The Soul Harvest. He'd been counting the days since his wife's passing until its return. It was a time when the veil thinned and the spectral realm bled into the mortal world. He'd prepared meticulously so that he could survive and live in the dungeon for the entirety of the harvest season. Some called him mad, others shook their heads in pity. Ingimar didn't pay them any mind. It was now if he was ever going to see h...

Thanks to Roxanne observations, the unlikely fellowship managed to slip through the constricting walls without an issue. There was an uneasiness settling upon them. Urraca's already quiet nature further subdued, and Roxanne seemed all the more flighty. The unintroduced ether mare, however, was calm. Her expression was devoid of any traces, a deadpan that didn't reach up to her mercurial eyes. They seemed all knowning, dug into your soul the minute she looked at you, and despite the silence th...

Ingimar wasn't sure how he got in this situation. Somehow, he'd managed to find himself stuck in the dungeons with these three woman, and one of them was of no help at all. Honestly, Malovia made him uncomfortable. Between her phantasmal hand doing all the work for her, her lack of saddle bags, and not to mention the fact she hadn't said a word, he kept a wide breadth from her. Rather, he kept to Urraca's side. There was a kindness in her that Ingimar felt comfortable with, though the idea of...

Many of his peers did their best to eliminate the dark. They would use their lanterns or torches to light any source of fire that had long sputtered out in the dungeons to illuminate their passages and guide them back to the surface. Others used their pets to cast a gleam and glow to chase away the shadows as they pushed deeper and deeper into the labyrinth. Ingimar could care less about chasing away the dark. There wasn't anything for him in the light, at least not anymore. His nostri...