DoubleChecker

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

@Sanity43217 - Asset Goal - ?
@CorvianMERCDB - Asset Goal - ?

The sand takes it all and gives nothing back.

At the red line the shield thug snaps a feint high and chases with a board charge. Don slips by a hair, shoulders brushing wood. The rim scrapes his sleeve instead of his ribs. He answers on instinct with a short, mean shot as he passes. Knuckles thud against cheek strap. The thug rocks back a half step, eyes wide behind the slit. Blood beads under one brow. He is still up, but only just. The board hangs a finger low as his breath rasps. [Shield Thug takes 1 damage]

Across the ring Varius shifts the lane on the dockside bruiser. The net is gone, the hook is low, and then the world flips. A hard step, a turn of hip, and the bruiser hits the sand with a flat smack that draws a full-body groan from the cheap seats. He scrabbles up fast out of pride more than sense. The rise is shaky. He plants the hook and steadies, shoulders heaving, color gone from his face. One more hard kiss of the sand will finish him. [Dock Bruiser takes 2 damage]

The knife runner steals a bead while the throw happens. A twitch of the wrist paints a fast line across Varius’s side as he reenters. It is not deep, but it stings wrong. Heat spreads along the cut, sharp and mean, like pepper ground under the skin. The runner’s mouth curls as he shakes the blade once. The crowd hisses at the taste of blood and the promise of more in a moment. [Varius takes 1 damage and will take another point of damage next turn due to poison if not treated: 4/5 HP]

Up in the boxes Magnus Salinator remains a statue. Grand Mayor Maffeo leans his knuckles to the rail, eyes bright, as if admiring a tide about to turn.

Neco-Arc

On the tunnel lip Neco Arc funnels tiny paws to a tiny mouth. “Good footsies, Red. Keep the buns in, fangs out. Watch the spicy knife, nya.”

The drumbeat holds. The shield man blinks through sweat and steadies his board. The bruiser squares, hook twitching. The runner dances one step left to test the sword line again. The next choice is yours.

[The Grand Duchy] Labyrinth of the Primordial Bloom [FINISHED]

Severin Vaust

​

Titles
[Monster], [Undead], [Monster - Mundane], [Monster - Evolved], [Necromancer] - [#2d7d38]
Noteworthy Perks: [Evolved] - gain the title evolved. Something about your physiology or aura identifies to others you are of a higher species than your peers. Gain a +1 to social exchanges with others of your racial tree.
[Menace] - An aura of fear emanates from the creature at all times that makes lower grade creatures take a -1 effectiveness on attacks against monster or monster allies.
Noteworthy Perks: Resilient C (28) [Aging/Fatigue and Exhaustion/Suffocation/Surprised]

Asset Goal: Duchy Nobility F

Severin’s attention shifted to Esther, watching as the Fae plucked the cords of her harp with the slightest of curiosity. As her magic-made ribbons touched not only the bark of the misshapen trees, but other parts of the entrance to the verdant labyrinth, he hummed. “You were close, but not quite there.” Approaching the tree once more, this time around, the Necromancer lifted his cane and pointing at it with the thinner end.

“What was I looking for on the bark were glyphs or runic marks that might tell us the origins of what changed this forest properly. Perhaps some of the more… exotic magical practices, maybe the symbol of some saint no one remembers, or perhaps even one of the more fleshed-out cults I’ve come across.” Taking a brief pause, he continued.

“I personally was expecting runic symbols akin to those found in rituals in the West Empire, knowing how their society actually integrate monsters seemingly, being the only one of the ‘recognized’ nations to do so.” Severin’s tone was one that was usually found in the higher circles in the academia: filled with confidence and self-given authority, barely allowing the smallest breach for rebuttal. His eyes slid towards Vetreus, the pointing cane now retreating to its position against the ground.

And, with his attention redirecting to trees once more, his gloved index tapped against the glass-like globe at the crown of the cane.

PING-PING-PING

The glass clinked.

“Well, it would be a tad too easy if we arrived at this information without even setting foot into the ‘Verdant Heart’, wouldn’t it?” The faintest of smiles gracing his lips, and then he walked, towards the narrow, winding path. A maw that looked just like it was ready to snap shut, and Severin would certainly not remain on the outside. “Let’s get a proper look, shall we? Both for us and…” Turning around towards the group a last time, his finger pointed at the floating Scrying Orb. “... for them as well.”

And then he turned to the maw, waiting just a beat for their skeletal protector, Fei Liu, to take the vanguard, before he did it himself.

[The Grand Duchy] Labyrinth of the Primordial Bloom [FINISHED]

[If you are interested in joining a setting like this, check out: roleplayerguild.com/topics/196759-ise…]

@DoubleChecker - Severin Vaust Asset Goal: Grand Duchy Nobility F
@Book - Liu Fei Asset Goal: ?
@pkken - Vetreus Draedora Asset Goal: Harvester Asset Mine F
@Red Hood - Esther Keaten Asset Goal: ?
@Nakushita - Penny "Iron Maiden of Pax" Asset Goal: ?

Music

youtube.com/watch?v=QWQ4HTp4J_E&t=953s

The enchanted carriage glides through the architectural marvels of Aslan, its silent passage a stark contrast to the bustling sky-lanes filled with commercial transports and citizen fliers. The transition from the city's magically enforced order to the untamed wilds is swift. The landscape blurs past the windows—temperate forests and rolling plains under a sky streaked with the fiery colors of sunset.

Hours pass. As dusk deepens into a true, starless dark, the carriage's smooth glide falters. A low, pervasive vibration shudders up through the floorboards, a disquieting thrum that seems to emanate from the very earth. The familiar sounds of the forest die away, replaced by an oppressive, unnatural silence.

With a final, soft halt, the carriage door clicks open.

The air that greets you is heavy, cloying, and thick with the smell of alien blossoms and rampant decay. You have arrived at the Verdant Heart. Before you lies a nightmare jungle, a perversion of a natural forest. Trees, thick as ancient towers, are warped into grotesque, writhing shapes, their canopy so dense it smothers all light. The only illumination comes from pulsing, bioluminescent fungi clinging to roots and vines, casting the scene in a sickly violet and green glow.

The thrumming is stronger out here, a palpable, rhythmic beat that feels like the slow, powerful pulse of a colossal heart. With every beat, the fungi flare with sickly light, and the tangled masses of thorny vines seem to twitch in unison. The only way forward is a narrow, winding path, a dark tunnel carved through the menacing flora.

As Severin examines a twisted tree near the entrance, Esther draws her harp. A chord rings out, and five ribbons of multicolored light, like living notes of sheet music, leap from the strings. They strike their targets with unerring accuracy: two gnarled trees, a patch of thorny vines, a glowing mushroom, and the corrupted soil itself. As each ribbon hits, a faint, glowing rune materializes for a moment before fading. Information floods Esther's senses:

- Tree & Tree 2: [Corrupted Elderwood - ???]. The wood is saturated with a chaotic life-magic that actively resists analysis. It feels... hungry.
- Vines: [Razorvine - Aggressive Flora]. The thorns are sharp as steel, coated in a mild paralytic agent, and seem to twitch in response to movement.
- Mushroom: [Grave-spore Puffball - ???]. Its spores are a potent hallucinogen and a biological catalyst, accelerating the decay of something nearby.
- Soil: [Blight-touched Loam]. The ground is a perversion of nature, oversaturated with both necrotic and chaotic life energies.

Simultaneously, Griselda extends her own senses into the oppressive gloom.

- Hearing: Beyond the pervasive, bone-deep thrumming, her heightened hearing picks up something else. It's a faint, wet, rhythmic tearing sound, coming from somewhere deeper within the labyrinth. It is slow and methodical.

- Mana Sense: Her attempt to read the ambient mana is immediately overwhelmed. The air is a chaotic storm of raw, untamed life magic, so thick it's like trying to see through a blizzard. However, cutting through this storm is a single, razor-thin thread of a completely different energy—a cold, dark, and utterly alien presence. It is the source of Severin's [Menace], a beacon of pure necromantic power that completely obfuscates any subtler magical signatures in the immediate vicinity. She can sense the forest's chaos, and she can sense him.

The group now stands at the threshold. The path forward is a dark maw, the air is thick with hostile magic and the smell of decay, and the forest's heart beats around them, accompanied by a faint, disturbing tearing sound from within.

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

@Sanity43217 - Asset Goal - ?
@CorvianMERCDB - Asset Goal - ?

[Both characters given more health to work with (+3)]

The clash on the red line turns mean.

Don wrenches for the rim and the shield thug sucks the board in tight, rotates the edge, and drop steps. The round face snaps back in front like a door slamming. Don goes through with the headbutt and meets iron instead of bone. The crack rings up his skull and puts silver at the edge of his vision. The thug’s brow barely dips behind the board. Don’s ears sing. Flare bites. (Don takes 1 HP damage and is under effect of Flare)

Don’s hands shoot for the straps. The thug feels it coming and twists hard. Leather bites his forearm, the fist loop locks, and the board stays married to his body. The strap is not going anywhere. The cudgel hangs ready over the rim.

Across the sand, Green moves to pen Varius.

The dockside bruiser closes first, net abandoned where it fell. He shoulders in with the boat hook carried low, trying to cut off the angle and keep Varius from drifting to clear sand. The hook twitches for the ankle the instant he thinks he has the step. If the leg is not there, he switches the point to a rib jab and keeps the pressure honest.

The knife runner shakes out his wrists and reenters a beat behind, light on the balls of his feet. He tests the line with two small feints for the sword hand, more tap than cut, and tries to draw the guard. If the wrist shows, he pecks at it to make a lane for the bruiser’s follow. If it does not, he slides half a step to weapons side to hold a better angle for what comes next. (Joint incoming attack vs Varius - 4d2+1)

Up in the boxes, Magnus Salinator does not move. Grand Mayor Maffeo sits forward a finger’s breadth, as if gauging a tide. The crowd ripples; some call for a big swing, some for blood, most for noise.

Neco-Arc

On the tunnel lip, Neco Arc cups tiny paws. “Use your head, but not on the shield, nya. Party when they parry.”

The drum keeps time. The bruiser’s hook twitches again, the runner’s knives hover, and the sand waits on Varius’s answer.

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

@Sanity43217 - Asset Goal - ?
@CorvianMERCDB - Asset Goal - ?

(F Grade Abilities, despite having 0 Post Cooldown, can only be used once per round if the character doesn't have Energized F)

The first clash comes like surf on stone.

Varius drives in. The knife runner meets him, blades skittering against the gladius with a bright scrape. The dockside bruiser reads the lane and dumps the net, both hands on the boat hook as he barrels in. Wood bites at Varius’s guard while steel checks at his wrist. The double pressure smears his rhythm just enough. A hooked jab rakes his cuirass with a hard rake that grooves leather and kisses the plate beneath. Sand slides under his heel and the next step comes a fraction late. The crowd likes the noise and the spray of grit. Varius stays on his feet, no cords on him, but his stance is off for the heartbeat to come. [Varius's Armor takes 1 damage. Varius is inflicted with Off-Balance until the next round]

At the red line, the shield thug slams forward with his round board. Don meets him square, then turns with the hit like a door on a hinge. The cudgel whistles down and Don is already inside it. His counter snaps in tight and mean, across the cheek strap and up into the brow. The thug’s head rings. His vision sparks. He staggers a half step as the board dips and his breath comes sharp through his teeth. A thin cheer ripples from the cheap seats where they favor Red. [Don inflicts 1 damage and Flare F until the next round]

Neco-Arc

Neco-Arc hops on the tunnel lip, tiny paws cupped like a trumpet. “That is the party I am talking about, nya. Keep the fangs out.”

The drum holds the beat. Green scraps flash across the way as the knife runner resets with a shake of his head and the bruiser squares his shoulders over the dropped net. Up in the boxes, Magnus Salinator watches without moving. Grand Mayor Maffeo lifts his staff an inch, as if measuring the angle of the sun. The sand waits for the next decision.

[The Grand Duchy] Labyrinth of the Primordial Bloom [FINISHED]

Severin Vaust

​

Titles
[Monster], [Undead], [Monster - Mundane], [Monster - Evolved], [Necromancer] - [#2d7d38]
Noteworthy Perks: [Evolved] - gain the title evolved. Something about your physiology or aura identifies to others you are of a higher species than your peers. Gain a +1 to social exchanges with others of your racial tree.
[Menace] - An aura of fear emanates from the creature at all times that makes lower grade creatures take a -1 effectiveness on attacks against monster or monster allies.
Noteworthy Perks: Resilient C (28) [Aging/Fatigue and Exhaustion/Suffocation/Surprised]

Asset Goal: Duchy Nobility F

With the blur, or more correctly Fei Liu, having passed through the group and towards the carriage, a gust of wind that ended up billowing Severin’s cape was all that was the only sign of the skeleton until the group reached the carriage. While the Necromancer said nothing about it, he did let a tentative hum escape his lips. ‘Well, now I know who can deliver messages between the group if it ever becomes split.’ What a nice asset indeed.

Getting into the carriage before the last one of them, Fei Liu, Severin took a seat right in the middle of the spacious vehicle, crossing one leg over the other. He had decided to hold the answer to Vetreus’ question until the carriage began moving. Only then his lips parted. “More than you can imagine.” His first answer was direct, right on point, and he allowed it to simmer for a few moments before continuing.

“My research into the arcane and the divine lead me into countless requests with all sorts of adventurers, soldiers of fortunes, both the visionary and ambitious, and everything between.” Resting one hand on top of his knee, while the other held his cane, he turned his face slightly to face the draconian. “Either be bandits that are extorting the roads, monsters that are kidnapping villagers or some suspicious ruin that was unearthed, my search for knowledge does tend to put me into the quite unsanitary situations. But I was always very fortunate to be paired with very capable folk.”

From Vetreus, his attention drifted towards the newcomer: Penny. As hilarious as it would be to have her possibly die even without knowing where they were going, the [Undead] found it a bit crass to leave her in ignorance. He wasn’t much of a fan with how certain ‘creators’ operated.

“To catch you up to speed with where we are going and what we will do.” The hand that was on his knee lifted, touching the shiny Scrying Orb that still floated at his side. “We were employed to collect some data in a rainforest called ‘Verdant Heart’. And these orbs will do just that.” From the orb, his hand joined its twin at the top reliquary orb at the crown of his cane. “Some phenomena is happening within its epicenter, and some members of the Church say that there is some ‘wounded entity’ right in the middle of it.”

Tap-tap-tap, his gloved index tapped against the glass. “Only superstition, according to the Proctor. We shall know more when we get to it.” With that, he simply stopped, like a seasoned professor reaching the end of his lecture. “Now, then, do you have a name that you can be called by? If not, I’m certain Vetreus can come up with something.” Giving the West Empire noble one last glance, his eyes darted towards the window instead.

The scenery had already changed drastically: from the ‘magical marvels’ of the capital of Aslan, to the wilderness outside its protective barrier, and finally to their destination. The silence was deafening, abhorrent, unnatural… peaceful. It reminded Severin of his rest.

He waited for Liu Fei to exit the carriage first, after all, the skeleton was at the door. His shoes make contact with the ground with a solid thud. His gaze washes over the unnatural surroundings, their deformed and bizarre nature, not bothering him in the slightest. “Now, to wonder if this place was already like this, or if it is the effect of the disturbance taking place.” Severin said out loud, wondering, as he approached one of the one particular tree with a bizarre, devilishly shape.

“Mmmm… no glyph here.” He said with fabricated disappointment, looking at the narrow, winding path ahead. “Seems that is the only path in.”

[The Grand Duchy] Labyrinth of the Primordial Bloom [FINISHED]

[If you are interested in joining a setting like this, check out: roleplayerguild.com/topics/196759-ise…]

@DoubleChecker - Asset Goal: Grand Duchy Nobility F
@Book - Asset Goal: ?
@pkken - Asset Goal: Harvester Asset Mine F
@Red Hood - Asset Goal: ?
@Nakushita - Asset Goal: ?

The carriage waits, humming with a low magical thrum. The West Gate of the Luminary stands open before it, offering a view of the bustling city of Aslan beyond. Your journey to the edge of the Verdant Heart is about to begin.

The group settles into the enchanted carriage. The door clicks shut, and with a lurch that is more felt than heard, the carriage begins to move. There is no sound of wheels or hooves, only the faint hum of magic. It glides through the West Gate and into the bustling streets of Aslan.

The journey is a showcase of the Grand Duchy's marvels. The carriage rises smoothly, joining streams of magical vehicles and individual fliers navigating the vertical city. Below, citizens walk on magically illuminated pathways, constructs perform civic duties with tireless efficiency, and the great port teems with ships both mundane and magical. The carriage moves with impossible speed, the cityscape blurring past the windows before giving way to the manicured greenbelts that surround the capital.

Soon, the meticulously planned landscape transitions into the wilder temperate forests and plains of the Duchy's outer territories. The journey takes several hours, passing in relative silence as the carriage speeds eastward. The sun begins its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.

Just as dusk begins to settle in earnest, the carriage slows. The smooth, magical hum falters, replaced by a subtle, disquieting vibration that seems to thrum up from the very ground. The air outside the windows grows thick and heavy, and the familiar sounds of the forest—the chirping of insects, the call of birds—are conspicuously absent. There is only a deep, resonant silence.

The carriage comes to a complete stop. The door clicks open, revealing the destination.

You stand at the edge of a nightmare jungle. This is not the temperate rainforest you were expecting; this is the Verdant Heart.

The trees here are monstrously overgrown, their trunks thick as towers and warped into grotesque shapes. They form a canopy so dense that it chokes the last vestiges of twilight, plunging the forest floor into an unnatural gloom. The undergrowth is a tangled, thorny mass of vines and pulsing, bioluminescent fungi that cast a sickly green and violet light on everything. The air is cloyingly sweet with the smell of rampant decay and alien blossoms.

But the most unsettling feature is the sound. It is not a true sound, but a low, pervasive thrumming that you feel in your bones—the same vibration you felt as the carriage approached. It is the rhythm of a slow, powerful heartbeat, seeming to emanate from the entire forest at once. With every "beat," the glowing fungi flare brighter and the thorny vines seem to twitch and writhe in the gloom.

This is not a natural place. It is a living, breathing labyrinth, and its heart is beating somewhere in the oppressive darkness ahead. A narrow, winding path, more like a tunnel carved through the thorns and roots, is the only visible point of entry.

The enchanted carriage behind you hums once, a clear signal that it will wait here, but will go no further. Your mission begins now.

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

@Sanity43217 - Asset Goal - ?
@CorvianMERCDB - Asset Goal - ?

Remember to use the full notation for attacks, just as you guys did during the training post, like - Combat Notation for Neco-Arc's attack: Strength B (5) + Natural Weapons C (4) + Fighting Style [Catting Around - Natural Weapons] C (4) = Base Effectiveness = 13 Base Effectiveness. This will be useful in every RP you participate in and makes the narrator verification of results easier.

The knife runner comes fast, blades flashing for the cross-parry. Varius drops the gladius like a hawk stooping. Steel meets steel with a loud bite that jars the thug’s wrists. The angle is wrong by a hair. The edge skims past his guard and the pommel blooms under his cheekbone a heartbeat later. He pops off his heels and skids three steps, sand pluming. His stance loosens, footwork lagging as if his boots suddenly grew heavy. [Knife Runner takes 2 damage, Knockback F, Drain Speed F.] (Varius E Grade Abilities are now on cooldown, only being avaiable in the next round. Cooldown 0/1)

The dockside bruiser whips his net for the catch the instant Varius lands. It whistles over a shoulder and snaps on empty air. He yanks to tangle legs and gets only sand. The boat hook jab streaks low for the calf and carves a furrow instead. The crowd hoots at the near miss. Varius shakes free of the press with no strings on him.

At the red gate line, the shield thug chooses Don. He barrels in, board high, feet churning, trying to drive the older fighter backward toward the rail. The rim thumps for center mass and the cudgel lifts over the top for a collarbone chop as soon as the board finds purchase. Then he plants behind the round shield, squat and braced, daring a counter while he screens the lane for his mates. (4~7 Base Effectiveness attack incoming VS Don)

Neco-Arc

From the corner of the mouth of the tunnel, Neco Arc cups tiny paws and hollers, “Buns in, fangs out, remember to party when they parry, nya.” The drum keeps time. The knives flicker again at range, but the knife runner’s bounce is gone. Don has a split second to choose his line into the rushing board.

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

@Sanity43217 - Asset Goal - ?
@CorvianMERCDB - Asset Goal - ?

Neco-Arc

The cat’s ears flick. “First blood? Oh no, that is not what this crowd wants, nya.” One stubby paw lifts, index wagging left and right. “Death is a seasoning, not the stew. If someone dies it will be because the fight demands it, or because the Imperial game maker wants it. Do not pick fights with the sky seats. If they decide your foe needs finishing, you finish. Capisce, nya?”

Neco-Arc pivots to Varius, eyes huge and shining. “Fame, glory, money, and admirers, both men and women, by the armful, nya. Win pretty and the city remembers your name. Win ugly and they still pay, just less.” Tiny fists pump. “Time.”

The little terror scoots behind the pair and shoves. The handlers at the arch catch the handoff. A guard drags a brush over your breastplates, red paint in a rough stripe that drips as it sets. Red Team marked. The portcullis rattles up. Light punches in, hot and bright. The roar of Otenzel pours through the gate like surf.

Sand takes your first steps. Heat lifts sweet and harsh smells. Wine. Oil. Trampled straw. Old iron. Above, rings of stone packed with bodies, slaves standing behind silk cushions, cheap benches heaving, shaded boxes calm as ponds. In one such box a man in black cuirass and red cloak rises, laurel bright against dark hair. The Praetorian Prefect Magnus Salinator rests both hands on the rail. He does not smile. He does not need to.

Two boxes over, a foreign lord in brocade and fur edging lifts his staff and gives the crowd a genial nod. Grand Mayor Maffeo di Albrisis enjoys the show like a man inspecting a fine ship. Flags ripple behind him, colors you do not see in local fleets.

A brass horn blares. The Announcer’s voice rides the whole bowl.

“Good people of the Imperial Capital, welcome to the Grand Coliseum.” The cheer peaks, then holds. “Today, we are honored by the Praetorian Prefect, Magnus Salinator, the hand that shapes the games.”

Magnus Salinator

Salinator lifts a palm. His voice is iron and gravel. “Fight clean. Fight hard. Obey the marshals. Impress me.”

“And we are joined by a guest of the sea. The Grand Mayor Maffeo di Albrisis.” The elderly dignitary rises, smiles, and gives a small wave with the staff’s finial. The noble boxes applaud in a warm ripple.

Maffeo di Albrisis

The Announcer cuts the air with his next line. “For our first event, we bring you action. We bring you blood. Rookies of the Red Team against rookies of the Green.”

Across the sand the Green gate yawns and three figures slouch out to the drum.

A dockside bruiser, bare chest roped with old scars, a salt-stiff fishing net looped over one shoulder and a boat hook sanded to a mean point. A green rag is knotted at his wrist. He flicks the net once and lets it puddle at his feet.

A shield thug, squat and bull-necked, with a dented round board painted a sloppy green and a weighted cudgel in his free hand. He thumps the shield rim twice and grins through a chipped tooth.

A knife runner, lean and jittery, twin knives reversed in his hands, patchwork leather strapped over a tunic that has seen too many alleys. A smear of green chalk slashes his chest. He draws a lazy zigzag in the sand with one blade and bounces on his toes.

Green scraps tie their arms and chalk streaks mark their chests. A marshal strides between teams, checks the spacing, then steps back. Nets and shield edges rasp. A gull cries over the awnings. Somewhere a child laughs, then hushes when the crowd leans in.

“Let the battle commence.”

The gong answers. The gate locks behind you with a clean bite of metal. Whatever happens next is in your hands.

[The Grand Duchy] Labyrinth of the Primordial Bloom [FINISHED]

Severin Vaust

​

Titles
[Monster], [Undead], [Monster - Mundane], [Monster - Evolved], [Necromancer] - [#2d7d38]
Noteworthy Perks: [Evolved] - gain the title evolved. Something about your physiology or aura identifies to others you are of a higher species than your peers. Gain a +1 to social exchanges with others of your racial tree.
[Menace] - An aura of fear emanates from the creature at all times that makes lower grade creatures take a -1 effectiveness on attacks against monster or monster allies.
Noteworthy Perks: Resilient C (28) [Aging/Fatigue and Exhaustion/Suffocation/Surprised]

Asset Goal: Duchy Nobility F

“Is that so?” Vaust murmured, more to himself than anyone else, as the noble from the West Empire fell upon wishful thinking. ⚐︎⬧︎⬧︎♋︎■︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎ didn’t quite care if whatever ‘creature’ was supposed to be right in the eye of the storm was benevolent or malevolent, that was immaterial. What he cared was how strong it was.

However, his ideas were cut short was Vetreus and Esther entered a type of despite, prickling each other back and forth with words. ‘The transient beings and their petty squabbles. So useless, so foolish… so entertaining.’ He watched both of them hurtling names and offending ideas to one another, cane firmly set against the ground and both gloved hands atop its orb. His expression was placid: unchanging and neutral, yet the whole thing amused him to no end.

“And another one join us.” He turned to the newcomer, the one who had just lost their bagel in some sad, tragic accident. Walking towards Penny, his shoes clicked silently against the marble floor, stopping right at the side of Fei Liu. “Doctor Severin Vaust, expert in the arcane and religions, a pleasure.” And, as he spoke, the same aura of dread exhuded from him: drops of temperature, needles pricking at the back of the neck and general weariness. All coming from someone who looked, at first glance, like another one of the academy’s staff.

Glancing sideways at the towering skeleton man, then at both Esther and Vetreus over his shoulder, he said. “Everyone with their Scrying Orbs? Good, let’s move to the gate.” Saying so, he took the vanguard, walking in front of the group, cane hitting the ground every few steps. He walked with the gait of someone used to leading, despite the entirely academic background he had presented inside that briefing room.

“Is anyone’s first time delving into possibly dangerous territory?” He asked, not even turned back. His oppressive [Menace] aura ended up making a few of the students walking across the campus to fully stop and take a few steps back. A stray cat that attempted to cross the group’s path hissed and bolted, hiding under a nearby bench. “This ‘wounded entity’ right at the heart of the ‘Verdant’s Heart’ could very well be something brought about by a cult.”

Suddenly stopping, he turned towards the group. “While that is still a baseless conjuncture of the Church, a few cults actually manage to bring about quasi-deities through rituals and sacrifices. So, not all of them are robe-wearing-buffons with secret handshakes.” His index finger began tapping against the reliquary orb at the crown of the cane, the dark, greenish pulse intensifying.

“And what I mean by that is… stay sharp.” Turning around, the corner of his lips turned upwards infinitesimally, and he resumed his walk until they reached the carriage. ‘Regardless of what is found… how fun this might be.’