RP:Into The Unknown
Location: House Dragana, Dark Twisted Path, Old Shack and Shack Basement.
Synopsis: Elioyahazer has grown restless with hanging 'round Larewens home. He decides that it's time for exploration. If he's going to be living in Vailkrin, he needs to know the lay of the land. After wandering through the forests, they stumble on to an abandoned shack. What could go wrong?
OOC Note: Adventure created and NPC’ed by Elioyahazer.
Into the Unknown, House Dragana
Towering over the abyssal forest, the dark mass of House Dragana is no less eerie than the vegetation, or lack thereof, in which it stands. The mansion's outer perimeters are flanked by the twisting trees and there are no gates to prevent the seemingly less desirable denizens of the forest from trespassing upon the property. A sleek, obsidian walkway runs from the house's entry to the path. The only source of light without comes form wrought-iron lanterns that are placed on either side of the walkway, spaced perfectly from one another. Within them, an eldritch glow of a deep, verdant hue flickers. Those brave enough to approach House Dragana's doors will be greeted with iron knockers bearing blackened skulls, their eyes set with emeralds that glow with the same light from the lanterns. Within the house's walls, there is no shortage of decadence. Only the most elegant of furniture is placed throughout its rooms. A grand staircase of blackened wood leads to the upper levels, where rooms for those that reside within the house can be found. Midway up, the stairs split to the left and right, spiraling upward. Here, there is a landing with a set of double doors that leads to a large ballroom. The lower level of the house plays host to a dining area and kitchen, though rarely used, a grandiose library filled with grimoires and tomes, and a small museum of artifacts collected by the house's residents. Though there appear to be no candles to light the way, an ethereal glow floods the innards of the house, providing ample reading light - undoubtedly arcane in origin. Dark magic is weaved into the house's existence as a measure of protection.’’
Elioyahazer moved through his room after having fed, donning the armor and clothing he had always chosen to wear. As per usual, the man knows no shame and has left the door wide open, giving no thought to whom might be watching. Once his gear is settled a few weapons are snagged, some daggers and that bastard sword of his. It turns out that relaxing in the house can get quite stuffy and he plans to go out. As a final touch, the hood of his cloak is pulled over his cinnamon skinned features and he turns on foot to find Larewen, wherever she may be.
He wouldn’t have to go far to find the necromancer. Larewen, equally shameless, stood in his doorway, leaning against the frame. Her arms were crossed over her torso and, unlike Elioyahazer, she bore no weapons. In fact, she was dressed down according to before. A slim, verdant gown hugged her frame, paired with soft brown boots. And that one glove adorned her left hand, from the elbow down. When he turned to face her, those mismatched eyes trailed up his body slowly before meeting his. “Off already?”
Elioyahazer nearly skidded to a halt. She had been watching him again. Is she as much of a freak as he is? Invading space like it meant nothing? Well… Technically this is her space. She as per usual, looked quite ready to go with that verdant gown and soft brown boots. “I am.” Eli smiles once in response, revealing those near perfect teeth. “I don't know much about Vailkrin or the lay of it's land. I figured, with the war going on I could stick to the woods and explore a little.” His mutated eyes seek to make direct eye contact. “You're always welcome to tag along. Who knows, maybe we will find something interesting?” The desert born shrugs his shoulders.
Larewen arched a dark brow upward at the male. “You’re giving me options?” she asked, her voice candied. “And if I should decline your invite?” There’s a hint of genuine curiosity in her tone, and the rest seemed jesting. Of course the necromancer would follow him. It’d been too long since someone seemed to enjoy her company. The fact that he seemed every bit into carnage as she was was a perk. Larewen needed a friend.
At Dark Twisted Path
This path leads through the forest's haunting and constricting trees. The smell here is nauseating, almost like something has died and rotted away in the night. Along the ground are more spiders webs, and you see various cocoon like objects hanging from the tree branches. For some reason you feel you are being hunted, and should probably move on. You feel that you have been here before, and wonder what's going on.’’
Elioyahazer gives a teasing smile in response "You'll just have to watch this sweet ass walk out the door. Maybe get lost and saved by... Well someone else. I don't know anyone here who would look for me." He ignores her comment about choices. This wasn't the time for that, but her joke is noted. “Come on,” he tilts his head in the direction he wishes to travel. It's true, Eli is starting to enjoy her company. They seem to have the same love of carnage, though Elioyahazers seems to be growing every day. A separate thirst if you will. It isn't long until he's outside, assuming she followed him out to the forests. “What can you tell me about these woods?”
Larewen stepped after him, careful to keep a few paces behind Eliyohazer. She took his words quite literally, taking the opportunity to admire the fledgling from behind. She followed him down the stairs and out the ornate doors that led to the forest. When he stopped outside, she begrudgingly came to a halt beside him. “I would look for you,” she said, and her voice was solemn, sincere. It was also quiet, the words barely more than a breath upon her lips. Her gaze swept to and fro, taking in the familiar area around them. “Depends on what you want to know.” This time, she spoke louder. “That way—“ she points”—will take you toward the entrance to Trist’oth. North is a cave frequented by lycanthropes. And a dark pond which, strangely enough, is said to have a kraken within its depths. I’ve always wanted to find out, but simply haven’t had the time.” Quieter again, to herself, “I don’t have the time for this, either, but here I am.”
Elioyahazer pondered over her words, but stumbled over one of them. “A kraken?” His eyes look doubtful. So many tales belong to drunk men who half drowned and just got an up close and personal look at a fish or something. “And, I know you'd come looking. I was just teasing you.” Elioyahazer gives her a sideways glance to reassure her of his words. At this moment, he returns her shameless actions. The desert born would have to be stupid to think she wasn't staring at his backside. The difference is, he leans back and gets a good view of hers while standing beside her. “Yet, here you are with me. I'm sure one night away won't kill you.” Well… It might be too early for that still. However Elioyahazer continues to move east, gazing at the woods to insure their safety.
Larewen wasn’t oblivious either, as could be told by the smirk that tilted up the corners of her mouth. “For the sake of Vailkrin, I hope not,” she replied coyly. The necromancer lingered for a moment, letting Elioyahazer move ahead of her again. She wasn’t as concerned with their safety as he was, but she did take a precaution. The desert born might even feel it. A pulse of dark power left her form, undulating outward along the ground and tracing trees, bushes, critters and the like. If there was something there, she’d know it.
At Old Shack
There were no odd creatures for Larewen to detect other than the normal few that chose to hang around. Before long the two arrive outside of some cabin. The shacks door is half hung and partially destroyed, leaving a gaping whole for one to peer into the musty depths. Inside scattered footprints lay within the soot - whether recent or not seems rather difficult to tell. The eras old furniture lays draped in white cloth that has turned brown and gray due to its lack of upkeep. The smell of rot and ammonia are the main onslaught to their sniffers. The real oddity is a trap door in the corner seemingly propped slightly. Wonder where it leads. The room itself feels oppressive. The air itself is thick and heavy as if there was a stain of magic lingering in the building.
Elioyahazer nods his head once. “You'll be fine, I'm sure of it.” His eyes settle on the ramshackled hut with mild curiosity. “Let's check this out.” The desert born pushes the battered door open to let himself inside - the hinges whine in response, fighting Eli's response with fervor. If there was anything inside, they would be alerted to it now. With a sudden inhale of breath, he coughs once, covering his mouth because he's afraid of kicking the dust around more. “How long do you think it's been since anyone has entered?” His eyes switch to the footprints on the ground, one of these sets weren't normal; showing light claw marks. Great Eli groans to himself, what have they found now?
Larewen extended her arm when Elioyahazer spoke, her gaze set upon the place. The remnants of magic that hung in the air piqued her curiosity, but figuring out what exactly those threads had once been was not on the top of the necromancer’s priority. After all, she had bait. The elf was saying, “After you.” This gave Larewen ample time to see what happened. When nothing seemed to occur immediately following Elioyahazer’s entrance, she followed him into the shack. Mismatched eyes took in their surroundings, her nose flaring. To her, the smell of rot was like the other finest wine, for fresh blood would always take precedence. Her eyes weren’t trained to tracks the way Elioyahazer’s are, and so she didn’t note the tracks; however, when he gestured to the trap door, her interest immediately piqued. She almost skipped to its lip, crouching down with fingers flexed to open the door. Exploring was not something the necromancer did much of, so her giddiness was almost childish.
Something odd happens in the still of the cabin. There's no noise. Hell there aren't even any creatures making noise outside. For a moment, it feels like an iron curtain has been closed around you two. And then, a quick flash of light escapes from the trap door, just as Larewen goes to grab it and take a gander. Whatever the flash was it certainly is unexpected and bright.
Elioyahazer had decided to turn his back to the trap door. Instead opting to analyze the weathered furniture beneath those stained sheets. However it isn't long until the flash goes off. “What was that?” He's sure to make direct eye contact with Larewen. Did she touch something? Did she cast magic? Then he realizes she's at the trap door. “Why don't I go first?” Elioyahazer readies his weapon, growing far more serious.
Larewen was dazed by the bright flash and stood there poised over the trap door for a few moments longer. When Elioyahazer acted in chivalry, she wrinkled her nose and grabbed the loop by which to pull it open. With a heave, she flipped the hinge and the door fell back with a loud thud. “How about I play that role for once?” she replied, glancing over her shoulder at Elioyahazer. She waited only a second before hopping lithely down into the hole. There was no outward show of checking the area below for traps. Pride, eh?
At Shack Basement
The ladder down into the basement is worn out and about to crumble - it shakes ever so slightly with pressure on every step. The basement itself is much like topside, it's walls are riddled with dust and its dark. The only major problem is that the ground has about an inch of water throughout and it stinks to high heavens. However there is no furniture here. The space is empty save for one iron lamp, which looks like it could be lit. However, the presence of magic is far greater down here - and almost suffocating.
If she wants to play the part of cannon fodder so be it. Who was he to argue? Elioyahazer waits until she's gone in and then he himself drops into the bile filled water with a groan. Lifting a single foot to look at his boots, it's confirmed, these things were going to be destroyed. “These were new too,” he grumbles to himself. Paid for by the five vampires they killed in the Noble district. Once he knows Larewen is safe, he meanders on over to the iron torch. With a single word flames spring to life. “That's much better.” Of course it's better jackass, you just set off a trap. The door they used to come down springs closed and magically locks. But that's not all. One of the spaces in the walks vanishes revealing a floor to ceiling mirror. Odd.
Larewen stood still, her boots soaking through in the inch of murky water. Her eyes remained fixed ahead, her right eye closed. The magic was thick here, yes, but Larewen did not feel suffocated; rather, she was literally blinded. It was so bright that she could see the veins in her eyelid. She lifted her right hand to cover the offended eye and turned her gaze toward Elioyahazer when he lit the torch and the door slammed shut over her, the elf did the most curious thing: she jumped. All that power, and she was started by a door closing unexpectedly! By time she’d looked back down to the male, the wall had vanished and the mirror had appeared. She stepped nearer to it, extending her gloved hand toward it.
Once the mirror is inspected, another oddity reveals itself. The reflective surface is actually liquid. Some type of metal, if you were to guess and not glass. But further inspection shows something else. Behind the duo in the distance of the room, a ripple appears in the water reflected only in the mirror. Then another, slow at first but like footsteps. However, when you turn to gaze in it's direction, nothing is there and the ripples fade. Is something there, hiding just beyond your sights? It definitely feels that way. Even Elioyahazer is speechless at what he's witnessing. This would continue so long as the duo looked in the mirror, until something invisible and frightening attacks them both. Claws lunge for both Larewen and Eli, but neither can see the attack just yet, only hear it. There must be something they can do to see? Right? Elioyahazer finds three gaping claw marks appear upon his chest, scratching into the ashen flesh beneath it. “Shit, what's the plan Larewen?” Can she even see right now? His bastard sword is drawn, would he just wildly swing it?
Larewen ’s gaze moved back and forth between the mirror and the area behind her, ultimately focusing on what she could see rather than what she couldn’t. Opening her enchanted eye was not an option: not with the magic that hung so thickly in the air. She soon found this to be a mistake though, as the rippling made it harder to see. When the three strikes of a claw bit into Elioyahazer’s chest, they tore into Larewen’s back, bringing darkened ichor oozing to the surface. She fell forward, thrusting her further into the liquid of the mirror. Face first with that strange surface, she twisted to place her back against it instead, another pulse of energy sent outward. It was searching the room, seeking every nook and cranny as it sought something, anything by which to save them from the unseen creature.
It turns out that some mistakes have rewards! The liquid would not cling to Larewen features, luckily. However, her pulse of magic did do something. At the range she was at, it cancelled the heavy aura of magic and removed the enchantment that kept this monster hidden! The horror that emerges from invisibility is none other than a wraithen monster. Clad in torn rags and hand-me down robes. Beady black eyes and a maw riddled with more teeth than a dragon that grins back at the explorers - just what have they found? It howls once in an ear piercing scream that reverberates off the walls to perhaps daze and confuse. It lunges once for the necromancer, swiping it's lengthy natural weapons for her face. But it isn't done and rebounds backwards, throwing an Earth shattering punch for Eli's midsection.
The desert born shifts in the murky water, kicking something insignificant with his foot. Is that a floating dead rat? His eyes harden, disgusting, but his thoughts are interrupted instantaneously by shrill. His left hand raised to protect himself with a single arcane word which pools Mana around his frame like s hidden barrier. It works, until that fist collides with it, shattering his simple protection with relative ease. Elioyahazer staggers backwards from the brunt of the blow and catches his breath. Left hand moves to grab a dagger and launches it for the wraithen monsters meaty thigh. Elioyahazer charges inwards, dropping to a knee and spinning on the floor like a dancer. That bastard sword twists with him in a wide horizontal slash meant to disembowel the behemoth. Mid spin the sandman activates another arcane word, sending his blade into a wreath of flames leave after images in its wake and a plume of fire.
Larewen wasn’t quick enough. At least, not to escape its claws. She lifted her left arm, unable to retreat any further than she already was. Sharp claws tore through the cloth of her glove, shredding it and revealing decaying flesh beneath and a font of dark power. The necromancer moved quickly ripping off the rest of the glove to reveal the entirety of the cursed limb. Lunging forward, she grabbed its wrist before it could recoil for another strike and with it came an expulsion of necromancy. Her touch became virulent as disease, even effective on the undead, spread from her touch to plague the creature. “Elioyahazer, watch out!” she cried as the creature reached for him, but she was too late. Drawing back, she cleared the path for the desert born’s sword and side stepped so that the mirror didn’t restrain her ability to move.
Between their combined force, the opponent is soon subdued and is nothing more than a pile of ectoplasm, smoldering on the floor. Larewens necrotic, touch, having tore at the beasts flesh and mind long enough to be put down by Eli and those wicked flames. Once the creature was visible, it wasn't the biggest of threats. “What the hell was that?” Elioyahazer had been training to take on such monsters but even his books had nothing on this creature. It seemed more studying was required. Just as he is about to speak, sickening laughter fills the room - it's malevolent echoes only intensify it. “You killed my guardian.” No other words are spoken. “Larewen what could be lurking down here?” The space where the liquid mirror was, falls away, showing a single, narrow path to move forward. What waits for them beyond?
Larewen doesn’t have a clue, but she hears the laughter echoing around them. Her mismatched eyes turn toward Elioyahazer, her mouth opening to answer, “Off the top of my head? I couldn’t tell you. It’s been some time since I read the forbidden books.” Truth. Then she hears the words and a strange sort of delight crosses her features. Hopeful for a more challenging opponent, probably. Without waiting for Elioyahazer, she begins her way down the narrow path. She might not know where they are at this point besides beneath the shack, but she doesn’t care either. “Anything, given the magic that was in the air earlier. I couldn’t see through it, it was so bright. Let’s go find out what that is.”
When they finally make it through the corridor, a large rectangular room presents itself. A single man garbed in black and silver from head to toe. Closer inspection actually reveals him to be something else, with those pointed teeth and veiny bat like wings which flap behind him. “Fools.” With a wave of his hand, the very fabric of reality ripples, sending black tendrils to the dozens of corpses around, which raises hideous undead before their very eyes. The last, is a rather large, giant of an orc. That sickening laughter echoes once more. “Kill them!” Suddenly the two find themselves being swarmed - which caster was stronger?
Elioyahazer came to an abrupt halt, staring directly at the enemy necromancer with a scowl. So that is what called this place home. When the undead are summoned, Eli looks to Larewen only once. This gaze simply says, lets kill them all. Again. The desert born is off in a flash, pushing his speed to the very limits and leaping into the air. A series of chained arcane words exit his lips and when he lands it is devastation. Left hand slaps the ground sending a wave of fire in a semi circle around him. Hot flames lick and lash at all things, save for Larewen. Sure the raised minions might not feel pain, but in that burst of energy, not a single one remains standing - just the leader. Elioyahazer as an Outrider appears to be in his element, rising from the vanishing flames with steam escaping from his damp clothing. Though if Larewen is paying close attention, something else is wrong. His eyes suddenly scream of the thirst, having pushed his fledgling energy so far. But there's something more indeed. A devilish grin besmirches his features. Slaughter, has finally taken hold of his mind. Eli affixes his grip on the weapon once more.
Larewen is content to watch for the moment—not that she couldn’t handle the mass amount of minions to be slaughtered. The elf watches with anticipation as Elioyahazer makes quick work of the minions, admiring not only his ability, but his body as well. How could she not? When her gaze falls upon his face, she sees that hunger, that grip that sheer carnage has on him. Part of her wants to forget the opposing necromancer for that moment and close the distance, seal her mouth over his. But… that is not what needs to be done this moment. And so Larewen’s mismatched gaze reaffixes itself to enemy. Much like the creature before, Larewen lunges forward, but this time she reaches with her good hand, seeking purchase upon the other necromancer. She thirsts for his magic, and this leeching spell is of a different variety: it feeds off mana, rather than health.
The necromancer watched his created abominations turn to ash before his very eyes. You fiend, he nearly screams out, but instead raises a hand to defend himself from Larewen. Mana scrambles at his call, but it's response is too slow for her speed. She grasps hold of him, painfully so - leeching mana from his body like a parasite. He screams once and pulls his mind back to the matters at hand. His mouth opens once - spitting a fog of flesh rotting bile into Larewens nearby face. It's touch could burn, char and destroy that pretty little features. He yanks himself free with his strength and dashes back. When all is said and done the winged assailant gives up on magic and just lunges for Eli, swiping clawed digits at him over and over hoping his spell will deal with Larewen in time.
Elioyahazer is not himself. But perhaps through some twisted force of fate, was revealing the true version of whatever he had always been. Those clawed swipes are ignored. Yes, ignored. Rending flesh and revealing his vampiric life essence. He grunts with the pain only once, setting his jaw tight in grim defiance. Free left hand reaches out to grab the revenant by it's throat. The sword in his hand is pushed forward in an excruciatingly slow thrust - plunging the bladed weapon straight through the middle of the necro. This painfully brutish act gives Larewen all the time she needs to kill this necromancer, while he's Held by Eli.
Larewen thickens the air around her with such speed and force that the flesh-consuming fog consumes itself, the act pure reaction to a threat she couldn’t process. It saves her face in just the nick of time. Turning, the elf sets her gaze upon Elioyahazer as he impales the creature. She doesn’t have time to admire this time. Swapping her mismatched stare to the other necromancer, the elf’s lips move in archaic fashion. Locusts swarm in the air, each beat of their wings unleashing a miasmic cloud into the air around the enemy. Elioyahazer might want to move, and quick, for much like the spell that was thrown in her face, Larewen’s magic seeks to speed the process of decay—and if the creature is vampiric, the poisonous clouds will drain them dry.
Elioyahazer is completely lost in the depths of bloodshed. His mouth agape in a wicked grin to delete the struggling vampire in his grip. To belittle and batter his pride, to defy the enemies strength as a mere fledgling. The desert born is unaware of Larewens intent and thusly is assaulted himself - just like the creature within his hand. He can feel her magic working to drain him dry, and this only drives him into a more frenzied state. However the need to survive suddenly overwrites his mentality and the scornful creature is cast aside like trash; hitting the floor, sliding and smashing into the nearby wall. Eli jumps backwards away from her spell and nearly collapses, but his mind is his own. With exaggerated breath, he climbs to shaking feet staring at the dead Necromancers destroyed corpse. His eyes flicked to another area of the room where a chest sits. He's quick to open it and find coin, which he splits with Larewen. “We should probably leave.” Eli needs to feed and badly. His wounds are severe. The fact that he's even standing is testament to his iron will.