DoubleChecker

[The Duchy: Aslan] .·:★・¨༺ 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔤𝔢 ༻¨・★:·.

Sir Edwin Stormcrest?

​
@Moonberry

Titles
[Human - Mundane], [Noble Ryke Baron] B, [Apprentice Lancer], [Power Potential], [Get Looped], [Dark Knight], [Knight in Black], [Dark Horseman] - #0E0101
Noteworthy Skills: [Resilient Surprised], Regeneration F
Asset Goal: ?

Edwin’s icy-blue eyes scanned the chamber, his nature easily picking up how pride overflowed it. After all, how could it not? The baron was a creature of pride himself, yet his own was grounded in more palpable reasons.

“This sort of looks is perfect to hide the rot and weakness underneath.” Answering Aedrianna, the dark armored knight stood beside her, arm hooked around hers initially. With his orbs gleaming towards all the opulence in luxury of that place, he found himself at home, truly, except for what was lurking under this façade.

“It could very well be that what was attained was only thanks to the cult’s influence, or perhaps the hopes are for this organization to rise this family over a stagnation that it might have hit on its own.” Those were his best thoughts about the motivations on why would seem to be tied up to it.

Turning his head towards her, Edwin flashed a knowing smile. “Too much coincidence is a telling sign of no coincidence at all.” Nodding, he continued. “Indeed, let’s participate and find out what these whelps are actually planning.”

He then leaned over his lover, his face approaching hers until they were a hair width apart. “Take care, my darling. Give them hell and, if you need my presence, you need just to call me.” Keeping the close, almost touching distance for a moment longer, the dark horseman retreated.

Soon enough, his heavy footsteps began as he strutted towards the Pavillon’s central registry. Only half-way towards the counter, had his armed unhooked from Aedrianna, not he suspected the surrounding nobles would even have noticed: they seem too focused inward to notice anything at all.

And, upon reaching the registry, he put on his most prideful display. Or was it arrogance? Both walked hand-in-hand, after all. “What a quaint little competition, it is being held here.” He began towards whoever was tending the registration, tone half amused, half unimpressed. “It certainly caught my eye that there is even a swordsmanship competition, as I was led to believe ‘Duchy folk’ don’t have the most developed physical abilities.”

With the briefest stings of condescension, he flashed the person a smile. “Might take a gander at it and see what this place can offer in the more physical of matters. Lord Marcher Edwin Stormcrest from Ryke.” While saying his name, it was as if he expected that alone was enough to have his presence in it confirmed.

[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=Lxhvesbwz3E&list=…

The oppressive atmosphere of the Verdant Heart does little to deter the group's forward momentum. As Severin steps confidently toward the maw-like entrance, Fei Liu holds up a hand, requesting a moment.

An audible intake of breath, like air rushing into a vacuum, emanates from the skeleton. His entire frame begins to rattle violently, as if seized by an invisible earthquake. To an outside observer, it is a deeply unsettling display, but for Liu, the world dissolves. His senses surge outwards, a non-physical wave that washes over a mile of the twisted landscape ahead. It is a fleeting, total awareness—every gnarled tree, every hidden ravine, every moving thing is mapped in his mind's eye.

The moment passes. Liu's upper body collapses to the ground with a clatter of bone on corrupted soil. For a second, he is just a pile of parts. Then, a hand twitches. He mechanically unfolds a small, portable easel from his bag, its vellum surface clouded with the residue of past drawings. With a stick of charcoal, his hand becomes a blur. Lines, textures, and cryptic shorthand fill the page with astonishing speed. [Note about Liu's skills: the highest grade he can have of Visual Arts and Fast is B rather than A. For both of them to be A, Intelligence and Speed would need to be S.]

While Liu is engrossed in his cartography, Esther shares her findings with Vetreus. The information is grim: paralytic vines, hallucinogenic spores, and a soil teeming with a contradictory mix of life and death energies. The forest itself seems to be a weapon.

Griselda, meanwhile, relays her own sensory data. Her whiskers twitch as she describes the deep, rhythmic thrumming of the forest's "heart" and, more disturbingly, a faint, wet tearing sound from deeper within.

After a few moments, Liu's legs reassemble themselves with an audible series of clicks, and he rises unsteadily. He turns the easel to the group. The drawing is a masterpiece of tactical cartography. It shows a winding, branching path ahead, flanked by dense, impassable thickets. Several ravines and boggy patches are clearly marked.

Most importantly, the map is dotted with symbols indicating movement.

- A cluster of small, slow-moving signatures are marked near a boggy area about a quarter-mile in. Liu's shorthand labels them [Fauna? - Unidentified].
- Several larger, stationary signatures are noted deeper in, marked with a [???]. They don't appear to be flora or fauna, but something else entirely.
- One massive, singular signature is marked at the very edge of the map's one-mile range. It is labeled simply: [SOURCE]. This is clearly the epicenter.
- Disturbingly, several small, fast-moving signatures are depicted flanking the main path, moving parallel to it. They seem to be shadowing the entrance. Liu has labeled these [Stalkers?].

With the map displayed for all to see, Severin gives a slight, approving nod. He gestures for Fei Liu to take the lead, and the group steps past the threshold, plunging into the oppressive gloom of the Verdant Heart.

The air inside is immediately thicker, the sickly sweet smell of decay more potent. The path is narrow, hemmed in on both sides by the pulsating, glowing flora. The thorny Razorvines twitch and scrape against the edges of the path as you pass, their barbs glinting in the eerie light. The ground is soft and spongy, and with every step, you can feel the deep, rhythmic THUMP... THUMP... of the forest's heart vibrating through the soles of your feet.

You have walked for no more than a hundred feet when the first sign of immediate danger appears. From the tangled thicket to your left, one of the fast-moving "Stalker" signatures on Liu's map reveals itself. A creature, roughly the size of a large wolf, steps silently onto the path ahead, blocking the way.

Stalker

It is a horrifying amalgamation of plant and animal. Its body is formed from twisted roots and bark, its legs ending in sharp, cloven hooves made of hardened wood. Vicious thorns jut from its back, and its head is a blooming, corpse-white flower with a gaping, tooth-lined maw at its center. Two glowing, violet stamens swivel like eyes, fixing on the group. It lets out a low growl that sounds like grinding wood, and two more identical creatures emerge from the thickets on either side of the path, effectively boxing you in.

They are the forest's antibodies, and you are the infection.

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

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

They move as one. Varius angles, voice low. Don claps the bruiser’s skull and drives forward with both palms to shove him off his feet, setting the crowd for a clean finish.

The dockside bruiser reads it in the last blink. He lets the shove take his shoulders, drops his weight, and scythes the boat hook across Don’s ribs like a yardarm swinging. Wood thuds under the breastbone. All the air in Don’s chest leaves at once. The bruiser rides the recoil, pops a short shoulder into the same spot, and Don’s vision flashes white around the edges. He staggers two steps, heat blooming along the rib line, breath coming in a bark. The cheap seats gasp, then roar at the counter landing clean. [Don's HP 1/4]

Varius’s lead is there, the bruiser is still up, pale and grinning like a dock lamp in fog, hook low and twitching lines in the sand as if drawing where the next step should not be.

Up in the boxes the Prefect does not blink. Grand Mayor Maffeo’s staff clicks once against the rail, a polite tic of approval.

Neco-Arc

On the tunnel lip Neco Arc explodes. “No, no, that was not on the script, nya.” A stack of papers appears from nowhere, half tied with red twine. The cat drops them, scoops them, drops them again, then rifles through with frantic paws. “Where is page three. Page three says punch guy breathes twice, sword guy does the cool spin, bruiser takes a nap. This is page fifteen, this is the opera night, this is the bathhouse schedule. Who swapped my pages, nya.”

It jabs a tiny paw toward the ring, eyes blazing. “Improvisation. We love improvisation. Sword guy, make him hold all that regret again. Punch guy, breathe in the belly, not in the panic. In for two, out for two. Do not hug the hook. Style points on the comeback. Sand kick is legal. Shield steal is legal if you can pry it. Do not lick the wound. Coach orders.”

The Announcer’s voice rides the roar. “A counter from the Green that could turn a tide. Does Red answer with thunder, Otenzel?”

The drum holds steady. The bruiser squares on both of you, shoulders set, hook ready to bite again. The sand drinks the blood and says nothing. The next beat is yours.

[Otenzel - The East Empire] The Grand Coliseum

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

The coliseum exhales at once.

Don clamps the strap, turns his hips, and becomes a lever. The shield thug leaves the ground, board and all, a brief black shape against the light. He hits flat and hard. The sound is ugly, a plank slapped on stone with meat under it. The board skitters away. The body does not rise. The nearest marshal is already moving, hand up, two fingers crossed for the lift crew. A pocket of the cheap seats howls. Others fall quiet in that sharp way a crowd does when it tastes the line between show and ending. [The Shield Thug is dead]

Across the sand the dockside bruiser does the smart thing. He sees the throw coming and slides two steps on the balls of his feet. The body lands where he was a blink ago. He turns, hook low, and draws a thin groove in the sand with the point while he sucks a breath through his teeth and sights on Don. His shoulders bunch. That counter is coming, but not yet. [Incoming attack 5d2 vs Don]

The knife runner tries to turn the tide in the gap. Varius reads the twitch, steps inside, and ends it. A clean line that opens the runner and folds him to a knee, then to the sand. His knives clatter and lie still. Green chalk smears the dust where his hand falls. For a second the crowd is all arms and open mouths, then the noise hits, bright and cruel. Varius feels the sting at his side rise again, a slow hot burn that spreads like ground pepper. It is not deep, but it bites. [The Knife Runner is dead. Poison burns Varius once more, 3/5, before weakening]

Up in the boxes the Praetorian Prefect never moves more than a breath. His face is unreadable, a statue with a heartbeat. Grand Mayor Maffeo stands for a single clap of his staff on the rail, polite and pleased, then settles again to watch.

“First blood claims its tithe,” the Announcer booms, voice deep as a drum. “Red Team draws the opening howl. Green Team down two. Will a third stand to pay the balance, Otenzel?”

Neco-Arc

On the tunnel lip Neco-Arc, now dressed as one of the centurions, explodes into motion like a firework with paws. “That is a spicy suplex, my little violence coupon, nya. Buns in, fangs out. Do not headbutt the furniture again unless you mean it. You there with the sword, good job making him hold all that regret, nya. But watch the spicy knife juice, that is a simmer. Drink water. Punch air. Do not lick the wound. Not hygienic. Coach orders.”

The cat plants tiny feet on the rail and conducts the cheap seats like an orchestra. “Red, Red, Red. Clap clap clap.” Then it cups paws and hisses stage loud toward the last Green. “Come on, Fisher Price Poseidon, show us your hook book, nya. But do it where the camera can see.”

Sand whispers under every step. The bruiser eases into his coil, eyes flicking between Don and Varius. The marshals drag the fallen by their ankles, swift and practiced, and the gong stays silent. The drum keeps time. The next choice belongs to Red.

[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.”