• Closed • The First Steps in a Thousand Arcs

The Vault Thread #1: Floor 1, Room 1

From Tried's Mouth to the mysterious Tower, the waters around Scalvoris and the island itself hold a vast array of secrets, just ripe for discovery. Here are landmarks and small villages of note, dotted in and around the island itself.

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The First Steps in a Thousand Arcs

Postby Rowan » Sun May 13, 2018 5:22 pm

When Rowan saw Charlie's foot coming down, he thought that Amaris was going to die. Of all the deaths that one could suffer, he didn't think there was any more pathetic than being squashed like an insignificant bug under foot. He managed to slide to a stop before he crashed into it, hands raising to his face to shield his gaze but ultimately finding himself unable to look away. When it raised and their companion was not in fact squashed flat, the young man whooshed out breath in relief and then all but dived at the councillor, helping them to their feet if they needed it and ready to drag them towards safety.

Upon reaching the mouse hole, Rowan rested his hands on his sides, bending over slightly as he gasped air into his lungs, discovering that it was a little easier to breathe in that position than if he had simply stood straight. At least, there was some air to cool him, wafting on his right side so that his warmed body had some relief after that run. While he recovered, his pulse and the sound of his own ragged breathing in his ears, the blond was able to hear the boom of their much larger compatriots although it was difficult to hear just what was being said over his own bodily sounds. He did his best to quieten his breathing, straining to hear. Sephira's voice sounded deeper but it wasn't as deep as Charlie's and so he was able to discern that she believed the shop owner had done something to them. He wished that he could march out of the mouse hole and explain what was going on but he didn't really have that option; an actual mouse would be more noticeable right now than him.

However, as he glanced back towards the booming voices, his body tensed, a looming shape showing that they had other more immediate problems than informing the Element where they'd gotten to. What dropped onto the ground before them, having slid down on a silken thread, was a spider. However, even with the low lighting it was clear that it was no ordinary arachnid. Like most things in the shop, this one was wooden and given the nature of their recent host, it probably shouldn't have come as a surprise to see it. If Charlie's formal mistress had been talented enough to make something sentient and humanoid, why couldn't she make a simple spider with very nasty looking fangs?

The young man straightened, taking a cautious step backwards in case a sudden move made it lunge, fingers tightening around the hatchet that he still held in hand. A hatchet that he was now very glad hadn't been spirited away into his companion's bag like his rope.

"Amaris, we need to move slowly and-" he began to whisper but too late, the carved insect was already on the offensive, aiming for their taller companion. The young man had used a hatchet before but for practical tasks like chopping wood for his mother's fire, not as a weapon. Well, it was wooden so it wasn't that different, he guessed although the wood looked hard.

He wrapped his other hand around its handle, turning his body slightly away from the creature so that when he swung, swivelling at the hips, it'd have a bit more momentum, a slightly harder impact - at least, he hoped so! The shape of the handle helped him index where the blade was and thus, he felt confident that when he let fly, the blade would actually hit something. He swung at a slight diagonal, aiming for the top of one of its front legs, hoping that even if he didn't catch the limb, it might go up into its body. The legs were the narrowest part on the creature and likely the most vulnerable, wooden or not. He'd seen many fleshy spiders fall foul of children and cats who made their limbs buckle at unnatural angles or broke them off altogether.

"Timber!" he roared, throwing all his force, rage and frustration behind it. He had no idea if spiders could hear but if they could, he hoped that he scared the shit out of it.
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The First Steps in a Thousand Arcs

Postby Amaris » Tue May 15, 2018 10:50 pm

- common / murnasian

Had their lives flashed before their eyes? Not quite; it was more so a collection of thoughts ranging from despair and final wishes to firm wishing for otherwise. Their mind skipped from one to the next as Charlie’s foot slammed down - but not on them. Rather, it brushed past their nose and wind of the impact shook them. His foot alighted and they were off once more, aided by Rowan to the mouse hole.

Finally, or seemingly, safe, they were able to stop and catch their breath. They could hear their breathing echoing in their ears to the fast drum of their heart. Amaris would not say their thoughts on the situation. More accurately, they could not. An attempt at speech produced little more than a sharp wheezing as they hunched over and caught their breath. They needed, most importantly, to convey an idea that they might have had to regaining their rightful size, but they would not get the chance. As the words hit their tongue, something appeared and much of the light seeping into the mouse hole. Turning slowly, their eyes fell to the wooden spider and a sort of emptiness hit them.

Why must it have been a spider? The mixed blood could confidently say that they had a horrid history with spiders that were in any way larger than them. It might have been only one instance, but it was enough of an experience that would taint their outlook on arachnids. Swallowing, they watched the drip of venom from the monster’s mouth with a muted terror. A blank expression had settled over their features, changing only slightly as the creature lunged at them. Oh, yes; this was how they were to die, they supposed. So much for living the fullest of a borrowed life, a voice seemed to say. And that must have been enough to knock them from their stupor, headed towards the right with a belated mental push to their legs.

It was a fleeting trill that the idea of possibly tripping over themselves hit, but they would not allow it. Instead, they focused on running the intended course and out of the way. And perhaps they might have laughed at their companions battlecry, but couldn’t find it in themselves beyond the heaving of their chest and the burning of their limbs.
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