[Continued...]
Lexius slid the runes he still held into one of those pouches on his belt and produced several small, cut crystals from another as they walked. "I have seven more prepared crystals." He advised the Sadist. "Unless we are at this for weeks, it should be enough."
The tunnel they were following was sloping down again. And, from time to time, they would pass a branch or intersection. There the Elf would prod one of his crystals to life to provide a little more light to inspect the walls for carvings that matched their runes. It would take them at least a couple more hours of travel before they found the next one.
"What did Whisper do that was so wrong that he needed calling before a buncha Powers? Not that I thought the guy was small fry, but for all of them to take such an interest suggests they thought he, or whoever he was workin' for, was pretty damn dangerous," Mesteno remarked. Surely more than just Ares and his titan trophy hunting, though he wasn't so blind as to miss the fact that he'd been trying to cause some divide in his own pantheon.
It was the first time that Lexius had mentioned the 'Company' though, and he grimaced as they travelled the tunnels, watchful of every nook and cranny, but not letting the subject drop, either.
"Really takes the romance out of it y'know, hearing it get called something so... mundane. You'd figure that the Powers, Gods - whatever they are - would have some grandiose title for what they do. It's not exactly awe inspiring." He stopped whenever they came across the carvings, sifting through the pouch he'd kept possession of, though he'd no need of the crystal-born light himself. It just danced off his retinas as if he were a cave dweller himself, and each time they failed to find something to guide them, his frown seemed to establish itself more firmly on his sun bronzed brow.
"I'm sure they do have a magnificent name for it." Lexius murmured absently as they were inspecting the newest juncture. Three tunnels met here in a squareish cavern. "That particular pantheon does seem to love drama in everything they do. But meagre mortal that I am, I am underserving of that particular piece of dark." He was amusing himself, using the local slang rather than saying mystery or secret.
"As for what he did," he paused again, turning half away from the tunnel wall he'd been inspecting.
He had tendrils reaching down all the branches and he was triple checking for any activity along them. So far, nothing. The entire cave system was, in fact, suspiciously empty of any sort of life. Much like the desert, the underground teemed with an abundance of creatures that were mostly hidden away, largely unseen, but always present. Here, not so much. And Lexius couldn't attribute the lack to this being an outer Plane rather than a world of the Prime. But maybe that was the reason. Maybe. Maybe not.
"Rhydin is... was not a 'sanctioned' world. Not for him and what he did within the organization. But he used their resources there anyway. And, perhaps the worse crime, in initiated mortals to the mysteries of his world and infected them with its particular...taint. Apparently that and whatever else he might have been involved in, including the God or not, was enough to see him severely reprimanded. And surprisingly, as well. The demon suggested that their being able to confine him for any length of time was unusual in the extreme."
"I'm pretty sure this isn't something we get to just walk away from," Mesteno declared grimly. “Whoever the losing side ends up being, they'll find some way to make our lives Hell afterward, and even if we negotiate some protection from the shit we're assisting, there'll be some loophole the others see fit to use, some rule in the game they can sidestep just because they're feeling vindictive."
Lexius didn’t disagree in the slightest. Suspected his companion was absolutely right. They wouldn't be walking away from this easily, if at all, and to withhold what he knew would only put them both at a disadvantage. It was perhaps the only reason he’d been so willing to explain what he had, at risk of divulging Koyan’s secrets.
Mesteno was fairly certain of what Lexius was talking about. Little did the Elf know, the Turk had divulged certain things to the necromancer some years before, had even demonstrated what he was capable of doing as a result, but he said nothing to indicate that he knew, or to try and pry more out of the Elf on the matter. Some things he respected people remaining tight-lipped about.
"Doesn't surprise me that Rhy'Din isn't considered 'sanctioned'," he snorted. It was almost as varied in its denizens as Sigil was, but seemed far more disorganised thanks to the nexus and all its appearing and disappearing rifts, the people snatched there against their own volition, the distortions in time and reality. "He's either really reckless to ignore the rules like that, or he wound up getting too fond of the mortals he met to care. Seems kinda commonplace with people in his kind of role. I've seen it a dozen times over. More often than not all they do is lead trouble of proportions the human ain't designed to cope with their way and everything gets messy." It was the voice of experience, no doubt about it! "He better be damn grateful when we get him out," was his muttered end to the subject.
Something Mesteno said seemed to give the Elf pause. He went still, gaze turned away toward one of the tunnels and his brow furrowing minutely, briefly. He stood that way for a good ten seconds, then moved abruptly toward a tunnel that was, more or less, opposite the one they'd entered the cavern through.
"This way." Apparently, share time was over.
He doused the crystal light and continued on. He didn't much need it himself, the violet of his eyes gleaming more brightly than the blue when they were in total darkness. He had retained -some- of his drow heritage after all. But he did use the illumination to ensure they didn't miss a rune for it being too faded or worn.
And so it went, but with more of the typical silence on the Elf's part, until they found the next junction with the next familiar rune. The earth would vibrate from time to time, as if to remind them they were trapped in a world shaped by massive, endless tons of earth grinding together. They also passed tunnels that looked ripe for exploration, with strange and colorful fungus growing on the stones or hints of unearthed gems peeking out of the rocks. Yet the path they remained on was devoid of those kinds of curiosities and temptations....as if to further ensure no one would have reason to go delving where they shouldn't.
Lexius had the rune for the next tunnel among the half he had kept for himself and he did not hesitate to match it to the carving on the wall (after setting a few of his crystal wards down, as Mesteno had suggested, just in case) when the pair of them glowed just as the set before had. The same thing happened. The glow shot from the markings and went spiralling down the entire length of the tunnel. But this time it collected at the far end in a furious lightning storm that briefly outlined the hideous shape of several massive creatures that appeared half snake, half man, armed with spears.
Welcome to Sigil
Moderator: Mesteno
Re: Welcome to Sigil
[Continued...]
When the storm died, the tunnel seemed innocuously empty and peaceful. Thoughts stretched out, body still and eyes half lidded, the Elf probed and searched for anything out of place but found nothing. "For a moment." he murmured to the Sadist. "And then it was gone."
"It's almost like they've been sealed down here, frozen,” Mesteno remarked. “I wonder where it sends them when you use the rune." He glanced over to see if it had disintegrated the way the first one had, or whether it sat whole in Lexius' grasp. "How many more are there?" he asked, opening up the drawstring of his own pouch in order to count them. If they had to find a tunnel for each of them, he could well imagine they'd be down there a few days. He didn't like the idea of having to sleep in the tunnels, but he'd likely have to at some point. Not everyone could get away without sleep and still function.
"Let us hope it does not send them to the end of the trail where they will all be gathered in mass to face us." Well, wasn't that a cheery thought?! The Elf said it with the perfect about of grimness in his tone, too. As if idea was a realistic one rather than just a pessimistic musing.
"I think I'd probably laugh hysterically and leave you to it," Mesteno muttered. He wouldn't of course, because that pesky thing called pride would never allow for it, but he'd probably be wishing he could persuade the Elf to abandon the jaunt. In the end, he'd persuade himself the same way he had Grizzle; Think of the bragging rights!
Mesteno earned himself a long, level look, but it ended with a very faint twitch of the Elf's lips. The Sadist had managed to amuse him again.
"I'm not above gluing you to a pole and leaving you staked in the ground as a distraction." A murmured quip that was, at least, partially true. He did seem to favor using Mesteno as bait!
The surly necromancer gave what wasn't quite a laugh, but the grunt sounded like the beginnings of one! "Oh, you're a real hero, aren't you?" For the pole quip! "I'd cheer them on while they chased you down. Probably whilst being eaten by something unpleasant."
Lexius stepped back toward Mesteno and fanned out the five runes he still held. The Sadist had seven, but he removed one of them from the pile with a murmur.
"That was the first one we did not use. This will take time." With eleven left, they would absolutely need to find a place to sleep. Lexius was even then making plans to do just that, eyeing Mesteno as he spoke. They'd already been down there for hours and hours. And while he knew the Sadist had stamina aplenty, it was far better to pace themselves. He, too, could use the time to recoup some of his lost energy.
"We'll use this tunnel to rest. I do not sleep, but I do require a certain amount of meditation to regain my power. And you will need to sleep. I will set the crystals as wards even though it seems these paths are being kept purposefully barren."
He braved the tunnel, still ready in case the whole rune thing was just a ruse and those snake things appeared anyway! But it didn't happen. This time.
"Fair enough,” Mesteno agreed, “you keep watch while I try'n sleep, and I'll do the same for you while you meditate. If you want to go first, I don't mind. I think you've had the harder time of it," he reminded. Those tattoos hadn't saved him entirely from the cave in, whereas Mesteno hadn't had to put up with more than a mild pelting from that same tunnel.
The Elf took a moment to set up the warding crystals around their chosen spot before settling down. "I will meditate first." He chose, cross legged on the cavern floor between the guarding crystals. He pressed his back to the rough stone wall and unwound the beads from his belt to lace through his fingers. They gave a joyous little rattle before going silent. "Three hours." he told the Sadist.
Those three hours were not easy ones for Mesteno. His ears strained constantly for some sound to interrupt the silence, but everything was so still that there was nothing but their own breathing. He was not a nervy creature by nature, but as time passed he felt as skittish as a colt. He'd nothing to occupy himself with but keeping watch of the route behind and ahead of them, though he did dig another magazine from his pack to replace the one at his belt, and spent a few minutes checking the contents of the rigid, leather container fixed beside it hadn't cracked. The runes he left alone, unwilling to handle them more than was absolutely necessary in case something was able to track them through contact, but he did get so desperate for something more than silence that he considered seeing if he could dig the imp-contaminated blade out of Lexius belongings, just to entertain him with its yapping.
Mesteno didn't need to keep time. The Elf marked it himself with surprising accuracy, shaking off the meditative state smoothly to let the necromancer sleep, though of course he couldn’t. He was comfortable enough on the ground with one bicep pillowing his cheek, but it was obvious he was still conscious.
Lexius intervened, offered a ‘helping hand’ to nudge him off into Morpheus’ arms, sleep too precious a commodity to miss out on when there would be none on the next plane.
There was a blatant change in the resting human then. Corpse still, a marked drop in body temperature, and breath so infrequent it seemed on occasion it had stopped entirely. Lexius took the opportunity to shamelessly study him. He didn't imagine he'd get another opportunity to do so any time soon, so he made sure to learn every little thing that he could about it while he had to chance, though he was careful not to break the Sadist from the slumber he had induced.
They spent the next day and a half going through the same routine with minimal interruption. The runes revealed a stunning variety of nasty shapes that were sent away once each one was used to unlock a tunnel. The farther along they went, the closer they came to the end, the more those creatures started resembling those from Grecian myths. Only once would they glimpse other, more normal life down there, and it was scampering away from them down one of those treasure tunnels they were so swiftly bypassing. Lexius had certainly picked up the pace, as if he felt the need to hurry, as well. Not quite running so they might miss something, but certainly far from strolling.
The next day of travelling seemed to further strip Mesteno of any joviality. Perhaps the Grey Wastes looming over them was the cause, or perhaps it was just being stuck under all that oppressive rock, without the fresh air and thriving life he seemed to prefer being in the thick of. Either way, Lexius was spared him being too personal with his questions - there were always silver linings!
Whilst the Elf didn't seem to mind travelling in silence, he was trying to figure out how best to keep Mesteno from sinking back into any sort of depressive sulking before they reached the next phase of the journey. So far, he was coming up empty. It was something he had actually been meditating on as he sat there, still as stone.
They had one rune left to them when the Elf insisted they rest again before finding the place they’d need to use it.
Mesteno protested it. The very idea that he sleep when there was an end of some sort in sight seemed to bewilder him, and he uttered a frustrated growl before complying and agreeing to watch duty again.
When the storm died, the tunnel seemed innocuously empty and peaceful. Thoughts stretched out, body still and eyes half lidded, the Elf probed and searched for anything out of place but found nothing. "For a moment." he murmured to the Sadist. "And then it was gone."
"It's almost like they've been sealed down here, frozen,” Mesteno remarked. “I wonder where it sends them when you use the rune." He glanced over to see if it had disintegrated the way the first one had, or whether it sat whole in Lexius' grasp. "How many more are there?" he asked, opening up the drawstring of his own pouch in order to count them. If they had to find a tunnel for each of them, he could well imagine they'd be down there a few days. He didn't like the idea of having to sleep in the tunnels, but he'd likely have to at some point. Not everyone could get away without sleep and still function.
"Let us hope it does not send them to the end of the trail where they will all be gathered in mass to face us." Well, wasn't that a cheery thought?! The Elf said it with the perfect about of grimness in his tone, too. As if idea was a realistic one rather than just a pessimistic musing.
"I think I'd probably laugh hysterically and leave you to it," Mesteno muttered. He wouldn't of course, because that pesky thing called pride would never allow for it, but he'd probably be wishing he could persuade the Elf to abandon the jaunt. In the end, he'd persuade himself the same way he had Grizzle; Think of the bragging rights!
Mesteno earned himself a long, level look, but it ended with a very faint twitch of the Elf's lips. The Sadist had managed to amuse him again.
"I'm not above gluing you to a pole and leaving you staked in the ground as a distraction." A murmured quip that was, at least, partially true. He did seem to favor using Mesteno as bait!
The surly necromancer gave what wasn't quite a laugh, but the grunt sounded like the beginnings of one! "Oh, you're a real hero, aren't you?" For the pole quip! "I'd cheer them on while they chased you down. Probably whilst being eaten by something unpleasant."
Lexius stepped back toward Mesteno and fanned out the five runes he still held. The Sadist had seven, but he removed one of them from the pile with a murmur.
"That was the first one we did not use. This will take time." With eleven left, they would absolutely need to find a place to sleep. Lexius was even then making plans to do just that, eyeing Mesteno as he spoke. They'd already been down there for hours and hours. And while he knew the Sadist had stamina aplenty, it was far better to pace themselves. He, too, could use the time to recoup some of his lost energy.
"We'll use this tunnel to rest. I do not sleep, but I do require a certain amount of meditation to regain my power. And you will need to sleep. I will set the crystals as wards even though it seems these paths are being kept purposefully barren."
He braved the tunnel, still ready in case the whole rune thing was just a ruse and those snake things appeared anyway! But it didn't happen. This time.
"Fair enough,” Mesteno agreed, “you keep watch while I try'n sleep, and I'll do the same for you while you meditate. If you want to go first, I don't mind. I think you've had the harder time of it," he reminded. Those tattoos hadn't saved him entirely from the cave in, whereas Mesteno hadn't had to put up with more than a mild pelting from that same tunnel.
The Elf took a moment to set up the warding crystals around their chosen spot before settling down. "I will meditate first." He chose, cross legged on the cavern floor between the guarding crystals. He pressed his back to the rough stone wall and unwound the beads from his belt to lace through his fingers. They gave a joyous little rattle before going silent. "Three hours." he told the Sadist.
Those three hours were not easy ones for Mesteno. His ears strained constantly for some sound to interrupt the silence, but everything was so still that there was nothing but their own breathing. He was not a nervy creature by nature, but as time passed he felt as skittish as a colt. He'd nothing to occupy himself with but keeping watch of the route behind and ahead of them, though he did dig another magazine from his pack to replace the one at his belt, and spent a few minutes checking the contents of the rigid, leather container fixed beside it hadn't cracked. The runes he left alone, unwilling to handle them more than was absolutely necessary in case something was able to track them through contact, but he did get so desperate for something more than silence that he considered seeing if he could dig the imp-contaminated blade out of Lexius belongings, just to entertain him with its yapping.
Mesteno didn't need to keep time. The Elf marked it himself with surprising accuracy, shaking off the meditative state smoothly to let the necromancer sleep, though of course he couldn’t. He was comfortable enough on the ground with one bicep pillowing his cheek, but it was obvious he was still conscious.
Lexius intervened, offered a ‘helping hand’ to nudge him off into Morpheus’ arms, sleep too precious a commodity to miss out on when there would be none on the next plane.
There was a blatant change in the resting human then. Corpse still, a marked drop in body temperature, and breath so infrequent it seemed on occasion it had stopped entirely. Lexius took the opportunity to shamelessly study him. He didn't imagine he'd get another opportunity to do so any time soon, so he made sure to learn every little thing that he could about it while he had to chance, though he was careful not to break the Sadist from the slumber he had induced.
They spent the next day and a half going through the same routine with minimal interruption. The runes revealed a stunning variety of nasty shapes that were sent away once each one was used to unlock a tunnel. The farther along they went, the closer they came to the end, the more those creatures started resembling those from Grecian myths. Only once would they glimpse other, more normal life down there, and it was scampering away from them down one of those treasure tunnels they were so swiftly bypassing. Lexius had certainly picked up the pace, as if he felt the need to hurry, as well. Not quite running so they might miss something, but certainly far from strolling.
The next day of travelling seemed to further strip Mesteno of any joviality. Perhaps the Grey Wastes looming over them was the cause, or perhaps it was just being stuck under all that oppressive rock, without the fresh air and thriving life he seemed to prefer being in the thick of. Either way, Lexius was spared him being too personal with his questions - there were always silver linings!
Whilst the Elf didn't seem to mind travelling in silence, he was trying to figure out how best to keep Mesteno from sinking back into any sort of depressive sulking before they reached the next phase of the journey. So far, he was coming up empty. It was something he had actually been meditating on as he sat there, still as stone.
They had one rune left to them when the Elf insisted they rest again before finding the place they’d need to use it.
Mesteno protested it. The very idea that he sleep when there was an end of some sort in sight seemed to bewilder him, and he uttered a frustrated growl before complying and agreeing to watch duty again.
Re: Welcome to Sigil
[Continued...]
Mesteno had been up pacing, too twitchy to settle this time, when he noticed the change. Something not quite seen, but more felt. A prickling along the skin. A shifting eddy in the still air. He thought it paranoia to begin with, but stood still as something stone carved, he knew it was not merely paranoia. He didn't need to be able to feel energy to know it intuitively. Lexius got a rather rude awakening from his meditation. Mesteno kicked him in the knee! Not hard, but with the heel of his boot as he stared off in the direction he thought the trouble came.
"Up, up!" he hissed.
Lexius was already opening his eyes when the kick caught him. The meditation certainly didn't make him oblivious to his surroundings. He immediately forged a mental connection between his mind and the necromancer's.
Do you see them? He hadn't moved. And he could tell it was a ‘them’.
The sensation was shifting, growing stronger, closing in from both sides of the tunnel. As attuned as Mesteno was to the shadows and as well as he could see in the blackness, he still had trouble catching sight of the slithering Shadow Fiends that were lurking out there gathering beyond the wards. With that many, he was able to piece together a picture of the creatures from the parts he glimpsed.
They appeared to be vaguely humanoid with bat like wings sprouting from their backs and skinny, overlong arms that ended in wicked claws. And then the blinking began. A pair of red lights here, eyes opening them shutting. Then another over there, flickering to life than dying away. They were taunting now!
I see them, came his reply. Oh how good he'd got at this mental connection business. There appeared to be no effort made whatsoever, no need to modulate his mind's voice at all; it was entirely natural! Then again, it was probably because he wasn't thinking about it.
He took a moment to offer a description, which in typical Mesteno fashion, was as much cursing as it was usefulness. Bat-man fucks with fuckin' wings 'n arms like damn orangutans. But by then Lexius could probably see the blinking for himself, and Mesteno had turned to stand so that he was able to see both ends of the tunnel. He hadn't reached for either of his primary weapons yet, unsure which to go for. The gun might pick a few of them off before they reached them if they were going to breach the defensive crystals Lexius had set up, but once the magazine was empty he wasn't going to have chance to reload...
How the Hell did they find us? Mental muttering now. So surly!
We should have stopped farther back. Lexius turned his head just enough to catch the teasing flashes of the eyes winking on and off beyond the ward. They knew it was there and weren't coming any closer. Shadow fiends, perhaps. He identified them, but sounded mildly puzzled. Or some variant. The Fiends don't typically leave the Shadow Plane. They must have been brought in as perimeter guards.
Probably been wanting a nibble on me for years then, Mesteno remarked wryly. After all, he did keep passing through their territory, a torment who stuck to paths they'd no way to intercept him on.
The Elf uncoiled from the ground and plucked one of the crystals up from where it hovered near his waist.
Your gun will not work unless the rounds are enchanted. They are too intangible. Close your eyes. He advised the necromancer, who did so grudgingly given the threat. But be ready afterward. The very second Mesteno complied with his demand, brilliant light flashed hot and bright through the tunnel from the crystal. He'd brought the desert sun with him in the stone....and the fiends did not like it! Riotous screeching filled the air as the front ranks of the fiends were turned to dust by the light. But there were more surging behind them and they stormed right into the wards in a fury once the Elf's crystal sun diminished and winked out.
More light, this time from the crystals exploding as the wards were overwhelmed. Now. He snapped it to Mesteno's mind as the creatures poured in from both sides.
Mesteno saw the light, a flash of scarlet through the thin covering of his eyelids, bright enough that he knew there would be sunspots when he opened them. Immediately upon the Elf's command, his blade sang, free of the scabbard, and he put his back toward the Lexius’ to guard the side of the tunnel they'd been intending to continue down.
Far from graceless despite scars and old injuries which should have been cripplingly painful (and probably were when winter hit!) but with his scimitar he was a force to be reckoned with. Despite the close confines of the tunnel, he managed to keep his side clear as the fiends came slashing at them, denying any the opportunity to break past him. The notched, silver glinting blade darting in and out cat-quick, clipping loose a hand here, severing the wings that battered at him and leaving the tunnel floor littered with body parts and dead fiends.
Then he brought them up, latent power waking, then stretching outward. Slowly to begin with, and then with deranged vigour, the fiend corpses began to fall on their fellows as his allies.
Mesteno was not however, coming through it unscathed. Perhaps it was the split concentration, but the first wound he caught was in his thigh, a swipe of claws which tore effortlessly through his pants just north of the knee. He made not a sound, always determinedly quiet when he fought, but he couldn't quite bite back the bark of pain when a second set of claws caught him at the base of his throat. A few inches higher and there'd have been some alarming spurting of blood. As it was he clamped a hand over it, digging the heel of his palm into the thick flowing fluid to press as he fought. Like he'd stop. He was furious now.
In the back, near where the ward had collapsed on Mesteno's side, stood another of the Fiends not partaking in the carnage. Instead, the others seemed to be protecting it as much as they were distracting the necromancer. The protected Fiend held a cut diamond in its ethereal, clawed hands and was gazing at the Sadist as if enamoured. Fixated, in truth it was casting a spell, trying to pull Mesteno's soul from his body and into the gem. The dark, insidious nature of the attempted theft wrapped its magical claws around Mesteno's soul greedily.
Lexius was much too busy defending his end of the tunnel to have noticed the stand-alone Fiend and its attempted theft. Not right at first. He'd put three glowing crystals toward the ceiling above their head, further brightening the area and weakening the creatures. And he was twisting his Will in ways that caused strange, out of place sounds and smells to briefly surround where he and Mesteno fought. He was also wielding two gleaming daggers that seemed to be made of pure energy with every bit as much skill and grace as Mesteno was applying his scimitar to the situation.
Still connected mind to mind with the necromancer, he gave a mental snarl when he suddenly identified the reasons behind some strange tugging sensation he felt. Find the mage! He suddenly hissed, turning away from his end of the tunnel to do just that despite the swarm of Fiends he had yet to deal with.
Mesteno had been up pacing, too twitchy to settle this time, when he noticed the change. Something not quite seen, but more felt. A prickling along the skin. A shifting eddy in the still air. He thought it paranoia to begin with, but stood still as something stone carved, he knew it was not merely paranoia. He didn't need to be able to feel energy to know it intuitively. Lexius got a rather rude awakening from his meditation. Mesteno kicked him in the knee! Not hard, but with the heel of his boot as he stared off in the direction he thought the trouble came.
"Up, up!" he hissed.
Lexius was already opening his eyes when the kick caught him. The meditation certainly didn't make him oblivious to his surroundings. He immediately forged a mental connection between his mind and the necromancer's.
Do you see them? He hadn't moved. And he could tell it was a ‘them’.
The sensation was shifting, growing stronger, closing in from both sides of the tunnel. As attuned as Mesteno was to the shadows and as well as he could see in the blackness, he still had trouble catching sight of the slithering Shadow Fiends that were lurking out there gathering beyond the wards. With that many, he was able to piece together a picture of the creatures from the parts he glimpsed.
They appeared to be vaguely humanoid with bat like wings sprouting from their backs and skinny, overlong arms that ended in wicked claws. And then the blinking began. A pair of red lights here, eyes opening them shutting. Then another over there, flickering to life than dying away. They were taunting now!
I see them, came his reply. Oh how good he'd got at this mental connection business. There appeared to be no effort made whatsoever, no need to modulate his mind's voice at all; it was entirely natural! Then again, it was probably because he wasn't thinking about it.
He took a moment to offer a description, which in typical Mesteno fashion, was as much cursing as it was usefulness. Bat-man fucks with fuckin' wings 'n arms like damn orangutans. But by then Lexius could probably see the blinking for himself, and Mesteno had turned to stand so that he was able to see both ends of the tunnel. He hadn't reached for either of his primary weapons yet, unsure which to go for. The gun might pick a few of them off before they reached them if they were going to breach the defensive crystals Lexius had set up, but once the magazine was empty he wasn't going to have chance to reload...
How the Hell did they find us? Mental muttering now. So surly!
We should have stopped farther back. Lexius turned his head just enough to catch the teasing flashes of the eyes winking on and off beyond the ward. They knew it was there and weren't coming any closer. Shadow fiends, perhaps. He identified them, but sounded mildly puzzled. Or some variant. The Fiends don't typically leave the Shadow Plane. They must have been brought in as perimeter guards.
Probably been wanting a nibble on me for years then, Mesteno remarked wryly. After all, he did keep passing through their territory, a torment who stuck to paths they'd no way to intercept him on.
The Elf uncoiled from the ground and plucked one of the crystals up from where it hovered near his waist.
Your gun will not work unless the rounds are enchanted. They are too intangible. Close your eyes. He advised the necromancer, who did so grudgingly given the threat. But be ready afterward. The very second Mesteno complied with his demand, brilliant light flashed hot and bright through the tunnel from the crystal. He'd brought the desert sun with him in the stone....and the fiends did not like it! Riotous screeching filled the air as the front ranks of the fiends were turned to dust by the light. But there were more surging behind them and they stormed right into the wards in a fury once the Elf's crystal sun diminished and winked out.
More light, this time from the crystals exploding as the wards were overwhelmed. Now. He snapped it to Mesteno's mind as the creatures poured in from both sides.
Mesteno saw the light, a flash of scarlet through the thin covering of his eyelids, bright enough that he knew there would be sunspots when he opened them. Immediately upon the Elf's command, his blade sang, free of the scabbard, and he put his back toward the Lexius’ to guard the side of the tunnel they'd been intending to continue down.
Far from graceless despite scars and old injuries which should have been cripplingly painful (and probably were when winter hit!) but with his scimitar he was a force to be reckoned with. Despite the close confines of the tunnel, he managed to keep his side clear as the fiends came slashing at them, denying any the opportunity to break past him. The notched, silver glinting blade darting in and out cat-quick, clipping loose a hand here, severing the wings that battered at him and leaving the tunnel floor littered with body parts and dead fiends.
Then he brought them up, latent power waking, then stretching outward. Slowly to begin with, and then with deranged vigour, the fiend corpses began to fall on their fellows as his allies.
Mesteno was not however, coming through it unscathed. Perhaps it was the split concentration, but the first wound he caught was in his thigh, a swipe of claws which tore effortlessly through his pants just north of the knee. He made not a sound, always determinedly quiet when he fought, but he couldn't quite bite back the bark of pain when a second set of claws caught him at the base of his throat. A few inches higher and there'd have been some alarming spurting of blood. As it was he clamped a hand over it, digging the heel of his palm into the thick flowing fluid to press as he fought. Like he'd stop. He was furious now.
In the back, near where the ward had collapsed on Mesteno's side, stood another of the Fiends not partaking in the carnage. Instead, the others seemed to be protecting it as much as they were distracting the necromancer. The protected Fiend held a cut diamond in its ethereal, clawed hands and was gazing at the Sadist as if enamoured. Fixated, in truth it was casting a spell, trying to pull Mesteno's soul from his body and into the gem. The dark, insidious nature of the attempted theft wrapped its magical claws around Mesteno's soul greedily.
Lexius was much too busy defending his end of the tunnel to have noticed the stand-alone Fiend and its attempted theft. Not right at first. He'd put three glowing crystals toward the ceiling above their head, further brightening the area and weakening the creatures. And he was twisting his Will in ways that caused strange, out of place sounds and smells to briefly surround where he and Mesteno fought. He was also wielding two gleaming daggers that seemed to be made of pure energy with every bit as much skill and grace as Mesteno was applying his scimitar to the situation.
Still connected mind to mind with the necromancer, he gave a mental snarl when he suddenly identified the reasons behind some strange tugging sensation he felt. Find the mage! He suddenly hissed, turning away from his end of the tunnel to do just that despite the swarm of Fiends he had yet to deal with.
Re: Welcome to Sigil
[Continued...]
Those instructions couldn't have been simpler. Getting past the mage's fellows to strike at him though, that was far more a problem.
Another attempt to claw Mesteno’s face open was narrowly averted, a gnarled hand gone flying and a gout of fiend blood slicking the floor by Mesteno's boot. Really it was just joining a growing pool of the stuff, and that was probably why he chose to use it. A valuable resource, blood. Whilst the dead fiends fought on, pulling their own kind down to tear and bite at them, Mesteno actually let the mage he'd spied beyond them all pull his energy from within its usual confines... and despite the crystal there waiting for its capture, it plunged along the slick carpet of blood with the same voracious appetite that the necromancer had observed Lexius with only the day prior.
The fluid on the ground dragged suddenly at those thrashing, shadowy forms, as if gravity meant to hold them fast, and any unlucky enough to be stood in it were going to be to succumb to varying degrees of rot, working its way through clawed feet, turning ankles twig-brittle and filling the tunnel with a foul stink.
Lexius did nothing to interfere with Mesteno's natural abilities. Well, unnatural, but effective! He did maintain the mind to mind connection, though. In fact, he firmed it, making sure the Sadist knew beyond a doubt that he was there. He was providing a grounding point for the necromancer, a beacon for him to gather himself back to even as Mesteno poured his power out across the blood-slick stone floor of the tunnel and flung himself physically through the throng of flailing, vaporous bodies left on his side.
Behind him, the shadows swarmed across his back, tearing at his jacket and legs and head. He had just enough time to send those energy daggers zinging through the air as flanking guards to Mesteno's passage, making sure he got to that mage unhindered, before he was covered in writhing blackness.
The necromancer went plunging headlong down the passage, hacking at those flailing his way with a snarl-turned-words for the mage staring at him so fixedly. His soul was stubbornly remaining anchored in his flesh, not nearly as tempted to leave him as when Hades had attempted to lever it free. It was however eclipsing him enormously, spreading out as wide as the tunnel would allow and lapping around the mage and his crystal defiantly.
No, it wouldn't go in, despite the pull.
"Meus anima fortis est," Mesteno told the fiend as its eyes flew wide, dropping the diamond in its haste to try and get away from the man.
Lexius might feel just how bloodthirsty the necromancer was in that moment, how sickeningly barbaric his intentions, to the point it was hard to imagine he'd ever set foot in civilised society. The energy he'd loosed seemed to thrive on that particular mind-set, urging him on as if that viciousness was something it would prefer him to act upon permanently.
It was a pity the mage died so swiftly, the scimitar's notched edged nevertheless biting with all the surety of a scalpel. It hacked down through the retreating creature's shoulder and down through collarbone, rib, into chest as if he meant to cleave it in half like a berserker. The fiend was collapsing, dragging his sword arm down with its slumping weight.
The Elf's voice reached Mesteno's mind abruptly, cut through the rage like a cool knife.
Duck flat.
Then something at Lexius end of the tunnel went WHOOMP, like a jet breaking the sound barrier, and concussive force came rippling down the tunnel. It blew the fiends in its path apart like so much paper.
Mesteno barely had time to drop, the force buffeting him violently and sending his hair into a wild, blood matted mess where it'd begun to come loose of the messy knot he'd looped it into. It actually sent him sliding a few feet further along the tunnel, his blade clanking noisily along the stone floor until it passed him by. He wasn't getting up though. He was staying right there on the floor, reeling his energy in and breathing hard. Not from exertion, but simple fury. He was endeavouring to get himself back under control, to ignore the fiery pain in his thigh and the warm wet dribbling over the base of his throat.
The Elf felt that harsh, wild violence coming from the Sadist. He felt it, catalogued it, then issued a low, firm command to Mesteno. Once again the words were mind to mind and his grip on that connection remained rock steady and firm.
Be calm. And then again as he came up out of the crouch he'd been bent into by the weight of all those smothering fiends. He wasn't bleeding like Mesteno was, though his jacket did look more than a little torn up. His gaze burned a bright violet and shimmering blue as he turned it the Sadist's way. Be calm. This time, it was more coax than command, but still somehow inflexible. They are gone.
Was that a mental growl? Yes, it surely was, as if Mesteno’s thoughts were still more monster than man, but at least the second time Lexius asked, there were words instead of noise. I know. Simply that, and neither petulant nor dismissive.
They were gone. Oh, parts of them remained everywhere. And those at the outer edges of that now dissipated, concussive force had escaped the brunt of the destruction. But they were fleeing rather than coming back to face such opposition again. Besides, a good number of their forces and their leader had been hacked to ribbons with enough viciousness to teach them a lesson about seemingly weak looking humans!
The Elf closed the distance between them, thoughts still out and searching for any other threats that might suddenly appear. But so far, it was quiet.
There was a tremor in Mesteno’s muscles that was more to do with self-restraint than exertion, and he wrestled that under control determinedly as he sat up, moving with care so he didn't end up thrashing about in the remains littering the tunnel. The mage he'd slain was only a few feet away, and the desire to hack up its leftovers saw him bare his teeth at it, the way a mutt might at something that'd dared to take a bite at it. Where its diamond had gone he didn't know, but he wasn't going to risk picking it up if he saw it.
"Little shits," he muttered at last, grabbing at the wall with one hand and pulling himself back to his feet.
His leg still functioned, no major muscle damage. Just a flesh wound, would be the appropriate term - structural integrity wasn't a problem. Taking a few cautious steps further along the corridor, he stared as far down the tunnel as his nocturnal vision would allow, but there was nothing sticking around to fight them. A victory then, albeit a messy one. The corridor stank. At least the dead bits of things weren't still flopping around trying to tear at each other though.
The beads seemed to agree, for they were giving a little clattering growl of their own. Or maybe that was a reaction to their Elf being growled at!
Said Elf seemed much calmer. Which was a point in his favor given the sudden urge he had to slam Mesteno against a wall. Just the fact he felt that urge was enough to make him pause and blink, though it passed as swiftly as most emotions, no matter how out of place it had been. He absolutely did not need the Sadist's emotions to be infectious!
Those instructions couldn't have been simpler. Getting past the mage's fellows to strike at him though, that was far more a problem.
Another attempt to claw Mesteno’s face open was narrowly averted, a gnarled hand gone flying and a gout of fiend blood slicking the floor by Mesteno's boot. Really it was just joining a growing pool of the stuff, and that was probably why he chose to use it. A valuable resource, blood. Whilst the dead fiends fought on, pulling their own kind down to tear and bite at them, Mesteno actually let the mage he'd spied beyond them all pull his energy from within its usual confines... and despite the crystal there waiting for its capture, it plunged along the slick carpet of blood with the same voracious appetite that the necromancer had observed Lexius with only the day prior.
The fluid on the ground dragged suddenly at those thrashing, shadowy forms, as if gravity meant to hold them fast, and any unlucky enough to be stood in it were going to be to succumb to varying degrees of rot, working its way through clawed feet, turning ankles twig-brittle and filling the tunnel with a foul stink.
Lexius did nothing to interfere with Mesteno's natural abilities. Well, unnatural, but effective! He did maintain the mind to mind connection, though. In fact, he firmed it, making sure the Sadist knew beyond a doubt that he was there. He was providing a grounding point for the necromancer, a beacon for him to gather himself back to even as Mesteno poured his power out across the blood-slick stone floor of the tunnel and flung himself physically through the throng of flailing, vaporous bodies left on his side.
Behind him, the shadows swarmed across his back, tearing at his jacket and legs and head. He had just enough time to send those energy daggers zinging through the air as flanking guards to Mesteno's passage, making sure he got to that mage unhindered, before he was covered in writhing blackness.
The necromancer went plunging headlong down the passage, hacking at those flailing his way with a snarl-turned-words for the mage staring at him so fixedly. His soul was stubbornly remaining anchored in his flesh, not nearly as tempted to leave him as when Hades had attempted to lever it free. It was however eclipsing him enormously, spreading out as wide as the tunnel would allow and lapping around the mage and his crystal defiantly.
No, it wouldn't go in, despite the pull.
"Meus anima fortis est," Mesteno told the fiend as its eyes flew wide, dropping the diamond in its haste to try and get away from the man.
Lexius might feel just how bloodthirsty the necromancer was in that moment, how sickeningly barbaric his intentions, to the point it was hard to imagine he'd ever set foot in civilised society. The energy he'd loosed seemed to thrive on that particular mind-set, urging him on as if that viciousness was something it would prefer him to act upon permanently.
It was a pity the mage died so swiftly, the scimitar's notched edged nevertheless biting with all the surety of a scalpel. It hacked down through the retreating creature's shoulder and down through collarbone, rib, into chest as if he meant to cleave it in half like a berserker. The fiend was collapsing, dragging his sword arm down with its slumping weight.
The Elf's voice reached Mesteno's mind abruptly, cut through the rage like a cool knife.
Duck flat.
Then something at Lexius end of the tunnel went WHOOMP, like a jet breaking the sound barrier, and concussive force came rippling down the tunnel. It blew the fiends in its path apart like so much paper.
Mesteno barely had time to drop, the force buffeting him violently and sending his hair into a wild, blood matted mess where it'd begun to come loose of the messy knot he'd looped it into. It actually sent him sliding a few feet further along the tunnel, his blade clanking noisily along the stone floor until it passed him by. He wasn't getting up though. He was staying right there on the floor, reeling his energy in and breathing hard. Not from exertion, but simple fury. He was endeavouring to get himself back under control, to ignore the fiery pain in his thigh and the warm wet dribbling over the base of his throat.
The Elf felt that harsh, wild violence coming from the Sadist. He felt it, catalogued it, then issued a low, firm command to Mesteno. Once again the words were mind to mind and his grip on that connection remained rock steady and firm.
Be calm. And then again as he came up out of the crouch he'd been bent into by the weight of all those smothering fiends. He wasn't bleeding like Mesteno was, though his jacket did look more than a little torn up. His gaze burned a bright violet and shimmering blue as he turned it the Sadist's way. Be calm. This time, it was more coax than command, but still somehow inflexible. They are gone.
Was that a mental growl? Yes, it surely was, as if Mesteno’s thoughts were still more monster than man, but at least the second time Lexius asked, there were words instead of noise. I know. Simply that, and neither petulant nor dismissive.
They were gone. Oh, parts of them remained everywhere. And those at the outer edges of that now dissipated, concussive force had escaped the brunt of the destruction. But they were fleeing rather than coming back to face such opposition again. Besides, a good number of their forces and their leader had been hacked to ribbons with enough viciousness to teach them a lesson about seemingly weak looking humans!
The Elf closed the distance between them, thoughts still out and searching for any other threats that might suddenly appear. But so far, it was quiet.
There was a tremor in Mesteno’s muscles that was more to do with self-restraint than exertion, and he wrestled that under control determinedly as he sat up, moving with care so he didn't end up thrashing about in the remains littering the tunnel. The mage he'd slain was only a few feet away, and the desire to hack up its leftovers saw him bare his teeth at it, the way a mutt might at something that'd dared to take a bite at it. Where its diamond had gone he didn't know, but he wasn't going to risk picking it up if he saw it.
"Little shits," he muttered at last, grabbing at the wall with one hand and pulling himself back to his feet.
His leg still functioned, no major muscle damage. Just a flesh wound, would be the appropriate term - structural integrity wasn't a problem. Taking a few cautious steps further along the corridor, he stared as far down the tunnel as his nocturnal vision would allow, but there was nothing sticking around to fight them. A victory then, albeit a messy one. The corridor stank. At least the dead bits of things weren't still flopping around trying to tear at each other though.
The beads seemed to agree, for they were giving a little clattering growl of their own. Or maybe that was a reaction to their Elf being growled at!
Said Elf seemed much calmer. Which was a point in his favor given the sudden urge he had to slam Mesteno against a wall. Just the fact he felt that urge was enough to make him pause and blink, though it passed as swiftly as most emotions, no matter how out of place it had been. He absolutely did not need the Sadist's emotions to be infectious!
Re: Welcome to Sigil
[Continued...]
Lexius slid a strip of muslin free from around his neck and sent it floating Mesteno's way. "Bind your wounds." He advised serenely, out loud, already turning back to their little camp. "We should not linger here." He bent to gather up his satchel, called the floating crystals from the ceiling back down to their hover around his waist and doused their light.
Unaware that he was inspiring any violent urges in his companion inadvertently, Mesteno was quite busy harnessing his own base instincts, that intrinsic desire to make things suffer which'd earned him a reputation as a sadist to begin with. He was a little subtler about it these days than he had been once upon a time, but there seemed to be some measure of common knowledge out there even amongst people he'd never discussed it with. Maybe he just couldn't pull off being a convincing pacifist.
The way he snatched the muslin from the air suggested a lingering level of aggression, but he complied with the instructions anyway, using the strip to wind about his neck, uncomfortably tight in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. There wasn't enough to spare for his leg, so he left it to clot up on its own. He wasn't about to bleed out because of it, anyway.
"We used the rune. We defused the trap," he muttered as he fastened the knot, already on the move as he worked. "So someone has been tracking our movements down here in order t'know so precisely where to send them. I can't think they just happened to come across our scent and were smart enough to pincer us the way they did. So which of the pantheon is most likely to send shadow fiends down here to intercept us?"
And why was that mage trying so specifically to snatch his soul? If they hadn't been working for Hades, he might almost have thought it him, making a minion do what he'd failed to back when they'd visited the temple district.
Lexius was doing one those mental exams of the Sadist even as they gathered up their things and head right back down to the tunnel.
"They were most likely sent." The Elf agreed with Mesteno's logic on the matter. His boot kicked free the dropped diamond from the muck on the ground and he paused long enough to collect it up with another scrap of muslin. "The one we annoyed seems the most likely candidate. If it was from them. Perhaps there is another working in collusion with them. Or working against our purpose." Too many possibilities, really, but all worth considering. Lexius tucked the diamond away into his satchel and continued on.
"Whatever the case, I believe we are now on a stricter timetable." And so he was lengthening his stride and sending a gleaming crystal floating out ahead of them in the search for the last junction, the last rune. The crystal, at least, would flush out any lingering Fiends should they be hiding in the darkness ahead of them. It might also serve to give them warning of other creatures lingering about.
Mesteno matched his pace to Lexius', but he didn't suggest they edge up to a lope just yet. He wanted to give the wounds in his leg some time to clot, which would be difficult enough with the constant movement, before he did anything more strenuous than a fast walk. The floating crystal was so vividly bright that he walked with his eyes at a constant squint, hand resting uneasily on the pommel of his sword as if he thought he might need to draw it again at a moment's notice. He'd barely had time to do more than wipe it off, a terrible thing to do to good steel.
"Got my suspicions one of them knows shit about me," he murmured as they walked, his frown now a fixture. "Would have been easy enough to have those things kill me if they'd sent enough. I can only fight that many for so long, even with you at my back," a compliment paid without intention! "but it was like that mage one specifically wanted to trap my soul. Maybe it coulda done it when they overwhelmed me, or maybe it was using it as a distraction to keep me from using certain talents, but I get the feeling it wasn't just a method to keep us from getting to Whisper."
Something had the beads muttering at the Elf's waist It was a soft, sporadic sound, but apparently annoying enough that Lexius touched his fingers to the string to shut them up. They quieted for a bit. Mostly. Every once in a while, they did make another note of noise that the Elf endeavoured to ignore. He didn't answer Mesteno's musing for several minutes, but when he did so it was on the heels of a slowly drawn then carefully expelled breath.
"There are fiends in the Abyss." His tone was smooth, serene, quiet. Still sands, calm waters. "They trade in souls and memories taken from others. I believe these were those kind. Your soul, should it be trapped, is probably worth a fortune to such traders. The Abyss is one step beyond Carceri." And Carceri, of course, was where Tartarus lay. All very snug, these connections! Yet still there were no clear answers. If anything, the puzzle just became more complex.
"Carceri... I remember seeing that name on the map you showed me," Mesteno admitted, "but I don't think we talked about what's there. Folks who trade in souls, huh? I should make some connections."
He was attempting to be humorous of course. He utilised souls for all sorts of things, and had been in the possession of (and occasionally devoured) those of everything from the most mundane of humans, to as exotic as draconic. That didn't mean he was about to start trading them in though, even if that part of his nature which edged a little closer to the black every year was genuinely intrigued by the idea.
When the Elf spoke again, his tone was a bit more...tight.
"Do I need to look at your leg or neck?" He didn't look at Mesteno when he asked it. And he was fairly certain he knew what the answer would be. The beads gave a satisfied click, though, then settled down to their normal silence.
"I'd rather you saved your energy for whatever we're going to meet ahead," the necromancer told him.
The wound in his throat would probably have benefited from the attention, but the tight tone of Lexius' voice spoke volumes. Wary? Repulsed? He wasn't sure of the cause, but he heard it loud and clear, and there was truth in the necessity that they prioritise. They might be coming out with far worse before the end of it all, and they really hadn't the time to stop for first aid now that their schedule was so tight. "I'm not about to bleed out," he added, just to reassure.
The Elf nodded once in acceptance of the answer with absolutely no emotional inflection whatsoever and the beads made a sound so soft it might easily be missed. If somehow beads could sigh, his just did ever so quietly.
Lexius returned to the subject at hand, the fingers of one hand curling restlessly at his side. He'd never recovered the energy daggers. But then, that hadn't been lying about to be recovered. Not physically, at least.
"Their underworld is there. The prison." Where Hades had taken them. A small corner of it anyway. "And I would..."a sliver of heat almost entered his voice, but he caught it and cooled it right off before continuing, "...I would advise against ever visiting the Abyss or doing business with those there." Chaos and evil combined ruled that plane. Not something Mesteno should court given the state of his soul! At least, in the Elf’s opinion. Which he was trying not to weigh the Sadist down with. He was Mr Neutrality.
"Don't worry, Lexius. I'm not so far gone I'd really consider it. And if I do ever get to the point my morals fail me on that front, you have my permission to kill me."
Because that was not a person Mesteno desired to be, and the very notion of becoming that way made him hot with shame. His determination not to become the stereotypical necromancer was matched only by the propensity to do ill his soul seemed so rife with. Which would win remained to be seen. If this journey ended as poorly as he expected it to, he might never need worry about that fork in the path!
Lexius slid a strip of muslin free from around his neck and sent it floating Mesteno's way. "Bind your wounds." He advised serenely, out loud, already turning back to their little camp. "We should not linger here." He bent to gather up his satchel, called the floating crystals from the ceiling back down to their hover around his waist and doused their light.
Unaware that he was inspiring any violent urges in his companion inadvertently, Mesteno was quite busy harnessing his own base instincts, that intrinsic desire to make things suffer which'd earned him a reputation as a sadist to begin with. He was a little subtler about it these days than he had been once upon a time, but there seemed to be some measure of common knowledge out there even amongst people he'd never discussed it with. Maybe he just couldn't pull off being a convincing pacifist.
The way he snatched the muslin from the air suggested a lingering level of aggression, but he complied with the instructions anyway, using the strip to wind about his neck, uncomfortably tight in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. There wasn't enough to spare for his leg, so he left it to clot up on its own. He wasn't about to bleed out because of it, anyway.
"We used the rune. We defused the trap," he muttered as he fastened the knot, already on the move as he worked. "So someone has been tracking our movements down here in order t'know so precisely where to send them. I can't think they just happened to come across our scent and were smart enough to pincer us the way they did. So which of the pantheon is most likely to send shadow fiends down here to intercept us?"
And why was that mage trying so specifically to snatch his soul? If they hadn't been working for Hades, he might almost have thought it him, making a minion do what he'd failed to back when they'd visited the temple district.
Lexius was doing one those mental exams of the Sadist even as they gathered up their things and head right back down to the tunnel.
"They were most likely sent." The Elf agreed with Mesteno's logic on the matter. His boot kicked free the dropped diamond from the muck on the ground and he paused long enough to collect it up with another scrap of muslin. "The one we annoyed seems the most likely candidate. If it was from them. Perhaps there is another working in collusion with them. Or working against our purpose." Too many possibilities, really, but all worth considering. Lexius tucked the diamond away into his satchel and continued on.
"Whatever the case, I believe we are now on a stricter timetable." And so he was lengthening his stride and sending a gleaming crystal floating out ahead of them in the search for the last junction, the last rune. The crystal, at least, would flush out any lingering Fiends should they be hiding in the darkness ahead of them. It might also serve to give them warning of other creatures lingering about.
Mesteno matched his pace to Lexius', but he didn't suggest they edge up to a lope just yet. He wanted to give the wounds in his leg some time to clot, which would be difficult enough with the constant movement, before he did anything more strenuous than a fast walk. The floating crystal was so vividly bright that he walked with his eyes at a constant squint, hand resting uneasily on the pommel of his sword as if he thought he might need to draw it again at a moment's notice. He'd barely had time to do more than wipe it off, a terrible thing to do to good steel.
"Got my suspicions one of them knows shit about me," he murmured as they walked, his frown now a fixture. "Would have been easy enough to have those things kill me if they'd sent enough. I can only fight that many for so long, even with you at my back," a compliment paid without intention! "but it was like that mage one specifically wanted to trap my soul. Maybe it coulda done it when they overwhelmed me, or maybe it was using it as a distraction to keep me from using certain talents, but I get the feeling it wasn't just a method to keep us from getting to Whisper."
Something had the beads muttering at the Elf's waist It was a soft, sporadic sound, but apparently annoying enough that Lexius touched his fingers to the string to shut them up. They quieted for a bit. Mostly. Every once in a while, they did make another note of noise that the Elf endeavoured to ignore. He didn't answer Mesteno's musing for several minutes, but when he did so it was on the heels of a slowly drawn then carefully expelled breath.
"There are fiends in the Abyss." His tone was smooth, serene, quiet. Still sands, calm waters. "They trade in souls and memories taken from others. I believe these were those kind. Your soul, should it be trapped, is probably worth a fortune to such traders. The Abyss is one step beyond Carceri." And Carceri, of course, was where Tartarus lay. All very snug, these connections! Yet still there were no clear answers. If anything, the puzzle just became more complex.
"Carceri... I remember seeing that name on the map you showed me," Mesteno admitted, "but I don't think we talked about what's there. Folks who trade in souls, huh? I should make some connections."
He was attempting to be humorous of course. He utilised souls for all sorts of things, and had been in the possession of (and occasionally devoured) those of everything from the most mundane of humans, to as exotic as draconic. That didn't mean he was about to start trading them in though, even if that part of his nature which edged a little closer to the black every year was genuinely intrigued by the idea.
When the Elf spoke again, his tone was a bit more...tight.
"Do I need to look at your leg or neck?" He didn't look at Mesteno when he asked it. And he was fairly certain he knew what the answer would be. The beads gave a satisfied click, though, then settled down to their normal silence.
"I'd rather you saved your energy for whatever we're going to meet ahead," the necromancer told him.
The wound in his throat would probably have benefited from the attention, but the tight tone of Lexius' voice spoke volumes. Wary? Repulsed? He wasn't sure of the cause, but he heard it loud and clear, and there was truth in the necessity that they prioritise. They might be coming out with far worse before the end of it all, and they really hadn't the time to stop for first aid now that their schedule was so tight. "I'm not about to bleed out," he added, just to reassure.
The Elf nodded once in acceptance of the answer with absolutely no emotional inflection whatsoever and the beads made a sound so soft it might easily be missed. If somehow beads could sigh, his just did ever so quietly.
Lexius returned to the subject at hand, the fingers of one hand curling restlessly at his side. He'd never recovered the energy daggers. But then, that hadn't been lying about to be recovered. Not physically, at least.
"Their underworld is there. The prison." Where Hades had taken them. A small corner of it anyway. "And I would..."a sliver of heat almost entered his voice, but he caught it and cooled it right off before continuing, "...I would advise against ever visiting the Abyss or doing business with those there." Chaos and evil combined ruled that plane. Not something Mesteno should court given the state of his soul! At least, in the Elf’s opinion. Which he was trying not to weigh the Sadist down with. He was Mr Neutrality.
"Don't worry, Lexius. I'm not so far gone I'd really consider it. And if I do ever get to the point my morals fail me on that front, you have my permission to kill me."
Because that was not a person Mesteno desired to be, and the very notion of becoming that way made him hot with shame. His determination not to become the stereotypical necromancer was matched only by the propensity to do ill his soul seemed so rife with. Which would win remained to be seen. If this journey ended as poorly as he expected it to, he might never need worry about that fork in the path!
Re: Welcome to Sigil
[Continued...]
Up ahead, the crystal had stopped and was hovering in a much larger space than the tunnel they were in. It seemed as if it didn't know which way to go next. Lexius' pace slowed and he half held up a hand to call Mesteno's attention to the fact something might be wrong.
Slowing too, Mesteno offered a short, sharp nod of understanding. From where he was stood in the tunnel, he couldn't see nearly enough of the space beyond the crystal to get a true sense of the space, but it definitely looked as if they'd reached some variance worthy of being cautious over.
"See any runes in the wall here?" he asked the Elf, wondering if whatever might be inhabiting that space (and he suspected there might be something lurking!) could be banished the way they'd been able with the tunnels. "There's one left, right?"
As they neared the exit of the tunnel, Lexius paused rather than walking into the large cavern where the crystal hovered. He inspected the wall on his side but found no markings placed there. There were none on the Sadist's side, either. And they did have one rune left. From what could be seen in the dim light of the crystal and beyond it, there appeared to be no other exits from the room.
But there was an extra layer of blackness directly below where the crystal hung that didn't seem effected by its wan light. Like an oil slick on the ground. A black puddle of absolute darkness arranged in a perfect circle that was ringed again by series of symbols etched into the floor and ringed again by wavy, unbroken lines.
Eyes narrowed, Lexius silently bid Mesteno to step into the room before him. He had one of those warding crystals between his fingers and would drop it in place to guard this single entry point once they had both stepped into the room...or needed to step back out if something appeared!
Everything remained silent and still. Lexius counted off a minute before stepping into the room himself. Still nothing changed. He counted off another minute then set the crystal in his fingers onto the floor right at the exit of the tunnel. The ward snapped into place... and still nothing changed.
The ceiling of the cavern was mostly lost to darkness, soaring a good thirty feet over their heads and bristling with stalactites, like stony teeth in a maw held wide open and ready. The cavern floor was unusually smooth and even and covered with a thin layer of loose dirt that might have been shedding from the ceiling bit by bit over the years. The walls were irregular and rough as any natural formation should be, with only one section of it forming sort of a pocket off on the opposite side of the tunnel. The pool and the runes and the crystal waited quietly for their approach.
A moment. The Elf murmured mind to mind rather than out loud. And then he directed his glowing crystal on a tour of the cavern, shedding more light into all the nooks and crannies (and that pocket!) where some still, shadow-loving creature might lurk. But there was nothing anywhere to be seen. Just stone, stone and more stone. Lexius gleaned nothing more from his probing tendrils of thought, either. Nothing.
The Elf produced the rune from a pouch, holding it for Mesteno to see, but the angle was just all wrong to try and make a certain identification from where they stood. I will go. He decided. And was already stepping on a cushion of air rather than the ground, to move closer to the oil slick.
Lexius was the recipient of the mental equivalent of a grunt of acknowledgment, and the necromancer chose to hang back instead, where he'd have a wider view of the cavern and anything that might reveal itself once inspection of the oil slick began.
Attempting to examine the area for any signs of death proved fruitless, not due to a lack of it, but due to what felt like a deliberate hazing to prevent the use of magic. He abandoned the attempt rather than strain against it, and determined to be useful in other ways.
One particular feature of the cavern had struck him as particularly odd. Throughout the tunnels they'd been travelling, obviously the work of masons, there had never been a floor as smooth as this one. Despite the dust and grit that'd fallen from the roof over the years, it was just too remarkable not to wonder about what might lie beneath it, so as Lexius walked on air and set about comparing runes and markings, Mesteno crouched down, and used a gloved palm, a little tacky with blood, to sweep the dust aside so he could see what the rock underneath it looked like.
There were very, very faint lines etched into the stone as if it had been drawn upon. They were old and faint, but curious enough he widened the area of dust his palm had cleared to get a better look and determine whether they were just confined to one spot. They proved to stretch long, as if delineating a corridor.
Lexius took one, two, three steps....then simply disappeared.
You know, I think there's something right under our damn feet, Mesteno had been saying, with just a touch of accomplishment in his voice to suggest he was pleased with his finding. But when he glanced up to look in the psion's direction so he could direct his attention to his findings-- no Elf!
"Lexius?" His name out loud, because if the Elf was gone, he thoroughly expected the mental connection to be likewise. After a moment of outward probing in he realised he yet felt it, but it certainly wasn’t active.
All at once those markings he'd found on the ground didn't seem nearly so interesting now! "Lexius...?" Don't panic yet, fucker, do not. He twisted about to look over his shoulder where they'd entered, just to make sure nothing was lurking back there beyond the crystal ward, then took a few hesitant steps towards the shadowy spot.
Everything changed. One, two, three steps was all it took to have the necromancer suddenly flanked on the left and right by stone walls that stretched all the way up to the ceiling. He was suddenly standing in that corridor that had been outlined on the cavern floor.
Mesteno had stepped into the maze.
Something snorted somewhere distant. No close. No, silence. And still no sign of a certain Elf.
Mesteno came to an abrupt stop the moment the world changed, and again his heart rate quickened, the pulse throbbing in the base of his throat where the wound's bleeding had slowed to an irritating trickle under the wrap of muslin.
He did the first thing which came to mind, and reached out to check how solid they were. They could after all have been illusory. When they proved solid, he turned to look both ways, up, back at the ground. The lines were gone. And what the *** was that snort!? He checked the mental connection again, found it unproductive, and exhaled hard enough to send the loose strands of hair about his face fluttering wildly. Plainly he had to pick a direction, and something, somewhere was lurking, but he couldn't tell which way.
Finally, he continued in the direction he'd been facing when he'd taken those few steps toward the cavern's centre, as soft footed as ever he was, and not daring to call out to the Elf in case whatever was snorting came to find him instead. Be just his luck if it sniffed him out because of the blood. Inevitably he came to a junction before long, with no indication as to which way he should move, and no runes to follow that he could see. As a precaution, he slipped the scimitar from his scabbard.
Like a fucking labyrinth, he was thinking, mildly dismayed since his sense of direction was one of his greatest weaknesses. And that was when it struck him. Grecian legends. Mazes. Fucking minotaurs.
The maze began to change.
Up ahead, the crystal had stopped and was hovering in a much larger space than the tunnel they were in. It seemed as if it didn't know which way to go next. Lexius' pace slowed and he half held up a hand to call Mesteno's attention to the fact something might be wrong.
Slowing too, Mesteno offered a short, sharp nod of understanding. From where he was stood in the tunnel, he couldn't see nearly enough of the space beyond the crystal to get a true sense of the space, but it definitely looked as if they'd reached some variance worthy of being cautious over.
"See any runes in the wall here?" he asked the Elf, wondering if whatever might be inhabiting that space (and he suspected there might be something lurking!) could be banished the way they'd been able with the tunnels. "There's one left, right?"
As they neared the exit of the tunnel, Lexius paused rather than walking into the large cavern where the crystal hovered. He inspected the wall on his side but found no markings placed there. There were none on the Sadist's side, either. And they did have one rune left. From what could be seen in the dim light of the crystal and beyond it, there appeared to be no other exits from the room.
But there was an extra layer of blackness directly below where the crystal hung that didn't seem effected by its wan light. Like an oil slick on the ground. A black puddle of absolute darkness arranged in a perfect circle that was ringed again by series of symbols etched into the floor and ringed again by wavy, unbroken lines.
Eyes narrowed, Lexius silently bid Mesteno to step into the room before him. He had one of those warding crystals between his fingers and would drop it in place to guard this single entry point once they had both stepped into the room...or needed to step back out if something appeared!
Everything remained silent and still. Lexius counted off a minute before stepping into the room himself. Still nothing changed. He counted off another minute then set the crystal in his fingers onto the floor right at the exit of the tunnel. The ward snapped into place... and still nothing changed.
The ceiling of the cavern was mostly lost to darkness, soaring a good thirty feet over their heads and bristling with stalactites, like stony teeth in a maw held wide open and ready. The cavern floor was unusually smooth and even and covered with a thin layer of loose dirt that might have been shedding from the ceiling bit by bit over the years. The walls were irregular and rough as any natural formation should be, with only one section of it forming sort of a pocket off on the opposite side of the tunnel. The pool and the runes and the crystal waited quietly for their approach.
A moment. The Elf murmured mind to mind rather than out loud. And then he directed his glowing crystal on a tour of the cavern, shedding more light into all the nooks and crannies (and that pocket!) where some still, shadow-loving creature might lurk. But there was nothing anywhere to be seen. Just stone, stone and more stone. Lexius gleaned nothing more from his probing tendrils of thought, either. Nothing.
The Elf produced the rune from a pouch, holding it for Mesteno to see, but the angle was just all wrong to try and make a certain identification from where they stood. I will go. He decided. And was already stepping on a cushion of air rather than the ground, to move closer to the oil slick.
Lexius was the recipient of the mental equivalent of a grunt of acknowledgment, and the necromancer chose to hang back instead, where he'd have a wider view of the cavern and anything that might reveal itself once inspection of the oil slick began.
Attempting to examine the area for any signs of death proved fruitless, not due to a lack of it, but due to what felt like a deliberate hazing to prevent the use of magic. He abandoned the attempt rather than strain against it, and determined to be useful in other ways.
One particular feature of the cavern had struck him as particularly odd. Throughout the tunnels they'd been travelling, obviously the work of masons, there had never been a floor as smooth as this one. Despite the dust and grit that'd fallen from the roof over the years, it was just too remarkable not to wonder about what might lie beneath it, so as Lexius walked on air and set about comparing runes and markings, Mesteno crouched down, and used a gloved palm, a little tacky with blood, to sweep the dust aside so he could see what the rock underneath it looked like.
There were very, very faint lines etched into the stone as if it had been drawn upon. They were old and faint, but curious enough he widened the area of dust his palm had cleared to get a better look and determine whether they were just confined to one spot. They proved to stretch long, as if delineating a corridor.
Lexius took one, two, three steps....then simply disappeared.
You know, I think there's something right under our damn feet, Mesteno had been saying, with just a touch of accomplishment in his voice to suggest he was pleased with his finding. But when he glanced up to look in the psion's direction so he could direct his attention to his findings-- no Elf!
"Lexius?" His name out loud, because if the Elf was gone, he thoroughly expected the mental connection to be likewise. After a moment of outward probing in he realised he yet felt it, but it certainly wasn’t active.
All at once those markings he'd found on the ground didn't seem nearly so interesting now! "Lexius...?" Don't panic yet, fucker, do not. He twisted about to look over his shoulder where they'd entered, just to make sure nothing was lurking back there beyond the crystal ward, then took a few hesitant steps towards the shadowy spot.
Everything changed. One, two, three steps was all it took to have the necromancer suddenly flanked on the left and right by stone walls that stretched all the way up to the ceiling. He was suddenly standing in that corridor that had been outlined on the cavern floor.
Mesteno had stepped into the maze.
Something snorted somewhere distant. No close. No, silence. And still no sign of a certain Elf.
Mesteno came to an abrupt stop the moment the world changed, and again his heart rate quickened, the pulse throbbing in the base of his throat where the wound's bleeding had slowed to an irritating trickle under the wrap of muslin.
He did the first thing which came to mind, and reached out to check how solid they were. They could after all have been illusory. When they proved solid, he turned to look both ways, up, back at the ground. The lines were gone. And what the *** was that snort!? He checked the mental connection again, found it unproductive, and exhaled hard enough to send the loose strands of hair about his face fluttering wildly. Plainly he had to pick a direction, and something, somewhere was lurking, but he couldn't tell which way.
Finally, he continued in the direction he'd been facing when he'd taken those few steps toward the cavern's centre, as soft footed as ever he was, and not daring to call out to the Elf in case whatever was snorting came to find him instead. Be just his luck if it sniffed him out because of the blood. Inevitably he came to a junction before long, with no indication as to which way he should move, and no runes to follow that he could see. As a precaution, he slipped the scimitar from his scabbard.
Like a fucking labyrinth, he was thinking, mildly dismayed since his sense of direction was one of his greatest weaknesses. And that was when it struck him. Grecian legends. Mazes. Fucking minotaurs.
The maze began to change.
Re: Welcome to Sigil
[Continued...]
It started with a thick, white mist that crept along the floor. Tangled vines appeared, reaching down from the top of the walls. Not quite long enough to reach him yet, but longer the further he delved. At one point he tested his scimitar against them, to see how quickly they grew back, but he couldn't ignore the feeling that they were determined to move him forward, onward to either the maze's centre, or the creature hunting him.
On the positive side, with each appearance of some new element, it seemed he was making actual progress in getting somewhere. When nothing changed, he invariably hit a dead end and had to retrace his steps and try a different route.
Lexius? He tried again, because what harm would it do?
Still no words from the Elf. But he did get something in return. Rather than words or an emotion, it was just a vague sort of tingling that sent actual goose bumps marching along the back of his neck, the skin of his arms.
When he made a left turn down a corridor, his boots splashed quietly into water fully obscured by the mist. And down the length of the hall the vines were now stretching long enough to reach the floor. They wiggled in place when he appeared, as if eager to greet him. And the snorting came again, this time accompanied by the stomp of a hoof that was strong enough to send vibrations rippling along the ground.
It seemed like a meeting he wasn't going to get a choice about avoiding, so he moved onward with his heart hammering in his ears and expression grim. And it happened sooner rather than later.
The vines did nothing to impede his passage and the water was only ankle deep, if completely covered by the tangling mist that floated along the surface of it. One, two, three turns later and the Minotaur was just there.
Ten feet tall if it was an inch, covered in dark russet fur and wielding an axe that looked like it could fell redwoods with a single blow, it spoke in a voice that sounded like boulders grating against each other.
"I smell you, human." It spoke pretty damn well for having a bull's head. It could also swing an axe like nobody's business. The whistling sound of the steel cutting the air accompanied the words.
"Wore this cologne just for you," the necromancer managed to snarl, and that was all.
Quick reflexes, he had those at least, and as the axe clove the air where his head had been, he ducked under the whooshing swing, rolling forwards through mist and damp toward one hoof where, instead of attempting to maim it before it could stomp on him, he jabbed upward with the scimitar right towards its... bull parts.
The Minotaur’s axe clanged loudly off the wall of the maze, loud enough to leave him half-deafened and showering him with sparks and chips of stone. The beast wasn't too happy to have missed, but he was surprised when the human rolled toward him rather than away. Most folks didn't willingly choose to come into cuddling range. Of course, Mesteno's idea of a cuddle was a little too... sharp for his liking.
The Minotaur snarled and twisted with its swing, managing to avoid getting its parts (and they were all out there and exposed for Mesteno's viewing pleasure since the thing didn't seem to believe in clothing beyond a leather looking harness that cross crossed its furry chest!) cleaved clean off and taking the blade of the scimitar along the thick hide of its hips and side instead.
Black blood splattered out even as the beast roared and tried to close its arms around the Sadist for a crushing hug. Since the guy was so close and all. And had worn that cologne just for him.
Mesteno lurched sideways, keeping himself just low enough to deny the massive limbs the crushing hug they desired - he was playing hard to get, the coy bastard - and again he stabbed, this time trying to get up and under its ribs. Hard to see precisely where they were under all that russet fur, but it seemed wiser to stab than slice, unless he had the good luck to get behind it somehow and aim to hamstring it.
The great beast took a single step forward to catch its balance, the hoof slamming hard enough into the water to send it splashing up around them and cause another little tremble to rock the earth. The jab had punctured it squarely in its folded gut, causing more blood to spurt free. Of course this just enraged the creature more.
"C'mon fucker - make an effort!" Maybe he'd be able to taunt it into making an error!
Yanking the sword back viciously (and he was a sadist, so the fact that he twisted it on the way out should be a no brainer!) he'd been ready to try and throw himself out of range of whatever came next, but the stomp had actually unbalanced him for long enough that he was caught in the process of swaying to correct himself.
Its eyes burned a hot red and its arm swept out in the opposite direction to try and backhand the fickle Sadist away. It won the questionable glory of having swatted his victim aside as if he were a gnat. That was the downside to being a lightweight - it was painfully easy to be knocked down by things others might be able to stand fast against.
For what felt like far too long (but was in all actuality more like a second) he was airborne... then he came crashing down with a thump and a wheeze as all the air shot out of his lungs, arm twisted painfully beneath him and cheekbone smacking into the wall. In one eye, everything went black shot through with red like a lightning strike gone awry. He bellowed too, a sound as furious as it was pained, and it was a small wonder he hadn't managed to stab himself with his own damn sword somehow.
The vines were already reaching out the grab him, lashing about his limbs to hold him in place so he could truly enjoy the attention of the beast's axe. Or maybe something more personal since the creature seemed to be squaring its body for a charge.
Still no Elf.
Mesteno’s good eye shot wide - the other was already swelling shut – and he hacked into the wretched vines wildly, leaving them bleeding white ichor. Just enough success there that he could scramble clumsily, trying to time it so the beast might brain itself against the wall.
Unfortunately, it wasn't quite dumb enough to commit itself to a full-on head slam. It was dumb enough to drop its axe, though! Mesteno had forced this into an up close and personal kind of fight and the bull was all for it despite its dripping wounds (and was that a length of entrails hanging out of the savage cut on its abdomen?!). Massive lips pulled back from teeth much too sharp to rightfully belong to grass chomping creature, it had bloodlust in its burning gaze, all for Mesteno.
It started with a thick, white mist that crept along the floor. Tangled vines appeared, reaching down from the top of the walls. Not quite long enough to reach him yet, but longer the further he delved. At one point he tested his scimitar against them, to see how quickly they grew back, but he couldn't ignore the feeling that they were determined to move him forward, onward to either the maze's centre, or the creature hunting him.
On the positive side, with each appearance of some new element, it seemed he was making actual progress in getting somewhere. When nothing changed, he invariably hit a dead end and had to retrace his steps and try a different route.
Lexius? He tried again, because what harm would it do?
Still no words from the Elf. But he did get something in return. Rather than words or an emotion, it was just a vague sort of tingling that sent actual goose bumps marching along the back of his neck, the skin of his arms.
When he made a left turn down a corridor, his boots splashed quietly into water fully obscured by the mist. And down the length of the hall the vines were now stretching long enough to reach the floor. They wiggled in place when he appeared, as if eager to greet him. And the snorting came again, this time accompanied by the stomp of a hoof that was strong enough to send vibrations rippling along the ground.
It seemed like a meeting he wasn't going to get a choice about avoiding, so he moved onward with his heart hammering in his ears and expression grim. And it happened sooner rather than later.
The vines did nothing to impede his passage and the water was only ankle deep, if completely covered by the tangling mist that floated along the surface of it. One, two, three turns later and the Minotaur was just there.
Ten feet tall if it was an inch, covered in dark russet fur and wielding an axe that looked like it could fell redwoods with a single blow, it spoke in a voice that sounded like boulders grating against each other.
"I smell you, human." It spoke pretty damn well for having a bull's head. It could also swing an axe like nobody's business. The whistling sound of the steel cutting the air accompanied the words.
"Wore this cologne just for you," the necromancer managed to snarl, and that was all.
Quick reflexes, he had those at least, and as the axe clove the air where his head had been, he ducked under the whooshing swing, rolling forwards through mist and damp toward one hoof where, instead of attempting to maim it before it could stomp on him, he jabbed upward with the scimitar right towards its... bull parts.
The Minotaur’s axe clanged loudly off the wall of the maze, loud enough to leave him half-deafened and showering him with sparks and chips of stone. The beast wasn't too happy to have missed, but he was surprised when the human rolled toward him rather than away. Most folks didn't willingly choose to come into cuddling range. Of course, Mesteno's idea of a cuddle was a little too... sharp for his liking.
The Minotaur snarled and twisted with its swing, managing to avoid getting its parts (and they were all out there and exposed for Mesteno's viewing pleasure since the thing didn't seem to believe in clothing beyond a leather looking harness that cross crossed its furry chest!) cleaved clean off and taking the blade of the scimitar along the thick hide of its hips and side instead.
Black blood splattered out even as the beast roared and tried to close its arms around the Sadist for a crushing hug. Since the guy was so close and all. And had worn that cologne just for him.
Mesteno lurched sideways, keeping himself just low enough to deny the massive limbs the crushing hug they desired - he was playing hard to get, the coy bastard - and again he stabbed, this time trying to get up and under its ribs. Hard to see precisely where they were under all that russet fur, but it seemed wiser to stab than slice, unless he had the good luck to get behind it somehow and aim to hamstring it.
The great beast took a single step forward to catch its balance, the hoof slamming hard enough into the water to send it splashing up around them and cause another little tremble to rock the earth. The jab had punctured it squarely in its folded gut, causing more blood to spurt free. Of course this just enraged the creature more.
"C'mon fucker - make an effort!" Maybe he'd be able to taunt it into making an error!
Yanking the sword back viciously (and he was a sadist, so the fact that he twisted it on the way out should be a no brainer!) he'd been ready to try and throw himself out of range of whatever came next, but the stomp had actually unbalanced him for long enough that he was caught in the process of swaying to correct himself.
Its eyes burned a hot red and its arm swept out in the opposite direction to try and backhand the fickle Sadist away. It won the questionable glory of having swatted his victim aside as if he were a gnat. That was the downside to being a lightweight - it was painfully easy to be knocked down by things others might be able to stand fast against.
For what felt like far too long (but was in all actuality more like a second) he was airborne... then he came crashing down with a thump and a wheeze as all the air shot out of his lungs, arm twisted painfully beneath him and cheekbone smacking into the wall. In one eye, everything went black shot through with red like a lightning strike gone awry. He bellowed too, a sound as furious as it was pained, and it was a small wonder he hadn't managed to stab himself with his own damn sword somehow.
The vines were already reaching out the grab him, lashing about his limbs to hold him in place so he could truly enjoy the attention of the beast's axe. Or maybe something more personal since the creature seemed to be squaring its body for a charge.
Still no Elf.
Mesteno’s good eye shot wide - the other was already swelling shut – and he hacked into the wretched vines wildly, leaving them bleeding white ichor. Just enough success there that he could scramble clumsily, trying to time it so the beast might brain itself against the wall.
Unfortunately, it wasn't quite dumb enough to commit itself to a full-on head slam. It was dumb enough to drop its axe, though! Mesteno had forced this into an up close and personal kind of fight and the bull was all for it despite its dripping wounds (and was that a length of entrails hanging out of the savage cut on its abdomen?!). Massive lips pulled back from teeth much too sharp to rightfully belong to grass chomping creature, it had bloodlust in its burning gaze, all for Mesteno.
Re: Welcome to Sigil
[Continued...]
The Minotaur's charge was controlled and fierce, head lowered not to crush the Sadist against the wall, but to try and catch him up on its wicket horns in a goring manoeuver that would ultimately rip him out of the hold of the vines and fling him further down the corridor where he'd be ripe for the trampling.
Mesteno stumbled sideways, through the thick mass of plant life and swung wildly with the scimitar at the Minotaur’s head. As luck would have it, he struck an eye and flayed open half of its muzzle, leaving it to flounder in the vines which proved to be equal opportunity stranglers.
Determined not to get cornered, he darted to the opposite side of the corridor, away from the vines, and into more open space where he might have some luck in dodging. There, he finally submitted to the energy that wanted out. He allowed it to go pouring outward towards the beast to try and latch, try and drain...
The Minotaur fetched up against the wall and ripped its horns free of the vines. The crippling grip of Mesteno's energy latched onto it as it was pushing itself straight, leaving it stumbling when it tried to collect itself for another charge.
Now it was hurting. And that drove it fully and truly into berserker mode. With a crazed roar that caused even the vines to shrink away, it flung itself in the Sadist's direction with the last of its impressive strength, charging wildly in a last ditch effort meant to trample man as it had originally intended.
His attention conflicted as it was between mundane, physical combat and what his soul wished to do, Mesteno had little choice but to offer it some free rein, at which point the draining on the Minotaur became a true reflection of its appetites. Wreathed around the beast unseen, it drew on every scrap of energy left in the beast as if it were a void, one moment merely leeching, the next, as if a sinkhole had opened up under a lake. And where was it all going? Well it was certainly going somewhere, and that somewhere was the necromancer, invigorated and wild-eyed to the point of looking febrile.
The beast’s lumbering charge turned into a stuttering of hooves. Led to a forward crash reminiscent of a tree falling, while Mesteno, lit like a match to gunpowder, charged the Minotaur instead, swerving to one side to leap, kick off the wall and right onto the bull's back with terrifying speed. Leg's wrapped tight as they would be around a bucking horse, he meant to plunge his scimitar right through the back of its bulging neck, a feat which required some strength, normally. Mesteno had a surplus of it in that moment, had fed on the berserker rage and taken it for his own, forcing his muscles to perform beyond their capacity (he'd feel it later, but was apparently unable to register the effect on current injuries).
As for those wriggling vines so eager to coil around whatever stumbled their way, they were victims of proximity. They'd no more avoid that deathly pull than the Minotaur.
Felt damn good. Too good. The death was a glorious thing he chose to feed on this time, hotly consumptive and wholly intending not to let a scrap of what had been the Minotaur escape him. The sword he'd buried to the hilt, grinding it in even once the resistance of flesh denied him any further butchery, expression a rictus snarl. He ripped the blade loose, finally, a bloody arc splattering the walls of the corridor until down came a deluge of water, and like a tom cat doused with an icy bucketful, it seemed to shock him to his senses.
The mist shrivelled away as surely as the quivering vines withered in the face of that all-consuming energy. In fact, everything around the Sadist seemed to suddenly twist and bend and warp, as if his soul was feeding on the very fabric of reality itself. It wasn't quite that, of course.
Mesteno stared from where he sat atop the dead Minotaur, blood soaking into every inch of the fabric of his pants the longer he remained astride it. And now he was soaked to the bone, too. The energy had ceased its devouring as if in the absence of his fury, it knew he would be averse to its roaming stretch. Now it was sinuously recoiling, finding its way back into the housing of his flesh smoothly as if it had nothing to be guilty of. He had let it out to play, after all.
Through eyelashes wetted to dark spikes, he observed the twist and bend of reality, and didn't dare slide off the one solid thing he could be sure of - the corpse! - until the world seemed to decide it would remain a maze.
In reality, the shift was the work of the Elf, aligning pockets of space that should not have been able to exist in this realm but which each of them had been drawn into separately.
There was another bull, also on the ground, and the maze had not disappeared. Rather, Lexius abolished the illusion of the room as they had seen it initially and layered their mazes neatly atop each other until they existed in the same place at the same time once again. He wasn't that far away. Just down the corridor where the maze finally spilled out to its centre, standing beside that oil slick of blackness. But instead of on the ground, it was swirling upright in the air like a portal.
The last rune crumbled from the Elf's fingers as he drew his hand back from the pedestal where he'd found the final etching. The Elf looked only mildly battered (the bastard!), but made up for it with an expression that resembled something like fury. Not a happy Elf!
And he was heading Mesteno's way, the beads chattering angrily around his waist, with only the vaguest of limps to his typically fluid stride.
One eye blinked (the other was so swollen shut that blinking seemed to be out of order) wildly before Mesteno knuckled it dry, and spied down the corridor the thoroughly pissed off looking Lexius limping (oh look at that!) his way. It never occurred to him that the Elf might be angry at him for anything, so he slithered from the corpse and onto his feet, masking his grimace respectably even though he was sure the collision with the wall hadn't done him any favours internally. He squelched when he moved now. That was unpleasant.
"Thank fuck. How did you... I mean, what the...?" Explain!
Neither the Elf nor the beads were angry at Mesteno. But the former might have looked like he was what with the way he bore down on the Sadist, gaze raking over his bruised face, blood soaked clothing and gore stained weapon, then stepped -right- into his personal bubble of space. Explain? Maybe later. Right then, Lexius looked in no mood at all to talk. Yet, he did talk. One snapped command that was strangely quiet no matter its abruptness.
"Be still." He ordered, already splaying long fingers wide across the side of Mesteno's face in a sort of Vulcan Mind Meld kind of position!
In no condition to fight, Mesteno had been lifting a hand, palm out in the universal gesture to stop when he thought Lexius' anger might be aimed at him, that maybe he was about to get socked in the other eye for ending up in the maze instead of staying put where he'd been left at the cavern's only visible entrance. He'd too much pride to back up though, so even when Lexius seemed to uncharacteristically forget the presence of personal boundaries, he stayed still.
The Minotaur's charge was controlled and fierce, head lowered not to crush the Sadist against the wall, but to try and catch him up on its wicket horns in a goring manoeuver that would ultimately rip him out of the hold of the vines and fling him further down the corridor where he'd be ripe for the trampling.
Mesteno stumbled sideways, through the thick mass of plant life and swung wildly with the scimitar at the Minotaur’s head. As luck would have it, he struck an eye and flayed open half of its muzzle, leaving it to flounder in the vines which proved to be equal opportunity stranglers.
Determined not to get cornered, he darted to the opposite side of the corridor, away from the vines, and into more open space where he might have some luck in dodging. There, he finally submitted to the energy that wanted out. He allowed it to go pouring outward towards the beast to try and latch, try and drain...
The Minotaur fetched up against the wall and ripped its horns free of the vines. The crippling grip of Mesteno's energy latched onto it as it was pushing itself straight, leaving it stumbling when it tried to collect itself for another charge.
Now it was hurting. And that drove it fully and truly into berserker mode. With a crazed roar that caused even the vines to shrink away, it flung itself in the Sadist's direction with the last of its impressive strength, charging wildly in a last ditch effort meant to trample man as it had originally intended.
His attention conflicted as it was between mundane, physical combat and what his soul wished to do, Mesteno had little choice but to offer it some free rein, at which point the draining on the Minotaur became a true reflection of its appetites. Wreathed around the beast unseen, it drew on every scrap of energy left in the beast as if it were a void, one moment merely leeching, the next, as if a sinkhole had opened up under a lake. And where was it all going? Well it was certainly going somewhere, and that somewhere was the necromancer, invigorated and wild-eyed to the point of looking febrile.
The beast’s lumbering charge turned into a stuttering of hooves. Led to a forward crash reminiscent of a tree falling, while Mesteno, lit like a match to gunpowder, charged the Minotaur instead, swerving to one side to leap, kick off the wall and right onto the bull's back with terrifying speed. Leg's wrapped tight as they would be around a bucking horse, he meant to plunge his scimitar right through the back of its bulging neck, a feat which required some strength, normally. Mesteno had a surplus of it in that moment, had fed on the berserker rage and taken it for his own, forcing his muscles to perform beyond their capacity (he'd feel it later, but was apparently unable to register the effect on current injuries).
As for those wriggling vines so eager to coil around whatever stumbled their way, they were victims of proximity. They'd no more avoid that deathly pull than the Minotaur.
Felt damn good. Too good. The death was a glorious thing he chose to feed on this time, hotly consumptive and wholly intending not to let a scrap of what had been the Minotaur escape him. The sword he'd buried to the hilt, grinding it in even once the resistance of flesh denied him any further butchery, expression a rictus snarl. He ripped the blade loose, finally, a bloody arc splattering the walls of the corridor until down came a deluge of water, and like a tom cat doused with an icy bucketful, it seemed to shock him to his senses.
The mist shrivelled away as surely as the quivering vines withered in the face of that all-consuming energy. In fact, everything around the Sadist seemed to suddenly twist and bend and warp, as if his soul was feeding on the very fabric of reality itself. It wasn't quite that, of course.
Mesteno stared from where he sat atop the dead Minotaur, blood soaking into every inch of the fabric of his pants the longer he remained astride it. And now he was soaked to the bone, too. The energy had ceased its devouring as if in the absence of his fury, it knew he would be averse to its roaming stretch. Now it was sinuously recoiling, finding its way back into the housing of his flesh smoothly as if it had nothing to be guilty of. He had let it out to play, after all.
Through eyelashes wetted to dark spikes, he observed the twist and bend of reality, and didn't dare slide off the one solid thing he could be sure of - the corpse! - until the world seemed to decide it would remain a maze.
In reality, the shift was the work of the Elf, aligning pockets of space that should not have been able to exist in this realm but which each of them had been drawn into separately.
There was another bull, also on the ground, and the maze had not disappeared. Rather, Lexius abolished the illusion of the room as they had seen it initially and layered their mazes neatly atop each other until they existed in the same place at the same time once again. He wasn't that far away. Just down the corridor where the maze finally spilled out to its centre, standing beside that oil slick of blackness. But instead of on the ground, it was swirling upright in the air like a portal.
The last rune crumbled from the Elf's fingers as he drew his hand back from the pedestal where he'd found the final etching. The Elf looked only mildly battered (the bastard!), but made up for it with an expression that resembled something like fury. Not a happy Elf!
And he was heading Mesteno's way, the beads chattering angrily around his waist, with only the vaguest of limps to his typically fluid stride.
One eye blinked (the other was so swollen shut that blinking seemed to be out of order) wildly before Mesteno knuckled it dry, and spied down the corridor the thoroughly pissed off looking Lexius limping (oh look at that!) his way. It never occurred to him that the Elf might be angry at him for anything, so he slithered from the corpse and onto his feet, masking his grimace respectably even though he was sure the collision with the wall hadn't done him any favours internally. He squelched when he moved now. That was unpleasant.
"Thank fuck. How did you... I mean, what the...?" Explain!
Neither the Elf nor the beads were angry at Mesteno. But the former might have looked like he was what with the way he bore down on the Sadist, gaze raking over his bruised face, blood soaked clothing and gore stained weapon, then stepped -right- into his personal bubble of space. Explain? Maybe later. Right then, Lexius looked in no mood at all to talk. Yet, he did talk. One snapped command that was strangely quiet no matter its abruptness.
"Be still." He ordered, already splaying long fingers wide across the side of Mesteno's face in a sort of Vulcan Mind Meld kind of position!
In no condition to fight, Mesteno had been lifting a hand, palm out in the universal gesture to stop when he thought Lexius' anger might be aimed at him, that maybe he was about to get socked in the other eye for ending up in the maze instead of staying put where he'd been left at the cavern's only visible entrance. He'd too much pride to back up though, so even when Lexius seemed to uncharacteristically forget the presence of personal boundaries, he stayed still.
Re: Welcome to Sigil
[Continued...]
"It's not as bad as it looks," he began defensively, because all Lexius had come out of it with was a limp, and he was beginning to feel a little shown up. He did keep still though when ordered to, even if he was a little taken aback by the contact, and ever awkward about accepting aid.
The touch was surprisingly light. A ghost of contact that suggested at the grit in the Elf’s skin rather than screamed it. His other hand had dropped lower, snaking surely past the rip in the Sadist's trousers to curl around the skin of his leg where he'd been wounded by the Fiends. If Mesteno decided to back up rather than allow any of that, the Elf would simply follow and do what he did next without asking permission or giving warning.
That mental connection between them was still active. And once he had the Necromancer’s skin beneath his own, Lexius' Will poured down into his flesh from face to leg, stitching things back together, flushing blood from the spaces it collected, knitting bones where they'd been cracked. This was no subtle, 'let's hope he doesn't notice' experiment to see if it could be done. He knew it could be and he applied his own energy to it with a vengeance, the blue in his eyes burning brightly and the scent of sand thickening around them both as he worked.
Mesteno felt, and heard (some interesting clicking there) the way the bones in his cheek and eye socket resituated, fractures sealing, and that alone felt so bizarre that he was reaching up to try and avert the hand at his face instinctively. Clenching his fingers into a fist to lower again moments later, because he'd been told to be still, he did his best not to fidget or distract, and as the flesh sealed itself up, skin forming where there had been bare muscle in his thigh, he was able to stand a little straighter. Even the tear at the base of his throat seemed to be healing beneath the muslin cloth, so that it no longer hurt to swallow.
The mental connection hinted at the relief he felt from the physical discomfort, but also suggested some concern. Lexius must be spending a great deal of energy to fix him, just as they needed to free up Whisper.
"That's enough. Really, it's enough," he told him when he considered himself fit for travelling again, and he did reach up with a hand then, to lightly catch his wrist and use it to press his hand away.
Mesteno had probably considered himself fit for travelling before Lexius had even touched him! The knowing of that was in the hard line of the Elf's jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes. He understood it; the pride and competitiveness behind it. He even mimicked it in his own way from time to time. So instead of pulling back or speaking (he was quite sure he could say nothing correct in this instance), he twisted his hand about nimbly and caught Mesteno's wrist in return, holding it tightly for several seconds. The beads went silent as a tattoo slithered down the Elf's arm, across his hand, and started to slide itself onto the Sadist's flesh.
"You don't need t'glower like that it's-" Mesteno had thought the capture of his wrist some sort of retaliation to begin with, but as he tried to tug it back he spied the movement of the tattoo. The ink's slithering surprised him, but not to the point of panic.
Palm sized, glimmering blue, the geometric pattern of the design was distinctly unique and completely incomprehensible to any but the Elf. So he defined its purpose as it travelled.
"For healing." Then Mesteno could decide on his own when to use it rather than being forced to endure... this again.
Samiel had once performed a similar trick, and long years before that, a witch named Gabriella. Maybe that was why Mesteno allowed it with a look of resignation, and only nodded when Lexius explained the purpose. It was practical. "All right, gratias." Genuine thanks, and not strained or grudgingly surly either.
There wasn't much skin on his arms that didn't already have ink or scarring, the gold pigment of an arcane nature that didn't seem to take well to being interrupted by the geometric blue. The back of his hand though, that was free, and just the right size, so it went sliding down under his glove and out of sight where he couldn't even examine it.
Lexius let go and stepped back the moment the tattoo no longer belonged to him, turning away to stride back to the centre of the maze where the portal and the pedestal still waited, avoiding a prone Minotaur along the way. He didn't look particularly drained, but he was pouring three faintly glowing crystals from a pouch and setting them into place to hover around his waist.
When Mesteno join him there, he nodded to the stone pedestal. "That last rune was there. It crumbled as the others. Once it did, the portal appeared where it now spins. I cannot see the other side. We must step through blind."
The necromancer gave the stone pedestal only the most cursory of examinations, nodding his understanding, then he had eyes only for the portal. "Basher goes first," he informed Lexius with a touch of amusement, and giving him no choice about the matter, he stepped right on through!
Reasoning required calm heads and the ability to hold an intelligent, rational conversation. And the Elf was feeling...the Elf was feeling. It ruled out that kind of talking altogether. He didn't protest when Mesteno volunteered to go through the portal first. His jaw did tighten a fraction, though, when the guy hopped to as if to negate any possibility of being overruled! Mesteno would miss seeing it for his haste. Lexius wasn't terribly far behind him.
"It's not as bad as it looks," he began defensively, because all Lexius had come out of it with was a limp, and he was beginning to feel a little shown up. He did keep still though when ordered to, even if he was a little taken aback by the contact, and ever awkward about accepting aid.
The touch was surprisingly light. A ghost of contact that suggested at the grit in the Elf’s skin rather than screamed it. His other hand had dropped lower, snaking surely past the rip in the Sadist's trousers to curl around the skin of his leg where he'd been wounded by the Fiends. If Mesteno decided to back up rather than allow any of that, the Elf would simply follow and do what he did next without asking permission or giving warning.
That mental connection between them was still active. And once he had the Necromancer’s skin beneath his own, Lexius' Will poured down into his flesh from face to leg, stitching things back together, flushing blood from the spaces it collected, knitting bones where they'd been cracked. This was no subtle, 'let's hope he doesn't notice' experiment to see if it could be done. He knew it could be and he applied his own energy to it with a vengeance, the blue in his eyes burning brightly and the scent of sand thickening around them both as he worked.
Mesteno felt, and heard (some interesting clicking there) the way the bones in his cheek and eye socket resituated, fractures sealing, and that alone felt so bizarre that he was reaching up to try and avert the hand at his face instinctively. Clenching his fingers into a fist to lower again moments later, because he'd been told to be still, he did his best not to fidget or distract, and as the flesh sealed itself up, skin forming where there had been bare muscle in his thigh, he was able to stand a little straighter. Even the tear at the base of his throat seemed to be healing beneath the muslin cloth, so that it no longer hurt to swallow.
The mental connection hinted at the relief he felt from the physical discomfort, but also suggested some concern. Lexius must be spending a great deal of energy to fix him, just as they needed to free up Whisper.
"That's enough. Really, it's enough," he told him when he considered himself fit for travelling again, and he did reach up with a hand then, to lightly catch his wrist and use it to press his hand away.
Mesteno had probably considered himself fit for travelling before Lexius had even touched him! The knowing of that was in the hard line of the Elf's jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes. He understood it; the pride and competitiveness behind it. He even mimicked it in his own way from time to time. So instead of pulling back or speaking (he was quite sure he could say nothing correct in this instance), he twisted his hand about nimbly and caught Mesteno's wrist in return, holding it tightly for several seconds. The beads went silent as a tattoo slithered down the Elf's arm, across his hand, and started to slide itself onto the Sadist's flesh.
"You don't need t'glower like that it's-" Mesteno had thought the capture of his wrist some sort of retaliation to begin with, but as he tried to tug it back he spied the movement of the tattoo. The ink's slithering surprised him, but not to the point of panic.
Palm sized, glimmering blue, the geometric pattern of the design was distinctly unique and completely incomprehensible to any but the Elf. So he defined its purpose as it travelled.
"For healing." Then Mesteno could decide on his own when to use it rather than being forced to endure... this again.
Samiel had once performed a similar trick, and long years before that, a witch named Gabriella. Maybe that was why Mesteno allowed it with a look of resignation, and only nodded when Lexius explained the purpose. It was practical. "All right, gratias." Genuine thanks, and not strained or grudgingly surly either.
There wasn't much skin on his arms that didn't already have ink or scarring, the gold pigment of an arcane nature that didn't seem to take well to being interrupted by the geometric blue. The back of his hand though, that was free, and just the right size, so it went sliding down under his glove and out of sight where he couldn't even examine it.
Lexius let go and stepped back the moment the tattoo no longer belonged to him, turning away to stride back to the centre of the maze where the portal and the pedestal still waited, avoiding a prone Minotaur along the way. He didn't look particularly drained, but he was pouring three faintly glowing crystals from a pouch and setting them into place to hover around his waist.
When Mesteno join him there, he nodded to the stone pedestal. "That last rune was there. It crumbled as the others. Once it did, the portal appeared where it now spins. I cannot see the other side. We must step through blind."
The necromancer gave the stone pedestal only the most cursory of examinations, nodding his understanding, then he had eyes only for the portal. "Basher goes first," he informed Lexius with a touch of amusement, and giving him no choice about the matter, he stepped right on through!
Reasoning required calm heads and the ability to hold an intelligent, rational conversation. And the Elf was feeling...the Elf was feeling. It ruled out that kind of talking altogether. He didn't protest when Mesteno volunteered to go through the portal first. His jaw did tighten a fraction, though, when the guy hopped to as if to negate any possibility of being overruled! Mesteno would miss seeing it for his haste. Lexius wasn't terribly far behind him.
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