[EASY] One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
Assuredly, just as he hoped wouldn't happen, the mare's nerves were too strung out. She was never meant to be down there in the first place. It was written all over her face, the desperation for the surface palpable. So, as the party stepped forth under the giant insect, her clumsy feet alerted it. Chaos ensues with a shout of, "Run!"
In the madness of it all, Petrichor loses sight of most of the group as he chases the energy trail from Riot as it guides them through the darkness. It is only when they enter a larger chamber and the noise of heavy footsteps no longer follows that he turns around with heaving lungs. He assumes for a moment it got lost or distracted by something more worthwhile.
Noting the missing member, heart aching, he realizes he was right. She was picked off. Hesitation consumed her or perhaps she just wasn't fast enough.
His ears flatten against his head as he loses yet another to the dungeon. First, the couple. Now, an innocent mare. The presence of the other mare still lingers. She assesses the damages, and it is clear to Petrichor that her eyes are on the heraldic one. Waiting for a reaction.
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His head is dipped low as he breathes in and out, eyes staring at the dusty floor of whatever room they've come to finally take shelter in. The corridor was far too narrow for anything larger than the coursers themselves to follow. There's no solace in this as they recount one less member than before.
He's fairly certain he's the only one that turned back. Teeth bared, ready, only for the monstrous insect to already be occupied. He wonders -- no, he's haunted by the idea that perhaps that's the last thing the other saw. Two out of three turning away.
The pang of guilt grows until it matches the physical wounds he carried from the scuffle, and the Knight has to gasp a deep breath as he looks up and away, regaining some sense of self. He should have stayed. It wouldn't have stitched her wounds closed, though.
"We should return you to the surface." He speaks quietly as he moves throughout the room, very evidently looking for an exit rather than marveling at the wonder that was what they'd just stumbled into. Archaic tomes and ancient books line every wall. Arcturus weaves through bookshelves with wonder and curiosity.
It's like Saccharine was never even there to him.
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Her gentle laugh is an alarm in his ear. He isn't sure what she gleaned from that simple statement, but he had an idea from the tone of it. There was no world where the surface would be a welcoming place for him so long as she beckoned him. That call was impossible to ignore. Still, he said nothing and instead focused on Arcturus's wandering.
When nothing immediately jumps out to attack him, Petrichor joins him in looking through the tomes. Turning the corner of the shelf, a different figure lies in the corner. They flip through pages with gentle ease and seemingly don't take notice of him. Riot is nowhere to be seen when he turns back for a second.
"Hello? Have you been here this entire time?" He calls out to them. There was no way anybody who heard that scuffle could just be calmly blasé reading without even checking. They still do not answer. Petrichor steps closer, and when he gets close enough, their eyes finally meet.
They feel...ancient. Something otherworldly was about them. No, he corrects as another voice chimes in, her. "Apologies, traveler. I didn't notice you come in. I don't hear so well anymore."
She gets up and appraises the group. "I'm Prismatic. It's been a while since I've seen new faces." Does she live in the dungeon? Petrichor is stunned by the accent that melts off her tongue. He gets the feeling this one is one he'll see many times again even if she disappears like the rest.
"Petrichor..." it comes out breathless.
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Thaumiel gives a curt introduction, but it's not as present as before. He doesn't feel as though he can express the discomfort this brings him. One after another, the dungeon puts forth another in his care.
Picking between the shelves, separate from the others, Arcturus seems to be searching for something. His ears are perked and though his hair is now a proper mess, he throws it out of his face to get a better look -- until eventually, he's standing on his hind legs. His front hoof brushes against one of the dusty book spines.
He smiles as it flutters a bit.
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If Prismatic is offended by Arcturus's own ventures, she doesn't show it at all. Instead, she watches him with a sweet smile and doesn't interrupt his flow. Although, her smile is a bit too knowing for Petrichor's liking.
Thaumiel seems disheartened by the loss of Saccharine, so Petrichor does his best to not bother him much. There were no words he could offer him. He wonders how long they traveled together... he hopes in his heart that she was saved somehow.
As he walks forward, he toes a fallen book and it sputters to life at the jolt. In fact, dust was starting to build up as more and more of the books began to jitter a bit. Whatever touch did to them, it seemed they were waking up. "Arcturus... you may want to back up." His tone spikes in caution. It was that feeling again. Something isn't right.
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Arcturus looks down at the other, tilting his head. It's feigned innocence.
"What, these?" He shifts his hoof forward, until the book pushes through and threatens to tumble to the other side. Only it doesn't. The literature flaps and flutters as though alive, and a horrific noise of garbled foreign language follows it. Like a colony of bats, the noise reverberates through the library. Thaumiel backs up, gaze frantically looking for where to retreat to. "Out, again. We need to go."
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Petrichor ducks his head as the books go flying and dive at him and his companions. It was so loud. It wasn't like he hadn't dealt with noise like this before, but the language was incomprehensible and entirely mind jarring.
Watching with all too-knowing eyes, Prismatic stands unbothered. She barely hears the drivel, and she is completely calm. She gestures with her head to a corridor just beyond the bookshelves. "Come. I know the way."
Riot manifests near Petrichor as she turns away and shoos its host after her.
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You discover the brittle remains of a mage's library, complete with collapsed shelves of ancient volumes. As you approach one to appraise the value of its contents, the books begin to stir. At once, frenzied tomes fly from their perches, flapping through the air to swoop and dive at your party. Throughout the attack, each shrieks its contents in languages you can't understand.
Your party must make a Cunning check to lose the pursuing swarm.
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Submitted By EternalMondayMood
for Campaign - Easy
Submitted: 1 month ago ・
Last Updated: 1 month ago