The guild was empty as violet shadows faded to the rising dawn. Red had just begun to touch the rim of the horizon, trees rustling in the soft light. Birds slowly awoke, beginning their twittering. Oleda's expression was etched into a scowl.

Within the guild, chaos reigned.

The witch stood at the top of the stairs, a bundle of scrolls clutched to her chest. The requests for new supplies, somehow, lost urgency in face of the violent mass of energy currently tearing the guild apart. The deep, distinctive violet of the Rift swirled at the edges, alerting her to the cause. And vines, or perhaps roots crawled from inside the mirror like surface to crack through the wooden floorbards.

From her vintage point she could make out the indistinct colours of a forest, or perhaps a bog. Strange lights within the image threw off her guess.

Oleda sighed, stomping down the stairs with no small degree of frustration. The air roared around her, swallowing sound itself as she dumped her scrolls beneath the guild desk. It's too early for this.

Her hand landed on a nearby stack of papers as the potion holding it down toppled to the floor. The two banners either side of the hall twisted in the air, threatening to rip from their hinges. Oleda spared it all a pained look, settling into the chair behind the counter. There were various things that needed to be tied down, but until help arrived there wasn't much she could do. It's seriously too early for this.

What is this madness? An indoor storm!?

Mercutio stumbled into the hall, gasping at the oddity before him. The air felt heavy as the violet energy before him pulsed without regard for its surroundings. It beckoned, insisted, daring all to enter into its peculiar domain. The dracolvian clambered against a more secure piece of furniture and held tight. In that moment he spotted a figure. It was Lady Oleda, the guild clerk, sitting on a chair in front of the counter. The expression on her face looked more annoyed than shocked at the present phenomena. Though to be fair, that seemed to always be the case, especially when dealing with fumbling Coppers like himself.

Maybe this isn't as dangerous as it looks? Just then a book came flying in his direction. He ducked behind the table as it slashed over his head and slammed against the wall.

"Okay, maybe not."

Mercutio made a bee line in her direction, picking up loose items scattered on the ground. His arms were full by the time he reached her.

"H-hello, Lady Oleda." His tinny voice echoed out from his helmet.

Her nonchalant disposition contrasted so much with the unfolding mayhem that he too tried to procure the same measure of calm, but his panicky eyes, shifting through the round slits of his helmet had betrayed him.

"Umm, is that supposed to be here?"

Velu had left home two days ago and was now nearing the edge of his forest. Based on what he had heard, the hall of the Adventurer's Guild should be somewhere in this general area. It didn't take him long to find the guild hall. More accurately, he found the rift that had opened at the site of the Guild Hall and had ventured closer to investigate. When he got closer to the chaos that was the newly formed rift, he realized that the rift was forming at the site of the Guild Hall for the Adventurer's Guild. He opened the door to the hall and stepped inside to find even more chaos. "This is probably a bad time to ask about joining the Guild, but do you need help with anything?" Velu asked the only two people currently within the hall.

Oleda stared at chaos in front of her. Unsure what to tackle first. Unsure if interfering would make it better or worse.

White knuckles remained clamped down on the loose papers over the desk. She knew theoretically she should pull them out of the storm and under the counter where they'd be safe. Yet she was stumped. Not willing to accept it... Grey blue took in the thrashing winds with a tight-lipped expression. The mismatched wooden boards cracked with roots. The banners as one ripped from its hinges and snagged on a table-

"H-hello, Lady Oleda."

Ah. The witch blinked. A voice she hadn't heard approach over the roaring winds.

She realised her mistake a second late. Her hand had lifted a fraction off the papers and like a great flock of sparrows the air tore them from beneath her palm— twisting and swooping towards the murky surface of the dungeon. Oleda watched as they disappeared with soundless ripples, looking as if she'd bitten a lime. Please tell me those weren't important.

Ah, but they would be. It was her fault for leaving them out, really. She should know by now misfortune followed the guild like an overzealous cat.

"Umm, is that supposed to be here?"

The coppery echo was distinct, dragging her back from thoughts of past catastrophes before she could measure how they compared to now. Her eyes snapped to the fins of the lancer's helm, though the sound of his voice alerted her first to who it was. "Merc-" she said. Her gaze noted the armful of items, dark gloves clutching books and loose rubble against his chestplate. He glanced between her and the howling rift. Eyes shifting beneath the circles of his visor.

"Oh." The question caught up with her head and she blinked, glancing towards the heart of the destruction. Roots had begun curling upwards, weaving around each other as they followed the boundry of the energy. "I'm assuming you mean the incarnation of chaos over there..." A stray mug came whistling towards them, narrowly avoiding Oleda's head. The witch paused her gesture, continuing a little faintly. "-not really, no."

Though it really depends on the interpretation of 'meant'. She was sure the world meant for it to be there, whether because the guild was so charged with magic or the universe hated their guts. But as far as plans for the day went, dealing with an interdimensional rift had not been on the agenda, no.

The lancer's stance caught her attention as Oleda dragged her eyes from the chaos. Her brow creased, watching his finicky gaze beneath the visor. The blue glint of scales were somewhat visible around his eyes, reminding her she had yet to see anything more than the rounded helm he wore. "I guess this is your first time seeing a dungeon form," she said.

It wasn't unusual. People usually found dungeons—if they found them at all—after the initial opening and the boundry had been established. Or the destruction drew their attention and by the time they arrived it had become stable. Field researchers tended to encounter them the most, as they were often at the site of magic infused phenomena.

Oleda was not a field researcher. But she had, on occasion, been known to dabble with waystones. It was uncommon knowledge that breaking a waystone could trigger a dungeon forming. After all, as far as anyone knew they worked by warping through the rift.

Long story short, she no longer brought waystones anywhere near her room.

The sound of the guild doors brought a new element to the scene and for one, dreadful moment Oleda feared the force had been strong enough to tear the wood from its hinges.

"This is probably a bad time to ask about joining the Guild, but do you need help with anything?" The stranger's voice seemed to carry across the wind.

"Uh, it's under control!" Oleda called back. As if spiteful of her words a stray piece of wood came spinning towards the two. She squawked, ducking under the counter and pulling Mercutio with her. "I'd stay back! It'll be like this until it forms a proper boundary!"

The sudden pull from Lady Oleda made him tumble toward the ground. The Trident fastened behind Mercutio broke his fall as it clanged against the top of the counter. Its weight kept him pinned as the butt of the weapon was lodged awkwardly against an overturned chair. He looked a bit like a spit roasted fish that managed to free itself from one arm.

“Well, this is unfortunate...” Mercutio said aloud, wanting to die from embarrassment.

He eventually contorted his way free. Unsheathing his Trident, and untangling it from his Kraken’s net, he joined Lady Oleda underneath the counter as he held the weapon beside him.

“Ahem...” The dracolvian let out a large sigh. Hoping to deflect attention from his entangled mishap, he immediately brought up his concern about the visitor. “I hope whoever that is knows about the boundary rule too!”

She'd forgotten he was a lancer. Oleda blinked as Mercutio's weapon clanged against the top of the counter, giving him a pained look as she debated whether to help. She had the discretion at least to look elsewhere, peeking over the top of the wooden desk as she waited for the copper to right himself.

The roots grasping their way around the edge of the gateway began to twine at the top of the arch. Curling into patterns reflective of the nebulous energy. Oleda's shoulders sloped at the sight, anticipating an end to the chaos. Only to shoot right back up as the draconian raised his voice beside her.

She shot him a look. The clunky armour seemed too large for the small space behind the counter. Though he'd managed to unlatch his weapons and wisely had them to the side, held at the ready.

"...it's less of a rule, she said, a little louder than usual to be heard over the wind. She glanced back at the portal, one arm slung over the counter as she fumbled around for something beneath the shelves. "The energy stabilises eventually. It's a bit like-"

The high-pitched keen that had been filling the hall cut off. Oleda stopped, her head ringing in the absence of the sound. Items began to clatter to the ground in a series of thuds and cracks. The wind subsided, replaced with heavy silence enough to hear her own heartbeat. As quickly as the chaos began, it had ended.

The witch relaxed, her hand falling on the book she needed amongst the bottles and scrolls and dried out ingredients. "It's a bit like a wound," she said again, filling the empty air. The surface of the dungeon hummed, seeming content. "It's destructive at first, but it stems the bleeding on its own given time."

With the chaos tamed it was easier to see the extent of the damage on the guild. Oleda's explanation faltered at the sight of the scoured walls and upturned floorboards. Their newest visitor stood just inside the doors, the sharp taper of his ears alerting her to his nature.

She sighed, rising to her feet. The initial forming of dungeons was hardly the worst thing about them. "Anyway," she said, addressing the new arrival. "Who are you exactly?"

Double posted

Velu had watched the dungeon form, not entirely convinced by the woman's explanation that everything was under control, which was understandable, given the chaotic nature of rifts. Of course, Velu had heard of rifts before, and had even seen them, or the evidence of them, in the past, but he had been fortunate enough, up to now, to never actually witness one forming. Still, he held back until the chaos subsided and the rift stabilized. He skirted the edge of the rift to approach the desk behind which the woman and the clunky suit of armor had been taking shelter. "Velu Edricsson of the Forest Elves," he introduced himself to the two, giving a slightly formal bow. "I come here seeking adventure." He glanced at the rift behind him. "And it seems there is quite the opportunity for adventures right now."