impatient.  “ I just want to live. ”

“ Well you’re not doing a very good job of that. You stink. Stinky sludgy man. ”

Leif’s face twists.  “ …Is that why you asked me to swim? Because you want me to become clean?? ”

“ Mmmmmmm nah. You’d make the water dirty. ”  A spray of water launches at the prince.  “ You don’t have much life left in you though huh. ”  Another water spray.

“ But I want to change that!! ”  His voice rises. He flicks the water out of his face, pulling aside his bangs to better see as he stares into the spring. This situation grows ridiculous, but here he is, getting swept up in it.  “ Is there something you know I can do?! ”

“ I know you’re gonna turn into one of those spooky slimy monsters. ”  More laughter from the water, but it soon quiets down to a few bubbles along the surface. Then a moment of silence. A pair of reptilian eyes peek out from the mud of the bank, then disappear in a blink.

“ Hey let’s play a game. ”

“ …What kind of game? ”

“ Hee hee…. Come reeeeeeaaaal close. ”

He gulps, inching towards the spring with great caution, muscles tensing in preparation for something— anything. And when he gets close enough, a pair of hands, clawed with webbed fingers, dart out from the mud suddenly and slap Leif’s hands. Hard. Then they disappear again, laughter following.  “ Too slow! Try again. ”

“ Augh!! ”  he groans. What he’d give to have his tactician with him right now…  // @amnesiac-pawn @avemaera​

Faster than he’s ever dared to move before, Morgan darts down the hall even while the monster gives pursuit. Its ambling steps and low growls behind him only give him the energy to run farther until his body eventually forces him to a stop.

With his hands on his knees and his chest heaving for air, the sudden presence of a voice booming between his ears startles him nearly enough to knock what little air he had left from his lungs. Morgan’s head shoots up, eyes wide and then quickly narrowed.

The voice in Morgan’s head chuckles in a deep voice. “You’ve done well to obey me. But I must ask you: do you know who you are?”

“Of course I know who I am!” he sputters. The beast seems to almost slow, confused at the sudden loud noises coming from its prey. “I went through enough trying to figure that out!”

But Jurou would not be able to dismiss the doubt clear in his thoughts.

“Have you now?” Jurou sounds amused. “Then you must know why it is your hands bring destruction to this forest.”

“How do you—?!” Just how long had this spirit—if it really was one—been watching him? As far as he could recall, Morgan hadn’t goopified any trees within the confines of the old building.

“Never mind,” it’s easy to brush aside. Nothing made sense in this world. “It doesn’t matter. This forest is messed up, anyways. Just—!!”

A strangled noise escapes him, at a loss for words, or perhaps too flustered to find the right ones. A glance back at the slowly-approaching monster fills his mouth again: “What do you want from me?”

The voice laughs again. “Use your power on the tree in the courtyard. Free me, and I will tell you the truth.”

Eyes lock on the door just ahead. Teeth grit, Morgan nods. “Fine.”

He hands Hushen the new fist full of hair, (paying particular attention to what he’s even doing with it) before remarking, “Are you spirits always the mischievous sort?”

Hushen has also been watching Leif be harassed, though whether it amuses him any more than human antics already amuse him, it's hard to say. He glances sidelong at Arvis from over the edge of his fan as he slips the new bundle of hair into a cloth drawstring pouch. ‘Are you humans always the ignorant sort?’ he parries, mockingly, then snaps his fan shut for emphasis. ‘A great many varied and wondrous beings exist in this world. Somber ones, vengeful ones, playful ones... but that is true of humankind as well, is it not?’

Arvis straightens his back at the parry, momentarily affronted before relenting. The words hit him in an odd way, and he carefully turns them over in his mind. He thinks of Sigurd, Deirdre, he even spares the time to consider them for himself.

His eventual death foretold by Julius, and how that might have affected their relationship. ...How it may not have. How it may have simply been his fathering of the boy. What he had done right or wrong. How knowing this may not even change the outcome.

After a careful pause, “That is perhaps the thing we are finest at.”

The regent joins Hushen, reclining against the rock a respectful distance away.

"...How long have you inhabited these woods, Your Grace? How long as the 'rot' occupied your home?"

‘As far back as one's extraordinary memory can recall, the rot has infected this forest. But old tales speak of a time when that was not so.’ Hushen opens his fan again as he watches the bank. ‘It has grown worse recently.’ Then a glance toward Arvis and a shift in topic and tone. ‘It would seem that the mighty Hushen has opened your eyes to the river weeds. You no longer covet them as you had when first we met!’

“Maybe so” He returns simply, and an easy smile somehow comes to his face. He watches the herbs shift in the slow breeze.

At the end of his quest here, everything outside of the present moment feels insignificant. He throws a glance to Dhanvi, still collecting herbs of her own, (he'd have to speak with her too) before looking back to Leif... playing with the spring spirit. He'd try to cure the boy’s wounds after they had had their fun.

diadic​:

     “ We’re out… ”  Leif turns back towards the tunnel once they’ve made a decent amount of distance, but his concern about the creature following them wins out and that’s nothing more than a brief second before he looks back at Dhanvi and Arvis again.  “ Let’s keep going…! ”  

And so the prince picks back up his feet again, not letting himself at the very least catch a break just yet, glancing back to make sure that the others also follow suit. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of a spring and recalls that being their destination in the first place.

Full speed ahead then.

When the group arrives there, the spring does indeed bear the herbs that Arvis had been looking for, hundreds of the plant surrounding the bank of the spring as it’s fed by a gentle waterfall at the far end. The whole scene is picturesque and serene, but Leif’s adrenaline still runs high, and he casts frantic, unsure glances around, breath heavy as he tries to keep his ears peeled for even the most minute of sounds he can possibly make out.

Even over the waterfall, soft as it is, there is silence. It further speaks to that atmosphere of tranquility and safety, and the tension floods out of Leif’s body as he drops to amongst the herbs of the spring, letting them cushion his fall and hoping to have some of the mist of the water carry over to try and freshen up.

He still feels horrible, regardless.

“ We’re in the clear for now, it looks, ”  he breathes out, ragged. Just a moment of this. Just a small respite while they still can, and then he’ll be up at it again…   // @amnesiac-pawn​ @avemaera​

Light steps bring him to a door whose handle thankfully turns. Morgan seeks shelter inside, closing the old door as quietly as possible behind him before resting his back against it and releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. If he could lure that thing over and past any of the rooms while he hid inside, he might have a chance to sprint forward…

Crates decorate the room, stacked neatly against the walls in rows. A brand of some sort decorates the side—what was that, a peacock? Like everything else, the thick layer of dust coating the lids make his nose wrinkle, but tactician steps forward to explore nevertheless. 

Removing the lid of one crate sends a flurry of dust into the stale air, but inside sits a variety of items somewhat saved from the passage of time. Wooden trinkets, bottles of something long since dried out, amulets… it’s the small boxes of powders that get his attention.

Lifting one, Morgan carefully dips his fingers into the powder and rubs it between index and thumb. It didn’t feel like anything nefarious. A little sniff proves the same. He considers a taste test for a moment but ultimately decides against it.

Returning his attention to the wooden trinkets, Morgan picks up a few and stuffs them in his pockets. Could come in handy later. Until then, he takes just one more in his hand and creeps back to the door. Peeking back into the hall reveals that the monster wandered a little further away—he could no longer make out its vague silhouette shuffling in the darkness. Not exactly what he wanted, but this was all he could do for now.

Sending as many prayers to whatever gods would listen, Morgan rears back and tosses the wooden knickknack down the hall in the direction he came from. It lands with a resounding clack and bounces a few times before rolling off to a slow end.

He holds his breath and closes the door to just a crack, watching to see if the beast fell for his trap. It ambles along, heavy footsteps creaking along the floor, to investigate the noise down the hall. Morgan lets out a sigh of relief and slowly opens the door again to creep out.

Just as the beast perks up at the sound.

The regent looks around dazed. The crystalline waters and healing herbs, all framed by lush trees and the babbling waterfall.

He exhales, weary, and allows himself the moment of reprieve. He nears the water’s edge with cupped hands to collect a morsel for his burning throat. As he kneels,

He won’t have a chance to actually drink the water because the moment he gets near the edge, hands rise from the mud and grab him with inhuman strength to try to drag him into the water

Roll d20 to resist

Roll 1d20: [16]

Arvis manages to break free of the grip and fall back on the bank. An impish snicker bubbles up from the water, but nothing else

Laughter. That is all he truly registers in the panic and struggle. Something was laughing at him- and what he does next is more impulse than intended. Flames come to his palms as easy as anything, but again, he feels his magic seeped away from his core. Arvis looks over his shoulder to where he can sense his pact-spirit. Hushen sits atop a rock, a grin half hidden behind his fan and clawed fingers waving to the regent.

Without breaking eye contact, Arvis rips out his hunting knife and chops a fresh lock loose. His burning gaze is as much a threat as it is a promise. Hushen smiles wider and Arvis feels his magic filling his soul again.

Fire balls are blasted into the mud and dirt.

Roll 1d20: [5]

The spell hits the herbs growing along the bank and starts a small fire

Damn. Damn it all!! Arvis stomps out the damage he has caused, and turns his frustration to the easier target at hand. Head tossed back over his shoulder, Arvis yells to the fox,

“IS THIS SPIRIT A FRIEND OF YOURS?”

Hushen is fanning himself on a rock, unbothered. ‘The Mighty Hushen has no need to visit these parts.’ While Arvis is stomping out the fire though, something spits water at the back of his head

The water hits him squarely in the head, and it is enough to send a new wave of shock and anger through him. He merely stands stone still, fuming in immeasurable rage.

diadic​:

    Gah. He was itchy now too, was he? Double gloved fingers go to scratch at the rash before wincing in pain as he accidentally pokes at his wounds and he has to remind himself to stay his hand. Be strong. You’ve been through worse.

Walking forward is about the only thing he can do then to distract himself from everything ailing him all at once. A tunnel with an end in sight, he’s sure, and just about their only lead. Would Morgan really catch up with them? Would he know where they had even gone?

He either has to trust the tactician or accept that he’s deserted them. Adapt to the ever changing situation. The light Valflame gives off is what Leif relies on for now, but then a putrid smell hits his nose and that too forces him to stop and look around.

He doesn’t see what it is, but he recognizes the rotting smell as something not unlike the claws that had gotten him in this rough patch in the first place, so he thinks.

“ Let’s hurry. ”  Leif’s whisper comes as a command, and despite everything, he manages to push himself into something akin to a sprint, ignoring the way his body burns and screams against him and he knows the other end of the tunnel is within their reach—

—but the monsters are just as fast if not faster and when Leif glances back over his shoulder, he sees the both of them descend upon Arvis just behind him.  “ Emperor Arvis…!! ”  // @amnesiac-pawn​ 

It’s woefully quiet without the rest of his party. Morgan’s hand rests on the doorknob to the other half of the building, hesitant as the dim footsteps of his friends retreat behind him.

He had already made up his mind. He had to listen to the voice that called him.

And so he pushes through the door, starting down the hallway beyond with confidence only a man equipped with a weapon and allies should have. Only a few steps in does he stop, the familiar rustling of something in the darkness ahead making his run blood cold.

Now he regrets everything.

Mage presses himself flat to the wall as if that would stop the monster from seeing him. It was too far to make anything out, but even just one more step in its direction could be enough to alert it. Eyes squeezing shut, he leans his head back and listens.

But no command comes. No whisper or beckon.

“Now you go quiet?” he hisses through gritted teeth. A meager glance back from where he came, another forward to the danger ahead.

A deep breath in. A slow exhale. He wonders, was his death already written between the pages?

Roll 1d4-1: [1]-1 = [0]

but the second tears straight through him, fetid claws ripping open healing wounds.

Roll 1d4-1: [4]-1 = [3]

Arvis’s HP: 5.5/10

He yells in pain before throwing down the ball of fire in a bid to distract the rot. He clutches his chest before breaking into a sprint after the prince. He reaches the end of the tunnel with no further injury, daylight blinding him as his vision readjusts to the sun.

amnesiac-pawn​:

Arvis’s arm just barely brushes Morgan’s front as the elder steps before them, blocking their path. A question sits on his lips but is replaced by a quiet fear at the sight of something just beyond the darkness. He looks between his friends and knows they would protect him if it came to that… but it shouldn’t come to that.

As Arvis ushers the group back into the room and firmly shuts the door once again, Morgan speaks quietly—not daring to raise his voice above a whisper. “There’s another door over there,” he says. “We can avoid whatever was back there.”

He can’t deny the faint prodding in his mind as he makes his way back through dust and mushroom hell. Courtyard, it says. Courtyard. Once more, mage considers his comrades carefully, and only now decides that the voice must only be speaking to him.

Falling back a step, Morgan reaches out to catch Dhanvi by the sleeve, guiding her over to his side. “Can you tell me more about this Jurou character?”

Dhanvi only brushes him aside. “He was just some nobody client that didn’t listen when I said no refunds. Don’t worry about him.”

But Morgan is very much concerned. “Right. Well, if that thing out there is guarding this side of the building, let’s see what we can find on the other end. If there’s no other exits… to battle we go, I guess, right?”

@diadic​

( tw: nail trauma, body horror )

    Injured as Leif was and defenseless as Morgan seemed to be, avoiding a possible enemy was for the best. Whether or not they see him do it, Leif nods in deference to their call and follows the tactician as their group makes their way back into the room from which they came and towards its other door. With any luck, it won’t be locked, otherwise, the commotion from breaking it open would render this whole stealth business pointless.

But before he makes it all the way there, Leif stops, thinking there was something odd about his hands from a quick glance and when he looks down, he’s right: a fingernail is falling off. His other hand grasps at it, and although it is painless, there’s a near inaudible gasp that escapes the prince when he realizes in his other palm he holds what was once a part of him.

Nothing… happened, right? But things like this don’t just happen for nothing. Cradling it so as not to lose it, he tucks his other hand (the one without a fingernail) away out of his sight, but he can’t get it out of his head.

It wasn’t just his imagination, was it? Poison can ruin him, but he’s never had something like this happen just because of a dosage of toxins running through his veins.

Arvis begins to follow after the younger boys before their stride is interrupted twice-fold. Both wards look around with paranoid gazes and fearful stances. Morgan confides something in Dhanvi, and Leif worries over something unseen in his palm. It is enough to sow paranoia within Arvis’s own heart, that his pact-spirit was the only one he could trust within this moment.

He looks to Hushen, who merely fans himself with a lazy swish. He looks backs to the two, and notices the deep discoloration and slow weeping of Leif’s wounds. The darkened blood glistens like a gash freshly made, when any should have closed by now. Could the toxin be causing their collective delirium? In which case, then he can not even trust himself now...

Silent panic sits in Arvis’s throat, and he takes the moment to feel his ward’s foreheads. Leif is warm, and the information is not reassuring. Arvis does not elaborate, and only forges on.

amnesiac-pawn​:

Arvis had far more energy at this point than their other companions combined. Well, non-spirit companions. Their search yields little to nothing but a ring the emperor pockets before Morgan gets a good look at it; finders keepers, as it were. They continue on.

A small room with an even smaller desk. What a creepy little place, and the dust caking the desk’s surface didn’t help much, either. Morgan slowly makes his way towards the desk, unable to resist the urge to draw in the dust. Six lines, carefully connected in a number of steps… nice.

But something brings a pause in his movements. He swears the voice from before speaks; a glance at the others reveals no reactions. Was he hallucinating? Perhaps it was a side effect from the poison…

Still, he casts a sidelong gaze at the door they came through, before looking forward to the one at the end of the room. Still much to explore.

@diadic​

    Door after door, some locked, some not. The ones they can get to don’t have much, which would make sense, if they saw fit to leave these alone while barring entry to others.  He has half a mind to just break down the next door they find that’s locked, but slipping past Morgan and the inspected desk towards the next one to find out it is very much free for them to swing open.

A sight of dust as far as the eye can see greets him, and the mere sight of it has Leif wrinkling his nose, preparing himself to not sneeze in reaction. Sofas covered in the stuff litter the room, clearly abandoned, and all in various states of decay out here in the forest humidity. Squinting his eyes, he thinks he can even see something growing from them…

…Surely not, right?

But when Leif gets closer to one of them, that’s when he realizes his suspicion was right: mushrooms! Mushrooms were growing here! And unlike the creatures from before, there wasn’t anything off looking about them yet…

( Not that he’d stake his life on it. )

Tables and desks rest nearby, and there’s more to the room, he’s sure, but before he really steps too far into it, he takes out a knife (too small to be really practical to use in combat) and severs some of the mushrooms before collecting them into his pouch. He turns back and peeks his head through the door, looking back at the rest of the party.

Inside the room, there are more desks, some have abandoned papers on them. Yellowed, with fading ink, but some are legible still. They seem to be ledgers, or something

Fingers swipe along the dust caked surfaces until they come to binders and discarded papers. The regent picks them up and sees if he can decipher them at all.

Arvis can read them, yeah. Seem to be mostly numbers, for merchandise, maybe

Decipherable yes, it but also offers little information. These ledgers... they seemed to support that this was indeed an office, but that is even more befuddling. What would an abandoned office be doing deep in the woods of a simple village? So old and overgrown, in fact, that not even a spirit of the wood knows anything about it?

Arvis ponders all of this while he tries the handle of a door close to them. It is open, and he pushes forward back out into a hallway. Just then,

You hear some noises down the hall.... and can make out a creature shifting in the darkness

amnesiac-pawn​:

Neither Dhanvi nor Hushen could tell them anything useful, then; they were all in the same boat. Arvis forges on and Morgan happily follows, the emperor acting as something of a beacon amidst the dust and grime of the old building.

A door stands not far from them. Eyeing it carefully, Morgan shoulders past to reach for the knob but only gets as far as grazing it when a voice booms out from the shadows down the hall.

“DHANVI,” it begins. “YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE COME BACK HERE.”

Dhanvi steps to the front of the group now, addressing the shadows at the other end of the corridor. “Spare me your lectures, Jurou. This is business.”

“FOOLS. YOUR GUIDE WALKS YOU TO YOUR DEATH. TURN BACK NOW.”

“Listen.” Dhanvi holds her hands up, but seems undisturbed by the threats. “In my travels, I found the means to free you. But you must stop trying to scare my clients.”

The ceiling shakes as the voice scoffs. “THIS WILL BE YOUR GRAVE.”

Morgan turns wide-eyed to the merchant, incredulity on his face and a thousand questions on his tongue. “What’d you do to this guy?” he asks, unsure of if he should laugh or cry at her merely shrugging off the other’s threats like water down a grassy hill.

Dhanvi waves the question away. “Nothing. A deal’s a deal and he’s just unhappy his end wound him up in a box. He can’t hurt us—”

“INSOLENT WOMAN.”

“Not like that, anyway. Ignore him.”

A beat passes in silence before mage finds his words, “I think I kinda want to hear what he has to say!” Not that Morgan didn’t trust Dhanvi, but. Well. Y’know.

“Jurou, right?” He turns down the corridor to speak to the darkness. “You really think Dhanvi’s trying to kill us?”

“BEWARE OF DEALING WITH THOSE WHO SEEK ONLY TO SERVE THEMSELVES.”

Fair point. He turns his eyes on the rest of the group before gesturing forward. Your turn.

@diadic​

    Not expecting any further help, Leif reacts a bit slower than he normally would when the herbs are dropped into his hand— herbs the ex-Emperor had been hunting for himself supposedly. Was it his surprise or the poison addling his mind that slowed him down, in truth? He can’t say for sure.

But after watching Arvis chew on the herbs first, it’s then and only then that Leonster’s prince follows suit, deeming it safe enough to try it.

Leif eats the three herbs! (+3HP) Leif’s HP: 7.5HP

The oils help the pain, but Leif’s not sure it would stop the poison. What he would give for a Restore Staff right about now… But he’s numb enough to at least amble after them all, following them into the building, grateful for the moment none of them were on mounts.

As if they’d need another disadvantage in the case they got jumped indoors.

A strange scene ensues when they go to check a door, voice booming speaking on grave matters and offering advice on trust and whatnot, but then again, everything in this storybook has been quite strange so far, hasn’t it?

For now, though their motives may be different, their goals are aligned, and Arvis forges deeper into the building, opening the door they first come to.

The door is unlocked. It's a small room, pretty cleaned out, though a thick layer of dust (or pollen) covers the wooden floor. Nothing much else of interest though, but something does catch Arvis' eye. It looks like a small wooden... ring. Polished smooth and presumably dropped/forgotten

Nothing of interest past a small wooden ring. Probably of little value or importance, but Arvis still collects it regardless. He doesn’t want to chance slipping it onto his finger, (in a world where spirit pacts exist, putting on a ring might invite a curse. As Dhanvi said, nothing in this world was free.) but the trinket might still hold value, and slips it into his satchel instead.

Moving deeper, he comes across an intersection with doors opposite one another. He tries one, locked. He tries the other,

Door is unlocked, seems to be some sort of office... or... was. There's a desk against the wall, and another door at the other end

toaquietwood​:

The fight had ended, but not without injury. Dhanvi checks her own wounds, bandaging what she can with her own supplies, though the poison that sets her blood on fire will have to wait. At Leif’s question, she glances up from her work, then makes a nod in the direction they had been traveling.

“There’s an old building up ahead. It was abandoned long ago, so whatever is left inside might have very well fallen to waste, but–” She ties off the bandaging and carries the rest of the roll to her traveling companions, noting stains of black in their clothing. Her jaw sets. “… We should tend to that poison first. The herbs Lord Arvis seeks ought to do the trick, but we still have a ways to go and… Well, one can’t be too certain about what the next step will bring.”

Next: @amnesiac-pawn​

Wounded fist cradled against his chest, Morgan can only nod to his companion’s question. By comparison, he was fine, even if he certainly didn’t feel it. Every mission had its ups and downs.

“Let’s carry on,” he says after a few moments. Not like they could turn back at this rate—and who could deny the intrigue of exploration? “We can seek shelter a few moments and lick our wounds.”

They find themselves before an ancient building… several centuries old at least, half overtaken by the forest but still miraculously intact. It’s difficult to tell exactly what it was, but it’s far different than anything they’ve seen in Quiet Wood. Almost… newer in its design. Closer to what they might have seen in Fódlan. Certainly not a dwelling, but perhaps it was once a place where things were made or processed.

“Don’t go setting any fires, now,” he murmurs. “I’m pretty sure the only thing keeping this place upright is the strength of the roots holding it up.” At that, he tucks his hands a little closer to his chest, not willing to risk brushing so much of a finger against anything nearby.

“Is this ringing any alarm bells for you guys?” It was almost familiar. Almost. “Dhanvi, you’ve seen this place before, right? Any idea what it might have been before?”

“Can’t say for sure. The remnants of an old village in these parts, probably.”

“A village? Around here?” He’d think they’d find other structures left behind. If there had been a village here, what happened to it and its inhabitants that left only this last building standing? And why was Quiet Wood, far older-appearing than this place, spared?

“Right. Well. I’m not going first, so…” he trails off, gaze flickering between Leif and Arvis. They were the ones with the weapons, after all.

Checking closely, he counts out 9 distinct sprigs, and his eyes slide to Leif with vexation. He stows away 3, carelessly drops another 3 into Leif’s open palm, and saves the last 3 for himself.

“You’re free to see for yourself.” He remarks aloof, not bothering to see if the herbs land into the boy’s hand or fall to the forest floor. He chews on the few for himself, hoping to extract any oils to ease the throbbing pain.

The 3 herbs restore 3HP. Arvis’s HP: 8.5/10

Before long, they come across the decrepit old building. Dhanvi does not know much about it, (whether she holds that card close to her chest as well, or truly is unaware, he can’t say) so he turns his attention to Hushen. The spirit has inhabited this wood, and perhaps for much longer than Dhanvi has lived.

“What of you, Your Divinity? Do you know anything about this place?”

‘It is a relic of a bygone age,’ Hushen answers, unable to admit that he doesn’t know much else about it. ‘It has been here since I was but a kit.’

Not much better. Regardless, this was the fastest way to the spring, and Arvis has grown tired of tottering around with this merry band. He steps forward, and opens the decayed door into the darkened halls.