• Closed • The Lost City (Graded)

[Patrick]

Cylus 11, Early

Location: Underground Ruins

They had ventured into the wild freezing unknown all for the sake of discovering the entrance of some lost city, and found themselves deeply centered in an elaborate puzzle soon after. Yet when the towers were pointed in the right direction and the Guardian statue revealed the entrance, Patrick couldn't wait any longer to get out of the cold and into somewhere just a little less freezing. Sure enough their descent into the jaws of the tunnels that led them into the mountain alleviated the chill some, as nobody could really complain that their fingers or toes weren't frozen anymore. However a chill still lingered within the damp air, almost eerily so in fact as the walls of the cavern seemed carved intricately.

He knew what these carvings were... murals. Stories of the ancient tribe that once lived here beneath the surface of the world, yet when they passed one mural in particular he stopped to shine the lantern on it's surface. A huge city. Something that looked comparably the size of a mountain, but if that were the case then... why was it underground now? He felt anxious build up in his stomach for some reason, already he wanted to get what they came for and leave. The discovery of a lost city would become a marvel short lived it seemed, as though he didn't want to chance disturbing anything lingering within the domain itself.

So what came next? "Looks like Orimar," Crowley pointed out as the group as a whole investigated the hall their selves, "The Orimatsu united a whole bunch of other clans to build this place. It's no surprise they'd depict that on one of their walls."

"But it's not just a mural," Patrick murmured as she shone the light ahead, a stone door hung halfway open before them with three rings at the center. "It's the Hall of Stories. I'd seen one just like this back at the burial site, we had to crack the puzzle just to open the door."

"Yeah... looks like the door's already halfway open." Crowley pointed out as the pair approached it, on the rings Patrick noticed three particular insignia's; An owl on the outer ring, a dragon on the middle ring, and then a bear on the innermost ring. "Looks like the puzzle itself is busted, otherwise the door would've completely sealed a long time ago." He sat the lantern down and then knelt to prop a shoulder underneath the door. "Here," He grunted lowly, "C'mon and give me a hand."

"Sure." Crowley agreed as he too pushed himself under the door.

"One, two, three!" Patrick counted before they proceeded to force themselves into a stand, admittedly pushing a heavy stone door wasn't entirely easy even with extra hands. "Okay-" He grunted as they finally stood as tall as they could with the door propped open, "Everyone else go through first, two of you need to hold the door up for Crowley and I." He instructed as the members walked through into the next room, when they would confirm that they had the door Patrick would motion for Crowley to go first. When his turn came he leaned down to grab the lantern, as they both entered a larger chamber than the one before. As the door finally fell into a slammed shut once the other two door holders released it, the group were free to explore the room they were now sealed in.

It was a very large chamber with what appeared to be another door at the end, this door being several stories tall and yet again elaborate carvings found on it. From the looks of it they resembled the city that awaited beyond, and there was the Guardian depicted above it with his six arms... and another six armed entity that looked like a woman. What was the deal with those? Did the tribe worship six armed Gods or something?? Patrick's eyes narrowed as he walked towards the center of the room, as three large round metallic insignia's resided in front of the door. However... their shapes were completely incomprehensible upon observation, as though they were entirely rearranged into some incorrect puzzle. At the center of the room were three pulley gears, each situated at an angle towards one another as their chains seemed to operate something underneath.

"It's another puzzle..." Patrick muttered with a quiet sight to follow, he had hoped that they'd easily walk right into the city without further delay. "This time though, we're opening the gate to Orimar itself."

"Looks a little more elaborate than the last one..." Crowley pointed out with a finger curled under his chin.

"It is." Pat answered as he inspected one of the three gears. "These gears should allow us to open the gate... somehow." With the lantern rested next to his foot, Patrick pushed up on the bars to rotate the gears that were connected to it. As he did this a loud grind was heard beneath them, and the insignia's near the door started to turn at certain angles. The one on the left had it's center rotate a little, while the middle insignia had an inner ring mimic the motion, and then finally the right insignia had the outermost ring do exactly the same as the others. All rotated clockwise when he pushed up, and when he noticed they reacted to the pulley system Patrick stopped right away.

He panted a few times as his biceps yet again felt sore from the amount of force he had to use, only to push some weird mechanic that affected a portion of the puzzle before them. "Rotating emblems. Large door. This is gotta be the final puzzle."

"So what's it suppose to be?" Crowley murmured as he approached the metallic plates and inspected them.

"I dunno..." Patrick glanced up to the door before them and wondered what it meant. Three pulleys and three emblems... Three emblems on the door in the Hall of Stories as well. What were they again? An owl, a dragon, and a bear as well. Could those three be the same as these plates here? "Okay," He finally announced to the group, "Somebody grab a pulley and get ready to turn the wheel! I've a hunch that these three insignia are related to the Orimatsu somehow, we have to align the emblems to match these three animals; the owl, the dragon, and the bear."

"What?!" Crowley inquired as he looked up from his position with intense eyes.

"Just trust me!" Patrick reassured him and any of the others that might've doubted his hunch, already he started to resume turning the gear to rotate his portions of the emblems.

[Ellen'wyn]

She didn’t like this place. It was an assault on the mind, being crammed underground in some dark ruins that hadn’t seen the light of day in lifetimes. The damp air was heavy in her lungs. It clung to her skin, making her feel clammy. Ellen was grateful for Niv’s comforting presence, but the mixed-blood could feel herself getting antsy. She fiddled the handle of the knife tucked into her belt, wings stiff and drawn in tightly to her back. Even they seemed cold now.

The group marched onward, deeper into the stone bowels of the tunnel. Patrick’s lantern cast a pool of warm light that flickered off the murals carved into the walls. She’d never seen anything quite like it. Ellen’s eyes lingered on the strange symbols while they walked, and in her preoccupation didn’t notice the group halt. She stepped on the back of young Finn’s boots, stumbling awkwardly in the wavering lamplight, grabbing his shoulders so he didn’t fall on his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, giving him a little squeeze, then wiped her sweating palms on her skirt.

They had come to a stone door that hung ajar, and an imposing mural of what looked to be some kind of massive city. Orimar, it would seem. She let Patrick and Crowley discuss at their leisure, and chose to simply keep her mouth shut while she tried not to start clawing at the walls. Her nostrils flared with a heavy sigh. Onward they would go it was decided after a brief exchange. It was the only way to go after all, other than back.

The chamber they entered was expansive. Patrick’s lantern left the edges of the room in a gloomy haze. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end—that feeling of being watched. Although her eyesight was better than a human’s, she didn’t trust herself to not make shadows into monsters. Ellen squatted and dropped her back, rummaging briefly for one of the torches at the bottom. Another moment and she had it lit. The heat from the open flame cast a comforting warmth around her that made her feel at least an incriment better.

Ellen’s eyes cast about the room. Up, down, all around. High ceilings, a new tall doorway that was resolutely locked, and another six-armed statue. She made it a point not to meet the stone creature’s gaze. Was it some long-dead race of people? The ones that had lived here? The mixed-blood stooped to examine some old discarded cloth. A banner perhaps, but it had been torn and faded beyond identification. She felt the dry materials between her fingers then gave an experimental sniff. Just old and musty.

A sudden grinding shift made her jump and whirl. Knife in hand and heart racing, she searched for anything amiss... but only saw Patrick fiddling with some sort of mechanism. Another sigh. Slipping the knife back into her belt she rejoined the others, watching the symbols move for a moment with a slanted, suspicious gaze. Patrick had gotten them this far. Why wouldn’t he be right again?

“I’ve got one,” she assured him, laying down the torch and grabbing hold of a pulley. There was some more deep groaning beneath their feet as the symbols started to rotate further. Ellen yanked and gritted her teeth, battling with the ancient mechanism until she was red in the face. It was slow, but it was moving.

[Oberan]

Oberan was pretty sure that no-one would have needed to climb the towers if someone had figured out the statue was hiding the entrance in the literal sense. As long as he knew where the door was, he could open it, whether it was locked by puzzles, latches, magic, passwords or literal barricades, before his power, none of that mattered. If he knew where the door was, and usually, that was exactly the problem.

However, the Mortalborn wasn’t yet sure if he would have used his abilities to force the guardian out of its place. After all, he’d decided to join this motely crew of amateur adventurers because of the promise of adventure. Solving puzzles was part of that adventure, part of the fun. As was figuring out how to proceed deeper into the ruins, or dodging the ancient traps left behind to deter raiders. On the other hand, Oberan wasn’t usually the patient type, and even now he was dying to just blaze the trail with breakneck speed, leading everyone as deep as possible, as quickly as possible. There was no telling what they would find inside, and satisfying that curiosity was paramount.

Yet, if he ignored the challenges on the way there, he would probably regret it afterwards.

It was dilemma.

While descending the tunnels, the group stopped to observe some old murals. Patrick and Crowley speculated on the meaning of the reliefs, forming hypothesizes on what part of the city they were in, and what purpose it had served long ago. Or something along those lines. Oberan wasn’t really listening. He’d found a piece of charcoal in a pocket of his clothes, and had begun writing a little rhyme on the walls, grinning like the twelve arc old boy in the group might have.

Our great prophesy foretold
Of a wealthy adventurer so bold
Raimus be his name
Premature ejaculator be his fame
He thought he’d get in here first
But--

The last few scribbles were an incomprehensible mess because of the lack of light, the others having gone ahead, and Oberan quickly made an effort to rejoin them, finding them stuck behind a door. Well, stuck… Crowley and Pat were already lifting the thing so the rest could get through. Bran quickly slid underneath it, then placed his arms under it from the other side, so everyone could pass.

When the last of them had entered the large chamber, Oberan let it just fall shut. It made an unholy amount of noise, and from the sound of it, no one would be able to wedge enough of themselves underneath it to push it back open. The Mortalborn only shrugged though, apparently not worried at all.

How could he have time for even being slightly anxious when there was a whole new room to discover? Another statue with a couple too many arms, and a fucking huge door. Also some mechanisms that Patrick was dying to try out apparently, which rotated some symbols or sigils or something. Another puzzle. A fucking boring puzzle at that. Rotating symbol puzzles were the worst, only someone who was like a thousand arcs old would use those—oh wait.
Actually, there was one way that those puzzles could be pretty interesting; if they activated a trap by using the wrong sequence of symbols. Then again, it might just not do anything. What to do, what to do…

“Say, Pat,” Oberan spoke as more and more people grabbed hold of the pulleys, not making a move to help out. “You want me to open that door for you? Or you rather get a bit of pump going? I’m fine either way, y’know.”

Depending on the answer, the Mortalborn would either make himself useful or go stand to the side for a few bits, simply staring at the others doing the heavy lifting.

[Gangui]

Young Peleus

Young Peleus put on the veil of courage over his fear. He could lie to the group easily enough by embodying the values of Turkey Company as a mask. But. He could not lie to himself. Deep down he was scared of this mysterious ruin.

The entire concept of it made him sick. It made him question everything about his reality. He had been taught in school that no civilization had ever existed in the lands east of the Westride before Morgan Pahrn’s rebellion against the Immortals. He was too caught up in the moment to unravel these thoughts though.

His eyes glazed over the murals, but did not take in any of their meanings. He had to ignore all this doubt. He had to focus on taking actions and being productive. Commander Gangui had once told him doubt only led to the death of those around them.

Clasping the shield over his heart and taking his sword in hand, he stepped with nimble feet through the dusty stone floor that was Orimar. He searched for triggers or buttons of the like, but found none. His eyes scanned slowly in the dim light, when Patrick finally figured out the next step.

Ellen’wyn was already helping, her heart fierce and good. Oberan on the other hand seemed lazy, not moving at all. Stepping forward like a good ol’ boy, he pushed the mortalborn aside and sheathed his sword in order to help Patrick solve the puzzle.

“Heave!” Young Peleus roared as he pushed. Using all his energy, he barely felt the wheel budge. Inch by inch he pushed to align the symbols of the circle with what Patrick dictated. It was a rather simple puzzle, really. Just align the symbols in the correct order.

After an unrelenting struggle and with the help of those who were not lazy, the group was able to finally open the chamber.

Sweaty and breathing heavy, Peleus covered up his fear again by hoisting his shield up and brandishing his sword once again. His mind still focused on taking actions, he noticed a button on the wall.

He pushed it without thought…

[Finnegan O'Connor]

The Lost City

11th Cylus, 718

The dim light of the lanterns only permitted glimpses of the intricate carvings on the wall, telling countless stories of what had once been a mighty civilization, or so it would appear. Finn stuck close to Patrick and Crowley, stopping occasionally as they did to study the curious murals. He marvelled at the craftsmanship one moment but was filled with melancholy the next. Whoever had made these works had long since turned to dust, yet still spoke to them through the ages. If only he could understand.

He jolted, nearly tripped, and then spun around when something bumped into him. But instead of staring into the drooling mouth of a cave monster he was met with a hasty apology from Ellen. “No worries,” he gasped, just as startled as much as her.

As soon as he’d regained his composure, his eyes fell on a different carving and he frowned. This he could read, but he didn’t quite understand, the carving looked fresh and was written in an almost childish font. He read the little rhyme a few times, making a mental note to remember it and ask the more knowledgeable in the group about it.

He was soon shaken from his thoughts when a door was revealed, locked by concentric circles, or it would have been had the ancient mechanism worked. Finn abandoned the mysterious rhyme and edged closer to the newfound passage, wondering if he could squeeze himself underneath the narrow opening. Thankfully he didn’t need to crawl under anything as the door was instead propped up by the strongest in their haphazard expedition.

It could be considered bravery that he was one of the first to pass underneath the stone door, in truth he simply wanted to get across fast before the whole thing came crashing down on top of him. To his dismay the last two who held the door up let it come thudding down, sealing them off. “You better be damn sure this isn’t a dead end,” he muttered, annoyed that no one had thought to place a rock under the door, to keep it from closing entirely. On the flipside, the rock was more comfortable this way, he sensed as much even though he wasn’t particularly attuned to the rumbling voice of the earth.

Arms crossed, he trailed behind the rest of the group, wondering why the people who lived here had inconvenienced themselves with puzzles to their entrances. Not only must it have been a chore to the people who lived there, but it seemed a rather poor defense against enemies. Perhaps that was why these tribal people had fallen.

He halted halfway across the room where Patrick activated some mechanism or another through the pulley. He wasn’t as weak as anyone might think, but clearly these mechanisms hadn’t been used in ages and if it took someone bulging with muscle like Patrick considerable effort… No, he'd leave the heavy lifting to Patrick, Peleus, and all the other adults.

“Uhm,” he wondered aloud, “I saw a rhyme back there. Said something about Raimus. Why would it say something about Raimus?” His question wasn’t aimed at anyone in particular, but before anyone had time to answer, he posed another. “What’s a premature ejaculator?”

[Patrick]

Off Topic

Note for the mods; Niv has opted for her PC to be NPC'd for the remainder of this plot. Also thank Gangui for what your about to read guys, I hope you enjoy the result of this post. No post order necessary to move this thread along!

Not long after he started to give it his all with just pushing the mechanism, Patrick and the other two worked to steer the three plates on the floor. All different portions of each insignia turned and each differently, thus making the puzzle much more adequately time consuming than before. He paused as he watched the bronze plates continue twisting, save for the parts that stopped once he discontinued his own pushing. The left one almost looked like what he thought, which had to be the 'bear' insignia he contemplated earlier. The center plate being the owl as well, and the plate on the right almost matching the dragon for just a moment. First he looked to Peleus and watched for a few trills as the stout man turned his pulley, a hand raised to signal for him to stop as he urgently tried to speak to the man. "Stop, stop, stop!" Both he and Ellen seemed to have stop when he did this, and Patrick looked at each individual plate to see where they left off at. "Peleus, turn yours back two clicks."

However the man might've reacted he obliged with the instruction and in doing so, turned his pulley back the precise amount as requested. "There!" Patrick pointed to the center emblem first, the head of the owl at the top now where it needed to rest. To the right it seemed as though the tail of the dragon rested near the bottom, and the bear on the left had at least one leg and part of it's back outlined properly. At that point Oberan offered to use his power, to unlock whatever mechanism might actually be sealing the gate. It had proved a far more tempting and easier thought, yet when Patrick looked from the impish man towards the door... something suggested that the idea wasn't a good one... "Maybe... we should see about solving this first. We're onto something now I think, Ellen I need you to continue rotating your's just a few more times."

At that Peleus seemed to start walking off, but before he did Patrick proceeded to snap a finger at him. "Thanks Pel, good work so far!" At that he continued to watch the emblems as Ellen heaved, until Pat saw the next pieces of the puzzle align with their appropriate dimensions. "Whoa, whoa that's good! Right there!" A smile crossed his features as he seemed alight with excitement, enthusiasm in his tone as he peddled towards the insignia's. "Look!!" Crowley and whoever else took interest approached to see what he was getting ecstatic over, as sure enough the plates resembled the very same emblems on the door. "They're the same as what we saw on the door, and on the gate as well if you look up at it!"

"Fascinating," Crowley muttered as he turned to look towards the great stone door, "But what do they have to do with Orimar."

"The Orimatsu worshiped the Emea right? Or something within the Emea? So what can we guess are residents of the Emea?"

"Spirits and monsters come to mind." Crowley then twisted around to face the group once more, his eyes fallen on the bear first and then the owl. "And... the Immortals."

"Exactly!" Pat cheered as he about skipped back to his own mechanism. "Maybe what we're looking at isn't just animals, otherwise this depiction of a dragon wouldn't exist!" With that statement he grunted before a heave was made to push the pegs forward, the last three misaligned pieces of the plates turned to finally finish the last piece of the puzzle. After a few pants and a heavy sigh he moved away from his stand, the stone beneath them grinding and slowly turning to a halted click. "Maybe what we're looking at is a representation of their deities." Sure enough the click that took place followed with a momentary silence, until the very room itself pulsated with vibration from deep within. The gate before them seemed to respond to the completion of the final puzzle, as one last pedestal slowly rose from the floor before the sealed entrance. The lock.

Finn seemed to inquire something aloud that almost went unnoticed at first, a query at Raimeus and how he might've fit into this. The question itself didn't make much sense at first but then... Crowley and Pat both couldn't help but turn to the boy, eyebrows raised as both men could only wonder what the hell they just heard. Premature ejaculator? Really?! "Where on Idalos did you come up with that?!" The older man asked almost bewildered as he tried to cover a laugh, Patrick of course couldn't help but burst aloud as he found it absolutely hilarious. "Patrick really? The kid's too little to wonder about that shit."

"Sorry!" He cried with a finger used to wipe away a tear of utter joy. "That's just... too rich." Poor Finn. The kid had no idea what lewd madness he almost stirred, that is until Peleus' action with a mechanism near their entrance created a stir. Almost like the door that didn't work right before had full function once more, the doorway they'd came through to get here budged with a loud crack before slowly opening the way beyond. Well at least the group had a way of going back outside now if they needed to- Oh my God no they didn't.

Just as the door rose to open up on the other side stood the man of the Break... Raimeus. Along with Kleo and a bunch of his henchmen as well, all surprised to see that the door 'magically' opened for them. "Well... that certainly wasn't expected." The rich man murmured with a wry if not menacing grin, sure enough a motion of his two fingers signaled for his men to move on in and take over.

"Dammit Peleus!!" Patrick cursed as he reached for his broadsword at his belt, but already he refrained from drawing the weapon. Too many men seemed to march on in, far too many for the group to be able to handle it would seem.

They were all now prisoners of Raimeus Madeus and his partner Kleo.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

The Lost City

11th Cylus, 718

A frown etched itself onto his face at Crowley’s fierce response. “I didn’t make it up. It was on the wall!” he retorted with a huff. Was he not supposed to know? What other secrets were they keeping from him? It didn’t help that Patrick seemed terribly amused by what he’d said, which only served to further agitate him. He opened his mouth to ask for specifics when a low rumble prompted him to turn around. The heavy stone door through which they’d come, the one that had fallen back into its lock with a menacing thud, was sliding open once more, but how?

That question became irrelevant as he noticed feet, legs, bodies behind the door. Swathes of them bathing in lantern light showing not only their numbers but also just how well-armed they were. He didn’t need to guess twice who the man at the front of the pack was, the angry, smirking face spoke volumes as did the golden rings on his bony fingers and the thick, rich furs the man could manage to afford.

In a single motion, Finn rolled his bow off his shoulder, knocked an arrow and aimed at Raimeus but let his fingers linger on the feathers of the arrow. He considered that even if he missed the leader he’d surely hit someone, and then there’d be many, many more left, none of whom would be particularly pleased with him if he shot one of theirs. This didn’t look like a fight they could win, yet he maintained the threat of fire, hoping to buy some time at least.

“That’s close enough,” he grumbled at the unwanted visitors. His eyes flitted to the rock ceiling, wondering if he could manage to bring it down, but then he discarded the thought. Even if he could, he’d trap himself and the others too. Besides, out of all elements, the earth was the most difficult to sway. His eyes returned to the advancing troops and he hoped against hope that the old delaying trick would still work.

“Have you bought a new boat yet? Sorry about the fire. Seems things got a little heated between us," he said as he motioned his head between the two groups. "Hey, did you know the Orimatsu think you’re a premature ejaculator?” he gave an innocent shrug. “It says so on the way in. Not sure you can read though?” He arched an eyebrow at Raimeus and his henchmen, wondering if any of them knew anything about the lost city or if they were just there for the treasure.

[Oberan]

The flapper had stepped up to help Patrick and Crowley solve the puzzle, turning ancient gears to mix and match the right depictions of animals. While he couldn’t comprehend that the Orimatsu would use such a pain in the ass security system when entering their city, the fact that it wasn’t that hard to figure out at all was even more mind boggling. Patrick had easily deduced which animals were the right ones, so there really wasn’t that much of a challenge involved. Except for actually using the damn gears, that is.

Even with three people, Patrick and co were still struggling. Turkey Knight stepped forward, pushing past Oberan, clearly annoyed the Mortalborn wasn’t helping out. Why would he? The physical labor would only wear him out, and he’d clambered that fucking cliff before. Even though the Mortalborn hid it well, his limbs were still tired from the climb, and he was certain they’d be sore the next trial. Either way, he’d likely not be of that much help whether he did or didn’t help out, as he wasn’t that strong. However, he had one way he could lend aid…

He approached the door to inspect it, standing before the huge stone slabs which looked as if it would be impossible to open even with half an army worth of people pushing or pulling at it. Too large, too heavy, and –if the puzzle was any indication—possibly rigged with a mechanism to open it, but which also prevented people brute-forcing their way through. No solution to the puzzle, no access. A smirk appeared on the Mortalborn’s face. Oberan was not limited to the rules binding ordinary mortals. Mechanism or not, if he wanted it to open, it would open.

However, Patrick dismissed the idea, much to Bran’s dismay. “I don’t think it’s a good idea” he spoke. “Let’s solve the puzzle first” he said. Tsk. The puzzle would solve itself if he used his power, and the door would open. It would be faster, and they would all be in good shape for the rest of the exploration.

No, Oberan thought that Patrick was having a blast solving the puzzles, showing of how clever he was, how much work he’d poured into researching this ancient people. Usually, Bran wouldn’t spoil the man’s fun, but he wasn’t interested in boring puzzles. He wanted to get to the cool stuff: the traps, the treasure, the peril!

He frowned, turning back to the doors. Fuck it, he thought, I’m opening this shit.

With but a thought he reached out, feeling the surge of power stir up inside him, bubbling to the surface of his very being. He focused it, commanded it, forcing it into the huge doors. The key in his hand grew hot for a few trills, its shape distorting like wax in the sun.

The smug look on his face faltered as nothing happened.

Impossible.

Oberan had cracked combination locks with the God Key, watching the numbered disks spin around, flitting from position to position, as if a ghost was forced to input the correct combination. He had entered rooms with barricaded doors, hearing furniture move out of the way so the door could swing open. He had seen mages stare in disbelief as his power easily dealt with the seal they had placed on the door. He had seen their eyes pop out of their skull as he’d reopened the rupturing portal they had just closed.

There was nothing he could not open.

And yet, the door before him had not budged.

This was an impossibility, an anomaly! His power should open everything that could be opened! This simply was not po—of course! The door was a fake, it couldn’t be opened. He laughed weakly, wiping cold sweat from his brow. His eyes fell on the balled fist in which a key sat.

Certainty or ignorance? Did he really want to know?

He opened his hand. The key was deformed, no longer the slick and useable tool it had been.

No! This was not happening! This was a dream! It had to be, there was no way this could happen! If the key was distorted, his power had been used, and his power could not be used on things that could not be opened. Therefore, the key should have been in its original state.

Oh. Oh, stupid Bran! He chuckled, the sound not matching the color-drained paleness of his face. This all made sense now. Such a dumb mistake. He’d grabbed a distorted key from his pouch instead of a new one. He’d tried using a key he’d already used up. Of course his power hadn’t worked!

Except, he’d left all used keys in his house to bring them to a blacksmith on a later date. They sat in a bowl on the table in his living room. Maybe he’d missed one? Yes, that had to be the case. The heat he’d felt had to be his own body warming up the key, right? His power couldn’t fail, there was nothing he couldn’t open. He was the goddamn Mortalborn of Larceny, getting into places he wasn’t supposed to was his whole deal! Picking locks that were impossible to pick and getting through doors that were impossible to get through were a cakewalk for him. Locks meant nothing to him. Doors meant nothing to him. Puzzles meant nothing to him. This door refusing to open was simply not possible! Not fucking possible!

He froze, all the hairs on his body standing upright, shivers running down his spine. The cold sweat began feeling like it pooled under his armpits and on his forehead. The others were merrily continuing with the puzzle, unaware of the otherworldly presence pushing itself into his mind, bearing down on him with the weight of all the mountains on Idalos combined. The pressure was overwhelmingly huge, and Oberan felt small, insignificant. All thoughts were crushed before they had a chance to form, his mind unable to cope with the sheer presence of the being. Only raw emotion was left, and even that was almost drowned out.

Oberan could feel it stare, fixing its invisible gaze on him, and would have flinched away if he’d remembered how to. He could feel it pierce through his skin, through the layers and layers of his conscious and subconscious, through the bravado and personas, right into his very soul, his essence. It did not like what it saw.

Its voice boomed through his mind, a deep growl that reverberated in his bones and sent static electricity coursing over his skin.

"Kol va be-shu'ul Vortem!"

Oberan did not recognize, nor understand the language, but the meaning was clear. As the presence left him, there was little doubt in his mind he’d just been given a warning.

When coherent thought returned to him, the Mortalborn was surprised to find himself on the floor, a couple steps away from where he had been standing. His hands and knees trembled like a leaf, his body was drenched in sweat, and his expression was the very definition of ‘spooked’. In any other circumstance he’d have laughed at Finn’s innocent question, he’d have asked him if his sister had yet seen fit to tell him about the birds and the bees. Perhaps he’d have tried explaining the word to him, using a patronizing tone of voice and child-friendly metaphors. Now he did none of that. Now he simply hauled himself back onto his feet, trying his hardest to get his shivering limbs under control, hoping to mask the inner turmoil with a relatively calm exterior.

Even when Raimeus walked in with his personal army, he barely did a thing. Finn taunted the man, and once again Oberan would have laughed. The jokes barely even registered in his mind, as did the horrible situation the group was now it. Raimeus’ men didn’t scare him, not after that. He did recognize he should perhaps try and do something about the situation. Patrick’s group was hopelessly outnumbered, so fighting was suicide. Trying to run wasn’t going to work either. They were at the mercy of the rich man, unless Oberan conjured up a distraction potent enough to allow for an escape. Or at least grant better odds at escape.

Only he could do such a thing. Him and him alone, Djas, Mortalborn of—

He didn’t want to try. He didn’t dare to try. If that too—

No. He did not want to know. He chose ignorance instead.

[Ellen'wyn]

She paused briefly on Patrick's hurried commands, then commenced again once he gave the all clear. Ellen huffed and struggled, but continued to make headway. He shouted again in excitement and the redhead stopped, feet almost slipping out from under her with the sudden change in momentum. She dangled briefly from the rope before catching her balance again. Patrick and Crowley seemed particularly interested in the symbols, and they exchanged quick suggestions back and forth. Her gaze flitted between the two of them, back and forth for several moments while Pat fiddled with the puzzle some more.

The room suddenly shuddered. Another pedestal rose from the floor. Ellen almost groaned. Another puzzle piece? She was too distracted and annoyed by the strange mechanisms and architecture to catch Finn's little comment, and it was only when the laughter finally registered that she turned back to the men.

"What are yo--?"

The door behind them suddenly creaked and scraped. Stone protested and shifted, opening to reveal a very familiar looking group of faces. Ellen turned and instinctively grabbed the handle of the knife tucked in her belt. The mixed-blood recognized Kleo immediately. The woman had hired her to be a part of Raimeus' band of mercenaries. She'd been kind, so Ellen had initially regretted breaking their contract, but after realizing everything that Raimeus had been doing, she stopped feeling guilty pretty quick. The two women's eyes locked and Kleo offered a particularly acidic glare. If looks could kill, Ellen would have dropped right there. But they didn't, so the redhead glared right back.

The half-breed partially unfurled her wings and slipped her bow from her shoulder. Finn already had his at the ready. Ellen nocked a broadhead but did not draw. There were a lot of them. Some had crossbows, others had axes, swords, clubs, or spears. It was a hodgepodge of deadly and greedy individuals. They were moving through the entry hall, so many of them clumped together and easy targets, but by the time she shot a handful they'd be on top of the group. Ellen cast her eyes up instinctively, searching for high ground.

There were stone figures jutting out of the high walls. Some were similar to the multi-armed guardian they'd already encountered. Others were animal totems, stretching out and striking with claws and fangs bared. Though they were old and some of them crumbling, several still looked quite sturdy. It would be out of range for most of Raimeus and Kleo's mercenaries, aside from those with ranged weapons. She looked back at the incoming men and women, trying to pick the archers out of the crowd.

Ellen began to back away as some of the more daring individuals stalked even closer. Her heart was pounding but her mind was surprisingly clear.

"You better hang on," she ordered Niv and the little Tunäwä nodded emphatically, clinging to her scarf and hair.

[Gangui]

Young Peleus

When Raimeus and his mercenaries entered the fray they brought a lot of alarm and chaos into the situation. By the look on Patrick’s face, Peleus realized it was all his fault. Quickly he pushed the button again repeatedly, hoping quietly for extreme luck to be on his side. Alas, he could not undo what he had done, so he donned his shield once more and covered his heart.

Fear was the dominant feeling he felt now. He saw his own death on the horizon. He thought of Gangui and his words of wisdom. He thought of his own terrible childhood. He remembered the good parts though; The light of his righteous upbringing still shone. It led him to this most dangerous point; representing Turkey Company all alone in the hornets nest as an Etzori patriot.

What would Gangui do? He found himself thinking of all his training, all the history lessons, all the combat lessons. He remembered the world view instilled by the zealots. Thus, Peleus decided to act in the face of Raimeus as his handful of men.

He grabbed his dagger, but didn’t draw it from his waist. He waited.

The air got tense as everyone in their party froze solid. The look of surprise and fear went all over their faces— at least for a moment — as they reality of the situation kicked in.

No one said a word.

Peleus on the other hand, had something to say.

He decided to take action. He drew his dagger; Gangui was a hero! Why could he be one?

Peleus lifted the blade over his shoulder. Raimeus has betrayed Turkey Company! Why should he live?

A sudden burst of rage came forth — he had made up his mind for better or worse — from deep within he pulsated in his body; he threw the dagger. “Gammok evegensis!” Fuck nobles — Ith’ession words where uttered before he threw the dagger aiming it at Raimeus’ head.

Peleus didn’t know why he did it. He didn’t account for the price of such an action. Merely, he was acting on a primal instinct to kill. The natural energy of life incarnate, fueling the kinetic energy he produced to unfurl his arm in heroic action.

He waited as the dagger flew through the air at Raimeus.

In the mean time, Peleus drew his sword…