Floating Castle RP - Underground Floors

[Qara-Xuan Zenith]

Underground Quest 23: All That Glisters
Quest Description: You venture deep into the Underground, probably in search of some rare ingredient, and wind up in a chamber full of precious gems and metals, rich cloths, rare herbs, expensive jewellery-- basically, a kleptomaniac's heaven. Chances are, you want a whole lot of this stuff-- but you have a strange feeling that it would be a bad idea to make off with too much.
Quest Goal: Get what you came for and get out alive.
Quest Victim: Vincent (Lordxana0)
Quest Deadline is Tuesday, May 20th at 11:59 p.m. EST.
GM Notes: Typical fantasy don't-take-what-you're-tempted-to-take scenario. If you try to leave the room with more than it thinks you deserve, you will wake terrible things that will try to destroy you. So, um, try not to do that?

[Lordxana0]

Vincent sighed as he dropped into the a hole in the Underground, holding out the torch in his hand to try and light up the darkness and give him a clear view of what was ahead of him. It was amazing how far this place really stretched out, almost as if the underground part of the castle was more larger than the parts that were above them. "I would kill for a map of this place" the alchemist groaned as he continued to walk, not really knowing where he was going. He had come down for a simple exploration mission in order to find new samples to use in his alchemy experiments. He hadn't expected to fall into a hole and get chased by a massive swarm of bee's. Vincent didn't even know what bees were doing down here, there weren't any flowers to pollinate and that was all they existed to do, so why in the name of all that was good had they been chasing him for the last ten lengths of earth?

He kept moving for a bit longer until he began to notice something odd about the walls around him. Unlike the previous area's he had been walking in the stone of this area seemed to be smooth, almost as if someone had taken the time to make the hallway look nice. Not only that but a number of already lit torches filling the hallway. Eventually Vincent managed to reach the end of the hallway, and what he saw blew his mind away. The hallway ended into a massive room where the walls where lined with gold and massive amounts of treasure reached up too the wall, which was easily big enough to fit two giants standing atop each other. On both sides of the room stood massive golden statues, knights carrying massive blades that appeared to be plunged into the ground. Hanging above the treasure was a large wooden sign.

Take What You Need
And Not a Coin More
Or Else

"So a room full of treasure and an obvious sign..." he smiled brightly and jumped in the air before moving toward the massive pile of treasure, rooting around. There were lots of things he wanted in here, more gold and fabrics than he could have counted. But none of it was stuff that he needed. Instead he grabbed some plants trapped in special glass that would keep them useful for his experiments, a few coins to with different languages to see if anyone could I.D. them from their home countries, and a few scarves to examine and test for the fabrics usefulness in experiments. After searching for quite some time he finally came across something amazing, a brick of dull brown metal. "Magesium" he whispeared, lifting it up and looking at it.

Magesium is a special metal that used to be mined in the kingdom Vincent was born in, but after he blew up the mines to end the war he figured he would never see another piece of it. The metal held special properties that allowed it to wound beings protected by Infernal energy. In other words it was used to make demon slaying weapons. With this much of it a sword could be produced by a blacksmith. He would even push it so far to say that at least two light blades could be made from it. If he could get weapons like that than maybe...

"Maybe you could kill me?" a voice rang out across the room, mocking and cold but with an air of amusement too it. A voice he knew all too well. "Thats an awful poor thought to be having about me" a being stepped out of the shadows of the room and walked toward him. The creature looked almost like a human woman, standing rather tall and proud, wearing the coats of a huge number of animals for clothing. From behind her nine vulpine tails with blood red fur moved about almost with as if they possessed minds of their own. Kunaga, the demon queen of his country, the beast he sold his soul to in order to protect his little sister.

"Can you blame me?" Vincent stood up and held the metal in his arm, not wanting to let go of his only hope to break free from the monster in front of him. "Seeing you dead would bring me more joy than I could ever imagine"

The woman laughed harshly and lashed out her arm, striking Vincent with an invisible whip and slicing into his cheek, causing the alchemist to fall down, cursing and holding it. "I would hold your tongue around me" she walked over and pulled Vincent up by his shirt, bringing her face close to him and wrapping her tails around him. "I own you~" she tossed him back into the pile of metal and picked up the metal brink, wincing as it began to burn her skin. "You can take this with you, for all the good it will do" she dropped it and smirked a bit. "But it doesn't matter what you do, where you go, who you meet, I am going to own you for the rest of your life" she turned away and walked toward the darkness, disappearing into it.

Vincent stood up and touched his cheek, wincing at the stinging sensation coming off from it. "Witch..." he picked up the brick again and gathered together the rest, making his way out of the room. Before he could get completely out a loud grinding noise rang through the air, and when he looked back he could see the two massive golden statues begin to move.

"Taken more than you need" the statues lifted their massive blades and began to move toward Vincent, prompting him to run down the hallway. He couldn't risk losing anything that he had grabbed, not his one way out from the demons grasp. The two metal guardians were faster on their feet then Vincent could believe, and it seemed no matter which way he ran they followed, always seemingly only a step behind.

Eventually Vincent tripped over a jutting out rock and fell down hard, rolling a bit and looking up as the two guardians caught up, raising up their blades to strike. "No...Leian..." he closed his eyes and got ready for the killing blow to come.

Before it could however the two guardians were knocked from their massive feet and into the back walls of cave. "Sorry shiny people, but only Dark Carnival people are allowed down this far" Vincent turned and saw the voice was coming from a girl wearing a rather lovely blue dress. She had long flowing blonde hair, and appeared to be rather young. That was of course discounting the massive halberd in her hands. Next to her was a finely dressed young man carrying two short blades in his hands.

"Sister of mine, shouldn't we kill the man as well" the boy spoke in a rather pathetic tone, almost as if every word were filled with sorrow"

"Of course not brother dear, Lord Cloth loves visitors... just not giant golden magic things.... speaking of which time to play" she spun the massive weapon above her head and leapt forward to attack the statue. Her 'brother' quickly followed behind her, jumping forward and slamming a foot into the guardian. However when the blow landed it hit with more force than the young body should have been able to produce.

Vincent sat in shock at the scene in front of him. He had been about to die, and than two kids had appeared from nowhere and saved him. But wait... Dark Carnival... the name sounded familiar. Maybe it was something that was in the guild reports he was suppose to read.

Eventually the two kids destroyed the guardians, detaching all their limbs and crushing their bodies under their blows. "Woot, I win" the girl spun around and made a V sign with her fingers. "Victory!"

The boy sighed and moved over too her, looking at Vincent through the side of his face not covered by a mask. "What shall we do with him Comedy?"

The girl leapt over to Vincent and leaned down, looking at him very closely. "Let him go, that way he can tell people how great we are!"

The boy sighed and nodded, walking away. "Lord Cloth might be cross with us"

"Yay!" the girl waved at him. "Bye bye mister" she grabbed her brother and the two disappeared into a gate of darkness.

Vincent sat their in shock, but as soon as it passed he realized that he had seen the girl before. "Leian...Leian!" he screamed but only heard the sound of his voice bounce around. "No..." he looked down and slammed a fist into the ground. He couldn't believe this... to have fond her like this and lose her. He would find her again, but for now he needed to get out. He stood up and noticed a clanging noise in his pocket. As he reached in he found a large round golden locket, and when he opened it he saw a picture of the two who had saved him, and writting at the bottom.

What now?

He cursed and slid it back in and walked toward an area that looked like it might be a way up.

[eli_gone_crazy]

Underground Quest 24: Like You Were Dying
Quest Description: You go out venturing into the castle, looking for adventure or a good time. Your travels take you far from the city, and out to the wilds. One night, as you are preparing camp, you hear the plaintive cries of someone in pain. You search for the source, and find an Orc, bloody and bruised. He appears to be dying. What will you do?
Quest Goal: Anything goes. You can kill the orc, save it, or help it die. Any option is available to you, but you MUST speak to the orc at least once
Quest Victim: Morionem (Victin)
Quest Deadline is Saturday, June 21th at 11:59 p.m. EST.
GM Notes: This NPC may end up being an ally, or an enemy, or dead. The choice, however, is up to you and Morionem.

[Victin]

Underground Quest 24: Like You Were Dying

The veil of night covered the land, and thousands of stars shone with glory. By his side, though, only a small campfire burned, and that was all the light he had. Morionem took another bite of his meal, and watched motionless as Donald did the same. He was glad ducks could eat meat, thus he didn’t have to look for fruits or seeds or something else for Donald to eat. Well, he knew for sure that Donald ate meat - as long as it wasn’t bird meat -, he didn’t know about other ducks. Maybe other ducks liked other foods, just like people.

A sharp howling cut short his mental monologue. There were wolves in these woods, wolves that hunt at night and weren’t as picky with their meals as Donald was. When it came to sleeping in the comfort of a tent, Morionem would always keep his sword by his side, in case nocturnal bandits showed up. Whom was he trying to kid, even when it came to sleeping in a cave or in a hollow trunk he’d always keep his weapon with him.

He took another bite of the toasted rabbit, while Donald avidly devoured his own piece. Being no cook, all he had to eat and drink were toasted rabbit and water. Maybe he should get himself a fancy dinner when he went back to the town. The food at the ball was really good. “What do you say, Don? Would you enjoy a feast when we get back?” The duck stood focused on his meal. He seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly, besides the simplicity.

Another howl cut through the night. Morionem took the final bite of a rabbit’s leg and stood up. Wherever that wolf was, it couldn’t be too far from the swordsman’s camp. While Donald finished his dinner, the man peeked inside his tent, to see only his sleeping bag already prepared for a good night of rest and his backpack, with everything else inside it. Above the backpack there was a small notebook he was using to write down whatever he could find. Some landmarks and anything he thought would be interesting to take back to his guild as information from the floors he’d visit - Even if there were high chances someone else had already took said information to the guilds and the City Guard.

Morionem put the notebook inside. He’d have time to write down something when he returned to the camp. Leaving the tent, he told Donald to finish off his meal. The duck promptly gobbled the remaining piece down his throat, and the swordsman had already broke a branch off a tree and lit it ablaze. Morionem left the campfire burning so he could easily find the way back. He didn’t care if someone were to steal his tent and sleeping bag. All of his important things were in his backpack, and he had a torch to light his way, his free hand holding the hilt of his sword and a winged companion helping him scout the forest. He’d be fine.

They advanced through flat terrain and tall pines. Grass and bushes covered the ground, while moss grew on rocks and long dead stumps. ”Usually when one wolf howls the pack howls together. I guess this must be the lone kind of wolf then.” The man smirked and looked back. In the darkness, his footsteps were invisible even to the keenest of eyes. At least he could still see the campfire from where he was.

“Any clues where we should head to?” Donald nodded negatively. “Fine then. Let’s circle the camp until we hear that wolf again. That way we won’t go too far and risk getting lost for nothing.” He emitted a low quack as response and walked alongside Morionem. Fortunately, they had barely walked past a quarter of a circle when they heard the howl again, and it was a steep, rocky hill away.

With a sigh, the swordsman started walking uphill, while the bird easily flapped his wings and flew up. Once there, Donald disguised himself among the leaves of a lone tree and scanned the situation. The wolf sat down besides a deformed shape, maybe a large stone. Morionem’s torchlight almost reached the top of the hill, where the wolf was, but he suddenly halted his movement. The man glanced up to where he saw Donald fly, and back to the top of the hill. He built a simple attack plan in his mind, and decided to go for it.

The torch went flying uphill, and Morionem rapidly charged after it, drawing both his sword and shield. The wolf spun and jolted fearlessly towards the unknown foe, and in the last second before the fire died out, Morionem saw vicious claws and blood hungry fangs. Before the beast could strike, electricity surged around his sword. The lightning that roared into life brought caution to the wolf’s assault, creating an opening that Donald took to make his own attack.

An aerial charge from the side was enough to create an even bigger opening for the swordsman to strike. It was almost too easy. A single trust slashed where a leg connected to the body, and the wolf yelped of pain. “I guess a wild animal is a wild animal after all.” He thought, unsure if disappointed at the enemy or surprised at himself. ”At least Donald’s one of a kind.”

The wound made the wolf fall over when it tried to attack again. Morionem raised his sword, aiming for a quick and clean ending. He thought he had heard a faint muttering sound when his blade was at its peak. But he was sure he had heard a “Leave it alone!” when it came down.

Iron had already cut one centimeter into the wolf’s flesh when Morionem stopped. The wolf left out a small yelp and tried to stand up. The man lept to the side and spun around, searching for the source of the voice. “Who’s there?”

“Just leave the warg alone.” The voice was hoarse and faint, but with a demanding tone. The beast growled and tried to stand up again.

“Tell it to stay put then, and I won’t cause it any more harm.”

“Úlfr, stay put.” The voice said, audibly taking a deep breath. The wolf barked stubbornly. “Stay.” It growled, annoyed, and carefully curled around itself to lick its own wounds. Morionem walked to the torch, that now was simply embers fighting to stay ablaze and picked it up, putting back his shield. Arcs of light encircled it, and one second later it was burning again - though not as strong as before. Even with the crackling of the torch, the night seemed to fall silent as Morionem and Donald saw the being they were talking to.

A large humanoid, twice as tall as Morionem in the least, certainly not human. His clothes were shredded, but they still were at a better state than their wearer. A myriad of wounds marked his body, all slowly dripping fresh blood that formed a pool on the ground. It was scarily large.

“W-What happened!?” Asked Morionem.

The humanoid took a few moments to breathe, and then answered. “Nothing. But if I were you, I’d get out of this forest as fast as possible.”

“Why?” He asked, then realized the answer. “Who did this to you? Or what?”

“A bear, but you don’t need to worry with it anymore. Just with a few of those grey dogs, an eagle and that bastard…” The humanoid breathed. “... Of a lizard.”

Morionem approached him with slow steps, and in turn the large humanoid tried to raise a hand between himself and the swordsman, but was too weak and returned his arm to the bloody ground. Donald simply watched from a short distance. Sheathing his sword, Morionem brought the dying torch closer to the wounded being, who squinted his eyes at the approaching light.

Upon a closer inspection, the wounds looked as bad as they did from afar, if not worse. They smelled like dry sweat, blood and, perhaps not too out of place, wolf. Deep gashes marked both the creature’s clothes clothes and right shoulder flesh, as if something had tried to take an arm off with a bite. Smaller yet equally worrying bite and claw wounds bled on the humanoid’s legs and feet, and a toe seemed to be missing. A few other wounds laid all over his torso and arms, with a worryingly trio of parallel cuts on starting on a cheek that barely missed an eye.

Besides the damage, Morionem couldn’t help but observe the being’s other features. Besides its massive size, its face also was something that’d call one’s attention. It sported a snout, not a nose, and the mouth had an extra row of teeth on both jaws, the outer row bearing a slight resemblance to those of dog, while the inner was more humanlike. The arms ended in thick but short fingers, and Morionem couldn’t tell if he had claws or just overgrown nails. In the half-light, his skin also looked green.

“Just… Keep lying down. I’ll make a campfire then I’ll start bandaging you.” The human turned around and started searching for dry branches he could use. There was a moment of silence as the torch snapped in half, and fell to the ground, dying. Morionem quickly produced a spare one out of a tick, that’d do for good five minutes or so.

“Why… Why would you help me?”

Continuing his task, he answered. “Well… I don’t know you.”

The injured humanoid was struck with silence. “E-Exactly. Why would you help me, then?”

“As I said, I don’t know you. You could be… I don’t know. A father of two children or a hermit that failed to kill his prey. Or simply a traveler who found some criminals and got assaulted.” Donald quacked to show Morionem he had found some fallen branches that’d be useful. Afterwards, there was silence, that only broke when the human created a thunderbolt to lit the fire.

Once it was burning strong, Morionem approached the large being again, but the wolf stood on all three legs - with the fourth kneeling a little - and growled, showing off its angry fangs. “Uhh… Could you please tell him I’m not going to hurt you?”

“Her. Úlfr, stay. Stay.” The wolf growled of frustration and laid down again.

Morionem opened his backpack, and started taking outside anything he knew would be useful. He certainly didn’t have enough healing salve, so he’d have to keep it for the worse-looking wounds. At least he knew healing magic, and had an extra bottle of water he could use. Hoping he’d have enough bandages, he took another look at the materials available and started doing the best he could.

The creature suppressed a moan, noticeably warping its face into a monstrous grimace in the process. “So, uh… Morionem. You?”

“What?” The human rubbed the salve on the humanoid’s shoulder, and seeped curative energy into the wound in the meantime.

“I mean, that’s my name. What’s yours?”

“Brádach.”

“Interesting name.” The human commented, trivially. For the rest of the night, none of them spoke a single word. Morionem didn’t notice when the moanings stopped and Brádach fell asleep.

When Brádach woke up again, he was thoroughly bandaged and had wooden splints tied to his left leg. Slowly, he used his hand to cover his eyes from midday sun. His head hurt as if it were a stump an axe had split in two. Brádach finally tried to change his position - he had laid still for over a day now, by his math. He failed once, and then twice. After a quarter of an hour had passed, Brádach managed to sit supporting his weight with of his weapon, albeit not without moaning loud enough to wake up Morionem.

“Oh, uh, good morning. Don’t try to stand up right now, y’know.” The swordsman was tired. Last time he ever felt this tired he was helping to keep up a city-wide force shield. Opposite to the advice he gave the other humanoid, Morionem stood up and stretched all of his muscles. “Did you see Don? I mean, Donald.” Brádach blinked confused. “Oh, he’s my duck.”

The larger humanoid glanced over to his sleeping wolf, but a familiar, if muffled, quack killed any possible worry. Donald descended from the sky with a fish in his beak, that he gladly swallowed whole after landing at the hilltop.

There was a moment of awkward silence, that Morionem rushed to break. “I didn’t even try to take care of your wolf.” Brádach frowned. “I feared he-she, she would attack me. I also ran out of bandages and healing salve, and I think I’m out of energy, but I could still make him a stilt. Just like... yours.”

“Uh… Sure. But it’s Úlfr, not wolf.” He said with his hoarse voice.

“Huh? Isn’t it… A dire wolf?” Morionem had only seen timber wolves, but by the size of the animal he judged it to be a dire wolf.

Brádach frowned, confused. “Dire wolf?” He tried to understand and scratched his nearly bald head. “I named her Úlfr, which is an ancient form of warg because… Well, she’s a warg. Wargs are like, big dogs. Really big.”

Morionem was being stared at as either a stupid person or a strange being. Most probably both, as he suspected. “Wait, I think I got it. In your dialect wolves are wargs. And in mine wargs are wolves. Right?”

Brádach hummed something in agreement. “Úlfr.” The wolf sprung awake at the call, but as she forgot her injured leg she fell to the side with a yelp. “Stay put. He’s friendly.” After the ball dropped, Morionem rushed to pick rope from his backpack and two short branches. The man approached the warg, who showed her teeth but otherwise didn’t move to attack. “Sorry for that,” he muttered.

The swordsman took a step back and admired his work. It was crude, but Úlfr managed to stand on all fours. “Never thought I’d see a wolf using a walking cane.” The sight of a predator the size of a small horse with stilts was amusing, if not any less scary.

The hilltop fell into silence. Morionem glanced back at Brádach, and noticed the tool he was using to sustain himself. From where he was he couldn’t tell what it was, just that it was larger than anything he could carry.

“So… I’ll try to find my tent and pack it, also get water and food. You lay down and rest. Is that okay with you?” Brádach hummed in response. Morionem nodded, and wandered downhill, with Donald flying up to get an aerial view.

~~~~

”Die! Die! Just die already you bastard!”

Brádach blinked awake and tried to stand up in a jolt, but his injuries were still there. He groaned of pain and looked around, slowly raising himself with his weapon to sit normally. The air smelled like cooked meat, for Morionem was indeed roasting something in a new campfire. “You came back.”

“I told you I’d be, didn’t I?” He didn’t take the eyes out of the fire.

The larger humanoid fell into a sheepish silence. “What are you cooking?”

“A young deer, and four rabbits. Figured out you and your wolf you’d be really hungry, so I tried to get as much meat as I could carry.” He paused, and rubbed some sweat off his forehead. “Never thought catching rabbits would be harder than catching deers, but man… Those things were fast.”

Glancing over to Úlfr, Brádach saw the warg’s fixed stare at the fire.

“Even with the stilts she still couldn’t run very well. Luckily Don caught a squirrel for her, so she ate that as has been lying irritated ever since.”

He glanced over to Donald. “The duck?”

“Yeah. He’s like that.”

Brádach blinked, and then left the sound of crackling flames took over the environment for a while. “So… Are you one of those hoomans?”

“I’m human, yes.” Morionem shifted the meat around to make sure it didn’t burn. “You?”

“I’m an orc. You’re the first human I’ve ever seen.”

“And you, the first orc I have.”

There was a long moment of near absolute silence, that was only broken by words when the mean was ready. They decided Morionem and Donald would have a rabbit each, Úlfr the remaining two and Brádach could have the deer all for himself, also that each bottle of water would go for pair of owner and pet.

When Morionem was almost finishing his late lunch, he noticed the orc had shifted his tool from one hand to another, probably to lean to the left instead of the right for a while. It was a long club, entirely made out of metal, and a surface full of spikes. Morionem was scared at the idea it could be bigger than himself.

“Your weapon, does it have a name?” He commented.

Brádach swallowed a deer thigh. “Yes. It’s a kanabō.”

“Interesting. What does it mean?”

“Uh… It means kanabō.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t ask what it was, I asked the name.”

The orc frowned visibly. “Naming a weapon? Why?”

“Well, a weapon is not only a tool. After using it for a long time it… Becomes a part of you, but only if it chooses you as your owner. That’s when it tells you it’s real name.” Morionem rapidly took another bite off his meal. Donald had finished his already and was staring at the human, but Morionem knew if he started to beg that he’d given up and hand the duck the remaining.

Brádach thought a little before answering. “If that’s what you believe in, who am I to judge?” Then he started eating another deer tight.

“And what do you believe in?”

“Well… My father was a priest, and he told me orcs were made out of earth and divine blood, and humans like you were made out of hay.”

“Wait what? I’m only made out of hay!?” He said in a fake angry tone. Brádach shived the leg he was eating in his mouth, and then slowly pulled a lone bone that he discarded. After swallowing, he repeated the story his father had told him.

“Back to the beginning of the world, or rather, some time when it was still very young, the god Draupbog had enemies, strong enemies, and he realized a warrior fighting by his side would be very useful. But he wanted someone he could trust, someone who’d be not only a friend, but a brother. So, he took earth and then mixed it with his own blood, for he had made a cut on his hand with his own knife from where the blood dripped. From the resulting clay, he sculpted Orgrael. Orc, meaning earth, ground, world, and grael, meaning blood. In the ancient language, that is.”

“Oooohhhh…” Morionem solely focused on Brádach, and Donald on Morionem’s rabbit.

“But that’s not how the orcs were born. Draupbog and Orgrael fought side by side against their enemies, shared salt and bread with each other, slept under the starry night together for years. Until came the day that… Long battle short, Orgrael was fatally wounded and died in Draupbog’s arms. In his memory, Draupbog gave life to the crumbles and boom, orcs.”

“But you left out the best part! The part where someone fights!”

“Too late, now’s time for human creation story. So, this goddess, they never say specifically who, had a farm, which was huge. There was a mansion there for when she visited, a giant barn, a giant mill, giant fields of crop and giant everything you can find at a farm, I guess. But you see, she had a problem. Her fields were so big that her servants could collect the crops and watch over the stored grains at the same time - they kept them in huge clay pots back at the… Wherever they keep grains. So, if there were servants watching over the grains, the birds would eat the crops left behind. If there weren’t, the birds would eat the grains.”

“Couldn’t they close the pot, or put it inside somewhere?”

“Then the birds would just open the door and take the lid off the pot. Anyways, the oldest servant, even older than the goddess, came up with an idea: by using leftover hay and clothes, he made dolls that seemed living enough to scare the birds away. Flash forward for when the goddess is dying-”

“Why was she dying?”

“Natural causes.” Brádach said with a slightly deeper voice, then coughed. “Erm, that’s what’s implied anyways. She’s dying, so in order to thank the servants for all the years of hard work she told them they were free and that everything they worked with was theirs. The house they kept, the crops they collected, literally everything. Then she probably died and everyone was confused whether they should feel sorrowful or thankful. That’s how I picture it anyways.” He smirked, and Morionem smiled because it was the closest the orc came to an expression of happiness so far.

“Apparently, that old servant from before was also dying because he was older than the goddess herself, so he decided to follow the example and be nice to the dolls he created, gifting them with the grains they guarded and the tools they used in their job. The dolls left the farm and then tried to plant said grains everywhere. That’s the ending, I guess.”

“Not even nearly as cool as the orcs. Why are we called humans, then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the servant’s name was Hu, and you were ‘Hu’s men’.”

It took a while for Morionem to realized that was a joke, and he laughed. Brádach followed with a smile, and Donald with pleading quacking. The human glanced over, and the bird’s pleading eyes asked for meat. He sighed.

“Here, have it.” The cracking of the flames took over the environment. The orc took the remaining piece of his deer - the torso - and gave a bite right in the middle of it. Morionem watched everyone else finish their meals, quiet.

Once that happened, the swordsman spoke again. “I’m gonna go fill the bottles with water. You stay here and rest.” The orc grumbled something inaudible. “Just rest for today. Tomorrow we can try find your... home.”

“Yes, I have a little hut by here, if that’s what you are asking.”

“Oh, good, good. Great, actually. So, just stay here. I’ll be back.”

~~~~

Brádach awoke, the morning sun shining orange in glory. He laid still for what seemed like hours, until he heard someone wake up. It was the duck.

“Quack.” He said, and then flapped his wings towards a tent. It shook a few times before the human yelled “I’m awake! I’m awake!”

Both exited the tent, first the duck, then Morionem after a minute. He started undoing the tent, and the orc rose to sit. He realized he had slept the rest of the day.

“Well, the sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll arrive there.” Brádach used his club to sustain most of his weight, and tried standing up.

“WaitwaitWAIT!” Morionem stopped and ran to help the orc stand up, before realizing he had no idea how exactly do so. With a lot of strain, Brádach managed to stand, if hunching over his club for support. “Er… Well, wait, nonetheless. We’ll leave together, and walk slowly. Very slowly.” It was hard to try to be imposing against someone twice as big as himself.

Before resuming dismantling the tent, Morionem studied the orc a little more. Greenish brown skin, large ears, simple leather clothes that luckily hadn’t fallen off his body after he was attacked. Not much hair on the head, but plenty on the chest. Morionem wondered which of those features were common to Brádach’s race as a whole.

Half an hour later, they were on the side of the hilltop opposite from where Morionem had originally came from. It wasn’t the exact direction of his house, Brádach said, but Morionem thought this side of the hill was smoother and thus better. The orc found out the silence made him focus too much on his wounds, so he tried to figure out if talking would do him any better.

“You have a sword, a shield, supplies, was walking alone through a forest. I saw you create a thunder.” He said that last sentence warily. ”What do you do for a living anyways?”

The question was harder for Morionem than it should be. “Well… I left home soon after my eighteenth birthday. I was legally an adult, so I decided to… Live my dream, maybe if I put it that way it makes more sense.”

Brádach blinked, then just stared.

“Well, I wanted to… Help other people, you know. But uh… I didn’t feel like the army was the right thing, and the knights and guards of my city refused to let me join their corporation under the grounds of ‘not being capable of combat’. I felt like a career in Medicine wasn’t for me because...” Morionem blushed a light shade of red in shame. “I failed the admission exam for an Academy on Arcane Arts when I was a child. My father and other people always said that I was too young for the admission exam anyways, but when I tried again two years later I failed again. From then on people just told me ‘magic is a gift, only one in a huge number of people have it’ and that ‘just because you are of a lineage of mages that doesn’t mean you will be one’ and many other things. My father… We never touched the subject much afterwards, and it was always...”

“No need to tell.”

“No, no, don’t worry. As you saw, I learned magic, after all. I might not be as good as a natural, and I might not have that, that elemental aura other casters have. I managed electricity, which is basically magic energy itself, or a form of it, and healing, which is focusing magic energy to make your body do what it naturally does.” The orc hummed in agreement. “Back to my adulthood, I… Ran away from home. Started hunting for low-bounty criminals in smaller villages and such. Such was life until I got to this castle.”

“Castle? Huh, never saw it. How far away is it?”

Morionem didn’t know how to answer that. “Wait, how did you get here?” The question confused Brádach, and brought memories he wish he didn’t have. He gave a long sigh.

“If I’m going to die anyways, it’s time I tell my story to someone.”

“Don’t say th-”

“Shut up.” He said, menacing. Morionem saw the orc’s eyes piercing him from above as he halted. Brádach then stared forwards and walked concentrated. “I lived a normal life in my city. Lived with my mother, my father and my older brother. Mom took care of the house, dad had a store, brother eventually worked alongside him.”

Morionem wondered how his father could be both a priest and a shopkeeper, but didn’t dare to ask. The orc gave a small smirk. “Used to call him ‘Ugly Ape’ because he was hairy all over his body, eventually even more than my father. When I was a kid, mom taught me both the letters and the numbers. When I grew up a little I started helping dad and Ape in the store, and my dad taught me both history and story, and most things I’ve learned.”

Brágard almost tripped, although he disguised it to keep the fierce appearance. “When I was old enough, they told me since my brother would inherit the shop and work there that I should work as something else. They let me pick, and I picked craft.” The idea of the menacing humanoid crafting something seemed amusing for Morionem, but he tried his best to be respectful and not laugh. At least not in a way the orc would notice. “So I learned how to tell a metal apart from the other, how to melt it, how to give it shape. How to make iron, to give it shape, to mix together with leather for a comfortable grip or light armor. That’s where I learned everything else I know.”

There was a short moment of silence. “My father told me stories about berserkers. Those were orcs who not only were immune to the touch of fire, but could actually breathe a stream of it or just set their bodies ablaze out of sheer willpower. They also could grow twice as big, and turn into blood hungry monsters, more beast than orc, that would never stop fighting. He said that people also believed red skinned orcs were more likely to berserker than others. Then he said that was bullshit, and all orcs were equally capable of being a fire mage, or even an earth mage. Also that some orcs knew techniques that allowed them to control fire without using magic, and there were rumours about a similar, although secret, technique for controlling earth. But he also told me that not much is known about orcs that could turn into beasts, if that was true or how true it was.”

“One night, I woke up and the house was on fire. I ran, trying to… I don’t know. Escape. Find my family. I don’t know. I just ran. But then I saw him, laughing like an animal, setting fire to the floor, the walls, the kitchen, the stairs, who damnedly knows how, but he was there, turning my house into an earthly sun. And laughing. Like scorching down people and their house was a petty game. I… I broke. I attacked him with all my strenght. I ordered him to die one hundred times, and called him bastard, fratricide, and a hundred other cursed names. I… I killed him. And then, I woke up, and the house was on fire. I ran. I knew why this time.”

The whole forest seemed to silence and stand still. Human, duck, wolf and orc walked, no word, quack or growl left out.

“Sometimes… Sometimes, killing people is needed. When there’s no other way to prevent them from spreading evil and harming others, that’s when… That’s when it’s fair to kill.”

Brágard stopped, and stared Morionem in the eyes. “Have you ever killed someone?”

“No. I have never killed someone.” The orc hummed, and resumed walking. The forest remaind silent and still, out of respect.

~~~~

It was the dawn of the following day, and Morionem was about to leave Brádach’s house. For someone with no skills building houses, it was more than a simple hut he had there. It had only a kitchen and a bedroom that shared the same space and ceiling, but it had a fireplace, and outside the house there were a place for necessities and a simple forge.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you for a few more days?”

“The sooner you leave, the sooner you will be back with your ‘medical care’.” Brádach said it hiding his sarcastic undertone. From Morionem, and from himself. Both tried to hide the perspective of oncoming death.

“You’re right. I guess… This is a goodbye then.” Morionem turned to leave and walked to the door.

“... Wait. Go over that table and take those knives. The ones that look newer.” Suspicious, the swordsman walked to the table, but only saw two short swords that looked new. “I made them recently. My old ones were… Well, old. But you helped me. If anything I want you to have them.” He didn’t say it, but he thought ”I may never get the chance to use them anyways.”

“I…”

“Take them.” Brádach said, with his hoarse voice and demanding tone. Morionem just nodded - since yesterday he was unable to confront Brádach’s serious tone.

“Goodbye. For real, then.”

“For real. Wind haste.” He smirked, and the human smiled, both hopefully, the latter more so than the former.

Both him and the duck exited the house. Looking around, they started looking for a way back among the pine trees and the bushes. The veil of the day covered the land, and a lone eagle came down and sat atop a nearby tree.

[Qara-Xuan Zenith]

Underground Quest 25: Miles To Go Before You Sleep
Quest Description: You've just turned up in this crazy place, and it seems like as good an idea as any to go wandering off on your own. Only something tells you you’re not on your own; you keep seeing lights flickering in the oddest places, and everywhere you go is beaten paths and dustless surfaces-- even though there’s nobody in sight.
Quest Goal: Get to the bottom of things.
Quest Taker: Clyde Verminspawn (Viperpit)
Quest Deadline is Tuesday, September 16th at 11:59 p.m. EST.

[Viperpit]

Cylde sighed and looked around the black cave he had found himself in, lighting his way with a small flame he had conjured above his hand, wondering once against if he would even find the things he was looking for. This accursed place was supposed to be filled up with all sorts of fungi and odd plants, things he might be able to use to stop a serious disease before it arose.

After all there was really only so much that his magic could do by itself. He was a doctor, not a god.

With a sigh Clyde continued to make his way throughout the various caves, wishing that someone had bothered to map this place, after all it seemed like they had been here for half an eternity, and one would think someone might have at least tried to do something of the sort. “I wish I could take a drink of water.” He complained to himself, already parched from hours of travel and the weight of his clothing. It might not have been that hot, but it didn’t actually take much to make a man in a heavy coat sweat like a hog. He decided to stow the complaint away for later, remembering that he was on this trip to save lives, and if even one person got to extend their lives because of his suffering that it was more than worth it.

As he kept moving he began to notice that the paths he was walking down seemed…odd. First of all the dust and cobwebs that had clung to much of the cave seemed gone, giving the impression that wasn’t the first time someone had been through here.

No the further he went down the more he noticed the obvious hints of detail that had been worked into the place, each stone polished and not a single jagged edge to be seen. It was certainly odd, enough to raise anyone’s suspicions. The plague doctor kept a firm grip on his cane, ready to pull free the hidden blade at a moment’s notice in order to defend himself.

Once he got a bit further he finally saw another figure, a young woman laying on the ground with a large piece of metal sticking
out of her chest. The doctor quickly ran over and knelt down next to her, putting a hand against her neck. No pulse he thought to himself sadly, knowing that he was too late.

Or so he thought, a few moments after he put his fingers to the bodies neck it suddenly jerked up and tried to bite him. Luckily Clyde was quick enough to move out of the way of the creatures bite. “Need…blood.” the woman muttered, shivering and obviously wounded.

It took a few minutes for Clyde’s mind to catch up with the situation at hand. The creature before him had no pulse and a taste for blood… a vampire perhaps? Or one of its many subspecies. He knelt down and put a hand against the metal that was sticking out of its chest, casting a minor spell to give him an idea of the damage the metal was causing. The vampire had been lucky it seemed, the metal hadn’t directly hit the heart, or else she would probably be dead, but it was still cutting through her and was nicked one of the valves connected to her heart. If he pulled it out she would bleed out in seconds, but if he left it in she would die slowly and painfully.

“Not happening.” he said to himself, slamming his hand against the ground and creating a bubble around them that quickly destroyed anything except pure air within it. He would have limited time with this clean room, as he didn’t have the time or power to set up a continuous environment. Instead he would have the amount of time it took for all of the clean air to be used, after that he would either have to collapse it or hold his breath. Once the clean bubble was set up he stripped off his mask and took off the coat he wore around him, laying it flat so all of the medical tools within it would be available for his use.

He pulled out a syringe and looked down at the creature, wondering if the pain numbing mixture within would even do anything to the vampire. They were supposed to be humans who fed on blood and had dark powers, but what did that mean in terms of how different things affected them? I will have time to worry later he injected the mixture into her neck and grabbed a scalpel, increasing the cut so he would be able to safely pull out the metal without having to do more damage to her in the long run. He also put a hand against her stomach, drawing in a deep breath and focusing his magic into his palm and down into the cut. He would need to heal the valve as he pulled the metal out if he didn’t want her to bleed internally.

“..why..?” the vampire asked, looking up at Clyde with confusion plain in her eyes. “…why help?”

Clyde cursed that the mixture hadn’t put her to sleep, but still he would answer her. “Because I am a doctor.” he began the grueling work of removing the metal without utterly killing his ‘patient’. For the most part she remained still as a statue, but as the blade slowly was pulled out she began to struggle from time to time, most likely from the pain of having a jagged piece of metal slowly sliding out of her.

“I wish I knew more about vampires,” he said in a low whisper to himself. All he could do was work on her as if she was a human, and if he did something that didn’t work than she might very well die from it. Finally after what felt like an eternity in the low oxygen environment the operation was completed, and the jagged and bloody metal was left to rest on the floor of the cave. “Done.” he said, cleaning the sweat off his face before taking a long drink of water.

Once his thirst was quenched he pulled out a thread and needle and quickly closed the cut, sealing over the cut with a thin layer of magic to keep out any pesky things living in this underground nightmare. To complete it he gently cut his fingers with one of his scalpels and allowed a few drops to fall into her mouth, hoping that it would increase the healing. He quickly fitted himself with his equipment and broke the seal. “You should be okay now.”

The vampire woman slowly stood up and glared at Clyde for a few moments. “I didn’t need your help.” she stated in an emotionless tone before turning away.

“Understood, all the same try to take it easy and don’t do anything that might result in trauma to the treated area, the piece I fixed is still fragile, and if it gets roughed up it could reopen the wound and cause massive internal bleeding.” the doctor turned around, starting to leave.

“What is your name?” the vampire asked suddenly.

The doctor paused for a moment. “Clyde Verminspawn.” he said.

“Hm… I am Malice, coven leader of the Midnight Court, I award you the title of Healer.” she turned and began to move away in earnest this time. “However should you ever enter this domain again your soul will be drained from your body.”

Clyde shook his head and made his way back from where he came, planning on heading back to the city for a spot of rest. No one dies when I am around, that’s the promise of a doctor he shook his head and smirked. “Yeah, or maybe I am just an idiot.”

[Qara-Xuan Zenith]

Underground Quest 26: X Marks the Spot
Quest Description: You awake in the Underground with no memory of how you got there, and no memory of how you got the indellible X that has appeared on your hand.
Quest Goal: Get some answers (or your memories back).
Quest Victim: Morionem (Victin)
Quest Deadline is Thursday, January 15th at 11:59 p.m. EST.

[Victin]

Underground Quest 26: X Marks The Spot

Once outside, he didn’t have the need to immediately create a light source, for there was phosphorescent moss growing in the fractures on the wall. Morionem closed the trapdoor, as it was the only thing preventing anyone from falling into the hole. Despite the measure, he didn’t trust the ability of the old dry wood to withstand anyone’s weight.

Wishing time to rest, Morionem chose to keep moving. He was in some sort of tunnel now, and the walls had been crudely carved as to resemble stone bricks. Or perhaps it was actually fine masonry worn out by time and nature, he couldn’t tell the difference and wasn’t sure if he cared. The floor was rock as hard as the walls were, only more plain. The air he breathed was cold and moist, surprisingly. ”Maybe there is water somewhere around here? Moss needs water to grow, doesn’t it? Maybe if I follow the moss?”

He took a look at both directions the tunnel allowed him to go. Then, he decided to take the one that was a smooth descent. Since the other direction didn’t go up, he reasoned going down he had more chance of finding a water reservoir, the stream that fed the reservoir and through that stream the way to the surface. The swordsman was sure that was tortuous logic, like the path of a river.

Morionem suspected he could easily be followed, although that could also be the paranoia from being away from the city and any possible help. Not that it’d matter if he was in the city: most people he knew had disappeared. Though it’s not like he had any friends, or anything. He only had people he trusted he could follow. By himself, he was powerless, and now more than ever.

Banging his fist against his head, Morionem tried to chase away the melancholic thoughts. He would have all the time in the world to distract himself with such thoughts when he escaped to the surface again.

The tunnel went a long way down. Small steps at a time, but the swordsman wondered how deep he had descended already. The place was so uniform that, weren’t for the trapdoor, Morionem could swear he hadn’t moved an inch.

Finally, he arrived in a long rectangular chamber. The fluorescent moss covered as much of the walls and floor as it did in the tunnel, yet it wasn’t enough to fully illuminate the room. Furthermore, the glow cast strange shadows that moved unnaturally. Morionem blamed the fact he was surrounded by weak light sources, and that the same would probably happen were he surrounded by flickering candle flames. Still, he crossed the room creating a sphere of electricity over the palm of his hand.

Walking across the chamber, he felt the air becoming ever slightly warmer, and was confounded when he felt a weak air current spinning around the room. Quickly he discovered the source of this underground “wind” - a few circular holes on the floor and the walls, seemingly carved there, from where hot gulfs of air came. The moss also didn’t seem to grow around these holes, and trying to understand why he touched the stone that bordered one.

It was hot, extremely hot when compared to the sunless environment of the underground. The shock was enough to make him cease creating electricity. The pain resonated with the rest of his body, and it seemed once again his muscles wouldn’t bulge an inch and his head would explode from the pressure within.

Morionem took some time to sit down and heal himself. Could it be possible he had caught some kind of “underground disease”? ”If I did, what would even be the point of going to the surface anyways? Lay down on a medical bed for the rest of my life?” He was sure he prefered action over inaction, and he trusted himself to do better than to think better, even if he was weak. He could fight, he had fought many times so far. But should he? Luck has been on his side so far, but until when? And was he even doing the right thing? How could he know? Despite liking sword playing, and having been in serious battles, he never actually saw it for what it was. Now the perspective of possibly having to kill someone one day dreaded him.

Morionem moaned loudly, a sharp, echoing cry. ”This place is messing with my head… Ugh… I need to leave, fast.” Before raising himself again, the man wondered what that mark in his hand was, and why would someone put it there. ”Maybe it’s magical?” He tried sensing any magic coming from it, but he only felt his own natural power. Unless it was incomplete, or it was disconnected from the arcane source that put it there, the mark didn’t even bulge. Morionem couldn’t help but feel an eerie and sinister reason behind it, and he hoped it was only him being paranoid, just like with the shadows following him.

This time, he hurried his pace. The faster he walked, the sooner he’d be free again. Afterwards, the environment changed again: the other end of the room seemed to have caved downwards, leading into an apparently bigger chamber filled with vast darkness. Morionem went forwards, as this was the only way he could still go.

The only light source now was himself. A thick, hot air filled this room, in contrast to what he had seen so far. ”I’m probably only going deeper and deeper. Is this really a good idea?” Coughing, he didn’t stop although he was wondering what to do.

After wandering for a while, Morionem could only see the rock floor around himself. Looking back, a faint luminescent blur in the distance was all he could see from the where he had just been. ”This cave is very large. It’s almost as if I’m on the surface again, if the surface was some kind of twisted endless night.” Morionem sighed. “Great, now I’m worried if I’m being followed again. It’s not like I’m being watched from all directions.”

The swordsman turned around, ready to go the way he had came. Troublesome, however, how he couldn’t seem to find the straight way towards the previous chamber. One second it was to his right, the other it was to his left, and it was too late when he realized he was going nowhere.

A still pair of red eyes appeared in the darkness in front of him, immobile and never falling into reach of the lightning orb. Turning around, Morionem found another pair behind him, and two others from the sides. The collective staredown was silent, like the calm preceding the storm.

“Oh crap!” One of the pair of eyes lunged towards Morionem, who responded with a thunderbolt. The flash of light revealed four black furred creatures, mouthful of sharp fangs. Each had four paws, - “Probably full of claws...” - and they used all of them to walk. “W-Wolves? Subterranean wolves?” Another beast came from behind. Or maybe all of them did, because Morionem was tackled a few meters away.

Once he stopped rolling, he struggled to stand up as quickly as possible. However, he was bitten on his right arm right as he did so. The monster chewed his limb, and Morionem managed to electrocute it right as his bones were about to break. The pain was excruciating, but he forced himself to run away. The creatures followed.

The swordsman attempted to attack with as much power as he could muster. A salvo of thunderbolt rained upon the four beasts. He heard them gruntling, maybe even a distorted yelping, but he didn’t hear them stopping. And suddenly, they caught on fire.

For a split second, Morionem smirked with hope. When the four black mastiffs ran after him bursting flames around their bodies, his face became a glooming grimace. They barely looked like animals anymore, rather, they seemed to be four giant fireballs chasing the swordsman. Moreover, the fire seemed to have ignited their bloodlust, or vice versa. They could either be growing madly, or that was the crackling noise of the blazes surrounding them.

He didn’t think he could escape them. He didn’t know where the chamber he was in started and where it ended. The living pyres that the creatures had turned into were the only illumination of the room, and thus they seemed to be its center, its beginning and its end. Perhaps he had entered another world by accident while he was underground, and was doomed to be hunted forever in endless darkness.

The beasts, however, wouldn’t be so kind as to hunt Morionem forever. They craved for flesh, his flesh. He could see it in their eyes, for they were redder than the flames around them. Scorching the ground beneath, they came from all sides. The monsters were trying to encircle him, trap him. There was nothing he could do. When he was surrounded, he inhaled fumes from combustion, and fell to the floor grasping on the edge of his conscience to keep himself alive.

The overheated air blurred the images around him. Red and black shapes, colorful sounds and twisted lights, spinning around in a whirlwind of confusion. The searing scarlet disappeared, leaving only darkness and silence.

A hand came from above, all marked in tattoos and covered in a ghastly white energy. A faint whisper tries to leave Morionem’s lips.

“So, the mind returns to the body, I see.”

The voice seemed familiar, yet at the same time, wrong. Morionem felt weightless as the ground seemed to move further and further away from him.

“Coming from someone who has beaten their own shadow, this doesn’t surprise me.”

Morionem put his left hand over the one holding his throat, but barely had the strenght to scratch it.

“Your former self has fallen to me, do you think you have any hopes, little shade?”

Morionem groans, and groans again.

“Who am I? C’mon, it’s not as if that’ll matter to you considering your fate.”

The mark in his hand. He remembered now. In fact, the mark was there supposedly to remember him what had happened. Now that Morionem did remember, it started growing, expanding over his skin.

“Oh, how curious. It seems you remember it now. Maybe it’s true, mortals do relive their life before meeting their final fate.”

Morionem stared Morionem in the eyes. He had already defeated himself once. Why couldn’t he do it again? Was this not him, perhaps? A doppelganger? A body stealer?

“Too bad, little shade. I’ll extinguish the candle keeping you alive, and I wish you, goodnight.”