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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Archon Basileus" data-source="post: 7026492" data-attributes="member: 6855545">EVERYONEAs the dust settles, the branches around begin to loosen up. Oddly enough, it looks like a pair of giant hands surrendering their grip over a desperately dangerous trinket. The attentive eye might even see some tendrils trembling as they retreated to their former positions, nervous and exhausted.A weakened cacophony of voices responds to the companions’ observations.“You may look for the central fountains, monk. Their waters hold some curative properties. They ensured this garden’s survival in times of need… Such as this one.” – the branches form a path to a shallow puddle towards which many crystalline streams converge. “I am sorry for your bruises. Little could I do to prevent them.” – he continues.Arvana glances at the puddle and laughs. “I wonder what part of him you’ll be sipping from, monk.” – she spits the joke awkwardly, as if trying to break the tension of the battle.The fires vanish wish loud hisses and thick vaporous clouds. As the druid approaches, he contemplates the beast’s body. No longer it shines its spectral lights. The eyes returned to a stone-like, dead state, such as its gaping mouth. Blood still pours copiously from the wounds and the dividing lines between flesh and bone, fresh liquid running over plastered burned blood. The flesh has been calcinated in some areas, parts of it loosened by the heat and the strikes. The exposed bones became dark, partially covered in soot. And yet, despite the deplorable state of the body, both armor and sword remained intact for the most part. Searching the body, the druid finds some calcinated objects of interest, hidden underneath the leather chest for the most part. A bunch of herbs, now blackened and torn, was held under the belt. They held alchemic properties before being destroyed. Still, they’re commonly used in a cleansing ritual, practiced by the lizard southern tribes. A pouch, attached to the other side of the belt, held a bunch of five small diamonds and a set of fifteen silver coins. Odds are that the beast had a quartermaster for its men, keeping this sum for emergencies. Around the creature’s neck, the dwarf finds three collars, one made of iron plaques, another made of teeth of distinct sizes, and the third one, a string holding a carved iron ring. The ring’s inscriptions seem to match the same semi-draconic runes from the claymore. The other collars are typically used by southern tribesmen as recognition of prowess and victory trophies.The black apron worn by the beast is a leather chest, black as the night. Before the creature fell, it seemed almost alive, but now its blackness resisted even the strongest of lights. It casted no reflection, almost as if a patch of darkness had been cut to shape the thing. The three companions have heard of dark enchantments and abyssal magic that, in combination, would allow for such an armor to be made. Ashir and the southern islands had many a sorcerer capable and willing to build such monstrosity. Shaped after human skin, the thing imprisons the wrathful souls of its unwilling victims, directing their rage against any attackers. Such was the curse and purpose of the lamenting faces running across the chest during the fight.The claymore seems slightly different, though. The metal that shapes it is difficult to identify, despite the combined knowledge of the companions. It looks like ivory to the touch, but it behaves like a metallic concoction. The signs on it are as close to draconic as they could get, but they hold enough distinctions to be almost as an entirely independent dialect. The phrasing allows to presume a warning, and the words “hunter in the night” seem to be present as well, as far as Marius understands it.“Alone, hasted, unprepared…” – Arvana looks down on the corpse as Morgrym pulls the items from it. “Arrogance got him dead, I’d wager. Lucky us.”The winds move the branches once more, as if reinvigorated. “You may rest here if you wish. It might not be comfortable, but it should be safe for now. When you decide to leave, the path will be waiting. One thing remains, still. What is to be made of the body? It seems… twisted by incantations I do not care to have around. I can dispose of it, by throwing it down into ichtid territory. Or it could be moved outside.” – the creature pauses. “I will leave the decision to you.”Arvana winks back at the sailor, a smile suggested in her almond-shaped eyes. “We’ll find our moment, I’m sure of it.” – she turns to the rest of the group. “So, what’s next, boys?” [MENTION=6801450]Trogdor1992[/MENTION] [MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=6801311]KahlessNestor[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855130]Jago[/MENTION]</blockquote>

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