Paranoia! - Chyril 22nd GT (open)

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

The caves were dark and full of moisture. Footing was questionable at best due to the water than ran along the rocky ground and the moss that grew as a result of the moist environment. The air was thick with humidity, and a layer of condensation clung to every person's equipment.

Suddenly, a shout rung through the caverns. Its source was from an unknown place far ahead. Though the reason for the cry was unknown, its source was obviously a child. The mournful cry had travelled down the tunnels from a place up ahead. From its volume, it was either very close or very loud...



ooc: This is my first effort at modding a story of my own. I will wait for a week before I make the next post so we can make sure all interested players get a chance to post.

[Niamh Windwalker]

The damp left her Kanthar clinging to her skin in patches as she moved forwards, the fabric stretching where it wrapped around individual arms and legs before loosening as her movements paused. Steps quiet and curious, she explored the interior, her movements slow and calculated as her thin-soled sandals sought firm positions among the moss and slippery stone of the cave floor.

Upon her form were draped a few supplies, a small pouch and a quiver with a handful of arrows dangled from the cloth belt wrapping her waist, and a bow - beads of liquid beginning to accumulate on the waxy string - was strapped obliquely upon her back from one shoulder to the opposite side of her waist. Besides these, there was nothing to encumber her.

Fingers loosely gripped the shodded staff that was her primary weapon, the light too dim to reveal the dirt beneath her nails. Casting her head back over one shoulder, the large dark pupils of her eyes glinting strangely, no whites visible though a kind of paleness seemed to rim them. Her voice, deep and richly feminine, seemed out of place with her long sharp nose and deepset eyes. The darkness, which cast only vague lines upon her features and slender, lanky frame, hid these details in the shadows.

"Do we wait? Or do we act?" Niamh, Kanthrop scout, balanced on her toes, ready to begin a quickening scamper forwards towards that child-like cry. Yet she waited, controlling the impulse to rush to the aid of young, to protect and defend a kit in danger... "Well?" She waited, but she did not have to like it - she clearly expected some direction from a companion - and just as clearly, she was impatient for their response, as her feet shifted in place, and her fingers repositioned themselves on the staff.

[Xenovia Canace]

Moisture was nothing new to her, but this could hardly be considered the pleasant kind. Xenovia's long limbs extended and folded over and over again as she stretched and sought sturdy footing with each step. Her skin, free of pigment, flickered pale in the light of the torch she had agreed to carry. She looked almost like a living cadaver, what with the layer of moisture covering her skin. Xenovia moved carefully along, a short distance behind Niamh, her progress aided by the butt of the spear she carried in her other hand. Her Kanthar clung to her slender, muscular frame, her thick black hair tied back behind her neck, a few stray pieces matted to her forehead.

Upon her back was slung a small pack, holding flint and steel and the means for making another torch, as well as a small sheathed dagger meant more for cleaning prey than fighting. Also packed were two pouches of berries and nuts -- not her usual choice for a meal, but easy to manage and fast to pack. Though she was curious and enjoyed the exploration, Xenovia's Inner Animal was somewhat restless, resentful about being cooped up in such a place. For surely this was not the proper environment for a bird!

It was while in the process of mentally reminding her animal spirit that she currently had arms instead of wings that the cry of what seemed to be a small child reached her ears. She reacted instantly, every muscle in her body tensing as her head snapped toward the sound in a birdlike motion and her pupils contracted in surprise and concentration. Her golden irises glinted in the light of the torch's flame as she looked toward her companion, who lingered just outside of the light's reach.

"Do we wait? Or do we act?"

"Shhh!" Xen shushed Niamh irritably, waving her spear at her almost resentfully. How could she talk so loud when obviously there was danger ahead? She might as well just give away their location entirely. Xen's gaze then looked past her avian companion, focusing intently on the darkness, listening for any more cries as she tried to ascertain the direction from whence it came. Her fingers held tightly to her spear, which was at the ready. Her knuckles would have been white, if they weren't already.

"Well?"

"In the name of the Mother, be quiet!" Xenovia was only a year younger than Niamh, but her voice was higher and more delicate, reflecting the youth in her features. It came out as an annoyed whisper, and Xen looked around cautiously, as if expecting to be attacked at any moment. She had not forgotten her fierce battle with the Cryers. Even her Inner Animal was flustered, causing her heart to beat faster in her chest. Xenovia loved fighting more than anything, but a fight in this environment would be hazardous at best. Xen forced Niamh to wait for a little bit longer, until she was almost sure her companion would become seriously impatient. Then, she spoke softly.

"Let's keep going, I think it came from somewhere up ahead." Xen was obviously in no hurry, despite the possibility of a child being in danger. After all, she couldn't help anyone if she broke her leg on the way. Inwardly, she cursed the slick surface of their path.

[Ashtallion Urdil]

The sound of the girls cry woke him. His golden eyes opening to darkness. Ashtallion pushed himself up from the cold, hard ground, trying to gain a sense of his surroundings. Beads of moisture covered him, he could feel the dampness on his black robes which blended in well with the shadowy cave. Evidently drips of water had fallen onto his head, his hair was wet and he had to wipe the small rivelts of water from his face. The childs cry still startled him though...and then he heard two other voices. The mage foze, peering through the poorly illuminated cave.

I need light..

Asht closed his eyes against distractions, shut his mind off from the sounds of the other two voices. "Light come forth, shred the shadows with your brilliance...." he muttered this in adhiel, using his words as a focus as he bent the energies to his will and command. Light energy would not be abundent in this place, but there had to be sum. He gathered the threads of brilliant light energy, weaving and knotting them into a small globe of light to illuminate the immediate area.

"I don't know who you two are....but perhaps some light would be of benefit?" the gilded sorcerer was standing with his arms folded into the sleeves of his black robe, golden runes were stitched into the cuffs and hem, which would glitter in the light, as would the golden hair and eyes. "And it might not be entirely prudent to blunder ahead. The scream was obviously for a reason....are you both confident you can deal with whatever is ahead?" it was not meant to sound like a brandishing statement. The magus had simply learned the hard way that it was always logcal to stop and think about a situation first of all.

The Pelegrim was strapped to his waist, the sheath was well made but it had obviously seen its fair share of use and the golden hilt of the enchanted sword shimmered softly. Ashtallion was a mage that knew how to take care of himself, and others. A powerful elemental behemoth, his magical skills were greater than his prowess with the sword, but still even that was skilled enough to deal with common ruffians, just not always against demons and the like!

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

There was little light that Ashtallion was able to draw to his command, but it was enough to softly illuminate the area right around him. It was almost as if the mage was holding a candle.

With the improved lighting, the trio could see small swarms of tiny insects that buzzed around collected pools of moisture. As the light sprang up, some of them moved towards its source and lazily buzzed about the mage and his light.

As each of them spoke, their words echoed up and down the passageway. Other than their voices, the single shout they had heard moments ago, and the occasional drip of water hitting the stone floor, there was a haunting silence in the cave tunnel.

As they began to move forward, the group was able to immediately notice how treacherous their movement could be. Not only was the rock covered in moss and slime, but there were many thin stalagmites cropping up from the ground like rocky daggers just waiting for a victim to impale themselves upon them. Without their light, this hazard could have been discovered only when it was already too late.

As they moved, the tunnel seemed to become impossibly longer than what the child's shout indicated it should have been. Rocky formations from the ceiling and the floor made the tunnel look like the jaws of a mighty beast that were spread apart in a yawn...or perhaps as if it was opening up to rend some flesh from a meal...

But there was no creature here, for it was just a tunnel carved out of rock by the passing of water and time.

So forward into the unknown depths of the tunnel they did continue...

[Niamh Windwalker]

"Ursa's not chosen to quiet me yet...." The comment emerged in a quiet aside, reflecting Niamh's inability to maintain attitudes appropriate for the seriousness of a situation. With a grin, nearly impossible to see in the dark, Niamh shrugged off [b]Xen's[/b} irritation, always been a little high-strung..., and began to slide forward, knees loose, the thin leather sole of her sandals allowing her foot to flex within nooks and crannies that would steady her steps rather than allow the moss to carry and slide her weight in some odd direction. Her momentary humor spent, she once again was focused on continuing onwards.

There... a murmur in some strange language drew her to a halt, her limbs still, her shodded staff readied before her. Her senses found the presence, a thickness of air within the darker cave flickers before the light blossomed. The resulting glimmer, a faded dusky light, glinted back from her large dark eyes, accompanied by a reflective green sheen that flickered across strange orbs.

The kanthrop studied this stranger, her staff raising and lifting slightly with his sudden appearance, her limber frame balanced precariously on toes and moss and sharp stones. The strange glimmers of his dress seemed at odds with her own tribal attire, her simple kanthar weaving about her limbs and body in such a way that one could not determine where it began. A knotted purple belt tightened it against her waist, which was narrow, nearly as narrow as her hips.

The face that peered suspiciously at the mage seemed cobbled together by an odd mixture of lengths and depths; deep eyes were emphasized by a narrow, long nose. Her wide, expressive mouth seemed to hover above an equally pointed chin. It was as if some creator had decided to take bits and pieces of person that would have been attractive individually, and shaped them all together in Niamh with somewhat lacking results.

"We will likely know when we discover what it is we hunt." The rich, melodical voice seemed almost out of place in her frame, and though she spoke common, the intonations and emphases seemed slightly out of alignment with the normal manner of the language. There was something vaugely cavalier to her tone, an easy confidence that of course she and her companion could handle whatever they might face. They were kanthrop, after all, but this... other creature... wouldn't know that, of course.

Again, she studied the stranger, her body absolutely still but for the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, watchful. Her head cocked ever so slightly to one side, but she waited, expectantly, for either Xen to move on, or this stranger to explain herself. She and Xenovia had obviously found their way here before this figure, and so, in her mind, it was he who ought to explain himself.

Her short locks drooped with the moisture, and Niamh felt a moment of discomfort. This cave was nothing like what she normally chose to explore, there was no where to retreat or slide sibilantly from view to observe those her kind did not wish to be seen by.

[Xenovia Canace]

"There are those other than Ursa who can catch your tongue," Xenovia said softly, almost warningly. She was considering the possible danger ahead as she slid along behind Niamh. Xen, taller than her companion, moved more like a spider across the stone than anything else, her long legs carrying her quietly over the precarious footing. Unlike Niamh, Xenovia had chosen to leave her feet bare, so that she could more easily feel that which she was traveling across. Had she been of a different sort, she might have been disgusted by the bits of dirt, moss, and squished insects that had begun to accumulate on the soles of her feet. But such things mattered little to one whom had lived in the wild all her life.

She heard it too. It was as if someone had hit a pause button, her spear swinging round to face the intonations even as the rest of her body froze utterly. Not even her breathing could be guessed at as Xenovia stared hard in the direction from whence the sound had come. As the light flared up her eyes narrowed slightly, and though she held the torch near the pupil within her golden orbs still reflected the light in an animalistic green tinge. Had they ears and tails, they might have been cats.

Xenovia did not share the sharp features of her companion, but she did have some strange ones of her own. Her skin could hardly be described as anything less than pale, though perhaps that would be an understatement for flesh nearly free of any sort of natural pigment. What seemed to be a permanent shadow ringed each eye, and her lips were dark, frowning slightly at the arrival of this new being. She too was wrapped in the same garb as her companion, her purple belt ringing around her slender waist and holding the wrap close to her lean, muscular frame.

She took in the man's appearance very quickly, and soon realized that he was not a man at all, but an elf. Yet the inherent attractiveness of his race held no sway over a Kanthrop, despite the intriguing golden eyes and hair that might have given pause to another. After all, eyes of gold were not an uncommon sight in their tribe. Oni had told her about Adhiel, and they were certainly not on the list of races to be trusted. And perhaps to him, they would look like the very sort of creatures who could prove themselves to be demons. They certainly weren't a common sort of sight.

What Xen regarded Ashtallion with was clearly recognizable as deep suspicion and distaste. Her eyes darted over him rapidly, as if she were assessing his abilities, and his questioning of their prowess only served to deepen the resentment she felt toward him. Her younger-sounding voice followed Niamh's, Xen's gaze remaining steady on Ashtallion. "We are capable of much, Adhiel, as I'm sure you are also. Yet we have light, and we have our skills, and that is all we need."

There was a mixture of finality and challenge in her words, as if she dared him to convince her that they should think of him as anything more than a pointy-eared, ridiculously-dressed interference.

Kanthrop could hear better even than the gifted Adhiel, and so it was with barely a breath of air that Xenovia mumbled an incredibly faint "go on" to her companion -- so softly that even the closeness of the walls could not catch the intonations of her voice and reflect them back at them. She had not failed to notice the stalagmites protruding from the rocky floor, and Xen moved more slowly now, her attention divided between their onward travels and the stranger whom had nothing less than her utmost distrust.

[Ashtallion Urdil]

"Are your skills ample enough to keep you alive against anything that lies ahead?" his tone promptly lost its polite curiosity. Asht let his eyes linger over both strangers, making no pretense that he was assessing them. "I've seen many different races on this world....but I do not believe I have ever had the....pleasure.....of coming across a race such as you two." despite his words, there was a faint sense of familiarity. He had never seen them, but perhaps there was reference to them in a book. Though looking at them in the dim light, he could make out certain distinctions that set them apart. Nothing in their appearance made the reference jump out in his head though.

They had turned their backs on him and started to make their way further into the cave...but his judgement at least. Suppressing a sigh, Ashtallion gave his surroundings a further appraisal. Noting the potentially deadly footing, the gilded sorcerer gathered several strands of air energy and started to weave. He did not gesture, for any move he made could be seen as an aggressive action in the present company he held.

Knotting and weaving the strands of air, the magus focused them into a disc of solid air just before his feet, making it float a couple of inches off the cave floor. The mage stepped onto the disc, silently hoping the weaving would hold him. He steadily directed his will into it, holding the weave dead-fast. If the disc was to hold, he would use that to avoid most of the dangerous footing ahead.

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

Just as the trio in the cave tunnel were arguing, something dropped from the ceiling of the cave. It could have just been water dripping from a stalactite, and hitting Xenovia on the head. However, this suspicion quickly left her mind as whatever it was began to furiously crawl through her thick hair. Whatever it was, it was alive...

Moments later, the cave was full of a strange sound. As they stood in the relative darkness, sound was rapidly grew louder and more intense as it approached the three. Soon, the sound of a chorus of tiny clicks filled their ears.

Though her training in forest survival was extremely elementary, Niamh was able to recognize the sound as that of insects crawling across the stone. However, she also knew that the sound was not just one insect or even several...the sound was such that the entire cave seemed to be full of them.

The sound grew louder and louder as it approached...seemingly coming from all directions...

With the little bit of light created by Ashtallion, there was no visual indication of the source of the sound...yet...

[Ashtallion Urdil]

The adhiel sorcerer froze as he heard the soft ticking sound and as it grew louder, grew in number, his eyes widened slightly. "By the Father what is that....." he could assertain that it was the sound of insects, but so many, and heading towards them from seemingly all directions? Asht did not like the feel of it. He abandoned his disc of air, not wanting to use his strength up holding that weaving when he may need more offensive magicks.

"I trust you both know how to fight?"

He did not wait for a response though. The gilded sorcerer channelled more energy into the light, he needed to see better, see what he may have to fight off. His first instinct was to also weave waves of flames and send the firey magic out in an expanding ring. But aside from potentially injuring the two strange youths, the air was too cold, not enough heat energies to weave fast fire spells.....but there was air, and with air was linked electricity. He would use lightning

Closing his eyes briefly, he drew on the threads of electrical energy around him. Weaving them together. To both the strangers, arcs of lightning danced between his now outstretched fingers. It ran over his skin, through his hair. Already the air would smell distinctly of ozone.

"Don't get in my way and stay out of my line of sight. If you get caught in my magics path, it will kill you." he held back from unleashing the lightning, though he could feel the energy building. The magic ran through his blood, screaming for release. Small spats of electricity leapt from him. He was protected though by the sheild that cover his body like a second skin....it was almost virtually in his skin.

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

The wet darkness was folded around Aerin like a second skin, awareness of her burning lungs coming just shortly before full awareness came. A small gasp silently erupted from her lips before being drowned out by fluid, the stale taste of mold and guano forcing her to retch underwater as her body thrashed in the depths, looking for escape. Small bubbles trickled from the corners of her mouth and, as if by survival reflex, Aerin quickly fixated on their motion, knowing that bubbles rose toward the surface...if there was one.

After what seemed to be a small eternity, her crimson locks, looking blood-red due to aquatic matting, broke the surface of a narrow pool, followed by face and torso, a semi-loud gulp of air screeching backward through her throat as she spit the last of the water and bile from her lips and scrambled upward, unaware of how she had come to exist in the...puddle?

The young alchemist-to-be blinked in confusion at the water, the reflection of rocks just inches below the scant fluid visible in what little light she had*.

What the hell...?

The question repeated itself in her head once more as she heard movement further up in the cave. Voices...footfalls...seemingly coming toward her but, in the disorientation, possibly not for all that she could tell. She had her daggers, but very little skill in them, and lacked the advantage of familiarity with her surroundings - not much help there - and somehow found the muted voices a bit more 'friendly' than the chittering that she could make out from what she assumed was 'the other direction'.

"He-hello?" Aerin weakly called out as she pulled herself to her feet and began to move in a direction which she hoped was toward the voices. "Hello?" she repeated, a bit louder, vainly hoping that only friendly creatures would hear her call, but knowing that nature - in her cruel mirth - did not always allow those types of wishes to come true.[hr]* Not plagerising C.S. Lewis, but just giving tribute to my favorite of the Narnia Chronicals - "The Magician's Nephew". The 'magic pool' was just a way to bring her into the stories and similarities end here. [/hr]

[Niamh Windwalker]

"Bugs." Niamh's calloused fingers reached out to pluck the wriggling thing from her companions hair before it could burrow too far, examining it briefly, holding it close to eyes that reflected green in the uncertain darkness. Unfazed by the things proximity, after identifying it, a heavy disgust traced the angular lines of her face as she flung it away.

The gasped greeting and the familiar sound of scattered water droplets, caught her attention, but she didn't respond in kind, at least immediately, her thought was on the problem at hand. Instead, her eyes searched uneasily among the light shed by the crackling mage, seeings the stuffs of thunderstorms building in waves around his form. Such a demonstration was somewhat aweing, but in the end, seemed all show for little effect.

"Xen, your torch... have you anything else this damp cave hasn't drenched?" Her voice didn't bother to attempt quiet. The only thing that could conquer the oncoming wave of insects, in the Kanthrop's mind, was flame and smoke - the difficulty would be in not incapacitating those around them as well. She knew her companion heard as she did, and the danger, though uncertain, brought her senses on edge - left her eyes and ears and nose all flaring as they sought to draw in as much information as possible.

[Xenovia Canace]

Xenovia flinched slightly as she began to feel something burrowing into her hair, but her companion caught it up quickly and she too turned to examine it, frowning darkly. Yet her attention was brought downward as the fine hairs on her arms began to stand on end, and she looked toward the wizard with a mix of awe stifled by distaste. Show or not, she did not like the feeling that his magic caused to crawl upon her flesh, and she decided she would much rather be away from him.

Her head swiveled upon her neck, turning sharply much like the head of a bird might turn, as a call echoed through the cave. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the insects, and though she trusted no one she wished that kind of death upon no race. Yet at the same time her Inner Animal called for action, lest they be set upon by the creatures. The Other will call to her, she thought inwardly, ere turning her gaze back to Niamh.

"I have only the means for making another torch," she said softly. It was not an attempt to hold quiet, but she knew her voice would carry easily enough to her companion's sensitive ears. Setting her spear down only briefly, Xen swung her pack from around her back and handed it to her fellow Kanthrop. Yet still she felt discomforted, so near to the crackling magics of the mage. "We should find a more easily defended location, Niamh. I care not for his show."

Catching her spear up in a deft hand, her willowy frame began at once to move again, torch held high to cast its light as far as possible. Her large eyes widened further in an attempt to gather said light in her reflective pupils, their black mass expanding almost far enough to hide the brilliance of her golden iris. She was searching for a cave, or perhaps a small nook which would give them a wall to press their backs against.

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

The noise of the approaching army of insects quickly closed in on the four within the caves. The sound came from all directions, so they knew it was impossible to flee...where they stood would be the place from where they would fight and make a stand.

Just as the sound felt like it could get no closer, it was suddenly and completely silent within the caves.

There were no insects. Xenovia felt another impact on her head like the one before. When her hand reached up instinctively, all she found was water. Niamh realized that she had not removed a bug from her companion's hair, but instead merely had whisked away some water that had dropped from the ceiling, as where she thought her hand was dry before, it was now wet.

There was no indication that the sounds heard by the four had ever existed. Yet they had all clearly heard them...hadn't they?

[Niamh Windwalker]

"Faugh..." Niamh's exclamation of disgruntlement might have echoed off of the damp walls it erupted with such passion. "Enough is enough."

With that said, regardless of any of the other's actions, she stepped forward, taking time enough to make sure she would not slip or tumble, but making her way rapidly onwards towards where she had first heard the cry. The Kanthrop was not one for waiting, and she had heard a young thing in distress. Children were delicate, if something was wrong, it must be corrected, and swiftly were her interference to do any good.

[Xenovia Canace]

Xenovia blinked in surprise as the sound of the insects suddenly stopped entirely. Her head cocked slightly and she listened hard, but there was no trace of the buzzing she had heard just flickers before. Niamh's expression reflected her own irritation quite accurately.

Another impact hit her hair and this time she was quick to grab at it, but she found only dampness there. Squinting at her hand, baffled but silent, Xen shook her head. Again her pack was swung round her back and her long fingers slipped round her spear, torch held high as she followed along behind her companion as she focused again on the cry they'd heard earlier. She was careful not to look again toward the mage, deciding to make it clearer that they wanted nothing to do with him. He might have meant well, but he was not one of the trusted races, and because of this he would not be accepted.

She had not forgotten the fourth creature whom had made her presence known, but Xenovia doubted she was a Kanthrop. She certainly would not have called out that way if she were.

[Niamh Windwalker]

As Niamh stepped farther into the darkness, it surrounded and swept her up in its confines. As simply as she had emerged into awareness of this place, it began to fade from her, and she simply... disappeared.

[Exeunt]

[Xenovia Canace]

Where Niamh went, so Xenovia followed: her constant protector, friend, and rival. Though her white skin had stood out against the darkness, it was now subdued by shadow and enveloped, and within flickers she was gone as well, the torch she'd held clattering to the cave floor.

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

This thread is now closed. Sorry all.