Cierte took a step into the cavern, his shoes disturbing ground that had gone untouched for millennia. The sorcerous light above him dipped and swayed as his head did while he peered around. The rest of the expedition, comprised of the three bravest souls from the previous party, had gone completely silent. He noted the ancient tools that his daughter had mentioned, scattered around the packed earth wall in a haphazard fashion. He also noted the remains of what he assumed were the owners of the tools.
Without turning his back to the inky black cavern beyond the small pool of light, he spoke to his party. "This is where you stopped last time? You went no further?" His voice seemed to boom in his ears, almost intrusive in the heavy silence of the cavern.
There was a slight pause. "Y-yes. We stopped as soon as we found the…the bodies. Gwyn preserve us." There was a brief murmur of assent from the others.
Cierte nodded. "Very well. We shall proceed with caution. I'll have none of you falling down a hole or any such nonsense. You should already have a spell to prevent such."
With that, the older man stepped forward lightly, casting a spell as he went. His stave flashed brightly for a moment, before dimming to a milder light as the spell did its work. It was designed to search for dangerous flaws in the ground. They used this before constructing anything in or around their city. A wave of translucent blue energy washed out from him in a 180-degree fan, pulsing again every few moments as he walked forward.
The Primordial Serpent had been very specific about what, or who, to look for. The sorcerer had peppered him with questions, to which Kaathe had largely answered, save for a few about the actual origins of the primeval man. To those, he had smiled and told him that there would be a time for history lessons later.
He still harbored some doubts about this figure's ability to still be alive after the alarming amount of time he was supposed to have spent here. But if Kaathe said he slept…
"Master…look!"
Cierte had been lost in his own thoughts. He turned to his companions, who were looking at the nearby wall of the cavern.
Carved into the wall were surprisingly beautiful bas-reliefs. Upon closer inspection, he saw what he took to be dragons, depicted in a style that was foreign to him. As they followed the wall, it seemed that the dragons fought various strange figures along with what appeared to be Gwyn, with an exaggerated crown and jagged lightning bolts.
He gave an appreciative hum. "A glorious archeological find. No doubt Princess Dusk would love to have a look at it. She does love her artefacts."
"That she does, master."
As per the Serpent's instructions, the party angled toward the perceived center of the cavern. It was massive in all, opening dramatically from the relatively narrow tunnel they had entered through. Huge stalagmites swelled up from the floor, casting strange shadows as the group shuffled past.
A sudden rustle of cloth followed quickly by a shout made him jump, turning to find the source.
Two of the party were flailing on the floor, trying to stand up.
He sighed, tension leaving his body. "Watch your footing!"
"Wait…master!"
He turned back to them, looking at what they indicated. The mound of stone they had tripped over appeared mundane at first, until he examined it closer. Standing on top of it, it appeared to be wide and short, in a peculiar oblong shape.
"Great Lord, this is it."
For a time, no one moved.
Cierte shook his head. "Well, therein lies our salvation. Let us see how he may help us and our families. Dig! But carefully, we don't want to harm him!"
They knelt as a group, retrieving small tools from their packs. They looked very much like small pickaxes, enchanted to neatly and reliably split stone.
The older sorcerer directed them, drawing lines on the stone with chalk; they would cut along the sides, then attempt to lever the slab off. Even enchanted as powerfully as they were, the work was tedious. He had to slow and calm his companions several times as they worked themselves into a fervor.
He could feel it too. They sensed the end of the Age of Fire as well. It had sat in their minds with a terrible weight for too long, and now the solution was right below them. They labored on and on.
There was a sudden, violent crack, and a clean break split the stone coffin.
After a moment of inactivity, the party frantically clawed at the new lid, desperate to get it off. He noted more than one tear-streaked face as they struggled with the stone.
Inside lay a man.
He was bare, save for a bead necklace that appeared to be made of wood. His skin was a rich brown, his hair a noble mane of chestnut hue about his head. Something about the set of his heavy brow and prominent cheek bones bespoke great age, yet he appeared to be perhaps a few years past his prime. A full beard, trimmed and braided, graced his face below his rounded nose.
And with an easy motion, as if he had just blinked instead of lying in the earth from a time long forgotten, his brown eyes slid open and he regarded his company. Slight concern wrinkled his brow, and he spoke.
"Dlekomi eta ghiva. Wie ec ju?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Something was happening to the city of Izalith.
Whether it was from the blasts that started this mess or from the strange roots that seemed to become more and more common the closer one got to the heart of the city, things were unsteady. Whole blocks were crumbling and shifting, falling into the rivers of molten stone below the city.
Giroldus panted. If he had just been swinging his sword around for fun all day, that would be exhausting on its own. Combine that with moving in heavy plate armor for long periods of time in a hot environment in uncertain territory against savage enemies and you would arrive at how he was feeling.
The whole world is crumbling to dust. He thought to himself as he trundled down another deserted alleyway. Blast it, how far has Quelaria gone already? This is a disaster.
He drew to a halt, trying to catch his breath. He leaned against a shattered pillar and tipped up his canteen, half expecting the water within to evaporate before it reached his mouth. He took the time to figure out where she might be.
She's probably trying to collect up her siblings. She prizes them above all else.
There was an enormous source of orange light emanating from a position near the heart of the city, moving slowly. He had heard about Qayleb's tragic transformation, just like most of these poor souls. He pulled his greatsword out of its scabbard and examined the blade. If the Witch's only son had ended up anything like the other demons, Quelaria wouldn't be safe if she went near him. He picked at a nick in the edge.
"Well, I guess that's where I come in to—"
The hair on his arms abruptly stood on end.
His eyes had been wandering over the area, and they had alighted upon a corpse lying at the threshold of a house. That by itself, while terrible, wasn't particularly uncommon right now.
What caught his eye was the state of the corpse.
It had been a human woman, he thought. He had seen a similar corpse before that had been mummified by its environment, leaving skin stretched over bones behind. This body was only skin and bones as well, but with one clear distinction; the skin retained its original size, hanging loosely on the skeleton like a macabre blanket draped over a pile of sticks. The skin seemed overly wrinkled, but perhaps she had been an old woman? He couldn't tell.
There was a burn mark in the shape of a hand upon the stretch of skin occupied by her face.
What could possibly have done this?
A piercing cry came from a short distance away only to be cut off abruptly, startling him out of his reverie. He raised his greatsword and shield, cautiously making his way to where he thought the source was. He had spent some time in this district before, when he came to Izalith for Quelaria.
"P-please…he-help…"
The source of the voice became apparent as the knight rounded the corner and entered the square. The east portion had fallen into the magma below, but most of the rest was intact, save for the fountain in the center, now dry and choked with debris.
At the foot of the fountain was a bloodied man, but his companion was who drew Giroldus's attention.
It was crouched over the man like a gargoyle, right hand clamped around his neck. It's armor was strange; ridged and pale with black cloth dotting here and there. Part of the latter circled its neck and was pulled up in a hood. Its face was that of a grimacing skull, and it was looking at him.
Before the Berenike could address the figure, it clenched its hand around the man's neck. A horrible red halo surrounded him, and a choking sound escaped his throat.
"Stop!" He made for the monster, readying himself to slice it in two.
"Look out Giroldus!"
The tip of a wide-bladed black sword appeared under Giroldus's sword arm.
For a breathless moment, he was frozen. Had he been run through? There had been that awful sound…
With a slow turn, he looked behind him to see another one of the creatures. A man in a burlap cloak stood impaled on the sword.
With a hiss, the sword was withdrawn, and Casper fell to the tiles, a pool of widening blood staining the ground.
Almost at the same time, a roaring sound came from above. The second figure staggered back as jets of searing flames rained down. Among these, a figure with a spear fell to the ground, rising with a deft roll and going to the still form.
"Casper! Casper, get up! Come on!"
The two beings didn't give anyone time to recover. Giroldus barely got his shield up in time to avoid getting decapitated by a powerful stroke. The force of the blow reverberated through his arm. They were strong, very strong. And now that they were closer he realized how large they were, about the same size as the Silver Knights. He couldn't see the second creature, only heard what he took to be a viscous fight. He didn't know who that man was, but he would take whatever help he could get.
He threw the black blade off his shield, swinging his own shining sword with a powerful overhead strike. His opponent spun to one side, avoiding the hit and finishing the turn with a heavy kick to the knight's chest, driving the breath from his lungs. He staggered backwards, bringing his shield back up.
They circled each other, sizing one another up. This thing was more dangerous than he had initially counted on. It didn't appear to have a shield however, and he would use that to his advantage. It had dodged his first blow, but it was much harder to dodge a horizontal stroke, especially from a monstrous blade like his.
"You'll burn for what you've done, demon!" He feinted right and struck left with a wide sweep, the deadly titanite-reinforced edge closing in on the arm that wasn't clamped around a sword…
The hand in question rose to intercept the blade, and it stopped half a foot from it, ringing as though it had impacted steel. It took advantage of his wide-eyed surprise to lean closer. "There will be no Fire left to burn me soon." A swift stab followed from the unoccupied arm.
The blade sliced cleanly into his armpit, where the plates of his armor were weakest. Blood welled up from the wound, and he backed away again, cursing.
It approached aggressively, but Giroldus dropped low, thrusting out with the edge of his shield. The mass of the piece aided him as it connected with the thing's knee. It cracked with satisfying impact.
Groaning, the figure fell to its good knee. Giroldus dove forward to deliver a killing blow, but his sword was deflected at the last second by the remaining being. As their swords separated, he saw that the spear wielder lay in a heap on the tiles. As he had done with the other thing, he began to circle it.
The second figure seemed virtually identical to the first, with the addition of some still smoldering cloth. The pale portions were blackened in several places, but it seemed despairingly intact. It made as if to dart forward, and Giroldus positioned his shield. Instead, it feinted the other direction, and he adjusted accordingly. It seemed to be measuring his reaction.
He cursed explosively. "Why couldn't you monsters just be dumb? That would make my job so much easie—"
As they had circled, he had discounted the downed one. He felt a large hand clamp around his ankle, accompanied by that terrible red glow, and it felt like he had stepped in a pool of lava.
"We are the monsters?" The first creature hauled on his leg, causing him to fall on his stomach.
Giroldus brought his sword up at an awkward angle to meet the second being, but it kicked it out of his hand. It clattered as it spun over the stones. "We fight for humanity, something you apparently know little of."
The burning sensation on his leg increased and was quickly eclipsed by a less pleasant sensation that was entirely new to him. He somehow had the impression that he was a vessel of water, and that he had been punctured. His essence was…sliding away from reach somehow…
His vision grew blurry, his joints aching. He thought of the woman whose corpse he had seen earlier, but he couldn't find the energy to bring himself to panic. He gave a weak gasp instead.
The blackened creature stood over him, silhouetted by the glow of the collapsed corner behind it. "You have lost your way. Pandering and groveling before those who have disfigured our race."
Confusion washed over him as he saw the downed one stand on apparently uninjured legs next to its compatriot. He could see the still body past their feet…
Wait, only one?
With an almost unearthly howl, molten columns erupted from beneath the stones. It took him a moment to piece together that the howling came from the spear man. He was dragging Casper's limp form at a surprising pace, when he slid it into the back of the blackened figure's ankles, knocking it to the ground. The one who had been downed before reacted quickly, dashing to one side. They were apparently not quick enough, as the man drove his spear through its boot and into the ground below with a wordless snarl, leaving it behind and dragging the burlap-clad body again.
Weakened already by the previous catastrophe, the flame pillars obliterated the few pieces of masonry that held the east portion on place.
The figures made no cry as the section disconnected and fell into the magma below.
There was plenty to hear up here however, yet Giroldus experienced a low buzzing in his ears.
The man fell to his knees over the cleric, his body wracked with spasms he took to be sobs. "Why Casper? I told you it was a suicide mission. I told you you'd just get yourself killed! You…you didn't owe these people anything…"
He really was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Everything seemed so far away...
He tried to wave to get the man's attention, only to get a dull crackling sensation from his arm. He didn't have the energy to be alarmed about that.
His descent was borne by the mourning cries of the stranger with the spear as he drifted away.
I'd like to apologize for the gap again, folks. As always; thanks to those of you who continue to stick around.