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The Gala-Dor Expedition

The Gala-Dor Expedition

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"So, you walk into a tavern." [FULL 8/6 oh dear]

9,281 readers have visited The Gala-Dor Expedition since CrossKnight35 created it.

CabbageAngel are listed as curators, giving them final say over any conflict & the ability to clean up mistakes.

Introduction

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ImageSeated in the evergreen heartlands of the Holy Zoltian Empire, Arc En Lume shines bright as a centre of commerce and culture. Its sleepless streets bustle with jovial bards, sly merchants, and the pitter-patter of wanderers; hailing from all over Zoltia for a chance at fortune and glory.

You are one such adventurer.

Having answered a dwarven lord’s plea, seeking brave, inquisitive, or crafty souls to aid him in an expedition to the far north, you and your fellow "heroes" prepare to delve into a subterranean citadel full of traps, monsters, and riches from a forgotten age: the lost dwarven capital of Gala-Dor.





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Click for info!


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Things to be included in your character's profile are as follows. Remember to read the rules before getting started!


Code: Select all
Things to put in your profile!

[color=]Name[/color]
Steve Steveson

[color=]Archetype[/color]
Race + Class/other, like 'Orc Barbarian' or 'Human Charlatan'

[color=]Age[/color]
Age here

[color=]Bbcode[/color]
Bbcode here

[color=]Theme[/color]
[link=]> Music that plays when character does something badass here <[/link]

[img]Character image[/img]

[color=]Appearance[/color]
Appearance description here~ (include your faceclaim in brackets if you're using one)

[color=]Personality[/color]
Personality hereeee

[color=]Skills[/color]
Pick between 3-4!

[color=]History[/color]
Keep history brief! Let's uncover the nitty gritty details of your story... in the story :)

Don't put this on your profile, but put aside for safekeeping: what is your character's fatal flaw?

Pretty up the profile as much as you like. There should be examples up already of how we laid out this info!

Toggle Rules

  • This is a literate RP, but don't stress if your spelling or grammar isn't the best. If you can read it, so can we. Just try your best :)
  • Don't feel pressured to write novels just because of our habits! Quality>quantity.
  • This RP is being co-GMed by CrossKnight35 and CabbageAngel. Cross is in charge of narrative, so questions/inquiries about plot go to him. If you have any questions about the world's lore and setting, give Cabbage a message. We'll probably end up working together to answer anyway but this just will make it easier regardless.
  • This isn't really a rule, but if you have anything in your backstory/character motivation like "help I'm being chased by assassins"/"I will avenge my father", shoot a message Cross's way and he'll see about working it into the story.
  • Don't be a dick, don't godmod, if you have a problem with a player, please don't let it fester in the IC. That being said, as a general rule, please don't take things that happen to your character personally. Let's try to separate our IC and OOC relationships.

Character creation specific rules:

  • One character per roleplayer until further notice.
  • Check the characters to make sure that the character archetype you're going for isn't already being fulfilled. As funny as an all Drow Assassin party could be.
  • To add to the above, we currently already have a Drow Assassin, Dwarf Noble and Elven Archer, as well as a possible Human Alchemist in the making.
  • VERY IMPORTANT! Put your character archetype/concept in the OOC for approval before sending it! Make sure to also include why your character wants in on this expedition. It's kind of the entire crux of the story, so you've got to want to be there. Also, tag on one piece of trivia from the lore of the setting you would have gained from reading the short race/magic docs. We won't be approving anyone unless we get all this!
  • Once your character has been accepted, you will receive a very special message from yours truly. Answer our question, and you will have passed initiation!
  • If you want your schtick to be "I'm possessed by a demon"... PM Cabbage. There are things to discuss.

And lastly, of course...

  • Don't make the Dragonborn. Or Doom Guy. Or Kratos. You know what I mean. If you're an elf, pick about 1-3 magical abilities from the different kinds they can have. This is about working together as a team to overcome obstacles, not clearing dungeons on your lonesome.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 11 authors

Setting

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
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#, as written by Byte
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While three women opted to take a sightseeing tour around the city via gondola, Wilthro had taken the opportunity to stretch his wings. For the future held lots of cramped corridors and bad odour, so better to get that flying in now where he had the space. Serena didn’t mind, her companion had earned some respite. Could use some time on his own.

“You call this a boat?”

Serena had eyed the gondolier with a healthy hint of skepticism and didn’t get very far without cracking at least a tiny smile. Yeah, this ride was a bit too fancy for her liking. The rigid, unsmiling face of the man (or lack thereof, given the porcelain mask) given a bemused grin in return.

“Don’t crack a smile now. It might just break your pretty little mask.”

Bunch of weirdos, she thought. She wanted to look, honestly. Peel away the strap and take a little peek behind the porcelain curtains. See if they weren’t some Phantom of the Opera-like monstrosity, scarred for life and forced to cover their once beautiful faces. “Pretty please? Just the once.”

The man didn’t even deign to look at Serena’s way when she tried to grab the oar in an rebellious attempt to row someplace else, just stepped back and kept on rowing his merry way. This was his role in life, and by the Gods was he taking it seriously!

The little pirate let out a sigh, a grump on her face as she locked eyes with her companions. “Could’ve walked instead, y’know. Maybe tumble with some rats, steal some pretty gal’s necklace.” She jutted a thumb at the gondolier. “This one doesn’t even talk.”

Thankfully, the Merchants’ District offered a less solitary environment with its bustling streets and shouting matches of salesmen beckoning every poor sod and their last pennies to check out their stalls. And their stalls alone, it seemed. “Bunch of greedy bastards,” Serena commented with a grin, waving off such a salesman offering to measure her size for a dress. “Think we could snag some of them fruity perfumes on the way?” Brown eyes beamed at the alchemist.

Seemed even a city as prim and proper as this one had its fair share of downtrodden back alley filth, and Serena was quick to follow closely behind the two taller women when they reached their destination. Wilthro back at her side with a graceful swoop. “Always in the last place you’d want to look.” Dead end, too. Double fun.

The pirate was keen to get this mess over with as quickly as they could and was about to take dibs on being the first to dive in when a series of clangs and shuffles made way for a sewer-rat to crawl out of the cover and give the trio a civil greeting. She flashed the stranger a grin. “So I guess it doesn’t smell like roses down there, huh?”

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Thankfully leaving the relatively clustered Jackalope, Esther gave a sigh of relief upon taking the fresh Beaucourt air. The warm air of Arc en Lume, while still cobbled together by a rowdy populace upon every street and alleyway, was nonetheless full of fresh air and open.space. She'd savor every last breath, given where they're going.

Up on the gondola, Esther leaned gently on the right side of the boat, hands out on the boat's edge and looking ever outward at the Merchants' District. The water's calm, still motion was almost surreal to the alchemist, who often listened to the rushing waves of Stormhold's ponds and lakes amidst a never-ending flurry of winds. She even dipped her finger down, feeling and hearing almost nothing as her soft flesh moved in silence through the clear waters. She didn't even mind the gondoleer. Perhaps it's odd to anyone else, but the Winged Ones, themselves, were quite used to being masked and/or disguised people.

The Merchants' District, as Esther expected, was an actively chaotic scene of customers and sellers. With her helmet off, Esther's head darted left and right, finding one of the Sacred Flame Clerics practically at every stall and corner. Several looked back at her, some glares, some curious looks, all of which Esther reacted by turning the other way. She got it: streets and cities needed the protection; but she couldn't help but feel someone was watching her. It detracted from the wonderfully colorful banners, the distant music of flutes and bagpipes, the statue of purest silver marble regaling the First Emperor. It was a lively scene, but the alchemist in a cloak wanted nothing more than to be out of sight.

Or had a reason to distract herself.

"Hold on," she told Serena, walking away from her group and visited the stalls by the statue. It took her a moment, listening in on the many, many, many yelling merchants before she heard one to her left. "Did you say, 'Tulip Heaven'?" She pointed at the small bottle filled with a light pink liquid; her savvy voice hid the temptation to laugh at the fragrance's silly name. "I'll take one!"

A minute later, she found herself exhausted with the perfume in her hand. My, how she hated bargaining for a good price.

She was almost relieved to move into the alley with the other two. Sure, the detritus was quite horrid but at least there was no one looking at her every few moments. She kept her right hand close to her dagger as the presumed-bard emerged. The mysterious person first witnessed a tense look from the alchemist before her expression softened. "Well contrary to Beaucourt rumors, you can't sing away grime and shite," she said to Serena with a snarky chuckle before answering the man's question. "We're doing our own thing. But we might say more if we knew what you were doing down there." Her right eye winked, throwing a little charm while hoping to squeeze out some information.

Setting

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
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The gondola’s gentle passage down the canals of Beaucourt might have almost been a pleasant experience for Ashera, were it not for inescapable clamour of the crowds all around them. The elf had been in a city before, yes, but Valtensae was so much different. The streets there were practically deserted by comparison. Humankind, being far more populous, filled up every available space, and then some.

The Merchants’ District seemed to be even more packed, though that may have been down to walking through the throng like a ship sailing into a storm. Ashera stuck close to the others, keeping a tight grip on Esther’s arm lest she be swept away. Up until the moment that the alchemist briefly departed to purchase some perfume. Until she returned, Ashera huddled a little closer to Serena.

For a moment the elf felt glad to duck out of the crowds and into an alleyway. The squalor and filth that greeted Ashera left her swiftly revising her opinion. For all of Beaucourt’s alleged splendour, it was all a shallow façade once one began to dig just a little. Her thoughts turned to a brief pang of homesickness for her homeland, the wandering jewel of the skies… but were just as quickly interrupted by a sense of urgency, drawing her gaze to the manhole ahead.

Her hand was on the hilt of her dagger several moments before the manhole cover began to slide open, revealing a broad-shouldered, handsome (for a human) male who seemed… oddly at ease considering his situation. Ashera took a step back as the stench of the sewers wafted out, staring at the man in an almost accusing fashion. She would have spoken up, but Esther was quicker to convey the sentiments that she shared. All that was left to do was to see how this stranger might answer…

Setting

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
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The man's smile curled into a smirk at Esther's wink. His fingers drummed against the ground. His hands were bandaged, and there was dried blood on them, by the knuckles. "Yes, ma'am. If it'll make me look better," he said, and his large shoulders jostled with a shrug, "The boss's fiance dropped her engagement ring down the gutter. He didn't want to dip his dainty little fingers back in the treasury, so here I am. Looking for a diamond amidst their holy shits. Pardon," he excused his language with a nod towards the elf, then flashed a white grin towards his fellow humans.

He flexed his fingers out, pulling his bulky arms up in a stretch. The bones popped in his joints. "Ach... well, there's nothing shiny down there. Only place left is in the southern tunnels, but that's Red Hatchet territory. It'll be hard going, trying to look while five men jump my back every minute." He let out an exaggerated sigh, then waved it off. "Well! It's a living. I'm sure you've got one of those to get back to. You didn't come down to listen to a stranger from the sewers complain. I'm Lio."

He held out a hand for them to shake, paused, then slapped the hand back onto the ground and hauled himself out, revealing himself to lord a few inches over Esther. His dark eyes flicked over them, so fast, not one could tell that a judgement had been made.

"Only thing I can think that'd bring you huddling around this stinking hole is that some noble's got you doing their dirty work, too. Who's wringing your neck?" His smile grew a little brighter. "...And are you adverse to breaking a few bandit bones?"

Setting

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
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“Nothing like wading through someone’s leftovers to find if they’ve shat a diamond.” Serena commented, her voice ever jovial to dance around. The man was nonchalant. Seemed the cool-headed type, but appearances always provoked an image if you could play up the act enough times.

There were seeds of doubt. Losing a ring and dropping it into the nearest sewer were two sides of the same coin, it just meant you had to look on it from the proper side. Not that it was any of her business what this man was doing and for what reason.

It sure beat jumping into the sewers for the time being having someone to talk to. “Not exactly my idea of fun. To each their own, though, right?”

“I’m Serena.” The little pirate piped up, pointing a finger at Ashera. “That’s Blondie, and...” Brown eyes quickly flicked towards the alchemist; lingering for a fair few seconds with that playful gleam. “And this one’s our jolly redhead, Raven.” A smirk grew on her face. “The mask gives it away, I think.”

A little owl gave an inquiring ‘Hoot’. “Oh, and this fellow is Wilthro.”

Tall fellow, wasn’t he? Her jaw didn’t quite drop that far, but the pirate was willing to admit that having grown accustomed to everyone being several inches taller than yourself didn’t quite prepare her for this looming giant. Right, she should probably stop staring now.

“He’s not the type to wring necks.” The pirate flashed the man a toothy grin. “Don’t think he can reach them.” Of course a certain partner could always accommodate that particular need, and a dwarf wouldn’t even have to balance on a chair for it to work. But such thoughts were left far from Serena’s conscience when the people in question weren’t around to complain or glare menacingly with knives hidden behind their backs.

Not that she seemed to care much for that.

“I’d rather clob ‘m on the head with a mallet, less chance of setting alarms off.” She pondered for a moment. “But breaking bones works fine too. You look strong enough to manage that.”

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Esther nodded toward Lio as Serena introduced him to the group. [size=120]"It's good to meet you," she responded with a sincere nod. A thought occurred to offer her actual name, then decided otherwise. There was something nice to the name, "Raven," though the Winged Ones didn't use codenames like those. "And we could break some bones, but I don't prefer whacking some poor sods with a thick club." She leaned her body slightly right, tapping the sheathed dagger at her side. "Jobs are usually easier when they're quiet."

Though her helm covered most of her face, Esther's eyes gave a small look of wariness. What could she have told the bard-like man? Hilgur didn't exactly suggest how discrete they had to be in their adventure to Arc en Lume's sewers. Just wing it, Esther thought to herself, using one of the Winged One's favorite puns. "Oh, we're just on a bit of a rescue mission," she said, smiling and speaking as if were like any other day. "Not much different from your escapade; ours is just grander."

...What a delightful way to have said, "We're gonna be trudging through this crap longer than you did."

"So!" she continued with a small, wily smile. She wanted to try and navigate the conversation, at least as well as she could. "Since you've been down there, anything we should be aware of? Besides the overbearing stench."

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
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Lio smiled graciously and stepped to the side. "Arc en Lume is a magical place," he claimed, "And some of that magic trickles down into the sewer system. Does wonders on the rodents. They get big. Real big. Bite-your-arm-off big." He beamed, lifted the manhole lid and gestured for them to slip down. "Ladies first."


The Beaucourt sewers, South side. Beneath the glimmering jewel of the main city, away from the shine of sun and lamp. The bricks here had stood for ages, dull and green and layered with centuries-old muck and grime. The group made their way across a stone path, set beside a stagnant river. Light shone forth from Wilthro's eyes, illuminating their way through the darkness. It was more sludge than water; thick, without even a twinkle of light reflected upon its surface. When they peered closer, the group caught the vaguest glimpse of trash - Wasted food, rotten meat, broken furniture - all clumped together underneath the river. The scent of decay was strong, strong enough to make the eyes water and the stomach churn.

The sound of pouring water echoed in the distance, faster than a drip, more of a drizzle, traveling miles away within the silence. Tiny feet skittered away as the group traveled, scurrying into crevices too dark and small for human eyes. The further they went, the larger the place seemed. Grand arches hung over their heads, and ancient columns jut into the shadow-shrouded ceiling. Ahead, the sound of laughter pricked their ears. A high, shrill giggle, ringing from the steps below, towards the deepest, darkest region of the sewers.

“Look at this one, hihihihiihi, he’s still twitchin’!”

“Tha’ means the meat’s still fresh… hehehe… Georgina will be ‘appy tonight…”

Two figures hunched over fallen bodies. Straps of leather fastened over bare, sallow skin. Pauldrons, knee pads, and elbow guards, scavenged from rust-eaten scrap and adorned with needle-sharp and needle-thin spikes. Their hand axes were fresh with blood, slick, glossy and shining amidst the green of the sewers… as they dripped onto the corpses below. Ashera’s elven pupils dilated as she saw it - etched upon the bodies, amidst white robes sullied by blood, the emblem of the Sacred Flame, a shining sun set upon a golden circle.

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
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Ashera had been quick to volunteer leading the group, citing her superior elven eyesight. But when it came to walking down the dark, cramped tunnels, she almost had to force each step forward. All the while, the sense of claustrophobia seeped in.

The scented mask that Esther made provided some comfort, as did the unusual light that shone from Wilthro’s eyes, bright as any lantern. It helped take her mind off of her discomfort, wondering whether the owl’s light was an innate ability for his kind or something more magical in nature. This train of thought was interrupted when her pointed ears picked up distinctive voices up ahead, and she raised a hand to call a halt.

At her signal, Wilthro’s eye-beams cut through the shadows like a burning blade, illuminating a grisly scene before them. A pair of ghoulish figures bearing crude weapons and armour were huddled around one of several corpses. Ashera gasped when the identity of those unfortunate victims was made clear to her. “Th-the clerics…” she stammered. “They’re all…”

With trembling hands, the elf notched an arrow, ready to draw it back when needed. She stepped aside and looked to Serena and Esther. “What should we do? We have the numbers and surprise on our side, but what if there’s more out there?” Ashera kept watch on the subhumans, as much as their behaviour agitated her so. “I can bring one of them down from here, but the other may flee before I can fire a second shot.”

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
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Bweeeem!

The owl sunk into the dark below and with the flick of a metaphorical switch his eyes projected a bright glow. Wilthro made for a great table lamp to read at for sure, but illuminating an eerie, stinky and spooky sewer system was a good secondary purpose. Withholding a grin was never her forte, though. And seeing an owl’s eyes light up like candles on Christmas evening wasn’t a typical occurrence, piercing as they were, so the surprised glances from the group were… amusing, somewhat.

“He beeps when he backs up, too.” The pirate stated, clearly trying to play this off as casually as she could without raising too many suspicions, but glowing owls? Yeah, not a normal thing at all to the general audience and there was a story behind it all if Serena was bothered enough to explain it to the group.

Magic was a weird phenomenon...

“Now stop staring or you’ll go blind, idiots.” She added through a giggle, jutting her head slightly away from Wilthro to avoid the blinding rays beaming from his eyes. The owl hadn’t really moved an inch, just clung tighter around his companion’s shoulders with his claws. To which Serena showed little sign of discomfort. Not like the grimace when she first took a good sniff of the shitty aroma that hung around the place. Raven had done a good deed handing out those masks.

Serena was thankful Blondie had volunteered to lead the group, and the pirate had managed to fit herself snugly between the Elf and the alchemist when they scoured the grimey corridors for any sign of their diamond ring.

… And the pretty damsel in distress, of course.

But their search was like reaching in the dark, and instead of shiny and pretty things the group dug up a pair of rabid hobos gleefully licking their lips at the sight of a fresh meal that wouldn’t be to everyone’s tastes. “Eww… At least cook them first.” She murmured, trying not to look too closely at the grim (and probably disturbing) scene.

“I swore last time I wouldn’t tumble with cannibals, they’ve got some weird ideas.” Serena answered. She’d never pretended to be much use when these kinds of tactics were concerned, and Blondie asking her what to do only resulted in a lacklustre shrug. “Maybe sick our flying torch on ‘m? Pretty sure to get a reaction at least.” The pirate made a sideways glance at her feathered friend, but Wilthro hadn’t budged an inch after his sudden enlightenment.

“I’d rather not disturb a freak when it’s off the leash. Any raised hands for turning back and trying another sewer? Maybe one with less stink.”

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
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While Ashera and Serena discussed their next moves, the Red Hatchets turned stiff and still. Their eyes turned to the earth beneath them, white and bright from Wilthro's eye beams…

...Slowly, the bandits swerved towards the party's direction, with a bloodied, toothy, gummy snarl. Their faces were dry and craggy as a rock, and quite pale despite the mud and grime staining their faces. There was almost no white in their eyes, replaced by a pinkish colour that blended into jet-black pupils.

"MEAAAAT!"

The Red Hatchet cannibals stormed up the steps, one bolting in front of the other on all fours. The shadows stirred behind them, and the party heard the audible scrape of rust and iron.

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Esther realized she had made a mistake the moment her boots crushed down on the waste. From Arc en Lume's busy and colorful streets, the sewers felt like an entirely different world. There was an immediate rush of heat in her face while trudging through the grime; her face, through her helm and mask, quickly grew wet from the humidity. She was thankful for her makeshift mask she supplied to Serena, Ashera, and offered to Lio. The peppermint's strong and sweet smell was a reprieve from whatever garbage and mucky water spewed down from the city. Unfortunately, she didn't have enough ingredients to deal with everything else about this place.

This 'Tulip Heaven' fragrance better have been worth the purchase when this was over...

"Great," she muttered in frustration upon hearing the scraping of metal against the floor. She had remained quiet, letting Wilthro lead. He certainly was a curious bird. Now if only his eyes could've repelled maddened butchers rather than attract them.

Without time to think, Esther stepped forward and pulled out a small vial from her belt. The semi-clear, ugly white color splashed violently in the small container with a small red ball inside. The alchemist tossed it out in front of her. "Close your eyes," she announced, which gave everyone no actual time to react, as she raised her arm over her eyes. The vial, upon hitting the wet stone ground, exploded into a flash of light and a brief, audible boom. It blinded the bandits who recklessly charged the group.

Esther drew her dagger afterward. "Now, Lio, Ashera!" She quickly ran forward, with the brief glimpse of light to help her see, and tried slicing open the left bandit's neck with her sharp blade.

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
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The light was twice as bright, and the sound twice as loud within the dark silence of the sewer. The bandits let out a unified shriek of pain from the flashbang, one of them even toppling flat on his face as the flashbang overloaded his senses. The time for stealth was over.

Lio skidded into action. His towering form ducked and weaved through the party with the light touch of a rogue. He tightened the bandages around his fists, pulling them between his grinning teeth as he charged, utterly unarmed, into the swing of a hatchet.

Lio ducked under the swipe, snatching the bandit's wrist as the arm went over his head. As he came up, so did his leg - arcing around, and slamming down on the back of his stumbling opponent's head. The bandit went down with Lio's grip still on his arm, which twisted at an uncomfortable angle. Then Lio's boot came stamping down on the bandit's shoulder, and there was a sickening pop. The bandit let out a pained gargle and released one of the hand axes, then swung around desperately to catch Lio's knee with the one in his working arm.

"Whoa!" Lio jumped back, avoiding the low swing, in which time his opponent scrambled back to his feet with an unsettling giggle. After a few close calls, Lio slipped to the side, and jabbed his foot into the back of the bandit's knees as he was carried past the monk on his own momentum. The bandit fell forward, but Lio caught a fistful of his hair and dragged him against the sewer walls in two strong strides. The bandit's head hit the stone, then was immediately assaulted by a knee. Again, and again. Being bludgeoned against the wall as a dark, wet stain spread out across it.

Angry hisses came from the shadows, which swelled, then parted into half a dozen, scurrying forms, some on all fours, others staggering on their feet. A couple on the back drew arrows upon their shortbows, which hurled through the air and right towards Esther. Two more wielded makeshift spears, each poking from behind shield-bearing bandits. One shield bandit charged Lio with his guard up, while his partner thrust his spear once, twice, to overwhelm him.

The second pair of shield/spear bandits slipped past Lio and treaded up the stairs, staring daggers into Serena and Ashera.

The shield-bearer snarled as beat his shield onto the ground, galloped on his knuckles and toes, then launched his entire body into a somersault - right towards Ashera.

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
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It was between a bothersome groan and a horrified shriek that Serena had her first doubts about poking around in some dank area filled with mutant rats and potential cannibal ex-criminals, thoughts swaying between “Seriously?!” and “Oh fuck, they’re ‘bout to invite us over as dinner!”. At that point she really did regret not taking that swordfighting curriculum while aboard the Passionate Jellyfish; A ship perhaps best described by the rumour that the captain had some weird misconceptions about what ‘spicing up your sex life’ meant. Needless to say, one day he was found dead. Buttnaked at the coast cuddling a stingray.

Yeah, try explaining that to the missus of the house without cracking a smile.

Right, enough reminiscing of past weird adventures. The pirate felt… relatively useless in the grand scheme of things, with Raven carrying an arsenal of vials that went boom in a variety of ways, Blondie being - well, an Elf with a bow, and their latest friend showing great finesse and a right hook that screamed broken jaws. And Serena? The only pirate who apparently didn’t own a set of flintlocks and cutlasses. What were the odds, huh?

“Haven’t got any invisibility potions, do you love?” Confidence was lacking, and Serena didn’t really think the alchemist had anything the like on her at present - If even such a drink existed in the first place.

Bang!

That worked fine, too.

The flashbang had set off a chain reaction that had every other creepy bandit crawl out of the woodwork (or stonework, in this case) to charge the four-and-a-half sized gang. And for once Serena wasn’t the one to grin in the face of danger.

“Boy. The fun just doesn’t end, huh?” Sarcasm dripping through frustration and gritted teeth.

Several of the creatures gathered into pairs. One brandishing a shield, the other armed with a crude stick that would’ve made a poor spear in any sane person’s judgement. Despite their rabbid nature there was enough intelligence left to form a strategy, if flimsy. One pair charged at the monk, while the other broke through and ran straight at herself and the Elf who was still in the middle of taking another crack shot with her bow.

Wilthro’s eyes flickered for a moment, taking note of the situation that had unfolded while in his seemingly dazed state and decided that acting as the passive torch wasn’t going to help the situation in any direction. He let out a ‘Coo’ and then charged; eyes turning to face the spear-wielding lunatic and flashing their bright light.

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In the face of mad, screaming humans out for her and her comrades' blood, Ashera regretted being at the front with her bow drawn. She was only able to fire off the one arrow, catching one of their attackers in the shoulder. Everything else became a frantic scramble after that. The elf had just enough time to react to the flashbang, which left her with after-images and a faint ringing even after covering her eyes and ears.

Ashera removed her arms from her face just in time to avoid the charging ghoul. Her body moved on autopilot as foresight-driven instincts kicked in. She ducked down the moment her assailant pounced, his momentum carrying him straight over her. With a hand on her dagger she stood right back up, plunging the blade into his exposed back. Then again. And once more, just to be certain. However graceful and fluid her movements might have looked from an outsider's perspective, the elf was left wide-eyed and gasping for thankfully-peppermint-scented air.

There was just enough breathing room for Ashera to take stock of their situation. Serena, or more accurately Wilthro, needed help in fending off another one of the ghouls. Ashera hurriedly shouldered her bow and prepared to assist the owl. While Wilthro kept up the distraction with his eye-lights, the elf sought to catch the enemy off guard with a flanking attack.

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#, as written by StarGW
As the situation escalated, and scrambled, Esther lost track of what was going on with her allies. Her mind utterly focused on the enemies in front of her. This was how combat's always been for her; when there's too many people involved, it was impossible to keep track of everything. Instead, she had a simple, narrow-minded mindset to combat: focus on your immediate foes first and worry about everyone else later. Alchemists were not, after all, warriors on the frontlines. Fighting in melee range was an emergency, and everything else should be secondary to an alchemist's survival. You couldn't heal anyone if you're dead.

Seeing arrows was a lost cause in the sewer's ugly darkness. Instead, Esther leaned over against the wall and crouched low. A crude *SPLASH* sound echoed under her boot; Gods, she couldn't imagine what sort of chemicals made off of this liquid waste. Thankfully, she also heard the whooshing sound of flying arrows well over her head and hitting the wall behind her. They couldn't aim, good.

Now she had to close the distance.

She charged, past Serena, Ashera and Lio, past the other bandits, with slimy water splashing at her every step, with her blood-covered dagger tight in her hand. She slammed it hard into the first bowman's chest as he was reaching for another arrow. Then again. Then again. Fast, quick, furious, and perhaps a bit sloppy. Esther wanted to cripple their numbers instead of ensuring a clean kill. A last push sends the stabbed bandit to the waste-filled ground.

The other bandit caught her dark-eyed gaze beneath her helm as he recklessly tried stabbing her with an arrow rather than fire at point-blank range. Trudging under the sludge of the sewers, Esther took a step back, letting the arrow's semi-rough point scrape her leather armor, before she grabbed the bandit's head and thrust her blade at his neck.

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Thump. Thump. Thump.

In a slow, mesmerizing cadence, the sticks pounced upon the drum like weapons. One after the other, each resounding blow sent shivers through her body like an echo. There, standing mingled with the face of the festival crowd, a small girl felt an even smaller hand holding her own. She felt safe.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The girl lifted her head skyward. The Sacred Flame was growing darker. Its radiance began to recede into itself, devoured by something invisible to the eye -- color washed away from the streets and the shadows cast around them crawled into the fading light as though it were alive.

She wanted to squeeze their hand for comfort as a sudden tightness gripped her lungs, but only empty air brushed aginst her frigid fingertips. And as if drawn to him, her eyes returned to that man on the drums. His hands were no longer moving, and his eyes seemed to pierce through her with a silent knowing.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Then, she realized. There was no sound in this world. That was her heartbeat she was hearing.

***

One of the corpses opened its eyes.

In repositioning himself for another potshot with the bow, an unlucky bandit's leg ventured a little too near and was instantly seized by something that had, until just now, lain entirely prone on the sewer walkway. His eyes widened in horror as black smoke erupted from his ankle; the hand that grasped him tightened like a burning iron, sinking deeper into his flesh as it burned away through disintegrating meat. The man shrieked like a wounded animal and kicked wildly at the corpse, not even his rotted, drugged out brain was capable of dulling the pain.

With one hard tug, he yanked himself free and drunkenly staggered into a full pratfall that left him collapsed on his rear. Searing fire crept along his pants from the shin up, which he desperately tried to extinguish by swinging his leg around until in an uncharacteristically intelligent move he remembered where he was. Scampering toward the flow of sewage on all fours, his entire body was suddenly lifted up by the back of his collar before he could douse his leg and was unceremoniously thrown against the wall.

In the split second that he was dazed, the corpse -- now standing -- pinched the knife from his belt and drove his own blade through his side. A light love tap on his shoulder set his torso abruptly ablaze, and she kicked the burning man into his bow-wielding partner, spreading the gift of fire to the next startled bandit.

From the far side of the ongoing battle, disciple of the Sacred Flame Maria Solaster stood to her full height, back from the dead. She felt along her ribs with charred fingers and sensed wet, sticky blood soaking through the cloth. Well, maybe she hadn't escaped death just yet.

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Lio dodged with minimal movement as the spear was thrust forth, avoiding it with more of a sway, each time the spear sliding right past his stomach. On the third jab, he brought down his elbow and shot up his knee - pinching the spear’s shaft between them. The rotted wood burst into splinters and the spearhead fell harmlessly by Lio’s feet. The bandit looked at the stick in his hands, then behind Lio to the skull fragments embedded in the wall, and ducked out of the way right as his companion rushed forward to pummel Lio with his shield. Lio punched it.

The bandit stumbled back, two pieces of broken driftwood in his hands brought up to protect his face. He peered hesitantly between the pieces to see Lio blowing splinters off his knuckles. Lio glanced his way, and his lips quirked into a little cocky smirk.

"GNAAA!" A spear-wielding bandit screeched, one hand raised to shield his dark-adjusted eyes from Wilthro's blinding gaze. He stumbled back, back down the stairs, until he missed a step, and fell…

...Right as an arrow pierced his neck. Blood spurted. His jaw quivered. With his last, gurgling breath, the bandit turned his eyes towards his killer - Ashera, her drawing arm held high, two fingers pointed skyward.

Thud.

A bandit archer's screech echoed as his lanky body plummeted into the abyss, Esther's tall figure shrinking from his sight. The second archer's body fell limp. He wheezed his last breath, the alchemist's knife lodged deep within his windpipe. The symphony of a dozen punches rang in the background. Flesh pummeled, bones crunched, and a battered body slammed into the wall with a heavy smack.

Then, within the depths, fire rose. It spread like a disease, from one flailing bandit to the next. They screamed and screamed, their greasy, grimy forms especially vulnerable to ignition. The flames lit up the dark dungeon just a little brighter, catching the group's eye and directing them to the figure of… a woman. Her white robes were almost drowned out by blood and grime. Almost like a fabled revenant, back from the dead to exact furious vengeance.

The bandits' crude formation broke, most having felled by fire and steel. Those that remained slipped between grates, crawled through drainpipes, and fled, back into the darkness from whence they came.

A burning, screeching bandit waddled towards a grate, but fell before he could flee, his flesh blackened to a crisp. Silence returned to the sewers, and with it, the taste of victory.

Lio bounced up, jittery with adrenaline, and shook his burning fists with an exuberant “Whoop!” He did a quick headcount, then turned his attention back to the resurrected woman in bloodied white robes. He went through a few obvious calculations behind his eyes before coming up with a name.

“Lady Solaster,” he called over with a bow, “Aren’t I happy to have one less corpse to loot.” At that, he pulled a roll of bandages that matched the ones on his hands from his pocket and hurled them over her way, then ducked down to shift through a bandit’s pockets. He came up with a set of knucklebones, real bones - uncertain specimen. He spared a grimace towards the Sacred Flame cleric that had fallen with her, but was yet to get up. “Who’s getting the bad news?”

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"Loot me and I'll strangle you." Maria answered matter-of-factly, resting a gloved hand on her hip. Sopping hair clung to her neck and shoulders, and her usual veil was likely floating well on its way down the stream. This slimy, disheveled looking woman had seemingly risen from the grave once already, and there was little doubt she'd do it again if anyone so much as laid a finger on her body.

She shared Lio's gaze down at her fallen comrade, rolling the body over with her boot to get a better look at his face in a display of blatant disrespect for the dead. Well, the probably dead. She squinted as if to better ascertain his identity, but after a few seconds something on her face said that she didn't really know or care.

"Think his name was Jeremy or something," she said, getting her partner's name completely wrong. "Wasn't paying attention, I hardly the know the guy. Oh well, he's in a better place now." With that said, she grasped her pendant and knelt down to offer a surprisingly solemn prayer for his spirit, deeply lowering her head. The whiplash on this woman was incredible.

"Looking for some lost company, I take it?" Maria cracked an eye open, still kneeling. "I don't recognize your friends there."

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“-and then Hugo comes flying over the fence, arms full of greens, screaming at us to run, run, run! Only Jeremy and I are still trying to get this carrot out of the ground, both of us just tugging and tugging as hard as we can, except it’s not budging! And Hugo sprints over to us, dropping some chard, and starts pushing us, pushing us, ‘we need to go, we need to go!’ But Jeremy and I are stubborn, we’ve spent a good five, six minutes on this one damn carrot, so we tell Hugo, we aren’t leaving without this damn carrot! And he looks behind him, and there’s six dogs coming right for us, biiiig Stormhold hounds, so he drops the greens and gets in next to us, wrapping his hands around the base of the stem to help, you know? So we heave and we heave and the dogs are right on top of us and right when it looks like they’re about to lunge the damn thing finally comes free and it’s a fucking mandrake!!” The old woman was nearly howling with laughter as she recounted her tale.

Anaïs covered her chuckle with one hand, the side of her pencil pressing against the tip of her nose.

“We couldn’t hear for three weeks after that,” she continued, regaining her composure. “Knocked the hounds right out, though. Got out with the greens and the mandrake. Made a killing off that little bastard.”

Anaïs’s pencil lead scratched across the thin paper of the journal as she wrote down the rest of the story. Her right hand speared a slice of honeyed apricot with a fork as she finished. “And they never caught you?” she asked around a bite of sticky sweetness, setting down the pencil in her left hand.

The woman laughed over the rim of her teacup. “Oh, they almost did, but Hu- Hu… Hugh?” She lowered her hands slowly, her eyes flicking back and forth in confusion.

Anaïs swallowed her piece of apricot. “Ma’am? ...Miss Wendy? You alright?” She stood and moved to the old woman’s side, setting a concerned hand gently on her shoulder.

Miss Wendy rubbed at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, shaking her head as if to clear some fog from her mind. She looked up at Anaïs after a moment, blinking several times as she steadily came back to herself. “I’m so sorry dear, what were we talking about?”

“You were telling me about your brothers.”

Miss Wendy’s eyes searched Anaïs’s face, lips slightly parted as she attempted to recall. “My brothers… I’m sorry dear, I don’t…” She brushed a few silver threads away from her forehead. “Where was I...?”

Anaïs’s mouth hung open for a second, then pulled shut into a small smile. “It’s alright, I needed to be going anyway.” She stepped away from Wendy and picked up her journal and pencil, then grabbed a couple more quick bites of honeyed apricot. “Are you alright? Do you need help getting home?” she asked, stuffing her things into her satchel.

Miss Wendy gave a small, tired laugh, picking her teacup back off the table and swishing around the liquid inside. “I’ll be fine, dear,” she replied quietly. “I don’t live far.” She perked up, clearing her throat. “I do appreciate you so often taking the time to come listen to an old woman ramble. I know you must be busy with the library, An- Ani…” She shook her head again. “Well, this is just humiliating. I’m drawing a blank.”

“Anna,” Anaïs replied.

Miss Wendy squinted for a moment, then nodded her head. “Right, right. Ugh, don’t ever get old, dear. It’s not fun.”

Anaïs gave Wendy a thin smile. “Yes ma’am. I’ll just stay young and beautiful forever.”

Miss Wendy laughed at that. “Good girl!”

---


Anaïs shielded her eye from the late spring sun as she stepped off the busy streets of Arc de Lume, leaning against a wooden railing by the canal to pull her journal back out of her satchel. It was quiet here, well away from the clatter of carts or shouting of merchants. Nearly as quiet as the University grounds which housed the Archive. She flipped open the cover of the journal, then ran one finger under the words written on the first page. ‘Peasant Tales’. Miss Wendy wasn’t the only voice who’s memories she’d recorded herein. She’d spoken to a small number of other folk of advanced age, and she felt glad that she’d managed to get as many of their stories down as she could before their memories were gone.

It still hurt, though.

She sighed, then pushed off the railing and stuffed the book back into her satchel. Its pages were almost full, now. Maybe one or two more, and she’d be ready to commit it to the Archives as a proper record. That being said, she did have other matters to attend in the interim. What had that dwarf’s name been, again?

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster
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#, as written by Byte
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And that’s when it ended. Not with a bang, but a grand display of fire and a whole lot of screaming weirdos sporting some hot new outfits. The rest? Well, they smartly slinked back into the depths of the sewers where no stink could escape. For all their freaky splendour and animalistic instinct that spoke more to eating their prey as soon as they could sink their teeth in, the crowd of bandits was more easily dispersed than Serena would give them credit for. Guess that instinct wasn’t failing completely when it came to retreating with imaginary tails between their legs.

“And good riddance, too.” The pirate nodded with a little too much relief; the disgusted grimace making way for her usual smile. They were alive. That counted for several positives, didn’t it?

Too bad they were still mucking about in a sewage system…

With Wilthro back in his usual glowing disposition (and seated more comfortably on her shoulder than before the fight, weirdly) Serena followed closely behind the rest of the group to stare and gawk at the newly reanimated corpse. A flame priestess, apparently. Not the most cheery lass she figured.

Either that or she really didn’t care much for people. Specifically poor dead Jeremy. Poor sod, given the literal cold shoulder by a pretty woman. Maybe he could’ve livened up the situation by timing his resurrection to this very moment. Serena offered the corpse an apologetic look before turning to face the priestess.

“Just seeing if nobles really shit diamonds, rescuing damsels. The usual fun stuff.” She answered, flashing the woman a grin.

“You’re not the sewer princess we’re looking for, right?” She probably didn’t expect a serious answer, only glanced at her companions for acknowledgements. Never hurt to check the credentials. Some nobles would always relate back to another in the end; which probably made family reunions a mess to organize.

“You got some seasoning on you.” A single finger pointed out the obvious smear on the woman’s clothes. “No wait, that’s blood.”

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Caught up in the midst of battle, the sudden inferno was as much a surprise to Ashera as it was to their assailants. Fortunately for her, she wasn't the one given a surprise flame bath. The troglodytes that weren't already burnt to a crisp made a swift retreat to the holes they crawled out of. Hopefully that would make them think twice about attacking again, the elf thought to herself.

The lingering question on her mind of where all that fire had come from was interrupted by the sight of what could only be described as the dead – or rather, nearly dead – come back to life. Ashera jumped back out of shock before realising this was not another threat. The elf watched as this 'walking corpse' gave its less fortunate comrade a borderline disinterested poke with a boot before immediately delivering last rites.

To Ashera, the figure's appearance reminded her of the undead she'd heard of from childhood stories. Of course, they weren't real, and even if they were, undead didn't conduct themselves in such a manner, especially one so disjointed as this. But that didn't make this person look any less unsettling. Slowly, nervously, she approached the bedraggled priestess. But not too close. It was filthy enough just being down here.

At the priestess' question, Serena was quick to explain what brought them down here, in her own way. “Princess, not priestess,” Ashera reminded the pirate. “Or... heiress, I suppose? But these are mere semantics, and we can ill afford to waste time...”

The elf gave this scraggly stranger a more thorough once-over, her expression softening at the state she was in. Just how did she even survive all that? “Tell us, are you able to walk unaided? No serious injuries? There is an exit not far from here, if you can make it.”

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#, as written by StarGW
The moment Esther saw fire, she wondered whether one of her potions slipped. She turned her eyes away from the engulfing flames, keeping back to a dry spot of stone near the walls. The mix of sewage and burnt flesh and garbage made the humidity only worse; and she could catch the scent of the burning waste through her mask. Her breath held and and her dagger tightly clutched by the hilt, she waited for the rest of the bandits to succumb to fire, promptly ending the immediate danger, before slowly walking up to the woman from the ashes of death.

"Lio, you should have warned us that you had an explosive friend," she said with a hesitant, shaky chuckle. Though Esther liked being humorous, one could not ignore how unsettling it was to watch. The alchemist held her dagger tighter than ever, as if expecting the Sacred Flame member to incinerate her at the merest of slights. She was relieved her helm was on tight, which hid her stressed facial features from everyone else.

"We're looking for an... associate of the High Paladin," she explained to Maria with a tight lip on what they actually knew. It was supposed to be a quiet matter, after all. "And we've been looking for the Red Hatchets that have kidnapped her." She briefly looked down at her boots, making sure the muck and grime hadn't already seeped through the soles. "Oh, and preferably without incinerating the whole place. Most of the gunk is flammable."

She held out a small healing potion to Maria. "This isn't the best time or place to check for injuries. This'll help soothe some of the bleeding and fatigue if you want to come along." A part of Esther hoped common sense would prevail and that Maria would tend to her wounds above. Another part got the feeling that she wouldn't listen.

Best to prepare for any circumstance. The group could use all they help they could get.

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Maria finished bandaging up her most severe wounds, keeping an ear open as she pulled tight on the final knot.

"I don't take drinks from strangers," she said, seemingly trying to push the potion away with her gaze alone. And definitely not from a gaggle of mild-mannered sewer women; these were the witches three if she'd ever seen 'em. Carried by stuttering steps toward the wall, her shoulder heaved into it and braced against the stonework for support. Fingers gingerly wrapped around her oozing side, her chest rose and fell with long, quiet breaths. Her brow raised slightly while the redhead explained their presence down here in shit city.

"We're on the same page then. Cool. If it turns out I let unvetted help botch the rescue, my ass is smoked. So, try to make my life easy and we'll get along just fine. Otherwise I'll throw all of your rotten carcasses behind bars for obstructing the Order." Maria paused, then followed with, "I can walk. I'm just being dramatic, I'll take a look at my cuts later."

Pushing off the wall, she scanned the debris strewn about the sewer floor and spotted her weapon. She tucked the tip of her boot under the handle and kicked the mace into her hand, latching it to her belt. Her shield was nowhere to be found however, so she knelt beside one of the dead bandits and got to work. Folding his arm over, she gripped the edges of the wooden shield and yanked it from his stiff fingers.

"Oh, by the... way..." Maria grunted, rising to her feet. "I wasn't serious about the prison thing. Just a little joke."
She smiled warmly at them. Maybe genuinely, maybe... not.

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Hilgur Black-Mane Character Portrait: Dreador Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Anaïs Botrel
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Lio looked up from searching the bodies. He flopped the arms of the bandit he was propping up in the shape of a 'W' towards the others with a shrug at Maria's 'reassurance'. Then he let the body drop and hauled himself up, bouncing a small sack in his hand.

"WELL," he interrupted the tension lingering from the threat-or-not, "No ring here. Just a bottle of brown with something living in it, and a bag of -" He put a pause on sloshing around an ale bottle to pull the sack open, and a cloud of grey burst in front of his nose. He pulled the drawstrings closed as he doubled back, coughing. "... That's witchpowder. Raven, catch." He ditched the bag at her, then furiously rubbed at his twitching nose. "You'll think of something to do with it. Don't mind me if I start getting snappy." He pressed a thumb against his nostril and blew out his nose, hard. "Or pass out. We'll take your lead, Solaster."

The group moved on, walking past bodies and rubble. They found one of the grates the bandits escaped through. Lio stepped to the front, paler than usual, and yanked the grate from the doorway. The rust-red metal gave way with a shrill noise.

The party ventured forth. Further and further. The path grew narrow, into an old, brick-laid tunnel. Their steps echoed through the mouldy, dirt-encrusted walls. Faded remnants of graffiti etched upon the tunnels. Images and writings of red hatchets, growing older, darker, and blurrier the further they went.

And then, at the end of their path, they found… a door. Slightly ajar. Broad and thick, with a cool black colour peering between layers of rust. Darkness seeped between the cracks. A droning, rumbling sound came from within, like the growl of an old beast.

This was the only way forward. Lio pushed the door aside. The metal shrieked as it ground against the stone floor. Wilthro's lights shined into the darkness, and revealed…

A towering silhouette. More than eight foot tall, with arms like great oaken logs, held high and stretched far over the party. Strips of bone and carrion dangled from the ceiling like a macabre curtain. Inflamed by the owl's bright lights, the shadow's bellowing growl ascended into a roar, and the party's ears rang from such unearthly vibrations as it lunged for them!




Meanwhile, above ground, where the daylight was reflected in sparkles across the canal. The Royal Beaucourt University stood as a shining jewel in the Diamond Quarter. Behind its rustic arched windows, the finest scholars of Arc-en-Lume had conducted their studies and tended to its archives for more than five centuries.Three shapes exited its front doors. A tall, thin human scholar, a stout dwarf with an ink-black beard, and a drow woman in a hood, bound to the dwarf by a silver chain.

“...I’m tellin’ ya, Philibert. This will be the discovery of a lifetime!” The dwarf argued, with a loud and spirited voice wholly typical of his kind. “Think about it! Gala-Dor, home to the first and greatest dwarven kingdom!” The dwarf continued, his arms held high, his hands splayed open for emphasis. “Its significance to history can’t be disputed!”

“Significance to Dwarf history, Hilgur,” the scholar corrected as he pushed his spectacles upon the bridge of his nose. “No offense, but it’s not a subject many in Arc-en-Lume care about.”

Hilgur’s spirit deflated with his shoulders.

The scholar sighed, and looked down upon the dwarf with creased brows. “And that’s not even the biggest issue. This… this map, the one you claim to possess... Where is it?”

Hilgur’s stance turned rigid. His expression grew darker. “I told ya. It’s confidential. Ya’ll just have to have faith.”

The scholar turned away. “Hmph. Well, unfortunately, the University must again refuse your request. We can’t provide investment without evidence.” He glanced at Hilgur from the corner of his eye and turned his nose up. “We are academics. Faith is not empirical. Good day.”

Hilgur watched as the scholar strutted back inside. “Lousy smartass beanpole son of a...,” he uttered under his breath. With a shake of his head, the dwarf walked away, towards a bridge over the canal, with the drow in tow…

...Right into Anais’ view.

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Anaïs considered her plan of action as she walked down the canal-side road toward the university. The dwarf had just been there yesterday, right? So if she started there, she could pick up his trail and-

Well, shit, there he was. Her eyes followed him for a brief moment as he walked across the bridge to the other side of the canal, accompanied by his drow friend with the silver… necklace. It certainly couldn’t be a chain. That was illegal. Anaïs jogged briskly after them, tied hair bouncing against the back of her neck and her boots thudding softly against the wooden planks of the bridge.

”Hey! Hey,” Anaïs called out, slowing to a walk a bit behind the pair. She glanced down her nose at the dwarf, then traced his path back the way he’d come. ”You just came from the University, right? Sainte Pucelle Memorial Archive?”

Anaïs cleared her throat softly when the two stopped and turned to face her. She straightened the front of her robe as she stepped up to them. ”Sorry. Sorry, I saw you there yesterday.” Anaïs didn’t tilt her head even slightly as she spoke to the dwarf, instead gazing down her thin nose at him, though her eyes repeatedly flickered toward the drow woman hidden in the cloak, as if trying to make it seem like she was consistently addressing both of them. ”I think you were talking to Philibert? I honestly didn’t expect you to go back, he’s not exactly the type to change his mind, and his refusal seemed a bit… firm. Oh, sorry, I’m Anaïs.” She moved to offer her hand, hesitated, and then let it fall.

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Here's the current leaderboard.

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Events

Soon™.

Game Master Controls

Welcome home, Promethean. Here, you can manage your universe.

Arcs

Arcs are bundles of posts from any location, allowing you to easily capture sub-plots which might be spread out across multiple locations.

Add Quest » Quests

You can create Quests with various rewards, encouraging your players to engage with specific plot lines.

Add Setting » 1 Settings for your players to play in

Settings are the backdrop for the characters in your universe, giving meaning and context to their existence. By creating a number of well-written locations, you can organize your universe into areas and regions.

Navigation

While not required, locations can be organized onto a map. More information soon!

Add Group » 0 Factions to align with

There are no groups in this roleplay!

Collectibles

By creating Collectibles, you can reward your players with unique items that accentuate their character sheets.


Once an Item has been created, it can be spawned in the IC using /spawn Item Name (case-sensitive, as usual) — this can be followed with /take Item Name to retrieve the item into the current character's inventory.

Mobs

Give your Universe life by adding a Mob, which are auto-replenishing NPCs your players can interact with. Useful for some quick hack-and-slash fun!

Mobs can be automated spawns, like rats and bats, or full-on NPCs complete with conversation menus. Use them to enhance your player experience!

Current Mobs

No mobs have been created yet.

Spawns

Locations where Mobs and Items might appear.

Events

You can schedule events for your players to create notifications and schedule times for everyone to plan around.

Permissions

Add and remove other people from your Universe.

The Forge

Use your INK to craft new artifacts in The Gala-Dor Expedition. Once created, Items cannot be changed, but they can be bought and sold in the marketplace.

Notable Items

No items have been created yet!

The Market

Buy, sell, and even craft your own items in this universe.

Market Data

Market conditions are unknown. Use caution when trading.

Quick Buy (Items Most Recently Listed for Sale)

Open Stores

View All » Add Character » 20 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Hilgur Black-Mane
Character Portrait: Dreador
Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai
Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte
Character Portrait: Henri Le Chevalier
Character Portrait: Maria Solaster
Character Portrait: Anaïs Botrel
Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
Character Portrait: Aven Zhegar
Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
Character Portrait: The King of the Condors

Newest

Character Portrait: The King of the Condors
The King of the Condors

Heir to the Skies! HEED THUNDER! HEED LIGHTNING!

Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
Iz'Hana Daudol

A wandering Ranger, always eager for the next hunt.

Character Portrait: Aven Zhegar
Aven Zhegar

For glory undying

Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
Orcimedes Lavatrina

Green is the mightiest flavor.

Character Portrait: Anaïs Botrel
Anaïs Botrel

academic and record keeper

Character Portrait: Maria Solaster
Maria Solaster

A weirdo in a cleric uniform.

Character Portrait: Henri Le Chevalier
Henri Le Chevalier

Knight by name, Knight by nature

Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte
Serena L'aporte

"Calm as the ocean, wild as the seas."

Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
Esther Alfsson

Journeyman Alchemist, Healer, Saboteur

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai
Ashera Vallenai

A young and reckless archer with a sense for danger...

Trending

Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
Orcimedes Lavatrina

Green is the mightiest flavor.

Character Portrait: Hilgur Black-Mane
Hilgur Black-Mane

Businessman. Warrior. Amateur Harmonicist.

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai
Ashera Vallenai

A young and reckless archer with a sense for danger...

Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
Esther Alfsson

Journeyman Alchemist, Healer, Saboteur

Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
Iz'Hana Daudol

A wandering Ranger, always eager for the next hunt.

Character Portrait: Maria Solaster
Maria Solaster

A weirdo in a cleric uniform.

Character Portrait: Henri Le Chevalier
Henri Le Chevalier

Knight by name, Knight by nature

Character Portrait: The King of the Condors
The King of the Condors

Heir to the Skies! HEED THUNDER! HEED LIGHTNING!

Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte
Serena L'aporte

"Calm as the ocean, wild as the seas."

Character Portrait: Aven Zhegar
Aven Zhegar

For glory undying

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte
Serena L'aporte

"Calm as the ocean, wild as the seas."

Character Portrait: The King of the Condors
The King of the Condors

Heir to the Skies! HEED THUNDER! HEED LIGHTNING!

Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
Iz'Hana Daudol

A wandering Ranger, always eager for the next hunt.

Character Portrait: Aven Zhegar
Aven Zhegar

For glory undying

Character Portrait: Maria Solaster
Maria Solaster

A weirdo in a cleric uniform.

Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
Orcimedes Lavatrina

Green is the mightiest flavor.

Character Portrait: Henri Le Chevalier
Henri Le Chevalier

Knight by name, Knight by nature

Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson
Esther Alfsson

Journeyman Alchemist, Healer, Saboteur

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai
Ashera Vallenai

A young and reckless archer with a sense for danger...

Character Portrait: Dreador
Dreador

The deadly, mysterious assassin... and unwilling choresmaster of the expedition.


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