Once home to the Crystal Cities of the Hunter clans, Craiss Caverns is now a hollow empty shell of its former glory due to a strange misfortune in the past. Man-made tunnels now lead to this place, but tales tell of some never returning. (+3 Defense, +2 Offense)

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Harsh Lessons (Self. M: Violence and Gore)

Postby Saahs » 02/11/2014 2:42 PM

Image

Tehora ran their fingers across the surface of the cave wall. The jolt of cold and damp was enough to rouse the budding psychics' senses, and their ears quickly picked up on distant sound. Was it really distant? Temporarily, the echoes were far out of their reach. Tehora had been sent here by their master, with the order to not return until they had 'learned something'. Learned what? A piece of the past? A revelation about themselves? A premonition of events soon to come? Perhaps they would have to find out. It was irksome, not knowing just what their master wanted them to get out of this journey. The possibility of running into danger was prominent, Tehora could just about smell it in the air; Master's warning tickled their memory as they took in a deep breath through their nostrils. Yes, definitely not a pleasant place - not now, not later, and not before.

They looked down at the ground, their foot colliding lightly with a loose pebble. As the pebble rolled and bounced further into the caverns, Tehora followed suit, venturing further into the Craiss. They raised their hand somewhat away from their side, making room for the blueish light blossoming in their hand. As the light grew in size and intensity, it took the form of a flaming orb. Tehora lifted the orb and let it launch from their palm, watching it bob in the air just in their reach. Their footfalls echoed and mingled with the ever-constant whispering they heard. It was not hard for them to tell that the things they were hearing were not real - at least not now.


Right, do you remember what we read about these caves last night?

Tehora closed their eyes briefly. Yes, Left. There should be runes in here that will grant us knowledge -

Might grant us knowledge. If those don't, or if we already know what they show us, what then?"


They came to a halt, eyes flicking left and right - a fork in the tunnel awaited before them.
I'm not sure. But asking me over and over won't suddenly enlighten me. Your worrying will just waste our time. Let's use it to try and find something valuable instead?

With a sigh, Tehora nodded, and continued on to catch up with the bauble which had paused, having come to the fork. Tehora nodded their head to the left, and they and the bauble went forth. For whatever reason, the smell and air that came from the left corridor was more appealing.

Why, they discovered after hours of walking and searching, was because there was nothing there to find. Tehora sighed,
"Back the other way." Their voice reverberated off the cavern walls and ceiling, returning to them as if not two, but dozens of them had spoken up at once. Odd hearing our voice more than just twice, they mused simultaneously, turning on their heel to head back to the main tunnel.

More hours were, to their chagrin, taken up to return to the fork; by the time they turned to the right hall, they were at a light jog.
Hey, I just had a thought, Right quipped up mentally, What if we have a sudden enlightenment because we're actually exercising?
It was hard not to laugh.
Maybe. Let's not get too worn out, though. I'm not keen on crawling out of here.

The jovial conversation came to a juttering end as the air abruptly became frigid and static. Not just the air, but the echoes of the past too had intensified and roughened. The faint odour of coagulated blood invaded Tehora's nostrils. What in the...?

Should we turn back?
Tehora shook their head. This might be what Master meant. Not learning something of the past, ourselves, or the future, but something more physical and current.

Please don't tell me we're going to be witnesses to a murder...


Tehora didn't respond to themself as they warily crept nearer to the source of the horrid smell and aura, which was becoming more and more imposing.
when that light goes out this eve,
some will run, and some will grieve.

Image
if you have a reason, or if you believe,
in darkness we trust.

the whores and gentlemen, they lead,
trails of insecurities.

i am not a watchman, i do as i please.

in darkness i trust.




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Re: Harsh Lessons (Self. M: Violence and Gore)

Postby Saahs » 06/10/2014 11:48 AM

Spending a week in a cave with no one but a corpse as company didn't tend to be a pleasant trip. But Vithar had learned to toss aside the concept of pleasure and recreational activities. This was nothing; it was better than countless more weeks of fruitless search for a new mentor. It's said that the best knowledge is learned through experience, but so far Vithar was learning a disappointing amount from his "experiences". For instance, right now.  Had he messed up the runes required? Was the body too far decomposed? With all the pesky whispers echoing about him, a little advice from the phantom voices would have been nice.

Of course, none came. He hadn't really expected otherwise, but it was the first time in a good while that being alone with a decaying body was beginning to unsettle him. Vithar sighed, opening his tome and gently pressing the pages against his face, taking in the musty smell of the thick pages. Ancient magic wafted from the pages as well, a dusty scent to them from their sheer age. It was the closest thing to a breath of fresh air Vithar would allow himself until he had succeeded. Lowering the tome and flipping to a specific page, he skimmed the contents for something, anything, that he might have missed. A second and a third time he read the section, and still he knew he had followed the directions with utter perfection. So then, he moved on to check the symbols he painted on the ground. They formed several circles underneath the corpse, interlacing with one another; Vithar had to wait for them to dry before placing the body in place, and it would be a task in itself to correct any mistakes. To both his relief and frustration, there were no flaws.
"What is wrong?" he growled, turning to the corpse savagely.

No answer.

Snarling, Vithar let the book drop to the ground with an echoing thud. The disembodied voices died down for a moment, then rose back up, as if their owners (if they had any) deemed it safe to speak up again.

Then he heard footsteps.

Whipping around, orbs of shadowy power swirled in the palms of his hands. One of the first things he'd learned when he initially set out on his own was how to defend himself.
"I suggest you make yourself known," he announced, the threat tangible in his voice.
when that light goes out this eve,
some will run, and some will grieve.

Image
if you have a reason, or if you believe,
in darkness we trust.

the whores and gentlemen, they lead,
trails of insecurities.

i am not a watchman, i do as i please.

in darkness i trust.




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