Ambience



Amidst the high peaks of the mountains, few would notice the empty towers of a once-great fortress. Built into the mountain ridge and covered in snow, the stone has been sitting here for centuries, perhaps millenia. The road to the castle has been long forgotten, overgrown with hardy trees and covered in gravel, yet not impossible to make out. What little remains of the massive gates has long ago succumbed to the elements, one door half open, the other lying on the floor. The wind lives here, having made a home in every nook and cranny of the stonework.



Inside, the dark entrance hall leads to the only source of light far ahead: the main hall. The image here is unexpected: lush greens where one would expect lifeless marble, running water where one would expect ice. Nothing but the wind betrays the silence, no light but the sun shines in this place. In the center of the hall is a large central staircase with a central door at the top of the stairs. Three statues surround it: two guardians on either side, swords in their grasp. One stands taller and more impressive above the door, yet does not carry a weapon. The statues of a long lost elven culture, their forms sleek and elegant, yet crude and powerful.

The remains of a large feast litter the floor, broken tables and benches splintered amongst the grass. Mugs, bottles and empty caskets all appear to be in perfect condition, preserved as the day they emptied. A single cloak lies in tatters on the first step of the stairs.

The air is dry and pleasantly warm unaffected by the holes and windows in the walls and ceiling. Cold gusts of wind that howl in the front of the castle dissipate as soon as they reach the main hall, not a single vine or grass sprite moved by their force.

A single ruby, the size of a man's head, is embedded in the chest of the main elven statue, beaming with light that seems to come from within. The glow intensifies until the whole ruby glows bright red. Moments later, a bright flash erupts and the ruby fades. Below the statue, in front of the door, several bodies lay, unharmed, but asleep.

The large man unconscious to the left of the door was the first to stir. He groaned quietly, his voice muffled by the soft moss his face rested against. His eyes fluttered open slowly, and he groaned again rolling first onto his side, and then his back. He raised a large gloved hand to blot the sun from his eyes, and frowned quizzically. He didn't recognize this place.

Raikon slowly raised into a sitting position, resting his weight on one arm, the other hand still blocking the sun from his sleep filled eyes. "Joshua? Hector?" His voice was thick in his throat, and quiet. He coughed into his hand, squinting into the sunlight, and looks around once more. He remembered they were celebrating. Many of them, Joshua, Hector, Kayle, his whole band had been there. They had just received word of the full retreat of all Burean forces from the peninsula, and Alcuin had been kept free of their grasp. They had been fighting for three weeks with almost no rest, their morale had dwindled to a candle flame. But they outlasted the enemy and had prevented their resupply, allowing for a reprieve, and a chance to bolster their defenses to prevent another attack.

The celebration was fierce and well earned. Friends had been lost, and many of his comrades had held their grief until the end. They had a chance to let their emotions flow freely along with the mead. He had drank plenty on his own, and his memories grew hazy as the night went on. But he remembered being carried on a shoulder to his bed in the Gnarled Pine, laughing and swaying and singing. This place was not The Gnarled Pine.

He looked at the other bodies on the ground around him and lifted himself to stand on shaky legs. He realized he was still dressed in all of his armor, and his body was sore in many places, screaming at the pressure points from the belts and gear strapped to his chest and hips. He could tell this place was ancient, and his mind swirled trying to recreate the steps he had taken back to the inn. He had made it back to his room, hadn't he? Who had helped him back? The back of his head throbbed and he shielded his eyes from the sunlight again, frustrated.

He looked at the bodies again. They were breathing, alive, just unconscious or asleep. He didn't recognize them, and started to walk closer to the young blonde man closest to him. He took in the room once more as he crouched down. The building they were in looked ancient. He had seen overgrown ruins before, but nothing like this. The place almost vibrated with a force unknown to him, and he swallowed back his fear. He reached down and grasped the shoulder of the slender man next to him, shaking gently.

"Hey, you. Wake up, would you?"

"-ou. Wake up, would you?"

He didn't know that voice, was Caspian's first thought. He had always been a light sleeper, so there was usually no need for someone to go further than a verbal request. Breathing in deeply, he slowly opened his eyes to peer at whoever it was that wanted him awake. His mind was blank then, sleepiness fogging his thoughts. His vision still blurry at first glance, he moved to rub his eyes, coming aware of the the slight soreness all over his body. It was a familiar feeling. It was as if he had slept on hard floor, and his hands pressing upon the hard grounds proved it to be true. It had been awhile since he last slept on something that isn't a bed.

Disoriented, he slightly narrowed his eyes confusedly at the unfamiliar larger man before him. Was the man a new companion? In all his life, there was only one person he knew who had red hair. Albeit, his best friend's hair was a tad brighter, almost like fire. At the thought of his friend, he immediately turned to look around him, searching for another red head almost frantically. A small feeling of panic started to blossom deep within when he failed to see anyone he knew at all, like a heartburn he was trying hard to not acknowledge. Moreover, he vividly remembered that they were still in a city then. Kalakyth was a city of smoke and suffocating hot air that distinctly smelled of burning soil, cigar and liquor. It bore absolutely no resemblance to the refreshing green around him. He could almost still taste the awful mead that he spat after taking an experimental sip from his friend's flask.

Yes. He had a clear recollection of where and what he was doing. They were in Kalakyth because of a stop over, and their group chose to spent the night in the awful city of dark skies and smokey air over sleeping underneath the stars in the forest miles away. Kalakyth was located in the foot of a mountain that once had thousands of trees, with its incessant mining and pollution. From a distance, it looks like a black splotch. They were walking, he remembered, when he asked to take a sip from his friend's flask. They were leaving the city. What happened then? He knew he could remember if he just thought a lot harder. A place like the one around him was not something they could have found anywhere near Kalakyth. The disgusting men of that city wouldn't have let something as unnaturally pure and fresh go untainted.

Caspian tried not to think too deeply, truly. His thoughts were swirling violently into directions he didn't want to it to go, and he was actively avoiding the panic that was surely a layer just beneath his calmness and confusion. Breathe deeply, focus. It wouldn't do well for him to panic. Perhaps he was not in a safe place, perhaps he was. He forcefully brushed it all off, and breathed in deeply as he pushed himself to get up. It was colder, he realized, and he unconsciously tugged on his cloak. He felt around his body to feel if he still had his things. He did.

"What is this place?" He asked, his fingers tugging on the neckline of his shirt that felt a bit suffocating - a nervous habit of his. He stood too close to the larger and unfamiliar man, so he nervously took a step back, eyes flickering at the man's appearance. Older, larger and most probably stronger. Bigger people made him nervous. The look on the faces didn't matter. His friends taught him that people with kind faces could merely be better in hiding secrets and trickery. Granted, the men he calls friends trusted no one but the ones in their group only. They made him paranoid, too.

"Who are you?" And who are the men around them, and where was he, and just where were his friends? Where was Ni-. He exhaled, thinking about the fact that he shouldn't dwell on things that aren't currently in the present. The first thing was that he should look for familiar things, but nothing seemed familiar at the moment because he was still trying to clear his mind.

Nothing was familiar and it didn't make sense.

Raikon let the slender man look around and get his bearings, and took the chance to look him over. He didn't appear injured, or to know anything about this... temple, or whatever it was; that or he was a decent actor. He was armed with a dagger, wore simple clothes. He didn't look familiar at all, and the pendant he wore was of a style the traveled warrior hadn't seen before. The blonde man took a step back and Raikon obliged, allowing him the space. "I don't know where or what this place is. I was hoping you would tell me."

He tried to remember more of the night before, now that the warm air and movement had cleared his mind a little. Everything was very hazy from when he left the meeting hall. He remembered someone helping him down the street. He had asked to go back to the inn, the Gnarled Pine. But he didn't remember making it to his bed. There was something else, they had gone somewhere... But the memory remained evasive.

He looked down at the other unconscious bodies, pondering if he should wake them as well. "My name is Raikon Delnai, I have no idea how I got here." He glanced back over to the man shifting nervously beside him. "Stay calm, it doesn't look like we're in any immediate danger. Can you tell me who you are?" He recognized the look of contained panic, something he had seen in many before a battle. He hoped there wouldn't be a battle.

Raikon walked over to one of the other bodies and knelt down. He pushed the hood back and frowned. A woman, an elf at that. That made him more nervous. The only elves he had encountered had put two arrows into him, and he wasn't keen on repeating the experience. He noticed the bow, quiver of arrows and well worn daggers and decided this one could stay asleep a while longer. He stood up carefully and stepped away.

Slowly the voices nearby pierced the consciousness of the fair-skinned man in the robe and he began to stir. He picked up his head and glanced around. This was clearly not the valley outside of Kyranholm where he was pretty sure he’d last been. He sat up straighter, rubbed his eyes, and looked around yet again. The greenery, the running water, all that felt right. Right? No, no it’s quite wrong. He looked at it again. That is not the same creek, those are not the same trees. And these are not the mercenaries I was with before.

Dacheus Zaraphiston buried his face in his hands and tried to focus, to think. How did he get here? It made no sense. Had he done something wrong? He retraced his steps as best he could. He had been in the valley, right? And he was testing out a new spell, a combination of teleportation with misdirection. Rather than just creating an illusory duplicate of himself while turning invisible, he was actually going to teleport out of harm’s way at the same time. It should have worked. He had mastered both spells, mashing them together shouldn’t have been a problem, right?

Apparently it had.

Ok, think. Valley. Mercenaries. Spell. Soo… what went wrong? He straightened up and looked around again. This is sooo not the valley. Where in the nine hells am I? Did something go wrong? Is this one of my illusions? He looked at a rock next to him and tried to see through it. It remained where it was, refusing to yield. He rapped his knuckles against it. Still it remained solid. He picked it up and inspected it closely. Sure looks real. For good measure, he bonked it against his forehead. Ouch. Ok, that was stupid. It’s real.

Dacheus set the rock down and stood up. Is this my fault? No, it can’t be, I’m not bleeding. But how else… no. Just no. Not my fault. He surveyed the room once more. Right?

With the initial shock wearing off, he tried to get his bearings. He was indoors, it was reasonably warm, there were trees and water and other people and none of it made sense. He looked down at himself. Everything was still where it belonged. Wizard’s robe, spellbook in its bag on his back. Arcane tools and trinkets in the pockets of his robe. Still fully dressed, unlike his first teleportation mishap that had left him naked in the city square. Thank the gods for invisibility.

And then there was the matter of the other people. Two men, already up, and an unconscious half-elven woman, by the looks of it. Well, could be a man, hard to tell with the elves. Regardless, they weren’t the marauding band he’d been working with over the last month. He wouldn’t really miss them, but it was nice to be appreciated.

He turned and looked at the two men. “Gentlemen. Do you know where we are?” he asked calmly, bronze eyes flicking between the two. One was large and confident. The other was small and terrified. Dacheus would fit somewhere in between, in both senses.

Caspian mentally counted his breaths, slowly being successful in calming himself. It was just the confusion, he tells himself, of waking up in the company of beings whom he did not recognize. He listened as the man named Raikon spoke, taking into account how apparently both of them knew nothing of the place they were currently in. It gave him a sense of slight relief that he wasn't alone in his current predicament. Information taken in, the new dominant question in his mind was what or who exactly brought them there. If his newest speculation was right, then the others with them were also from another place.

Oh, he was still cautious and tinged with nervousness, just less. He wasn't alone and that was very relieving to know. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. With a clearer mind, he surveyed his surroundings,more critical this time. Still, he failed to recognize anything. The towering elven figures make it seem like a temple, or a church of sorts. Something nagged in the back of his mind, but he couldn't remember what it was.

"I'm Caspian Fleiyril. I don't know this place, either, or how I got here." He answered, choosing to stay nearer to the man who seemed to not be an enemy at the moment. "I remember I was walking with my companions. It was broad daylight then in Kalakyth." He talked before walking towards the female elven, just to check if she was truly just asleep and alive. It was often his job to do so, and out of habit he felt the need to check on her. He was just about to crouch down to check her manually, and to wake her up, but someone else showed up.

His attention snapped towards the new arrival. The bronze eyes were odd. Very eye-catching. And then, the blackhaired man asked the same question that was voiced out earlier.

"We don't. Not really."

At a minimum, the other people there appeared equally confused and did not appear openly hostile. That was a good sign. They’d also come from far away, which meant that Dacheus was probably not at fault for bringing them here. Probably.

Then how did we get here?

With the immediate “Am I going to get stabbed?” concerns dealt with, the mage turned his attention to his surroundings once more. Figuring out where he was would be a good start. Dacheus turned and walked toward one of the windows without taking the time to introduce himself. Outside were mountains, covered in snow and ice.

Wait, what the hell?

He looked around the room, held out his hand to the air. No wind, warm, greenery, running water. He looked outside again. Freezing cold. Was it merely an illusion? He walked up to a large, open window and hopped into it, leaning outside. The wind whipped around his head, stinging his cheeks. He quickly retreated and touched his face; the snow in his beard was quite real.

Then is this room the false one? No, no. I checked. He rubbed the spot on his head and confirmed that he had indeed hit himself with a rock. And the snow and ice outside… that’s real too. Which means…

There were a few possible explanations. They might not be in the mountains at all, but every window was a portal to a frozen realm. Unlikely, but possible. More likely, they were in the mountains, but there was some sort of barrier keeping the cold out and the warmth in. He began an arcane inspection of the windows, watching the way the magic seemed to ripple as he moved his hand out into the cold and pulled it back. “What a fascinating little barrier…” he mused. It somehow allowed him to move through it while minimizing airflow, preventing the freezing wind from blasting through the great hall. He stepped back and dashed to the next window, looking for the same thing. “This is so neat! Put one of these in the door of your house and never deal with winter drafts again! Why, this could revolutionize the principles of construction even in temperate realms, let alone cold ones!” He dashed to the next window. “But how on earth does it work…”

He turned back and looked at the man named Caspian as he introduced himself, nodding his head in a short bow. He frowned and thought back to the places he'd been. "Its nice to meet you Caspian. Kalakyth, Where is that? I've been all over the eastern lands, I've never heard of the place." He grumbled, scratching the back of his head, "Where in the world are we?"

He spun around quickly, his hand reaching to his sword out of habit, as he heard the newcomer call out to them. When he saw the man had stayed a good distance away and appeared relatively unarmed he relaxed, letting his hand back down to his side. Caspian answered before he could, and the man seemed to lose interest almost instantly and started mumbling to himself and wandering around. An elf and... whoever that was. He sighed and shook his head, feeling a dark weight start to form in the pit of his stomach.

He watched the newcomer walk over to the window. He could hear the man talking about something but couldn't make out the words as he hadn't followed. But he saw the jacketed figure reaching and peering out the window and his gaze followed. He could see the icy mountains beyond, the frost and icicles clinging to the window ledge. The dark feeling grew. Magic, something he had no experience with and never understood.

Raikon glanced back over to the short blonde next to him, wondering what secrets he may be hiding as well. He felt oddly out of place, which only compounded the feeling of confusion that was building within him. He took two slow breaths and set his jaw, remembering to focus only on what was important. He looked around for supplies and signs of activity. First he had to make sure they were safe, and took advantage of everything possible.

He saw the cloak on the steps, broken casks of what could have been ale or mead long ago. None of that was useful. With the growth being undisturbed it looked as though the four of them were the first to be in this place in as long as they had been alive, probably longer. He shivered with unease, and turned to look at the statues. He didn't recognize the construction, everything looked ancient. His eyes moved up to the giant red ruby, or whatever it was being held by the center statue. The back of his head throbbed, and he remembered for a moment deciding to pray at the temple before going back to the inn, pray for their lost comrades. He remembered a great red stone. Everything else was a hazy mess.

His eyes looked down to just above the statue, and he wondered if he could climb up, or get someone else to reach the small wooden rails he could see positioned there. Raikon looked back to the dark haired man pondering at the window. He seemed to have an interest in the magic of this place, and Raikon wondered whether the gem or his memory would mean anything to the fellow. He looked over to Caspian and held out a hand. "I'll be right back," and then walked over to the steps. He called out to the other man at the window, "You there! Come here for a moment. What do you make of this gemstone?"

Dacheus moved his hands through the barrier several more times, watching them and the subtle ripples in the air around them. “Oh, that’s… huh. I wonder…” He continued muttering to himself as he pulled his spellbook from its pouch and started reading, comparing what he had written with what he was seeing. “Oooh, that’s interesting. But it’s… no, wait.”

He continued his myopic inspection of the windows until someone interrupted him. He turned and looked over the shoulder as if annoyed. Oh wait. Other people. Probably gotta deal with them, they don’t know why we’re here either. He turned back to his book and took a breath. They’re not enemies yet. They’re lost too. We should try to work together. Then he tucked his book under his arm and turned back toward the larger man standing by the statue. “Oh, yes! I should have a look at that, shouldn’t I?” he answered, walking quickly -- almost skipping -- across the room. There was simply so much to see and to try to understand, even if he was stranded in a strange place with no idea how he’d gotten there or how to leave, he was still visibly excited.

He came to a stop at the base of the statue and looked up at the stone. “Well, it’s big and red. Gems don’t usually get that big though, so it’s probably magical,” he said, thinking aloud. He opened the tome he carried once more and flipped through it, glancing between the book and the stone, back and forth several times. “Yeah, magical… and I think I’ve seen that… yes!” The book stopped on a page with a teleportation spell. He stared at the stone and then at the page, twirling his fingers in the air in some sort of pattern. “Yes, that it’s. Teleportation of some kind, has to be. Probably what brought us here, although I can’t say that for certain.” He shut the book again and smiled in satisfaction as he looked up at it. “I’ll need a closer look to be sure…”

After a few seconds he stopped and turned to the green-eyed man next to him. “What’s your name, by the way? I’m Dacheus. I’m a mage,” he said, glancing down at the spellbook in his hand. “But I guess that’s obvious.”

He looked down at the man's hand, pausing for only a moment. The word *mage* circled meaninglessly in his head. He had heard the word before, but not in any ways he could have applied to a person or title. More like forces of nature, destructive unknowns. He resisted a shudder and took the mans hand, shaking it eagerly. "Captain Raikon Delnai of the Unserving Band. Pleasure to meet you, Dacheus."

He remembered back when his mother used to tell him stories. Of mages waging wars and bringing ruin to the land. Beings of strife and chaos she called them, harbingers of the Gods and the embodiment of their fury. They had been spoken of like demons, but the man who stood before him looked nothing like what he had imagined as a boy. He wasn't shrouded in fire, or wielding a sword made of glass with the soul of a king trapped inside. His mouth twitched, uncertainty filling his mind.

He looked back at the statue for a moment, the feeling in the pit of his stomach expanding outward to fill his chest. He didn't know anything about this, and felt completely unprepared. He swallowed loudly and nodded towards the statue before turning back to face Dacheus, "I saw some railings near the top. I figure if you stood on my shoulders you may be able to reach them to steady yourself." His eyes narrowed, "Just... be careful. I don't think I like this thing. I remember something about it, before waking up here. At least I think so, I was fairly drunk at the time."

Dacheus returned his book to its satchel. “Yeah, that should work.” It wasn’t ideal, but it should work, right? Raikon was clearly strong enough to support him. With some help, he clambered up onto the soldier’s shoulders and turned to look at the stone. Clearly magical, clearly powerful, clearly related to their teleportation…

“Ooh… oh, my…” Without thinking, he leaned forward to get a better look. Time seemed to slow as the large gem suddenly occupied all of his attention, a superhuman focus that shut out everything else to devote its efforts to the wonder in front of him. “Closer!” he called out. “Move closer, yes, like tha--”

Slowly, the fact that he was no longer quite upright dawned on him. Raikon was not moving closer; the mage was simply leaning forward. Too far forward, in fact. “Ack!” His arms pinwheeled, trying to keep his balance, but the satchel with his spellbook swung forward, throwing off what little balance he might have had. He managed to raise his hands as he pitched forward and tried to grab hold of the statue to no avail.

His hands served some purpose, slowing his fall so that his face didn’t hit the statue quite as hard. It all seemed to be happening in the background, though, as he twisted his neck to continue looking at the gem even as he fell. “No, no! Come back!” he cried out as he reached toward the receding ruby with one hand while he slid down toward the floor.

After a couple seconds of absurdity, he finally reached the floor, planting his hands on it to keep from landing on his face. It was only a minor distraction, as he kept trying to turn his head and look up at the magic gem. “It’s so… I need to get… Dammit, put my feet down already!” he spat, though he at least had the good sense not to try and kick himself away from Raikon. He needed to get back up to the gem, and clearly the soldier wasn’t going to be of any help.

Caspian had been remaining silent and observing for awhile, listening as the other two conscious men talked. He was quite unsurprised that the unknown male introduced himself as a mage, as they weren't that rare from where he was. Yes, he had encountered a few mages here and there, but then again had never been one to talk to anyone outside his small circle of friends and thus never truly got to know one. The books were often the giveaways, and some had odd trinkets and what not.

He had moved and walked closer when Raikon and the man named Dacheus proceeded to try to get to the gem. Along that time, Raikon mentioned his position, the words and names not ringing a bell. He also watched as they failed soon enough in the gem acquiring, in a non-spectacular way. He couldn't help but feel like, if they were his friends, he would have been snickering at the failure and offering comfort after. When Dacheus demanded to be let go, he walked over and decided to stand in close talking distance. Seeing other people struggle and try to make sense of whatever they were in managed to calm him down a bit. He wasn't alone in it.

"Kalakyth is in , North of Dulyns." Caspian answered Raikon's question after the long thinking he had, trying to make himself remember all the countries and continents he studied before. He then turned his eyes towards the mage whom he had yet to introduce himself to, when he failed to remember all. He ignored the ridiculousness of the situation.

"I'm Caspian Fleiyril. I'm a healer, or a cleric in other terms. I would say it's nice to meet you, but this isn't nice at all." He said truthfully.

Honestly, he didn't know what else to say or do, so he just stared awkwardly. He didn't want to offer help, really, since it looked like even the help of a captain wasn't sufficient. What more could he do?

The mage was light enough, and Raikon hoisted him up onto his shoulders. As the copper eyed man stared at the gemstone Raikon craned his neck to try to get a better look. He couldn't really understand what Dacheus was saying, he kept mumbling and interrupting himself. He felt the shifting balance coming a few seconds too late. He tried to adjust, and would have been alright until Dacheus told him to move closer. The mage leaned too far, or something he couldn't quite tell, but it was enough.

Raikon gripped Dacheus' ankles as the man reeled forward, trying to pull him into an easier fall, but the mans upper body collided with the statue and everything shifted backwards, forcing the Captain to take a step back with it. Dacheus hit the ground in front of him with a painful thwack. The entire scene was more entertaining than it should have been, and Raikon had to stifle a laugh for a couple of seconds. He was brought back when the angry voice told him to let go of his feet.

He let go and coughed, covering his smirk with his hand as Caspian drew closer. Raikon turned to face the Cleric, and thought carefully about Kalakyth, Dulyns... He didn't know those places, not from anything, story or truth.

"Not nice at all, mhm." He nodded in agreement. He looked down at the elf, still unconscious on the floor, and then at the mage now staring intensely at the gem above him. "I think we should probably leave this room. If we were brought here for a reason, whatever did it will be coming to check this place." He looked back over to Dacheus, speaking louder, "It might be better to worry about the gem later. I want to get a look of the area."

Dacheus didn't respond. Raikon called to the mage again, but Dacheus was staring at the gem, mumbling low enough that he couldn't hear what the man was saying. The captain looked cautiously at the gem, too frightened now to want to be anywhere near it, and then turned to Caspian with a frown. He nodded towards the stupefied mage, "I think we need to get out of here." He glanced around and picked up a small branch and wrapped his oiled tarp around it, making a small, makeshift torch in case they needed it later. He stowed it in his belt for easy access.

He took a step toward the archway but then stopped himself. He glanced at the elf woman once more and then turned to the Cleric. "Caspian, are you going to have a problem with leaving them here? I can't scout and carry her at the same time, you'd have to do it if you want to take her with us. And I don't know what to do about him" He averted his eyes, "But I don't think its a good idea to try right now." He also wanted to say they should take their weapons, in case she decided to wake up and stalk them later or the mage felt sore about their leaving, but felt that his suggestion of leaving them here would be hard enough to swallow already.

The raw, obvious power of the gemstone called out to the sorcerer the like sirens of lore and he found himself unable to resist its pull. He spent several minutes, maybe even half an hour staring up at the gem, wishing he could move himself closer by sheer force of will. Alas, it was not to be. He eventually shook himself free of its pull and looked around. His companions had abandoned him. All that remained was the unconscious elf… and the cloak on the floor.

Dacheus walked over and knelt beside the cloak, then picked it up and looked it over. It was, by all accounts, entirely ordinary. But, stuck up in the mountains as he was, a heavy fur cloak would come in handy. He slung it lightly around his shoulders and looked back up at the statue. The gem still called out to him, though he could at least resist and control the urge to drool over it.

Well, I’d better at least get a good look at it, even if I have to do it without that useless oaf. He quickly mounted the stairs, climbed onto the railing, and looped his new cloak around the top of the statue. Then he carefully shimmied down it, deftly holding both ends of the cloak in one hand and inspecting the statue with the other until he reached the gem. This thing… gods below, the power just rolling out of it… I should… I should take this thing with me.

That, of course, wasn’t happening. His bare hands were not enough to dislodge the gem, nor did a telekinesis spell have any more luck. In his frustration, he began simply yelling at the statue and trying to shake it over. “God damned stubborn insufferable idiotic ugly hunk of stone! No one even likes you, you should have fallen over of the damned sculptor who made you!”

And then his arms had had enough, his strength failed, and the sorcerer fell. At least he wasn’t high up; he flailed a bit and twisted in the air and landed, mostly catching himself with his hands. “Oof! God dammit. Where’s that oaf of a warrior when I need something to land on? Bah! He’d have just stepped aside and let me fall on my face again!”

Another minute of screaming and pounding his fists against the unyielding, unconcerned statue left him tired and frustrated. “Alright, there’s gotta be… there’s gotta be…” he looked around for a loose rock to throw at it. He looked some more. And more. And after a couple of minutes concluded that there were, in fact, no loose rocks of appropriate size for him to launch at this damnable statue.

“Fine! Fine fine fine! Who needs rocks? I have FIRE!” Dacheus focused inwardly, summoning the fire which burned within his veins, creating a devastatingly powerful bolt of arcane flame, and launching it straight at the statue. It roared across the room, hit the waist of the statue, and vanished without leaving so much as a scorch mark.

“Oh for pity’s sake! That’s fucking cheating!” he shouted at the statue, stomping his feet. Then something caught his attention. The elf, still lying by the base of the statue. Had the stone not simply absorbed his spell, the blast likely would have been the end of her. The sorcerer felt the slightest hint of remorse and knelt down next to her to see if she was alive.

She was, still breathing in fact. Her pulse seemed to quicken as he touch her, and yet she could not be roused. “Well, maybe this statue will keep watching over you,” he muttered. “But for those of us still trying to survive… I think I’m gonna need this.” He took her pack from around her shoulders and rifled through it; some rope, some animal hides, some silver. Better than nothing. There were scraps of cloth on the edge of a doorway; his companions must have left that way. He put the fur cloak about his shoulders again, slung the elf’s pack over that, and set off.

At first, the cold hit him, and he laughed. “Bring it!” he declared, pushing on into the frigid wind, sheer force of will and the fire in his veins easily holding off the freezing chill. A half out late, he’d changed his tune; it was cold, the frosty chill starting to seep into his bones; the fur cloak helped but it wasn’t enough. He found a couple corpses, a pair of goblins and a peasant girl, and continued trudging on indifferently. He could see a town in the valley below and pushed on even as he started to lose feeling in his fingers and toes. If he had to summon some fire to hold off frostbite, he would, but he didn’t think it’d be necessary; the town gates weren’t far now.

He eventually made it, approaching the wooden wall of the town, when a gruff voice called out: “Oi! Halt and state yer business here, or I'll have the chuckers make you into a pincussion!”

Dacheus looked up at the wall and sighed. "I am cold and I am hungry!" he yelled back. "And I wish to remedy both of those things! I am also looking for my companions who left me up in the mountains, but those little shits probably got eaten by goblins!"

He was rewarded with laughter from behind the wall, and soon a head popped out from between the wooden chunks. The grizzled old man gave the sorcerer a sneering look: ”Alright, ye can come in. Don't be causin trouble now, or we'll chuck ye right out with a few extra holes!”
The large wooden gates swung open to reveal visage of the village at dusk. There was a long street ahead with various clay houses on either side and a large field at the end of the road. As Dacheus walked inside, he saw a man walk down towards him from the small parapets along the wall. It was the same grizzled man from a moment before.
“I'm the mayor here, so if I see you doing anything that's bad for us, we'll have you hanged by dawn! The inn's down the street if you have gold to spend! Off with ye!”

Dacheus nodded and set off. He had no desire to remain outdoors any longer than needed. The inn was little more than a large hovel, but very homely inside. The barkeep, a huge woman, towered over him. “Oh, another customer? Are you one of those BREAD fanatics too or do you like some proper goblin stew?”

"Gimme the goblin stew," he answered. It didn't sound great, but he didn't want to argue.

Overjoyed at not having to deal with another picky customer, she slapped his back. He sat down at a nearby table and and she handed him a bowl of murky green-ish liquid with some bits floating in it, then handed him a wooden spoon. 'That'll be five silvers!'

He had hardly that much to begin with, but after the hike down from the mountains he lacked the strength to argue. "Any chance that comes with a stiff drink?" he asked, clearly joking as he fished the coins from his pocket. "This is delicious, but I think it'd go well with something stout."

“Aye, we have some distilled Goblin ale! Only ten silvers!”

He sighed and shook his head. "I'd love to try it, but I don't have that kind of coin on me, gorgeous. Maybe after I rob the silly bread-eaters." The stew was....horrendous, but Dacheus was a bit too hungry to care. Properly treated it would probably make a fine poison.

“Aye, ye should! They've been nothing but trouble!”

A few minutes later, he finished eating and stood. 'How was the stew?' The tall barkeep was incredibly curious as to his reaction, as were the other patrons of the inn.

It would go better with some bread, the sorcerer thought but didn’t say. “Excellent!” he answered. “I’ve never had anything like it!” At least the last part wasn’t a lie.

“Great!” the barkeep replied. “You’re alright, not like those damn bread fanatics. If you’re here to exorcise them, they’re in room 4. Here, grab some ale and teach them how to properly enjoy drinks!” She handed him two mugs of what appeared to be ale with a strange greenish color.

Dacheus thanked her and made his way up the stairs, a mug of ale in each hand. He found door number four and knocked firmly. “I hear there’s a pair of bread-eating saps in here! Best open the door, ya hear?” he yell, grinning like an idiot.

The room was small but cozy, and Raikon was happy to finally have a place to rest and collect his thoughts. The mystery surrounding their arrival in this place was staggering him, but he knew that despite the many unknowns he had the capabilities to see the threats before him, protect himself and others, and take another step forward.

Leaving Dacheus behind had been difficult. More difficult than the elf woman, since he hadn't had an opportunity to meet her to dispel some of the fears and doubts he had. But he had met Dacheus, and while he had been quite odd, leaving someone behind was never a decision Raikon enjoyed making.

Caspian and Raikon didn't find anything leaving the castle. While they could have explored more inside, the feeling he got from the stone and the place in general made him think it was best to leave the place behind. He couldn't figure out what the building had been used for- they didn't find anything of note just a bunch of destroyed casks and old stone. The statues had given no hints. He remembered another door they could have checked, but decided the likelihood of something worth while being inside, given the decomposed quality of everything else, was minimal. He was much happier having been able to leave the gemstone and statues behind as quickly as possible. Maybe the people in town would have some information.

The weather outside was dreadfully cold, even testing his experience and fortitude. Caspian had taken things hard, he wondered if Dacheus had made it out, how he had fared. Thinking back to the avalanche, how it had destroyed the path they used to reach this place, he wondered whether Dacheus had been caught in it, or if the temple they had arrived in had been destroyed or buried. Had the avalanche been caused by the goblin's horn? Was it deliberate?

He looked across the room to Caspian carefully mending the wound in his leg. The goblin attack had gone well, but even small injuries could lead to lasting consequences. Things may not have gone as well if he hadn't managed to take out one of the three attackers immediately. He wasn't used to dealing with goblins or other lesser creatures- where he came from they mostly stayed on their own and avoided the business of man and their cities. The way the goblins attacked immediately instead of fleeing threw him off. One did escape though, after Raikon had flubbed his second throw, and he cursed himself once more in hindsight.

He had been lucky to avoid losing an arm to the jagged goblin javelin, but he had been saved. By Magic. Caspian had touched him while they fought the Goblins Raikon had gotten his first direct taste of magic and what it was capable of. His skin prickled at the memory of his flesh growing tight, hard and rough like the skin of a tree. His immediate panic had nearly made him lose his step, but his previous fighting experience and military training kept his mind focused. He could still move, it wasn't painful, and it didn't prevent him from doing what was necessary. He had been able to calm himself and continue the fight, but he feared his initial distraction is what caused Caspian to take the blade to his leg. He would need to remain more focused in the future; he didn't want to be the one who let an attack slide through.

They had survived. His skin changed back during their sprint to the town, and while he was relieved, he could not help but dread the things he might experience later, and also wondered in awe at the powers and abilities he couldn't even fathom.

The goblin swarm that forced him to this place was alarming. He had never seen that many in one place, let alone organized enough to form a swap and siege. His fear and bewilderment had cost him his focus, Caspian was much more quickly able to reach the gates as the swarm gained ground. While the town they were in now had managed to push them back, Raikon couldn't help but ponder whether only a little more tenacity and a few more withstood losses would be all the goblins needed to overtake the village and kill everyone inside. Maybe their eating the goblins wasn't so unusual, with the near constant threat he was sure existed.

He shook his head. Those things had passed now. The decisions had been made and he couldn't look back on them with regret now, only look forward to what he needed to do next to get himself home, and hopefully protect Caspian along the way. The cleric, while having a disposition frightfully unprepared for the events ahead of him, had proven himself capable in many ways. He was quick to follow orders when he found himself indecisive, eager to help in the ways he can, and always hoping to avoid conflict. His speed at offering to discard his weapons to satisfy the towns mayor was admirable, if maybe slightly foolish given their immediate dangers.

Raikon's stomach growled and he placed a hand over it, frowning at his unnoticed discomfort. The thought of slurping down goblin stew had made his stomach turn, forgetting his gnawing hunger, but now that he had time to think and recollect the distraction was frustrating and unwelcome. He couldn't afford bread. Caspian had mentioned he would provide, but Raikon saw no pack on him capable of carrying the food they would need to survive. More magic, perhaps? His mind spun with curiosity.

But only for a moment. The knock on the door came suddenly and Raikon's sword was in his hand and pointing towards the noise before the sound of ringing steel had finished spreading through the air. When he heard Dacheus' voice his blade lowered, but only slightly. Was it really him? They had tried to rouse him when the giant red stone in the temple had captivated him with no success. How had he managed to pull himself away, and what effects would be lasting? He was uncertain about opening the door, but decided without knowing anything for certain, abandoning him after he reached them would be cruel. He kept his blade in his hand but lowered it to his side, and stepped forward unlocking the door.

"I'm opening the door," Raikon called back through it, "But please, please tell me you didn't eat any of that stew."