Entrance to the Catacombs ~ Samheen 27 MT (Open)

[Guest]

The village beneath the Keep's walls was eerily quiet, standing as it had when the refugees had fled days ago. The pair could hear nothing of what one might expect to hear in a town so open to nature. Once, this village had been bustling with the activity of travelers and townsfolk. Now, it was a ghost town. The companions, human and dwarf, marched into town without hassle. The grey, noxious vapor that had so assaulted the party beneath the Black Tower did not linger in the town. Instead, Murdok and Ranhild could see it swirling near the castle, embracing the once mighty sandstone walls of Dragon's Keep like an over protective mother snake.

The Abbey lay near the rear of the town, a good distance from the Keep. Upon seeing its crumbling frame, Ranhild and Murdok recognized the Captain and their companions standing near the broken gate. The Captain was armed as Murdok had seen him days earlier when they explored these tunnels the first time. Izmir and Achlos, dressed in traditional POTS robes held what looked to be a litter, on which lay the huddled and fragile form of Asa’Kriel. Looking equally fragile, Father Amaris sat next to them on a wooden chest alternating between wringing his hands and wiping his brow.

Dunevain gave a slight wave to indicate he’d registered their presence and waited for the pair to approach.

[Guest]

Murdok was impressed by the way that Ranhild had handled herself. After all, not every task could be delicately handled with axe or hammer. Being back in the village had lifted Murdok's spirits, it was the place besides the keep where he had spent the most time. It had become familiar to him and he had grown comfortable in its long shadows.

Murdok gave the twirling mist of evil the once over with his eye and spat. To him he felt the score was even at one apiece. The second round went to him, eye or no eye. He had walked away with a fine hat after all. In Murdok's rattled head this round was for all the cards, the final hand in the game. Game, perhaps a word that those before him with those grim faces did not use so lightly. No, perhaps not. Never the less, Murdok saw all of life with a touch of lightness after his long ordeal underground. Death was to be an end and his life, a life that he would spend trying to bring redemption for so many and so much. A task that would fill and consume a life. This task, this very thing he approached one foot at a time, lessened redemption.

Murdok smiled to his friend, one he would call "Captain" regardless of his real rank. The one called "Father" seemed perplexed and worried about this next roll of the dice.

"Amaris, the night is cool, breath deep for it is in the tunnels where things will get hot." Murdok looked to the man and patted him on the shoulder not sure if what he said really was going to help the man.

[Ranhild Pheldroppe]

It was hard to make out details in the still lingering darkness of early morning, but Ranhild's eyes had grown used to the shadows by now. She recognized the party, some standing, some sitting, but all grave-faced and solemn. Well, perhaps all except the shaman. The wizened man was so crumpled and covered in rags that she could hardly make out the shape of his body, much less the expression on his face.

The village lay quiet around them, dark shapes blending with the gray-black surroundings. Ranhild had grown up here, and she could have never imagined it so black and lifeless. So haunting. She had been out here at night (or early morning) on numerous occasions, but the area was always bustling with life. If humans slept, dogs didn't, and even at early morning hours, there was always at least a small light in one of the many narrow windows. Now the village was dead, without - it seemed - hope of resurrection. Unconsciously, Ranhild squeezed Murdok's shoulder.

She stepped forward, grinning a little at Murdok's well-meant comment. She had a distinct idea that a remark like that wouldn't make her feel easier, but then again, in this situation nothing would. She smiled encouragingly at Father Amaris, then spied the chest he was sitting on. What could be inside?

"Captain." She whispered, nodding her head to him as well to the others. Achlos was once again wearing the traditional robes of the People of the Sand. It made Ranhild wonder briefly - once again - if he wasn't in fact a desert shaman. Not that it mattered much, though. She was grateful to him for teaching her all she knew about magic.

[Guest]

“Don’t mind him,” said the Captain with a wry grin. “He’s just a little shaken from having to cover for us with Sister Diane. She just happened to be walking by his tent as we were preparing our exit.”

Amaris shot Dunevain a look of pure contempt and shoved his hands under his arms.

“Quit brooding, you old goat,” ordered the Captain gently, “it’s time to get a move on.”

At the instruction from Dunevain, Amaris stood and opened the chest he’d been using as a seat. He withdrew the rod Murdok had brought to him earlier, wrapped in what appeared to be black silk and tied with a rope for carrying. Only the very ends of the rod were visible but the reverence with which Amaris held the artifact gave its identity away.

“I don’t know what it will do for us,” the Father admitted softly, “but I feel like it belongs with us.” He eyed Asa’Kriel who returned the gaze with one of agreement.

Dunevain approached Ranhild and Murdok with a large bundle in his hands.

“We have a few of these,” said the Captain, handing them both torches from a bundle he had secured in his pack, “but not enough for us to all have one lit at the same time. We’ll try with one in front and one in the rear to see if that’s enough light.

“My friend would you like to lead?” asked the Captain to Murdok. “We don’t have a lot of blades here but Achlos and Asa’Kriel seem to think we have enough ‘power’ to keep us going forward.”

The Captain looked suspiciously back at the group. “I’d rather trust a quick blade,” he said quietly. He then handed Ranhild a weapon that had been strung over his back. “I heard you were looking for good quarterstaff. This one,” he said leaning it forward so she could see the iron-capped ends “ . . .has a little extra surprise for those who get to meet it.”

His arms free now, the Captain withdrew his broadsword and looked toward the horizon.

“Let us hurry,” he announced loudly, “Our troops will storm at dawn which is less than a tide away. I don’t need to explain what will happen if we fail.”

With the light of the moon to guide their path, the Captain turned and began to lead the party into the graveyard behind the Abbey. They approached the familiar crumbling stone wall and passed by the broken gate still hanging like a defeated sentry waiting for the inevitable conqueror. They weaved between the massive vaults, small monuments to former Dominican priests and Drakedoder family members, until they found the one Murdok remembered.

Even in the moonlight flooded graveyard, the tomb was not easily distinguishable from the others. An ornamental frieze depicting the glory of Dominicus was its only decoration. It was taller than a man, a human man that is, and twice as wide again. Made only with stone, it was a simple edifice. Testament to the earlier forays by the Captain, Murdok and unfortunately the Orcs, the door still stood open waiting for the party to venture once more into its depths.

[Guest]

Murdok looked to the gaping black hole that served as the door to the tomb. Every time he goes down there, something bad happens. This time there seemed to be a lot more riding on the trip to the dark. Murdok waved away the notion of the torches knowing that whoever was behind him would be the one holding the torch. His was the task of the blade and hammer. He had lost the weapon he came with but now he had kindly had it replaced with his new duel headed iron monster of an axe. Having lost his first one by dropping it he now had this one chained to his wrist, for better or worse as the case might be. After the last fight he decided to keep it chained to the left, rather than right so that if he had to cut it off he would do a better job with his axe hand rather than the small hammer that favored the left.

Now though he had taken care to wrap the links of the chain so that it would make no sound. There was time to scare the enemy and there were times that you wanted to be a little sneaky. Now was for the sneak and surprise.

Murdok did not know what the others would do but he knew his job and so did his cousin. There in the door the ghostly figure awaited his arrival, a benign smile cut across his face. Fortune of doom? The smile never revealed. Shaking his head and smiling back Murdok brought his mind into focus on the task before him, ghosts be dammed.

Murdok looked back over his shoulder with his one good eye. Giving Ranhild a wink and Dunevain the nod, Murdok spat out his few short words…

“Light them torches, ‘tis time to make it past the bottom of the stairs…”

With a short laugh Murdok strode forward and plunged once more into the twisted little stair where at the bottom he had fought twice already.

[Ranhild Pheldroppe]

"Thank you, Captain," said Ranhild simply. "Anyone trying to mess with our group will have a small chat with steel."

She stood on tiptoe and examined the ends of the quarterstaff. The weapon she had used before had been made of wood and wood only, but then again, there was no need for steel caps in the peaceful dunes around Dragonskeep. Not when one had only a herd of dull-minded cattle to attend to. Sliding her hand into one of the pockets at her waist, she produced a silver coin and tied it firmly to one end of the staff with a leather cord. She looked around guiltily, hoping that none of the others had noticed. Who knows, maybe they were to encounter a creature that's afraid of silver. Ranhild remembered reading something like that in one of the library tomes. On second thoughts, she wasn't sure if the circlet was genuine silver, but it was the best she had. The coin, secured against any movement, was almost invisible.

The girl hadn't brought much things with her, only the necessities she always carried around in the pouches at her belt. Her thoughts had followed the line of 'if we make it, I can always return for the rest of my belongings'. The other option, of course, started with 'if we don't make it...', but Ranhild didn't occupy herself with such ideas. She took hold of a torch and lit it using her flint and steel. Then, shifting it to her left hand, she picked up the quarterstaff with the other and stepped up to Murdok, the torch smouldering above her shoulder.

"I'll be right behind you with the light," she said, winking back at him. "You'll take the back, Captain?" That way, there'd be a fighter at each end. Achlos and Izmir had to carry the shaman and Father Amaris was in no state for repelling zombies. Ranhild followed Murdok's gaze into the arch marking the entrance to the underground passages, but there was nothing of interest there, unless you have a special thing for darkness. The ghosts of long-gone dwarves were completely lost on the human girl.

She followed Murdok. It had originally been her intention to say something cheerful, for example "In we go!" or any expression of that sort. However, she kept silent, resorting only to a small, troubled grin. There was no point in petty talks - they had to hurry.

[Guest]

The dwarf disappeared first into the black tunnel of the vault, torchlight glinting softly off the giant axe blade. He cut a formidable shadow against the ancient stone walls. Behind him, the young girl carried the precious light that the party would need to find their way. The doorway seemed to swallow the pair as they led their group beneath the old burial ground.

After Ranhild, Izmir and Achlos descended carrying Asa’Kriel’s litter with them. The pair struggled little with the elderly man’s weight. Carrying the second torch and the strange, magical rod Amaris crept into the tunnel, holding his breath. Torchlight shone off the man’s head, glowing orange with sweat. Dunevain, armed with his broadsword and shield, took the final position, his head swiveling to watch for pursuers. To an outsider, the party would be considered odd indeed.

The cooler air of the tunnel was stifling. It was stale and tasted of dust, or rather, as Achlos mentioned, it tasted like crushed bones. They were not silent as they descended. Six pair of boots slapped heavily against the stone steps. The armor worn by Dunevain and Murdok added to the noise, clanking heavily against the warrior’s sides. If anything were waiting for them, it would have had plenty of warning. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be for they arrived at the landing without incident.

The signs of the previous battles, footprints in the dust, cast aside spears and crumbled stone, were evident. Dunevain’s face twisted into a frown. He remembered the battle bitterly and how the dwarf had carried his wounded body back to the Keep. Amaris too broke into a scowl. This was the first time he had been into the catacombs behind his Abbey. His ruined Abbey, the priest thought.

Amaris was about to comment about how the faithful might view the presence of the People of the Sands in this holy place sacrilegious but stopped suddenly. He craned his head to listen. The priest had heard something. The others turned to listen also; Dunevain moved forward next to Murdok to provide a second blade.

“I hear it too,” the Captain whispered, “it comes from there.” He pointed toward a hole in the wall. Murdok recognized the hole. It was the same he’d created with his head and then widened during his previous foray into this vault; the foray that had produced the rod known as Cadassi’s light.

“It sounds like yelling, but it is muffled,” he finished as he moved around the group and closer to the sound.

[Guest]

Murdok's quick steps took him into the darkness, back lit by the light of Ranhild. In his mind he was gearing for a stealthy approach into the darkness but all hope of that were dashed as he could hear the foot falls and various other noises of the remainder of the party. Might as well attach a bell to my feet.. Murdok grunted and pulled the cloth from out of his chain. harrumph! Might as well show them we have no fear....

Murdok stopped to be joined by the others in the main junction where so much had happened. Happily he was about to set out down the corridor deeper into the darkness for the first time when the sounds were heard coming from the other room. Murdok turned his head, followed by the rest of his body to stare onto the hole he had made before.

Yelling? Murdok looked to the hole, baffled. He thought he had looked this room over and he did not remember seeing any other way in. A trap?

Murdok squished up his face and bared his teeth to the hole. A frustrated growl like noise escaped from between his teeth.

Turing to the Captain...

"Could be a trap..."

And before he finished he quickly stepped into the room and to the left, letting the light from Ranhild's torch filter into the room. He had tried to be quiet but the clank and clink of his chain alone would give him away. It made a slow grating sound as it swayed from the movement.

Speaking to no one at all Murdok spoke to the room..

"What, ya missed me?"

[Ranhild Pheldroppe]

They were making so much noise. With a painful scowl, Ranhild tried to tread more quietly, moving on her tiptoes. However, she had to concentrate on keeping her balance, so she gave up on this tactic and returned to the noisy slap-slap-slap of boots against stone.

The torch smouldered in her hand. She waved it around to give the fire some life. She didn't feel in danger, not at all. The small sounds of people around her were comfortable, almost as if they were all on a midnight party, trying to find clues left by the host. Her mind drifted off, thoughts fixed on happy, sunlit days and memories.

The sudden silence around her made her stop. Ranhild almost bumped into Murdok, so suddenly had the group ceased to move. She had no idea how far they had gone - or why they were standing still. She shook her head to clear it.

And then it came. A small cry, a faint yell from somewhere within the walls. Ranhild drew a deep breath; the captain moved past her, and now stood next to Murdok. The girl weighed the quarterstaff in her hand, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The cries didn't sound so near... Actually, Ranhild would have very much preferred to keep moving forward, ignoring the noise. As it was, though, they had already stopped. Murdok stepped back from the hole, and the light of Ranhild's torch flooded the inside - instinctively, she extended her arm to provide a better lighting and craned her head forward.

[Guest]

OOC: Sorry for the delay.

IC: Inside the room was just as Murdok had left it, complete with broken and contorted corpse of the priest next to the sarcophagus where Murdok had lost his eye.

The room was relatively large compared to the graves and tombs in the main passage. This one had clearly been set aside and enlarged, perhaps as a way to honor the man buried in it. Four strange animalistic statues stared menacingly at the interlopers. One of the statues looked like twisted stone with rough texture that appeared grainy. Another appeared to be simply a man, but the statue had no face and the last, easily the most fearsome, was the statue of a beast Murdok and Ranhild could only surmise to be a dragon.

The torchlight threw wicked orange flickers about the tomb. To Murdok and Ranhild it almost seemed as if the statues leapt with the light, jumping and dodging about the room. The torchlight allowed him to see some of the room better but, in actuality, it had a negative net affect. Instead of illuminating the entire room, the spotty light made the dark spots even darker and the shadows even deeper.

As the party entered the room, the yelling stopped. It came from the fall wall next to the statue of the dragon.

[Guest]

Murdok looked around the room with his one good eye once Ranhild illuminated it with the torch. Not much had changed since the last visit, everything lay where he had left it.

Murdok strode onto the space humming a tune from days before. Moving over to the thing once dead and now dead again he gave it a swift kick.

"That's for my eye ye bastard."

Familiar with the space, Murdok made a swift scout of the chamber as he moved back to the wall where the noises were coming from. No ghostly relatives visited here, only the encroaching shadows of the statues to watch over him. Murdok gave them the eye as he stood near the wall where the noises were coming from.

Being a dwarf one would think that he might know something about stone work, but no. Anything that Murdok had know was forgotten when he was in the deep. All his knowledge moved forward form the point of the attack and his flight into madness.

Murdok looked to the stone and tried to listen at the wall. Not much was going to catch him by surprise now, not after knocking down the first wall and entering this room.

Murdok looked back to Ranhild and the party.

His stubby finger pointed to the wall...

"I say we go this way..."

[Ranhild Pheldroppe]

As she followed her dwarf friend, Ranhild briefly closed her eyes and imagined the Aether around her. She needed something to rely on, and although an infinite number of spiritual animals might not be the most solid choice, their presence helped her relax. The girl was starting to like it. After almost two decades of living in an apparently empty space, the thought of being surrounded by friendly beings was assuring.

As she took another step, she decided to ground herself as well. She wasn't daft enough to start weaving the Aether, but a mere grounding couldn't hurt. I hope. Ranhild had read of beings that could sense magic for miles around and she didn't want to risk the possibility of attracting attention to the party. Not that your ball of light could do much harm, chided a small voice in her head, but the girl pushed it away and imagined herself as a tree. For a split flicker she had a vision of a pine standing in the middle of the large crypt, roots firmly in the ground, growing through the stone floor. Then the image faded away and was replaced by the face of the stone dragon.

Ranhild blinked. She had entered the room together with the others and stumbled around, not really taking in the gruesome details. Now they hit her and she drew away from the corpse of something that might have once been a human being. It was barely recognizable now. She tried to get as much light out of the torch as she could, but with no avail. The room was still bathed in shadows, and Ranhild wasn't pleased to find the statues so... so very much alive. A cold feeling travelled down her spine as she examined them closer, leaning forward to get a better look at the mythical beast. The hand holding her quarterstaff leaned forward, not quite touching the stone, but close enough to feel the air around it. The girl was curious - living beings emitted heat, and coldness seeped out of stone statues. This dragon seemed ready to break free of its stone shell and start breathing. She knew it was just a statue, but most words had two meaning down here in the bowels of the graveyard.

"Are you Draz-Olgraith?" she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. That was the only dragon rumoured to live around the Keep - the only one she knew about anyway.

Murdok's decision interrupted her thoughts. She looked around her shoulder, locating the place the dwarf was pointing to. Right next to her, in any case.

"Whatever's inside already knows we're here," she said, referring to the sudden silence. The yelling had stopped. "And it can't be anything that's happy to see us." Otherwise it would have started making more noise to capture our attention.

The shepherd glanced again at the statue. Its snout was twisted in an unpleasant sneer and Ranhild, taken aback, made a face at it. She frantically tried to remember all the advice and guidance Achlos had given her before the attack on the Keep. You should have practised more, girl! The un-silencable little voice of her conscience kept pestering her. Furious, she breathed deeply and forced herself to calm down. She was rooted. The Aether was around her. Anything else?

Of course, the shield.

"Air and ice, air and ice," she mumbled to herself and reached out into the Aether, quickly looking for silvery and breezy creatures. She wasn't too picky, yet payed attention to cluster them around herself as tightly as possible. That would be air. Now for the ice part. Ranhild had never tried it before and she was in doubt what feeling to look for in the invisible creatures around her. Try coldness, silly! Sometimes that snaggy voice could be useful. The girl felt around, mentally, seeking an area where the less bright and warm animals milled about.

Gods, this was taking so much time! Precious flickers passed by.

She found a few spirits she was satisfued with. A silver-blue bull with a single spiralling horn jutting out of its nose, a heavy, five-legged being with wide hoofs and a slim, scaly creature with no eyes. She squeezed between them, the layer of airy protecting her from the frosty fur of her shield.

There was nothing more to do now. Satisfied, Ranhild moved a step back. She had a feeling something was going to charge out of the wall and she wanted to have some space to use her newly acquired weapon.

Dear friends, stand by me in the dark hour. The words flew through her mind, and the Aetherial beings' laugh tinkled gently in her ears. It was almost like a prayer.

[Guest]

The Captain had crept closer to Murdok. He peered intently in the direction the dwarf pointed before speaking.

"What do you mean we go through here?" asked the Captain looking dumbly at the blank wall before him. He knocked lightly on the stone with his fist.

"This wall, my friend, appears to have no door," said the Captain with a mirthful grin.

"In all seriousness," said the Captain, abruptly changing his tone, "this yelling appears to have stopped. It sounded vaguely human, don't you agree?"

~

Ranhild could hear the Captain's attempts at humor even with her focus on the Aether. She'd opened herself successfully to its power and it now lie just beyond. Its strands were now hers to command. Of course, commanding it was the challenging part. The weaving and twisting of the threads into the desired goal had left more than one aspiring mage broken, bruised or worse.

"Be wary." Achlos whispered from behind her. He, Izmir and Asa'Kriel were not in the room but their nebulous forms were visible beyond the hole Ranhild had crawled through. She could see the mage craning his head to get a better view of the scene inside the chamber.

[Guest]

Murdok pointed at the wall with his finger.

"If I have learned anything around here it is the fact that the ways are hidden and that all is not what it seems. This room was found because I smashed my head into it, not because I thought to walk up to the wall and start poking away. Now if there is something behind this wall I would rather deal with it before I go down rather than waiting for it to come out after me. Do you not agree?"

Murdok stopped to listen to the wall and then stood back and shrugged.

"If we heard it then it heard us. We know it's there and it knows we are there. So be it."

Murdok tapped against the wall with the top of his axe...

"Knock, Knock, Mudock's coming to kill you."

Winking at the once and always Captain

"My hammer would have been better for this.."

Looking back...

"Caution? harumph!"

And then he prepared to swing and bring the wall down..

[Ranhild Pheldroppe]

Oh, all right. So nothing was coming out of the wall, but Murdok was going in. It added up to the same results, anyway. Ranhild ducked and slid out of the way in an attempt to evade the axe that was about to fly through the air.

"I've got much to learn from you, Murdok," she grinned. "Up to today, I've always gone around obstacles, but this is somehow more direct."

Staff ready, Ranhild took once again a peek into the Aether. The wording doesn't really describe the process - it was more about tuning one's eyes to either the real world or the dream one. The girl felt as if she was looking at two translucent scenes placed over each other. If she concentrated on one, she could block out the other. While inspecting the Aether, she could hear what was going out in the Tether, but it was like listening to a buzzing crowd or to someone standing behind you in the line. Often you listened, but sometimes the exact words just faded, leaving but a hum.

"There are many creatures that yell in the same way as humans," she said. Ranhild did not trust a mere voice.

She looked, curiously, at the nebulous forms of the three men behind the wall. "Achlos - if I can see you three and you're not inside the room, could I perhaps also see the creature behind the wall?"

She spun around, still in the Aether, the blazing ghost-like shapes of Achlos and the two clansmen behind her back. The wall was somewhere in front of her... If a living - and perhaps magical - being was behind the stone tiles, she should be able to sense it.

OOC: A question - do I see the forms of Murdok and the Captain as well?

[Guest]

OOC: Sorry, Ran, I didn't mean to indicate you could see behind you, only that if you turned around you could see Izmir and Amaris through the hole you had to crawl into to get into the room. I'll go with it, no need to edit. By nebulous, I meant fuzzy since it's kinda dark in the room.

IC:

"Eh?" Achlos asked in return. "Well, try it. It can't hurt," he instructed. "I've not done it myself but that doesn't mean it can't be done."

What Ranhild felt as her strands of power reached out toward the wall was unexpected. She could not 'see' or 'hear' through the wall, but her magic found the one existing breach. It was a small hole near the seam of the wall and the floor, almost invisible in the low light. Her ethereal probing seeped through to the other side.

PAIN! The strands of aether transferred a sharp, stinging pain filled with a strong sense of desperation. She could not, though, determine, the actual source of the pain and emotion. Her skills were too raw to be familiar with all the complexities of another's emotions.

~

As Murdok began to swing, a muffled sound came from behind the wall. He could not be certain but it sounded almost as if something had hit the wall. He only had his backswing to register the strange audible interruption. The head of his hammer crashed violently into the wall. Stone chips exploded around the room and dust swirled, threatening to invade the party's sinuses. In the enclosed area, the sound maginified tremendously, causing Dunevain to reflexively grab his ears as the metal struck stone.

When the dust had cleared, Murdok could see the imprint of his hammer head in the stone wall where he'd cracked the brick. The mortar had only loosened slightly but it was obvious that he could continue to demolish this particular brick.

[Guest]

Murdok grunted as he looked at the brick. He turned his head to look at Dunevain with one raised eyebrow.

"Sounds to me like what ever is on the other side is eager to come and visit with us as eagerly as we are with them."

Murdok poked his fingers around the mortar of the brick. He hefted the axe over to his left hand and pulled out his small mace. With the chain of the axe cuffed to his arm he could not get a real good swing but the mace should work better than the axe. Murdok saw it as a good trade off.

"Shall we see what treasures lay behind this wall?"

Murdok began to swing.

[Guest]

As Murdok continued to swing the wall began to crumble before him. Brick after brick began to distintegrate under the mightly blows of his hammer. He was forced to hold his breath as he swung to avoid inhaling mouthfuls of stone dust.

The demolition of the wall became a strange event. While Murdok through heavy hammer strikes against the ancient structure, the distinct ringing of metal came from the other side as well as indistinct screaming. It was not the dull and violent crushing of a hammer but more like the eerie scraping of claws, desperate to gouge and tear their way through. Hearing this strange sound, Dunevain readied himself off to the side, raising his sword in preparation of lopping some zombie's head from its shoulders.

With a satisfying crunch, Murdok's hammer broke through the wall, sending chunks of ancient brick and mortar to the floor. It was dark within but Murdok could clearly make out another figure, like some inky shadow upon the blackness of an unlit corridor. It moved violently and then shouted

"I'm gonna cut you all bitches. I"m gonna own your corpses and get some bloody fresh air! Fucking Bloody Dominican Hell! I'm gonna live!"

[Guest]

Murdok's lips curled upwards as the violent curses drifted through from the other side. He could only wonder what he looked like covered in the stone dust. Calmly he spit as he placed his hammer away. With the wall penetrated the rest he could do with the axe and he may want both hands free.

"Looks like we got a live one here." Murdok spoke to no one in particular.

Murdok shouted back through the hole...

"Hey in there, name's Murdok and I am looking forward to the meeting. Try and keep the screaming down when I kill ye 'cus there are worse things than the dead in this place. Now just you hold on, I'am a-coming to kill ya."

Murdok then proceeded to start to knock some more bricks loose...

[Reiker]

Fresh fucking bloody air

Reiker froze as the blast of sweetness coursed through his injured and impoverished body. He was armed with only one blade now, the other he had thrown at the wall a while earlier. He stood there unmoved for quite sometime, relaxing as the air, the sweet air, refreshed his bleeding insides. He smiled a bit as he joyously realized, he was breathing again. He was going to live. He was only a few meters away from the sweetness of the surface. In wanton abandon he dropped the last blackened blade he had and was unarmed. He was too high to act with a brain.

He was unarmed and the whole concentration of his body to the air filling his being took control of everything else. He didn't here anything, he didn't care to look at the slowly crumbling wall in front of him. Only one message was clear in his mind, sweet fucking air! He needed more. He wanted more. The adrenaline numbing his pain was receding at that moment but the deep need to breathe more took hold again. He mechanically looked forward but was blind to any sort of reason. One instinct kept screaming at his ear, "Get the bloody hell through. Breathe dammit. Breathe." He will breathe.

He stooped his form gather momentum to sport another crash upon the crumbling wall to stupid to notice anyone leveling it. He needed air and he wanted it now. A slow rising cry of anger and desperation creeped out from with him and finally, he charged. He used every violent force in his body and charged for the wall. He was blind, deaf, and stupid to anything except one thing, "Get some Bloody Fresh Air!"

[Ranhild Pheldroppe]

OOC: Sorry! I completely misunderstood the term "peeking into the Aether". My thoughts ran along the lines of the LOTR movies (when Frodo puts on the ring) and Matrix Revolutions.

"Look, there's a ho- AAAAAAH!" The happiness and excitement Ranhild had felt at finding a small break in the wall swirled and turned swiftly into something violent. Her brain exploded inside her head, her eyes rolled and foam appeared at her mouth. The feeling was terrible! Terrible! Shards of pain prickled the insides of her skin, her ribs were suddenly broken, her insides bathing in her own blood.

The girl barely understood that she wasn't injured in reality, only experiencing the emotions of someone else. She wasn't in any state to face this new experience coherently, and instead followed her instincts - she withdrew her mind, broke lose of the little woven strands of the Aether and curled into a tight little ball. She took a step back, treading on the toes of one of the statues, her mind shivering and wobbling deep inside her head like a sack of water. Cold. Freeze. Ranhild mustered her scattered concentration and pulled some Ice spirit-sheep around her, strengthening her shield. Perhaps it would help. Ice will numb her.

She didn't know for how long she stood motionless in the corner, healing her wounded mind next to the statues. Thankfully, Ranhild was very good at regaining her composture, and she forced her feelings down, arming herself with a blank mind and a cool head. Murdok was tearing the wall down, and the creature behind the wall was doing its best to get through as well.

"I'm gonna cut you all bitches. I'm gonna own your corpses and get some bloody fresh air! Fucking Bloody Dominican Hell! I'm gonna live!"

Did she hear correctly? Ranhild's mouth dropped open. And then the curses from behind the wall continued, as well as the screaming and the crashes. The girl wasn't prone to changing her opinion quickly, but a little thought started nibbling at her brain.

"Zombies don't talk. And demons don't curse - at least I've never heard of one that did," she cried, raising her quarterstaff with metal caps. Didn't these supernatural creatures go around wailing or roaring? Or, if they ever did happen to talk, didn't they keep to old dialects and archaisms?

On the other hand, there was no way a human would be in the catacombs this night. Absolutely no way.

Ranhild's staff struck the wall just above the small hole she had sensed earlier. The girl wasn't very strong, but she had calculated that perhaps the brickwork would be weaker around that place. She didn't expect the wall to crumble on the first try, and gave the same place a few more hits.

[Reiker]

The crash was numbed by his stupidity and loss of proper brain functions. The wall was still to hard for his frail body and despite the integral damages made to the wall Reiker could not break it. He was slow in realizing this though as his own force repelled him a hard distance from the wall. He cried from the sudden shock of impact he didn't waver in his bestiality.

He launched himeslf again still forgetting all his human effects and reverting to a more primal state. He continued to use his fist, his knees, everything against random surfaces. He was still to blind to look through the hole, too lost in his need for more air.

"Goddammit! Break already you bloody wall, break dammit break!" he screamed he futilely assaulted the wall with frail flesh.

OOC: Hey G, was wondering whether I lost my knives down the catacombs or not. Cause if I did I'm wondering if my inventory's been updated with the loss.

[Guest]

Murdok Started smashing bricks loose. Sounds started to escape from the other side of the wall. Someone wanted through badly. Murdok figured that at the very least the thing was not mindless, that meant that he should be able to kill it.

"I have never met someone so eager to die as you are."

Murdok started to laugh, he started to shift his mind once again to the hunter, he who hunts the dark passages for scraps of flesh. He who was going to eat that thing behind this wall.

Murdok screamed a guttural challenge as he knocked more bricks away.

[Reiker]

He heard a laugh, and insulting one at that. The laughter huanted his ego, it insulted his strength even had it been muffled by the wall before him. He faintly heard a voice on the other side but it did not register as near anything civilized. Damn this! he screamed inside.

He continued his futile pummeling of the wall with his bare hands forgetting al humanity inside him. Forgetting the simple intelligence of using the swords to dig out the gaps in between stones that composed the wall. He grunted as each shocking blow shook his untiring arms. A few days after this and he would feel the full blunt of his stupidity. It is a wonder if he will be able to stand up at all after this.

[Ranhild Pheldroppe]

Abandoning all words and any other sound at this moment, Ranhild threw her staff against the wall again and again, growing more feverish as bits of brick and mortar dropped to the ground. Occasionally, she stepped back and swung the staff forward with all her might, careful not to hurt the dwarf by accident.

Pausing for a moment to catch her breath, the girl happened on an idea. Some burns had passed between her experience of the dreadful emotions and feelings behind the wall, and she had already forgotten how awful it had been. Ranhild concentrated on the Aether and sought the spirits with an aura of strength around them.

Go against the wall! she urged softly in her head, attempting to send out some sort of a wave that could break through the bricks and stone.