A5G

Into the Land of Twilight

A pair of ghostly glow lit up as they approached the spider's lair, telltale sign of Engelbert's scan on the immediate area. There's nothing with more than two legs in the immediate vicinity, or at least none that's larger than a regular bug. Not even any critter abound, but suppose the owner of the cave had spooked or eaten away all the larger animals... if there's any in the first place.

The coccoons were cut open, and the taken caravan hands rescued. They're afflicted by some sort of poison, the knight vaguely recalled how spiders tend to keep their prey fresh for longer period. The question was, did the poison ended up killing the victims? He couldn't remember that part.

Shrugging, Engelbert unclasped his cloak and took another look at it. It's dirty in the way that getting dragged across untamed woods would do to a fabric, though the make was sturdy enough not to rip at errant branches. The bottom end were singed and burnt at places thanks to the golem from earlier, and though he was spared the worst of the spider-guts spray there's still enough of the sludgy ooze stuck that it'll probably smell horrible in a few hours.

"A bit more stain wouldn't make any difference at this point." He laid the cloak on the ground before carfully lifting and placing the wounded porter in the center, before rummaging to relieve the man's belt and tying it into a tight tourniquet around the limb. Then the man was wrapped like an oversized luggage, the spider silk sticking to the cloak securely enough that there's no chance of slipping off.

"There's no head injury, this should be fine." He tried to reassure the rest of the party as he lifted the latest "baggage" by the cloak, the wounded porter barely swaying in the iron grip. On his other hand he casually grabbed the last porter, carrying him over the shoulder with ease. "Lead the way, sir Vesemir."

Into the Land of Twilight

"That one definitely didn't mind munching its prey." Engelbert reminded, not-so-subtly gesturing the severed leg nearby. "Who knows what else is different to regular spiders? If we are moving, we should not accept assumption as facts." The blue glow slowly faded out of the knight's helmet, leaving it as dark as it usually were. He's... withholding his opinion at the moment. Rescue attempt was good and all, but when survival prospect was slim and the party was exhausted they'd go well past valor and into the realm of stupidity. Not to mention that finding the creature's lair wasn't exactly easy in this woods. None of them were expert tracker.

Leaving the decision making to Vesemir, Engelbert turned his attention to something he could more reasonably deal with. Armored gauntlets reached for his belt, pawing the leather slots before taking out a slightly dented silver flask barely larger than a finger.

"You did well, lady Roxas. I have just the thing to tilt the odds in his favor." One could almost imagine the amiable smile from his tone as he strolled back to the camp and administered the potion into Dimitri's wound. There's some slightly disturbing squelching noise as well as the caravan hand's pained grunt as the knight-errant made his way back, carefully storing back the now empty flask in its slot. "He should live, though he'd be famished when he wakes up. Small blessing that he's unconscious, it's not a pleasant experience. Moving on - I have five more of the potions if necessary, but I hope we can reserve it for emergency only."

Into the Land of Twilight

Thankfully the conundrum of pursue wasn't one that needed a decision just yet. Through the gaping yawn in the treeline that was the wake of the arachne's passing came two figures, ghastly blue glows from within Engelbert's helmet painting Rezello's mask in an eerie afterglow in their purposeful trudge through toppled trunks and overturned stumps. The former raised a hand as he walked within the sphere of Vesemir's lantern, waving a jagged and twisted object the length of a man's leg that soon enough was revealed to be one of the beast's slavering mandible.

"The beast is slain." He proclaimed with undisguised grim satisfaction, dropping the macabre trophy for everyone to see. It's a shelled segment covered in thick, bristling hair, with a single hook-shaped fang extending from the tip. Perhaps an enterprising sort can finagle a weapon or a decoration out of the whole thing, but for now it's a representation of vengeful justice dealt in the name of the arachne's countless victims over the ages. "No sign of the people nearby though."

Well, no sign save for a single severed leg that was discarded in haste when Carnatia stabbed the beast. As for where the rest of the person was... well, considering the state of the spider's abdomen, it's probably scattered all over the immediate area. And speaking of that-

"...I've got to say, you all could use a shower or three."

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.