A5G

Into the Land of Twilight

Between the arachne's own momentum, Tillius' strength, and the quality of his newfound weapon, the polearm bit deep into the crashing limb before ripping free in a spray of foul-smelling ichor. The short-lived joust left the legionary with shaken arms, throwing his aim off although the sheer bulk of the target made it a difficult proposition to miss at all. It struck somewhere at the abdomen, betraying the expectation when instead of bouncing off the carapace it bit deep with a small explosion of steam. Brittle and fragile from the flame, it seemed, on top of being partially cooked within.

Gray's empowered shot followed neatly after, slicing through like molten knife into a block of butter, the sheer kinetic force the last straw onto the spider's back as the swollen abdomen practically popped in an explosion of gore and half-cooked insect flesh. The spray blanketed the immediate area, though thankfully it didn't seems to be toxic if still horribly unpleasant.

The beast shuddered, having taken a wound that it could not just shrug off. The mad dash petered out, legs the size of tree trunks drawing great furrows onto the loamy ground as it still persisted in dragging itself away. It had slowed just enough that one could feasibly catch up on foot, a feat neatly demonstrated by Rezello's grim approach despite a recent shower of insectile gore.

Into the Land of Twilight

Gray struck one of the foreleg's joint, yet the feeling was akin to striking a hardwood pillar. His sword went halfway into the hairy limb before it lost all momentum, remaining stuck in place when a jerking yank ripped it off his hands. The leg didn't move quite right and ichor spilled from the cut, but it was a long way to go before the eight-legged behemoth could be considered crippled.

Light should not be black, yet there Fia's spellflame defied the norm in a dark conflagration that momentarily highlighted the surrounding in eerie shades of black. Visuals aside, the heat was no different to regular fireballs and some flickering orange joined the fray as errant branches and leaves caught aflame from the proximity. Acrid scent of burnt hair and cooked bug flesh permeated the air, the carapace sizzling and cracked through the center where hot steam merrily rose from.

The momentum of the blast momentarily grounded the beast, leaving a rare opportunity to reach its body. Engelbert was right on the spot to capitalize on that, audaciously stepping onto the mandibular fang for leverage as he leapt onto the creature's head. The siren-elf was summarily batted aside with a spine-snapping crack before he plunged his blade into the center of the eye-cluster, going a third of the way in on the first go before an armored fist hammered it deeper-

The shriek rose to a new cacophonous crescendo, now coming only from the spider as its puppet laid broken. It had taken more damage in the last sixty seconds than in its entire lifetime, and... true to a natural predator behavior, it turned around and fled. The pace was awkwardly stilted, far cry from the stealthy approach from earlier, but it didn't affect the creature's speed by too much considering its size. It barelled through the nearest tree, felling two in quick succession as it clumsily tried to drag its broken form away. Engelbert in particular hang for dear life on his sword, which had stabbed deep enough to be a stable if dangerously sharp handhold.

Nearby, Dimitri's not doing very well. From the look of it something had stabbed through his chest, puncturing through a lung and slowly lead the organ into collapse. Someone with sufficient medical knowledge would know that letting out the built-up air was necessary to save his life, on top of stopping the bleeding. Bandage alone was probably insufficient for this purpose.

Into the Land of Twilight

Carnatia walked out, drawn closer to the mesmerizing figure. Never had she seen a woman so perfect before... though, in what way? It's difficult to put into words. The entire being was strange, thick with a jarring sense of inexplicable incogruity, like something was horribly wrong but one couldn't tell what exactly. If only she wasn't overly distracted by the floating elf, she'd probably be able to figure it out. Unfortunate.

Closer and closer she walked, exact details of the elf and her surrounding growing blurrier as the song reverberated deep into her core. How could one bear to hurt such a wonderful person? Yet hurt her she must, so the noblewoman persevered in a single-minded goal that felt very wrong at the time. Stab and cauterize, nothing more and nothing less.

Logic and experience dictated to strike the chest, right through the heart. Or perhaps the head, that'll be a quick mercy. Yet instinct screamed for her to attack much further down, between where the feet of the siren would be underneath that dress. That's foolish. There's nothing there. It's dark and blank, nothing was present there. No dozens of beady eyes gleaming with ravenous hunger, no razor-sharp mandibles chewing on a severed leg-

Carnatia struck the horrible monster in the face, and with a horrendous screech the spell broke.

With the insidious compulsion gone everyone regained their senses, fully taking in the monster that had warped their thoughts and approached so close to their midst. The singing-elf as not delicate at all, she's deathly gaunt with her skin cracked and leathery from exposure to the elements. Her yes glazed and long since dead, the face perpetually contorting wiht immense agony. Yet despite of that she never stopped singing and beckoning like a broken record, though thankfully whatever magical compulsion that came with it seemed to have broken for good. What looked like hair was truly layers of gossamer, wrapping haphazardly around her, strings to keep a broken puppet upright. Her bottom half wasn't visible, merged at the torso into the head of a misshapen spider of titanic proportion, one that's frantically rubbing at the cauterized hole where one of its dozens eyes used to be.

It was nothing but a monstrous abomination using an elven siren as an angler's lure. However many had fallen prey to it over the ages was hard to say, but it's evidently enraged that the midnight snacks dared trying to fight back. And perhaps it was a bit too close for comfort, considering the size of those mandibles...

Into the Land of Twilight

There was a survivor, though badly hurt and not completely right in the mind. Potential concussion aside, knocking him out was the right thing to do. The last thing they needed was having to chase a deranged porter through the darkness of this accursed forest.

"I carry some healing potions with me, Lady Roxas. For emergency." Engelbert stated from the back of his line, blade held close to his armored shoulder. Tapping into his inner reserve, his awareness spread in a sphere around him as the familiar disconcerting feeling of overlapping perception flooded his senses. Each person in the vicinity "lit" in varying intensity based on their constitution and mana pool, the trees and grasses and various critters taking a dimmer but still distinct shape. And as the sphere expanded...

Im mendë ola mawt kein
Adh im mendë hinnan túlie lyen
Im mendë meinas uta yenā, Im mendë nendur itya seldënya
Im mendë anuir na leyan

"Ah bollocks- It's coming!"

An ethereal figure glided into view above the treeline, an elf pale as porcelain clad in tattered white dress, pristine white hair trailing like wisps of gossamer. She continued that mesmerizing song, its haunting notes echoed through the woods as if a hidden congregation was singing along, waving and beckoning the party to come forward. Come closer. It's such a tantalizing offer, and so reasonable. If one couldn't trust this mysterious singer, then who could be trusted? She's so serene, so peaceful. It couldn't hurt to come along. Just for a short while. Surely no harm could come from that?

Into the Land of Twilight

Whatever danger that was present, it seemed to be satisfied with the captives and already departed. Engelbert seriously questioned about the porters' wisdom, to not only get drunk in this place but also to be lured out of the camp by this... shrieker. Whatever that was. But well, he suppose that lot hadn't experienced any real danger and thought it's just some old forest or something despite all the warnings. Foolish, but nothing that could be done to change that. At least they'll learn from the experience if they survived somehow. He didn't like their chances.

"I'm coming. If there's the slightest chance that those poor souls are still alive, we have to attempt a rescue. It is only right."

If he needed a break at all Engelbert certainly showed none of it, still as energetic as usual. Cant help it really - he's simply built different than most people.

Into the Land of Twilight

The dagger offered no resistance to the magical veil, the already dark glass taking a completely vantablack shade that drinks in the light. Just upon picking it up it's quite evident that the effect was greatly muffled, like it was a distantly morbid thought instead of a constant near-physical urging to slaughter. Moreover, though it was difficult to tell with the skull's influence being so much louder, upon leaving the immediate vicinity the voice seemed to be even more distant as if despite their opposite voice the two artifacts were still inevitably linked and affected each other when they're in closer proximity.

Or perhaps it's just an illusion of the mind. Nevertheless, the hazard seemed much smaller now.

Into the Land of Twilight

Whether it was her stronger magical background or by the simple expedience of being mentally prepared, the skull's whisper didn't smash into Fia quite the same way like the noblewoman a moment earlier. Still, there's significant difference between hearing about it and actually experiencing the effect. Her perception of the world itself warped, color taking a slightly more monochrome tint that wavered at the edge of her sight, indistinct echo of a primal chanting that was more felt than heard, the skull and dagger standing out by being the only thing that remained indifferent to the warping effect.

The mental effect was much more insidious, soft caress that would be easy to miss if one wasn't prepared or focused too much on the immediately perceived distortions. It was a soft caress at the back of one's mind, subtly trying to guide and change her value, to make death seems like the most appealing goal she could strive to. Fia could block it out without too much issue right now, but it's a constant effort to do so. If a mage of Theriadore's caliber had to erect a containment field to study the artifact for prolonged period, perhaps similar display of prudence was a wise thing to do.

Nevertheless, directly handling the crystal skull didn't cause any notifiable change. It was lighter than it looked, the inside hollow like a disconcertingly perfect replica of someone's skull down to the slightly assymetric nature of a natural one. Wearing it as a necklace would still be cumbersome, but not impossibly so.

Meanwhile, the dagger contained a more direct hungering for life upon touch. It was similarly easy to block, not dissimilar to ignoring the pounding of a light headache, but the black glass itself hungered to be wielded. Fia could see the herself slicing forward, feeling the grisly sensation of the glassy edge biting into exposed jugular, the warmth of lifeblood spraying on her face...

...a blink, and the image was gone. Only the ravenous hunger remained, contesting the skull's pull to plunge it on oneself instead of on others. The balance was tenuous, but perhaps that's how the previous wielders remained sane? For some time, at least.

Into the Land of Twilight

"Indeed? And I presume it is not healthy to approach for some reason." Engelbert nodded in understanding, getting a clearer picture of the issue. For that though, the solution felt rather simple. "If we only need to transport it, could we enclose it in a box? Or failing that, tie it to a long pole and carry it that way. In the camp we can mark or fence the area we use to store the thing so that no one carelessly approach it."

According to Carnatia, the skull demoralizes people. It's a bit of a vague term, how badly would it went? Could've easily range from a moment of adrenaline rush to someone outright breaking down in a catatonic state. "Say, Lady Carnatia, how do you know about its effect? Did someone approached it already?"

Into the Land of Twilight

Engelbert lingered in the library for a bit, first to make sure that the slagged and now slowly cooling golem wasn't gonna get back up and another to scan through the various shelves. The latter he gave up quite quickly after seeing all the books in elvish, which he couldn't even begin to decipher. For all he knew it could be a collection of what the once proprietor of the building considered raunchy novellas. Not taking risk at that. He should be moving on, especially after sensing something particularly unpleasant in the next room.

And thus he checked out where most of the others had went, sparing one last glance to the golem. Still unmoving, good enough.

"-artifact collected from Sarkazan general, very befitting of that misbegotten race. However, I find it strange that Theriadore or Lukman would even pick it up and place it here for safekeeping. Now I think about it some more and then I think, maybe not... There was a reason why it wasn't donated to a museum or any of our research facilities. We elves abhor anything that works against the Creator's Law, and the only way I can imagine why it is here is because Varenheim was at war, and we were desperate."

Clanking in, the knight caught a portion of an intriguing conversation. Sarkazan artifact, wasn't it? he had seen a fair share, but something that a high-profile mage like Theriadore considered dangerous should be very potent. Or at least, it would be back at the time the elf still lived. Not like he could tell if the changes over the last two millenia was positive or negative. Looking at the defenses, a single golem felt lacking but on the other hand the more magical measures probably had mostly withered away so he couldn't quite tell.

"Jolly ho, comrades! I see some happy faces around, I presume the findings are bountiful." The bow and polearm was noticeable, for one. As for the so-called Sarkazan artifact... likely that oddly clean skull in an otherwise very dusty room that people are notably standing some distance away form. "What did I missed?"

Into the Land of Twilight

One moment there was nothing, but the moment she stepped through a certain distance it's as if a curtain in reality parted. A wavering distortion filled Carnatia's vision, the phenomenon much stronger near the center where the skull sat inconnuously. Its eyes seemed to aglow with spectral fire that irresistibly attract attention, accompanied by an odd feeling of the relic malevolently staring back despite the skull was placed facing away from her. All her fear and insecurities rose back to the surface, festering doubt gnawing at the mind, and with it the rising urge to turn her rapier around and just fall onto it...

...understandably, the spooked noblewoman hurriedly stepped back. And just as disorientingly instant as it appeared, the influence abruptly ceased once she went out of a certain range. It looked to be around two and a half meter. She'd notice that she had pocketed the gemstones at some point, the mana crystals presumably used to power the golem and the facility in general. It had lost much of its charges after lying out in the open for a while, but one can still extract a decent bit before the stuff crumbled.

Thinking back for the last few seconds, she recalled that her body was on autopilot to follow what she had intended to do while her mind took off to a different direction. She had taken the gems and poked the skull and dagger with her rapier once, the material itself feeling not much different than regular crystal and obsidian but the magic contained within was simplistically primal yet potent nonetheless.

"Ah, my apologies. Seems that the containment structure failed at some point." The translucent elf reappeared beside Carnatia, notably outside the skull's area of influence. "It is a side project of mine. My brother acquired this interesting piece off an overly ambitious Sarkaz general at one time. You can find my notes on that matter next to it, though unfortunately my effort to destroy it have come short. I was trying to see if I can crack what makes them work, you see. It took a score of mages to even leave a dent on the accursed thing, thankfully for something so unnaturally durable the effect is quite... limited. Regardless, it still kills the fire of determination of those who comes near it, breaking hope and lets sprout doubts. I cannot stop you from taking them, but please treat it with care. If possible find a proper wizard or enchanter and hand them my notes, perhaps someone can finish what I started." At this moment, not the slightest remain of the so-mentioned dents can be seen on either object. If the ancient mage truly meant it, destroying the artifacts would be a tall proposition... not like it couldn't be utilized in the meantime.

"As for the obsidian dagger, it is much straightforward. Blood never seems to dry if it rest on the glassy surface, and after given some time resting inside the skull anyone slain with it will temporarily rises again under the limited command of the wielder. Uncouth and barbaric, but I shan't judge."

After that string of commentary, the illusory elf shrugged before disappearing again. And now, there's the dillema. Take the figurative double-edged sword, or leave it for the next person to reach this room in the future? It certainly can be useful if utilized properly...