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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Carnifex" data-source="post: 1353806" data-attributes="member: 227">Some kind of accident...... thought Wyshira, as her glance fell on the terrible scars on Meg'anna's throat. A wild animal attack, possibly? That didn't seem likely, since the woman was a druidess. Perhaps some evil, unnatural creature had done it. Well whatever it was that had caused Meg'anna to lose the power of speech, it had likely been a traumatic experience. Especially if it had happened in childhood. Wyshira couldn't tell for sure how old the scars were. For a moment, she could clearly visualize how the wounds must have looked when they were freshly made, and her heart filled with compassion. When Meg'anna produced her slate and began writing on it, Wyshira read the words out loud. "And you would have gone in the Tower alone, in spite of the danger if these men truly are evil?" she asked the druidess, astonished. "It really is a good thing that we came along then!"Meg'anna paused, looking around. The camp was, in all actuality, deserted. Not that she couldn't see that previously, but it was verified by the completely empty capsites. Here there was signs of former habitation, an empty tankard here, a bit of discarded parchment there. All in all it was a disgusting mess. Bits of char and burnt wood lay scattered amid the ring of rock that once contained the campfire, yet now the living fire was now dead, a distant reminder of what once was. As if by habit, the druidess began picking up the small bits of refuse, piling them all in one of the hide tents. It was the least that she could do, for otherwise, the trash and bits of refuse would scatter about into the wilds, thrashing what is all natural and good. There was little that she could do to save all the wilderness from the trappings of man, but she could at least make a small difference here. With the final bit of trash picked up, Meg found there to be little else to do but venture to the tower. That was, orignally, why she came here in the first place. She had found nothing mentioning the gnoll she was sent to find, nor was there really any trace of those denizens that where here previously. She stopped for a moment and pulled out her slate again, and Meg'anna quickly scribbled a message upon it. I am going to the Tower now. What is your company here for? Are you seeking entry as well? She thrust the tablet towards Wyshira, hoping for some sort of answers. "Well, yes... yes we are planning to enter the Tower," Wyshira answered Meg'anna somewhat hesitantly. Next to the reason that the druidess had for being here - searching for the source of the evil blight upon the land - her company's purpose for coming to the Tower seemed much less worthy. "Like Melisande said, we're on a mission for a Truthseeker." That sounded noble enough on the surface. Actually, Wyshira knew less about what they were doing here than she should. She was here because Wolf had decided to take this job. And when Wolf was lost, she had continued on with the others. She didn't really care what they were here for; she only cared about keeping them all healthy. Which only served to remind her of her recent failure. She turned to where Kale stood watching the Tower, and found him talking quietly to Melisande. She considered Kale to be Wolf's chosen successor. He had been closest to Wolf afterall, and the one most likely to know the fallen mercenary's intentions. He seemed to be coming around a bit finally, and with this new serious side to his nature becoming more evident, she trusted him more than anyone else to make the best decisions about what to do next. With fierce determination she swore again to herself that she would let nothing happen to him, or to any of the others, if she could help it. Maybe it was time that she took a more active role in the decision-making process...... "I don't know what to tell you about these scholars," Wyshira went on to Meg'anna in a low voice. "They were ahead of us on the road. They say this is some sort of ancient Umbral outpost that they want to study." She shrugged to show that it made little difference to her, Shadows or no Shadows; but Meg'anna could see that her expression was grave. "The Tower is dangerous, Meg'anna. Strange, Umbral spirit-machines..... And there are likely other traps laid by the last inhabitant, a Carthagian wizard. Now we find this camp and that.. that horse; they can only mean more trouble. Don't go in alone. Wait and see what Kale decides to do and go with us."* * *Rather than going for either of the proffered foods, the Manipulated horse continued to watch her suspiciously, moving itself so as to always be facing her head on as she approached. From where she stood now, several feet away, she could see an impressive bridle and other pieces of riding gear attached, all red cloth and decoratively inscribed metal. Hanging from the bit dangled two golden emblems, and from peering as well as she could, the sorceress recognised the symbol emblazoned on them. It was, in her memory, associated with two things; firstly her Manipulator tutor, Professor Akarsis, the foremost biothaumaturge of the laboratory-fortress she attended at; and also with the school itself, which used the professor's personal insignia as its own more general emblem, playing on the famous achievements in flesh-twisting and genetics that the wizard had achieved to enhance its reputation against those of rival laboratories. Whether this meant the Professor himself was here, or just a member of that establishment, she could not tell. "Oh." Mel took a couple of steps back from the horse. It was her turn to stare warily at it. She lowered her hands slowly, stuffing the jerky in the first pocket it found its way to, and took a thoughtful bite of the apple. Maybe he just sold the horse to some mercenary. No, he wouldn't have sold his precious personal tack along with it. Maybe someone stole the horse? Mel smirked grimly. You didn't just walk off with a Manipulated horse. If it was indeed Akarsis or someone from the lab, she realized, there was likely to be trouble. Mostly because of her. Of course, she could try to bluff them, to pretend she'd been sent on this ultra-secret mission by someone over their heads like the Toranite church, long before they'd heard of it themselves.... Yes, it might work... except who would believe Melberry as some sort of secret agent? She could pretend the whole nitwit thing was a charade to keep them in the dark. Hm.... Deep in her pocket, roused by a stab of unidentifiable jerky, Pierre stirred. He sensed her disquiet and began automatically to worry, and then went stiff with horror as he caught a familiar mental whiff of something foul--something sinister! Akarsis! Pierre did not form words, but the concept of this personage rang out as clear as a name in his mental cry of terror. He began to kick uncontrollably in his clingy pocket as if swimming in despair. Tadpoles.... Tadpoles.... Swimming to and fro in a panic that gave a sour smell to the water.... Hundreds of monstrous tadpoles, like an amphibian's demon phantasmagoria.... One with implanted stingers festering in its back, another with the front end of a toad and the back end of some sort of newt, one with long, spidery legs, one with swollen venomous tongues lolling, one with five heads and no tail, like a hideous cartwheel spinning in the water. There had been electric shocks, scalpels under hot lights, bitter chemicals, cauterizing irons--evil things, and through the green surface scum the same face hovered thoroughout the torture. Akarsis! She had been there too, of course; he remembered Her. But She was the one who turned the hot lights down and lifted all the struggling things from the water gently to clean their tub, and gave them fresh red worms. Pierre knew it was She who had spliced him together but that had been before he was even a tadpole, and he didn't recall any pain, and now he was glad because he always had company. Some of the others weren't as lucky. And then She had spoken to him. She was kind. The other humans were cruel to Her. Pierre had sensed an ally, and they both cringed together when Akarsis approached. He thought that was over. But now! What treachery was this? Pierre! Settle down! Mel felt herself begin to hyperventilate in empathy. Floating images of pollywog hell reached her through Pierre's panic. Ugh, stop it. It might not even be he. Calm down! Even if it is, he won't hurt you. The experiments are over. I promise! Besides, it's me he'll be interested in seeing, not some dud of a Manipulated toad. Mel shivered, even though she was trying to soothe Pierre with a pat to the pocket. His thrashing slowed, more from exhaustion than anything else. She was looking around at her companions and feeling like a liability, and wondering whether she should tell them, and wishing she were invisible. Hm.... No. She would not hide. Once, when she was young and inexperienced--months ago!--she had run away from this evil. Now, it was time to stand! ...But carefully. Feigning nonchalance, she wandered over to where Kale stood in the camp. "Kale, I was just thinking--I could make a couple of us invisible if you wanted to scout the tower undetected. It wouldn't last an hour, but maybe that would give us a chance to see who else is in there before they see us. Alternatively we could send Pierre and Spike in...." She trailed off. There were still goosebumps from the thought of Professor Akarsis, but something told her she should be able to sense a presence so foul.... Head to one side, brow knit, she gazed up at the weird tower and concentrated.DM's Note: Melisande trying out her Detect Evil gained with her 1st level of Paladin <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f609.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=";)" title="Wink    ;)"  data-smilie="2"data-shortname=";)" />* * *Sebastion's quick circling of the area showed up nothing; no signs of movement except for the local wildlife, and certainly nothing suspicious that might indicate that anyone from the camp was prowling around. Equally the renewed search of the camp showed up nothing new. "Nothing," was all Jarvis could say with a shrug when Sebastion had returned from his patrol.Coming back to the gathering with a serious but not concerned expression, Sebastion wasn't surprised at all by Jarvis' findings, and simply nodded as he dismounted. Eyeing the manipulated beast warily, he searched the area to see if anything had been left out for it in the way of feed. Perhaps someone was intent on coming back. "We should be heading in soon, anyone in there will likely know we're here by now." he offered, catching up to the end of Mel's comversation with Kale. "Invisible? Will that stop anyone setting traps off?" Swallowing, despite himself, and suppressing the shudder he felt at asking, he continued with the line of thought. "How... how many of us could you inv... make invisible?" * * *As Melisande gazed up at the massive tower, looking intently for any trace of such foul presences as might reside within, she didn't particularly get any sense that there was anything evil there. Obviously the tower itself was rather foreboding but she couldn't see or feel anything more about the place than she had already observed. Then, a few seconds after she had begun concentrating... it was almost as if the tower reacted to her thoughts. High up in the structure, part of a vane-sprouting toweret that branched off the primary trunk crackled with dancing electricity, grinding into revolving motion with a screech of rusty metal before settling into a high-speed hum. Her concentration broken by the odd device high above, it seemed to turn off once again, slowing to a stop once again. Why it had begun to spin in the first place, and what it had done, was unclear, but with the sudden mechanical noise having subsided an eerie silence descended once again across the landscape around the tower. Mel smiled sheepishly as she came out from behind Sebastion, in whose shadow she had instinctively taken refuge when the tower started to rev up ominously. The sound reminded her of the kobold machine they's come across in the caverns, but much more refined. It was not good. "Strange, it was almost like it knew I was looking--or prying, that is. But unless I'm mistaken, there isn't anything consciously menacing inside. "Still," she concluded, turning back to Sebastion, "invisibility will not protect us from the traps--only from being seen. I can make two, maybe three people invisible for a little more than a half an hour each. "Then again, not only is there nothing consciously menacing but the previous parties may be watching us from up there right now and thinking, 'Ha, they're going to make themselves invisible.' Wouldn't that be stupid? You're right, we probably should get out of this open campsite soon." Hand on the hilt of his sword, staring up into the sky alongside the tower Sebastion felt slightly foolish when nothing happened, and only settled when he looked down and saw the alert postures and skyward glances that everyone else displayed. "I shouldn't blame myself, if I were you," he offered, quietly, as Mel emerged from behind him, "we were all looking." Settling his gear with a slightly nervous jangle, rearranging his mail-shirt on his shoulders, he cleared his throat and looked once more at the tower. "We don't actually know anything about the people that beat us here - they could just as well be students and scholars like... well, scholars, anyway. Let's be careful, but just head in and see how they are." The sages seemed to be nodding amongst themselves as Sebastion's words. Most seemed both eager to be on into the huge tower, while equally to be out of the wide open and away from the eerily empty campsites they had found. The tower's movement had only further settled and exceited them. Jarvis gave a shrug. "Not a lot we can do out here for the time being. There's plenty of the day left after all, so I'm sure we can at elast begin to make some headway in exploring the tower." * * *Ruin. Death. Caution. Ebri kicked at the long-dead embers again, sending them scattering across a wider space. The hard black bits re-formed into a new set of patterns. She read them idly, musing. She listened to her comrades, but her eyes were cast firmly upon the ground. Good Fortune. A Birth. Drought. These 'auguries' took no effort to recall, and it did not surprise her that her mind had retained them this long. Once they had been second nature to her, a part of each day's beginning and end. Her clan had set much store by them.  Fortunately for them, in Ebri they had had someone intelligent enough to interpret the random nonsense into something resembling guidance, if not actually wisdom. It had been service, of a kind, she reflected. They were unenlightened folk who asked for nothing more. Certainly her childhood had given her skills that served her at the monastery and here, today. It would be pointless to think otherwise. She brushed her sandal across the ground once more; three had been the 'number of completeness'. From a statistical point of view, it served her as well, offering a chance to display the disconnected and meaninglessness of such things. A Birth. Travel. Death. Such vague things. Meaningless, but useful to the weak-minded. No doubt if she explained what she was doing at this moment, and the supposed 'answers', her companions would shudder, and spend the next hour pondering... She turned back, walking over to them as the tower made its odd motion, taking in the horse, and her ward's increased blue color. Consternation? Anxiety? Surprise, of course. And possibly the proximity to Sebastion... That was... rather interesting..." she commented mildly, as she approached. "I do not say it is unwise, but I wonder how useful invisibility will be to us. For it seems probable to me that the tower, if it has a mother-spirit as these gentlement suggest, is already aware of our presence. It is likely any intelligent occupant therein is also alerted to us. But still, it may prove useful." "Or comforting, if nothing else." If you wish, I will join you in scouting. I have a way of becoming invisible myself, without need of your spell, Melisande. But I would also suggest that we simply go now, all of us, and find what may be there. I would not wish to split our strength on unknown ground. ""We're all here to explore, right?" Sebastion noted, facing the door with a thoughtful expression. "There's no reason to suggest they aren't here for the same thing - sneaking in on them will most likely just get their backs up. Let's just go in, and try to talk to them?" Despite the words, he took the time to buckle on the black-blade sword, and reached over his shoulder to re-arrange the three axes sat on their baldric as he waited for a response. * * *Mel tightened a leather strap that held her spear alongside her saddle. It would not be of much use in close quarters and she was ever more eager to baptise her new sword if it came down to it. And it was likely to. She bit her lip as she tore a couple of sheets from her notebook and folded them into a pocket along with a quill pen, in case she wanted to converse with Meg'anna; the book would stay in a saddle bag, along with much of the rations she was carrying. She should not be burdened in the tower. With cold dread she realized she was planning for another struggle against death. Could one ever become accustomed to fighting for one's life? Would her heart, adrenal glands, bladder and the rest ever become hardened to mortal fear? she wondered wistfully as she finished tying up her horse and located a convenient bush in order to address these over-stimulated physiological sensibilities. Emerging ready as she'd ever be, she joined the gathering group and faced the dark entryway. Whatever it held for her friends, it held one thing she would have to address alone. If she told them what she suspected, certain people would surely instruct her to remain outside. There was no way she'd let that happen. It was risky, but this was something she had to take care of someday, one way or another, ready or not. She was unusually silent as they began their ascent from the campsite, her mind and Pierre's communing in dread. Professor Akarsis. She'd feared him even when they were on the same side. Oh, let it be one of the snotty necromancers! Just not him!* * *It seemed most of those assembled were in agreement with Sebastion - they might as well go in and find out just what was waiting for them within with the minimum of fuss. "They might be looters or somesuch, of course; just avaricious treasure-hunters, in which case I advise everyone to be ready for trouble... though I still hold out hope for a reasonable reception..." Johanne said quietly as they approached the dark entranceway, metal arcing overhead as if it had writhed into place, a tangle of curved steel of unpleasantly organic appearance. It funnelled down to a dark pair of what seemed to be double-doors, the complex gear-lock seemingly having already been dealt with for one of the looming doors was slightly ajar. Jarvis wordlessly indicated what looked like three small cairns of stones on the rugged ground just outside the entrance of the tower, each marked with a piece of deadwood and some small talisman placed on them. The scout walked quietly over to the stones and gingerly picked up one of the talismans, a tiny emblem on a leather thong. "The symbol of Toran. Looks like someone has already experienced a definite danger within the tower. If they've lost people they're more likely to be edgy, jumpy... we should continue with caution..." Staring for a moment at the commitments to the fallen, Sebastion's face set a little into a frown, before he looked back up towards the tower. "Or, perhaps, a group that has already lost men may be willing to accept help." he offered, quietly. "Either way, we won't know until we're in. Kale, Jarvis, you go first, overlapping runs. I'll take the van of the group. Ladies, if you settle in with our learned brethren, and Casimir, was it? Could you cover the back?" Cazamir stared into the eyes of this man again. It was fine to see someone active about this situation, but Cazamir didn’t care for his orders. This Sebastion had paid him no coin. And of course, he was pulling Jarvis and Cazamir away from their charges. Cazamir glanced back at Johan. “I’ll be glad to investigate the dangers of the cairn, but I would not leave you unguarded. Should Jarvis or I stay here?” He nodded to indicate the scout. Then he turned back to the group, his jaw clinched tight. They had conveniently met another of their ‘party’ at this destination. What surprises would they be hiding inside for him?* * *Though she had wanted to start towards the tower, the priestess had kept her from going, at least for the moment. Meg screwed her face at the thought of waiting much longer, though she knew that if she wanted the help of those she had traveled with before, she would simply have to wait. Patience, however, was not one of Meg'anna's virtues. She paced around anxiously, awaiting the decisions of the others. The diminutive red fox scurried about the ends of her robes, Though the fox did not know what was troubling his mistress, the small canine could tell that something vexed her. It was then that those she both knew, and those she had recently met started towards the tower suddenly. Meg quickly shouldered her pack and followed them, keeping most of hte group ahead of her, as it was that she did not know all of the members therein. She kept Melisande in view, as she was the best known. Strangely enough, she kept fingering the blade she kept on herself, as if the woman was itching for a fight. Why though, Meg'anna could not say. The huge tower doors stood ajar slightly, and the stone cairns sent a ashiver down her spine. This was a place of strange magics and unnatural emminations. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up with the close proximity to the tower. Near her feet, Micah whined, while figeting back and forth, tattoo-ing the ground with his tiny footsteps. Toran!!! There are buried the men of Toran! And now we go into this place willingly? We must tread lightly, for whatever caused this destruction is most likely not to enjoy more company. Grasping firmly to her spear, Meg'anna fought down the shivers one last time before steeling herself against whatever they might find inside. Taking a tentative step forward, she slipped through the door. * * *It had been some time, Melisande realized as she moved into the cool shadow of the tower doors, since she'd felt the stern, accusing gaze of Toran weighing on her from above. After crossing into Naseria that burden had slowly lifted, until the moment she met Klavius and found Naskha and felt at last fully shielded from the Carthagian god's judgment. Now, standing over a cairn dedicated to the god she had disdained and betrayed, she felt a rush of goosebumps across the back of her neck. Not only had Iron-Handed Toran been invoked here,--was he watching?--but Carthagians had died. Might it be people she once knew? Some of the young necromancers from her lab, cut down by a trap they set off at the tower door? In spite of herself, she felt sorry. She'd never liked those necromancers much, but she didn't want them dead. Her first day in the lab she'd been guided into the upper level work area by a skinny, black-clad and black-fetlocked wart of a boy, only to discover a handful of other boys just like him, practically identical but for various heavy silver jewelry, more or less white matte makeup and a pimple or two. They looked up from their thick books and dissecting tables and scrutinized her for an uncomfortable moment before bursting into peals of nasal laughter. One asked her if she'd recently been strangled, and they all seemed to think that was terribly funny. Necromancer humor. They never included her. She never got it anyway. On evenings off they would gather to play some sort of trading card game in a candlelit vault, but they never invited Melberry. She was like a weird mascot for their sinister team, and they got no end of amusement from her. They slipped goblin guts into her pockets and forced her to clean up after their cruel experiments. When she'd first made Pierre they tried to put him down the outhouse hole. One of them brought to life a disembodied human hand and hid it in her workbench drawer. Mel stared down at the cairn and resisted feeling even the least bit satisfied. That wouldn't be nice. But what made her writhe the most was the memory of Akarsis. She hadn't hated the man by any means--he'd earned her profound respect, in fact. But the mere thought of his regard gave her a chill. A cryogenic knife of a man, with an icy, dissecting stare, Professor Akarsis had instantly inspired Melisande with deep adulation. She remembered showing up bright-eyed nearly an hour early for her interview and finding the professor in full lab regalia, looking like some huge dragonfly with his bulky magnifying goggles and long, thin frame hurrying from bench to bench. The interview was short, pointed and terse (at least on his end), just like every interaction they had had after that. He was as exact, brilliant and cold as the North Star. She knew how he would react to seeing her here. Interested. No! The goggles! The horrible goggles! Pierre had begun to squirm again. She squeezed her pocket with a clammy palm. Their nervousness was feeding on itself. She was nearly hyperventilating. Keep this up and I'll send you ahead to scout, she threatened, to which Pierre replied sulkily, but did at last settle down. Mel sidled forward warily, silently, waiting for the scouts to move ahead first. "Just let me know if you need light," she breathed. * * *The talismans on the cairns were familiar, of course. Wyshira would have known the symbol of Toran from the lessons she'd learned at her mother's knee, even if she hadn't just seen the exact same symbol, up close and personal, in her recent travels. How could she forget those horrible fanatics that had demanded that Burl be handed over to them back at the inn in Haltstath? The symbol of Toran would forever be etched deeply into her memory, right next to the sight of that menacing, spike-armored cleric towering over Kale, his black-mailed fingers closed tightly around the helpless rogue's throat. (As it turned out though, Kale hadn't been completely helpless in that zealot's grasp, had he?) Wyshira looked around nervously, as if clerics of Toran might be popping into existence all around the party: materializing out of the deceptively empty tents behind them; or reaching with iron-clad determination from the shadows beyond the Tower doorway. Well of course, there were likely to be a few clerics of Toran with a party of Carthagians. Her party had a cleric, didn't it? Any group of travelers probably would, and Carthagians would have Toranites. But that didn't mean that any Toranites inside would be after Burl, or recognize him on sight even if they were. And what were the odds that the clerics they'd encountered back in Halstath had gotten here ahead of them? Still, there was so much she didn't know about Burl....... So many things that might be connected in ways that she just couldn't fathom. Wyshira squeezed Kale's arm, and whispered a warning for him to take care, before he disappeared into the stone mouth of the Tower entrance. Then she took up a position just ahead of Burl, making sure that he was well ensconced in among the scholars. She held a prismatic javelin in her hand and peered into the darkness ahead, preparing to follow along with the others. Next Time: The Rusted Entryway...</blockquote>

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