Mas Bagus

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP

[Currently Unavailable---Revision in progress]

Duplicitous Ruins in the Land of Twilight

After that heated argument with Mr Elc, the Curator looked as if he would prefer to be somewhere else, but he stayed anyway, maybe for the sake of professionalism. However, when the next question came, it somehow perplexed him even more that he didn't even bother to be formal anymore.

"Maybe simply because he had all the cards needed? I don't know. If I have the scepter, already primed and powered, and I somehow have the control ring or am savvy enough to cast the spell without one, I think I can do that even if I were trapped inside a conch buried deep in the abyss."

"No, Sir. I think the question is how could he activate it without being near it?" Interjected Stepan.

"It was designed to be able to be activated remotely. I thought that was something we all already know."

"Well... I didn't know."

Arcan shook his head, uninterested in entertaining the remark. Instead, he turned to Fia again.

"Now, young miss, you said there were twelve individuals?" The curator looked at her searchingly. A pause ensued. Clearly, he did not enjoy dissecting the result of his own oversight, but still, he pressed on after letting out a spectral sigh.

"I don't know where you get that number. The Necromancer ensnared many in the tunnels, and while the exact number is hard to pinpoint, it was certainly much more than just twelve. He escaped with power enough not only to resurrect himself, but also to shatter the outer wall. That would require a lot of souls to power. No, not twelve. Many were killed, and the beast of darkness must have picked most of the remains clean. I have nothing else to tell you, but I do not doubt that he is responsible for the disappearance of your townspeople, though I did not witness the process myself."

The curator shrugged, and his presence faded out, signifying the end of his part in their soiree. For someone who maintained an aloof disposition on human affairs, he had spoken a lot more than he actually liked.

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP Interest Check!

@VitaVitaAR Roger that.

What is the norm here if I want to submit a character sheet? Post it straight in the Character tab, or in the OOC? Will there be any reviewing by the GM?

If I want to discuss the world-building, or just chat with other players, do we have any other channel for that OOC needs besides what is provided in-site? Discord, perhaps?

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP Interest Check!

@Mas Bagus: Currently, I'm not closing the RP, but if we exceed 8 signups Rain and I will get more selective about who makes it in.

@VitaVitaAR

Understood.

If I meet the eligibility, my character will be a seasoned elven ranger whose skillset revolves around dealing damage and reconnaissance. So yeah, the classic glass cannon.
Regarding the silver rank, if multiple players wish to have their character take the Silver mantle, would it be left to the players to decide and elect, or would the GMs make the decision?

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP Interest Check!

Wanna try something new, so sign me up.
...I presume there is still a slot available?

Duplicitous Ruins in the Land of Twilight

@Valkon

“This scepter... its power, do you know how it worked? Or perhaps, did Theriadoere leave behind any information, notes or some such on it?”

"The notes or any record about this teleporter were claimed by Westernant soon after the project was finished. Where the records are now, I do not know." The-not-so-spectral man turned his body and spent quite a while studying the masked knight, as if there was something on him that rang a bell; no doubt it had to be about the grotesque elven mask Rezello was wearing. "Interesting..." he muttered, before finally addressing the question.

"But I can tell you what I know. The scepter was a collaborative creation involving human magicians and Theriadore himself. It was designed for a strategic purpose: to instantly teleport a large number of soldiers to various locations, enabling them to strike the Elf Queen's defenses where her most astute general would least expect it. Naturally, something as wonderful as that requires a lot of testing, revisions, and re-testing, often at the expense of the soldiers participating in the effort of perfecting the tool. It had claimed hundreds of lives even before it was deployed in action."

Sighing under his breath, the curator took one last glance at the golden scepter before continuing. "It teleports any living entity and anything that is in direct contact with them up to eight furlongs around the device and sends them to four landing areas designated by the controller. You will need someone who is either equipped with the controller ring or someone who has learned the activation spell to operate the device. After casting, the mana would be spent, and it needs a Wellspring caster to recharge it for eight days. But I doubt that's possible now. Look at the missing gem; you will need all eight so the device can receive mana, and the damage on its crown was so bad that it had damaged the spell transmitter."

"Eight days is a steep delay. If Serensiel wasn't defeated, I wouldn't have known if this thing was practical. Still, it seems Miss Fia's assessment was right. It's a priceless artifact dating from the times even the wisest don't talk much about."

"Alas, that's just how it is," enunciated the curator.

@13org

"Purifying curses and evil spirits is already rather dangerous, especially considering the type of curses that are being dealt with, but facing a necromancer is even more so. Between me and Fia, I am sure we have the necessary skills to deal with most, if not all dangers regarding curses, evil spirits and dark magic we could face. But dealing with a necromancer can definitely prove to be challenging." Miwa said after hearing Arcan as she looked to the group.

"You don't have to face him now." Said the curator. "But, I will not say it is unwise should you decide to let him be someone else's problem. I know if it's a tall order, whether it is now or later, and the risk is too high. But regarding the stain he left in that room, he will not return here for any foreseeable future. The necromancer had established a new lair far away, somewhere in Nuria, the ruined former capital city. I believed he had planned it too, as the location where the other group of teleported civilians would arrive."

"As a Miko, dealing with such things is my duty. As it is offering the proper rites and a final rest to the spirits of those unjustly murdered, but I am aware that in the end, this is not the reason I was hired nor the reason we are here." Miwa said in a serious tone.

"Regardless of my personal feelings or my duty as a Miko, the final decision of what we will do regarding the necromancer lies with the leaders of this expedition." she completed as she looked towards Elc and Vesemir, but Vesemir had gone deeper into the gallery.

"I think your intention is the noblest of all those who have come here. However, treat my words as nothing but idle encouragement. I is wiser to discuss what you would do next with your friends..." said the curator.

Mr Elc initially didn't want to involve himself in the conversation, but the more he heard, the more he questioned the soundness of his way of thinking.

"I find it quite bizarre that you speak about the wise and unwise. Was it wise of you to allow a random wizard to claim that artifact? Didn't you think it could be misused if it fell into the wrong hands?"

"The scepter is useless without a handler to activate it remotely. I did not know that Wizard was one of them, or how that particular ancient spell could be learned again. Young man, I understand that you might be upset, but my employer's directive was clear. The wizard had the ticket and thus, the privilege, and it wasn’t my place to question it until he posed a threat to the things I protect."

"Still. It's not an excuse to not think," the masked elf's voice began to rise, filled with emotion of perplexity.

"Oh, I've been thinking about it thoroughly. Some things were mistakes, but most are not. If you want me to think about the death of the people by that Wizard's doing, and feel bad about it, then I ask why should I? For countless eons, I have distanced myself from any of the mortals' affairs, and it suited me just fine and probably for the best. Guard the vault, and eliminate evil that threatens this vault should they come. Those are my purpose, and nothing more."

"Shallow purpose," scoffed Mr. Elc. "You literally hand out weapons of great power to anyone, and you refuse to use your power to deal with the problem it caused. Many lives could be saved from that tunnel should you intervene, but you did not!"

The curator countered. "Only the ticket-bearer may have the privilege."

" Which is the same as saying anyone can get anything as long as they have the ticket."

"True, and those were Theriadore's will."

"Then it's on Theriadore's oversight where the blame lies."

The curator's spectral eyebrows furrowed. He had maintained a composed disposition, even after a barrage of censures from the masked elf. It was, however, another matter when Theriadoere's name was being mentioned; he straightened himself and spoke in a resonating voice that could make even the bravest tremble.

"Disparage not my master as long as you remain in his sanctuary! He only entrusted it to a select few whom he believed would carry on his legacy. It was not his fault that they betrayed his trust, abandoning his work and letting his last gifts be lost and scattered. It's too late to fret when you have a thousand years to rebuild instead of abandoning and forgetting what my master had built! I say the Malaikh had it coming; if they care so much about the treasure falling into the wrong hands, why don't they come here and recover the legacy of my master? Keep it in their glittering palace, guarded as national treasures. And then the Malaikh will have no problem with random necromancer killing people that are not even their kind. The audacity of you trying to hold me accountable is laughable!"

The exchange would have been longer had Stepan not stepped up to remind the masked elf to stop. Regardless, the result would have been the same. The curator was as unmoving as a boulder; he stayed, as if daring whoever to pick up where the debate had been left off. It wouldn't turn violent as long as the ammunition they threw at each other was words and what-ifs.

****

In the next chamber, the renowned archaeologist Vesemir Barandir ran his fingers across rows of books neatly arranged on a wooden shelf, looking for any form of indexing to make his search easier. He had immersed himself in the wonder of this fully functioning gallery, and it was now time to deal with the task at hand.

There was no particular reason why he chose that shelf to be the first object of his interest, just a pure intuition, something that he had been relying on for centuries. When he reached for a blue-jacketed book, he grinned. His intuition was right again. Sure, he had considered asking the curator about this particular item, but that was a lousy idea. Finding it by yourself makes the experience more rewarding.

"Eblana, my dear, I think I find it."

Vesemir opened it on top of a large, ornate desk, and Eblana stood ready by his side. The book provided a detailed account of the particular project Theriadore worked on; the subject was about the rampaging post-war spirits and wraiths infesting the region, and the research needed to combat the corruption. The first chapter explained the need, the second explained the research, and the third described the result. In the fourth chapter, a diagram was inserted among the pages. Something that he could already notice even before he opened the book, and could have just taken straight out without needing to be sequential, but that was just Vesemir for you.

The archaeologist set his lantern on the desk, as if the light in the chamber was inadequate, or simply just needed his work to feel personal. He then began examining the diagram while opening his own book to cross-check the references. This process may take some time, or possibly hours.

----

Some time had passed...

Jazdia was in the workshop with Vesemir and Eblana, listening to their mumblings. Occasionally, she would join the conversation, but at that moment, the elven archer was wandering between a round table made of stone that resembled old wood and the nearby bookshelves. She had spent a few minutes trying to familiarize herself with the surroundings, and although she didn't admire it as much as Vesemir did, she could appreciate how the vault had been well-maintained for 1,800 years.

"I thought the artifact you are looking for was in the form of a scroll or an enchanted trinket." Chimed Jazdia.

"No, no. Theriadore was unlike any master artificer in his time. His research produced results that were designed to be accessible to anyone with the appropriate expertise."

"That was very noble of him."

"Yes, he was. And to further reinforce my point, according to this diagram, everything we need is here, and the instructions are clear: the spell can be infused into an item. Just look at it! The key lies in understanding the spell itself, which, in this case, draws on the nature of ethereal beings that inherently oppose the laws of creation. Eblana, do we still have that runestone available?"

Jazdia decided not to take the invitation. Despite having some understanding of the topic, her input would be insignificant at best, and Vesemir had already delegated half of the work to Eblana. So she instead looked for the clue that would help lift her curse...

"You seem to know Thereiadore a lot," the elven ranger pried again after taking a book from a shelf and reading the first chapter about curses and poison.

"My great-grandfather worked with him. The story about his contribution was passed down for generations. Of course, I did my own research too. "

"Now, that makes sense. Was your great-grandfather Theriadore's assistant?"

"No, he was his gardener."

Jazdia smiled concernedly. "...you don't say."

Duplicitous Ruins in the Land of Twilight

"Mr. Arcan, we thank you for your hospitality. As the curator of this gallery, I assume you are well informed about the sinister powers that can be felt in some places... right?"

"You mean the remains of that pesky necromancer in the detention chamber outside the vault? Yes, I know it well. Unless you are talking about the foul beast's nest surrounding this compound."

Finally, the indifference in the Curator's face shifted into a slight disgust.

"Bah, where do I start? Like you, he and his lackeys came here ten years ago, posing as a novice wizard bearing the keycard. Naturally, I granted him the privileges. All went well, and no misgivings arose until he conducted his tour. It was when the time for them to leave, his lackeys felt disappointed with the treasure he selected. I didn't want to know how they resolved it, and I didn't want to hear their quarrel, so I showed him the door. It didn't go well for the Wizard, for his lackeys subdued him and locked him in the confinement room. Presumably, after taking everything worth taking. Typical of humans and their greed."

“I for one would love to be one of those to see your true form. With a name such as the Warden, you must be a rather imposing individual, darling?”

The curator shook his head, unflattered by both the request and the supposed compliment. He gazed at Fia when the moman sauntered past the door and did not fail to recognize the artifact she brought. "No, you don't want to," he said, "Back to my story, that scepter was one of the artifacts the Wizard chose."

"Really? We looted it from the corpses not far from your door, so... you want it back?" Stepan said anxiously.

"Maybe," the curator replied. "Considering what happened earlier, I should have asked you to hand it over, but I think you can keep it; I see that it has been rendered unusable by its previous owner. But I tell you that thousands of souls were lost as a result of that artifact's power."

"How?" asked Mr. Elc.

"I will tell you now, let me continue my story about that wizard ten years ago. So they locked him there, with nary a provision to his name. Did he give up? Nay! Apparently, he planned a profane ritual in that chamber, using that artifact to trap several dozen innocent people in the tunnels, letting them die by the beast or exhaustion. After two full moons, he then revealed himself. A necromancer, apparently, and somehow capable of shackling the souls of those who died near him, and he absorbed those souls, using them to empower himself and then escape from his prison. A terrible visitor, really, and I am afraid he is now roaming free, spreading terror and needless death."

"Why didn't you do anything about it? Maybe dealing with the necromancer? Or stopping the ritual before it finished?"

The curator shook his head, and this time, there was no pride in his vibrating, netherworldy voice.

"I humbly accept the blame for that oversight. While my main job is to protect the vault, the directive from Theriadore is also to deal with evil, should they come here. I should have been more judicious. If you want to investigate, please do, and I will assist you as best I can. The room is harmless to me, the collections, and to you, should you wish to explore it.

Duplicitous Ruins in the Land of Twilight

"Are you a ghost?" Turned out, Verdant did have a question. She skipped toward the curator, circling and looking at him from various angle, and even tried to poke the man. Ghost? Apparition thingy. "Bound to an artifact to provide eternal servitude to a master sorcerer?"

Touching the curator gave off an experience similar to interacting with Verdant's ethereal companion. You could feel it, but at the same time, you would see your finger go through. The curator was slightly offended by the bold gesture and gently pushed Verdant's hand, yet he remained composed enough to answer her question.

"I am what people nowadays call an Ancient Djinn," he peered, studying the other snake resting under that monstrous skull-cap before turning to Veredant as if confirming to her that she knew what he meant.

"I am also known as The Warden by those permitted to see my true form. I possess the ability to move between my posts in just a few moments. I am eternal as long as I can find my purpose, and this collection is one of the few places where that purpose exists. So, no, young one, I am bound to nothing and no one."

Chuckling to finish his pompous rejoinder, he added. "In short, this is like a job to me. And I am entitled to take a bi-weekly leave should I wish."

Duplicitous Ruins in the Land of Twilight

@13org
Mr. Elc was glad that Miwa's proposition to purify the remnants of the dead ended with a conditional if. They indeed did not have much time, and it was best to keep their eyes on the prize and then get out. They were incredibly lucky that their adventure into this maze did not trigger any confrontation, and it was best to keep it that way.

"Any kind of magical protection would be welcome. If my theory is correct... Whatever it is that is this sinister power, it is capable of messing with one's mind. Amplifying their greed, desires and fears until there is nothing but madness left. Think twice about every decision you are about to make and carefully consider if you are being affected by whatever is this power or not." Miwa said.

"It might just be me being a bit paranoid... But If I'm right... It's better to be safe than sorry." she completed, looking to Fia and especially to Mr. Elc.

"You are right." Mr Elc said, smiling behind his mask as he tried to lighten the mood. "We can't just barge into every dark corner. We have plenty of it ahead of us, and I have had enough of that for today."

Well, Miwa had already moved into the corridor. Quite a light-footed that Sojourner was, the masked Elf did not see her walking past him.
It was just him and the Yokai now.
"Wait, you hear that?"

Suddenly, the earth beneath him vibrated. He looked behind and saw the door slowly rise again from its frame.

"Hey! Get inside!" Shouting to everyone who hadn't entered the vault, Mr. Elc gripped the Youkai's wrist and almost dragged her in the process as he leaped into the corridor, just in time before the door completely sealed the room shut.

"Vesemir! What the hell was that! The door, was it your doing? Hey!"

Up in the distance, the door in front of Vesemir had been opened, and the old elf was too mesmerized by whatever he saw that Mr. Elc's words did not reach him.

A fountain, which was surprisingly still in working order, was the first thing they saw upon entering that hall. Other than that, tt had two large statues, assuming the shape of two giant knights with grotesque-looking, horned, frog-mouthed helmets standing menacingly at the eastern side.

This section, like the previous corridor, was illuminated by a series of crystal lamps lining the corners of the ceiling. However, the additional crystal chandelier hanging in the center made this space brighter. The lack of any significant objects suggests that this was simply another antechamber. There was another heavy door to the left, while the corridor stretched straight ahead, devoid of any lighting, making it difficult to discern what lay beyond.

"Friends. I hope you are as excited as I am!" Vesemir was indeed visibly excited, and he breathed the air around him, dust, dampness, and all, like it could energize him.

"I am happy for you," huffed Mr. Elc as he managed to catch up with the group. "But be careful with anything you touch, you almost gave us a huge trouble back there."

"Mr. Elc, I apologize! But let us move past that insignificant thing. This breakthrough should be written in our archive! THIS place, we are the first people who set foot here after more than a millennium! "

"A little more than ten years, actually." A voice interrupted, and in sheer displeasure, the old elf glanced at the intruder who had spoiled his celebration.

"Excuse me?"

"This workshop received a visitor 4115 days ago, not much for the elves, but still considerable. So, Congratulations, you've reached this far!"

The speaker was a semi-translucent man standing at the east door. His face showed little interest as he clapped silently. He appeared neither old nor young and was sharply dressed in a grey suit and tie. His hairstyle was neat, resembling a stereotypical Westernant butler, and he wore thin-framed eyeglasses that made his eyes look partially closed.

This stranger's strange disposition was alarming, but Vesemir seemed more troubled by the disproved claim rather than the potential danger he might inflict.

"Who are you if I may ask?"

The semi-translucent man hovered from his position and stopped a few tiles away from the group. And being this close, the nature of this entity becomes more of an enigma; too collected for a common ghost, yet he didn't seem too ancient looking at his appearance and mannerisms. His voice was slightly echoing, with an accent that felt familiar but hard to place.

"I am Arcan, the only curator of this collection. I considered using the language of the Malaikh, but you are a very colorful bunch, so I think I will use Common language for the sake of courtesy and efficiency." He placed his hand upon his breast to regard Vesemir, and briefly paused to inhale and recite the speech he hadn't rehearsed much for the past millennium.

"So, Visitors, I now formally welcome you to Theriadoere's gallery. As the bearer of the silver ticket, you are free to look around and entitled to claim two artifacts of your choice at the end of your tour, small gifts from my late employer to remind you of us."

With that, he turned back to the door and placed his palm to push it open, surprising Vesemir, and showed that the man wasn't completely ethereal.

It revealed another room where artifacts were displayed. Weapons, jewels, ornaments, and even magic catalysts are all secured inside glass cases reinforced by protective magic. The air inside was conditioned and felt regulated for some reason. The floor was grey tiles arranged diagonally with smaller, round brass separators at every angle, and the ceiling had a similar configuration to the previous room. Another set of doors could be seen, and the socket glowed green, indicating that it could be unlocked with Vesemir's Keycard.

"I hope you enjoy your visit. Please do not hesitate if you have anything to ask."

Duplicitous Ruins in the Land of Twilight

While Vesemir strode past that door as if he owned the place, Mr. Elc remained near the doorway, guarding the entrance in case that loud rumbling attracted some unwanted attention. He didn't want to act too hastily in this dungeon-crawling business, and while he was glad his doubt was proven wrong, he still thinks this was all uncannily too easy.

Jazdia was with Vesemir, so it was fine on the frontline in case their boss was doing something reckless again.

Verdant too didn't seem too hasty to go in. The curious youkai was examining the dead, something that no one else seemed interested in doing.

"They died slowly."

She proclaimed, seemed to have a good estimate of how much bleeding the doomed pair had.

"Lucky. Considering the devourer's modus operandi..."

"Deep injuries? And it keep reopen when they attack the door. Until they run out of strength and lay down waiting for the last moment."

Verdant stepped back, watching curiously at Vesemir uttering some foreign language to the door, before she added, to no body in particular, but Mr. Elc felt oblogied to sate the Youkai's curiosity

"Why dont they just leave? What's trapping them here?"

"I think they did, or at least some of them tried." The masked elf said, pausing uneasily.

"If it's true that this ill-fated group was here via teleportation, I bet it was against their will, and something they did not expect. Only half of them were prepared, while the other half looked as if they were spirited away into this tunnel in their sleepwear. I assume, in panic, some of them tried to leave this place, but lost their way in the dark mazes. straight into Devourer's ambushes, or I am very sure they were teleported at night, where the monsters are hunting. Even if a handful of them managed to escape the maze, their chance of surviving in the forest without any preparation is very slim. It's a chilling thought that none of them survived, else we rangers would have found someone who lived to tell the tale."

It was even more chilling that the slaughtering was very likely a deliberate act. When he returned to Alkautsar, he would report this tragedy.