Their path was illuminated by a trail of fire that ran along side them, partially illuminating both ahead and behind them. The caves themselves were dark, the obsidian running through the tunnels like a glass made of shadows that both reflected and absorbed the light. Keene stumbled on behind Atziri, the slant of the path they followed reminiscent of the daily trips he had made down the mountain's upper regions, though the ground within the crawling system of tunnels was much more solid. Still, he stumbled at times, tripping over rocks and catching himself on the tunnel walls. There were portals passed where the light revealed turns and splits, but Atziri did not give them a second glance as they hurried onwards. Eventually, the slope flattened out, leaving an even plane for the two figures to accelerate without fear of losing control. Keene, unprepared for the gloved hand to wrap itself around his wrist as Atziri's gait began to elongate, breaking out into a face paced job. He let out a small squeak, but quickly diverted all air flow into keeping his lungs from falling out of his body as he was dragged behind her.
Her strength was astonishing, though Keene had expected no less from his fiery master. His stumbling increased exponentially, but each time he felt his balance shift, Atziri corrected it with a shake of his arm or pressing back against his weight. It was, by far, the most uncomfortable interaction he had had with his master, but Keene's mind was primarily focused upon breathing in enough air to keep him from suffocating as they ran through the caverns. The urgency was apparent, but it wasn't five chimes in before Keene's legs felt numb as they crunched against the rocky ground. It was all he could do to keep his legs moving without tumbling to the ground. He knew that if his balance was lost, Atziri would have most likely just continued to drag him onwards. She had the strength for it. Her grip about his wrist was that of iron, not uncomfortable in terms of tightness, but he could feel the warmth of her fingers as they pressed into the skin of his wrist. The combination of his antipathy towards physical contact and fear of becoming a human sled, Keene was able to stay on his feet, just barely.
By the time Atziri released his wrist, Keene's side had a splitting ache, he was covered in sweat, and the air whooshed in and out of his lungs as if he had just been in the process of drowning - complete with coughing and spluttering. When he finally felt stable enough to look at more than just the ground in front of him, he saw Atziri place her hands on the ceiling above the chalked marked "x". The tunnels, as he now noticed as he leaned up against the now more substantially curved walls, had slimmed, losing both width and height. As the exit was revealed thanks to his masters efforts, there came a howling rush of noise that flooded into the caverns. Too winded to give the advent of cacophony anything more than a widening of the eyes, Keene pushed himself back onto his feet. His breathing, though still ragged in comparison to the easy rise and fall of Atziri's chest, had slowed enough that he didn't feel as though he were dying. His legs shook a little with the added weight of his body, but for the most part he was alright for the time being. He moved over to stand next to Atziri, wondering if they were supposed to climb out using each other as supports when he felt a cool grip around his torso as his feet lifted up off the ground. He turned a quick glance of alarm at Atziri, but he was only giving a knowing smile.
Setting down on the ground above, Keene felt the chill abate as Atziri joined him. They were in the courtyard, and it was awash with activity. Spirits darted all over, some wailing, others chasing. The atmosphere of chaos was palpable. Trying his best to stand straight and alert, Keene lets his eyes flick over the gathered faces, the mists had abated to a mild fog about the feet allowing him a relatively clear line of sight. There were a group of foreigners, quite certainly Pulsars, who stood gathered together. They were armed and seemed quite capable, alert in the obvious presence of danger. Their eyes were that of hardened veterans, people who understood what to do when an alarm was raised regardless of the situation. There was Mistress Wanda, as well, hunched near the middle of courtyard, looking at nothing in particular as the spirits' activity began to die down. He assumed she had something to do with it.
Two more joined the gathering, first a man, then a wolf. The man rushed into the courtyard hurridly, his state of undress either a confident statement of fashion or a clear result of the sudden nature of the emergency. The wolf that followed behind came to rest at his side, glowing with uncertainty at the situation. He spent little time examining the duo as the sound of flapping wings drew his attention to the skies. Above, there descended the figure of a bird with the face of human. Gusts of wind were cast downwards by the beat of wings, swirling the hem of Keene's tunic and forcing his arm to move to deflect of the debris kicked up by the breezes. From the creature's claws descended two figures, a lithe, pretty young woman and the initiate he had met earlier: Derain. They pair hit the ground with different levels graces, but both rose to stand off to the side of Keene and Atziri. He wondered if the woman beside Derain was the "lovely Lorelei" he had spoken of. Signs pointed to yes.
The bird creature fell out of the sky behind them, her body twisting with a smooth elegance as she hit the ground with a gentle arc of motion, standing straight as her clay like manipulation of her body finalized into that of a woman's. She strode with an easy strength across the Courtyard towards Mistress Wanda, her authority unspoken and obeyed. Keene glanced at the others who had gathered, gaging their reactions. Lorelei and Derain both seemed attentive and alert, though there was a easily recognized deference in both of them as they kept their gazes focused on the authoritative morpher. The others seemed to be a bit more confused about the situation, though it appeared no one made a move to explicitly interrupt her. As to woman, Wayza, as Mistress Wanda had referred to her, stated the need for more information, there more figures appeared from within the shadows of the vestibule. A gazelle nimbly crossed over the courtyard's length, stopping to rest between Keene and the initiates from the Bloodhills. Keene gave the animal a curt nod; Kinapak had arrived. The hound dog that lumbered in after him was most certainly Darin, the other prairie's initiate. Keene supposed it wasn't much of a surprise that so many capable people be gathered at the advent of such an emergency, though as Wayza had already stated, the actual state of the emergency was a bit vague. Behind the two finally hurried in a blond haired man. He seemed a bit out of place among the collection gathered in his fashionable, sleek clothing. Keene wondered if he had been out working on experiments and had returned to see what was going on. He supposed, had he been in the same situation, he would have done much the same.
As Keene prepared himself to follow what orders might come next from either Wayza or Atziri, the doors to the Gug Andjak were opened to reveal the slow amble of a dazed looking man in grey slide out from between them. Keene's attention flicked back towards Wayza who had stopped in the middle of her speech, the new arrival seemingly higher up that she. As Keene turned his head to reevaluate the distant looking figure, there emerged one of the most "dead" looking nuits Keene had seen since his arrival on the island. Despite the decay, he strode with purpose that far outrivaled that of Wayza's. There was an aura of confidence about him that clearly denoted him as someone of major importance, if not the most important. Keene straightened his back some, feeling as though maintaining his admittedly weary visage would win him no favors with the newly arrived nuit. Kinapak shifted next to him, his hooves making small clicks against the stone, signaling that even the narcissistic initiate felt uncomfortable in the presence of the nuit as he positioned himself next to Wayza, gazing down at those collected in the courtyard.
He spoke of "wailers" and of Farke, the assumed name of the nuit who had wandered into the crowd with an appraising eye. Keene heard Lorelei reiterate the foreign word, and from the sound of the tones of both nuit and initiate, Keene figured the "wailers" were a bit worse than a Gibbat dog infestation. As Farke passed him, Keene met his gaze with his own curious grey to the nuit's darer irises. He continued on, finding little interest in the Pulser. The authoritative nuit had begun to speak once more, ignoring the shuffle of his subordinate in favor of explaining the situation at hand. He spoke with a matter-of-fact tone that was anything but rousing. While Keene was confident he would be perform as optimally as possible, he wasn't fond of the idea of another soul occupying his body should he fail. It was, however, good incentive to stay alive.
Farke finally seemed to have collected what it was he'd meant to find, and began to speak, explaining the groups and detailing the respective objectives of each. As he continued, naming specifically those in each party, Keene felt a strange pressure on his shoulder, simliar to that of the ghostly grip that had lifted him from the caverns, but lacking all sensation beyond the gentle pressure that pushed him across the courtyard to stand beside the armored Redwolf and the man with the trident. Keene gave the two of them a respectful nod of his head as he took his position next to them, their similarity in height creating a small, human sized wall. He watched the other move into their own groups, some seeming to be pushed in much the same way he had. Keene glanced at Farke to determine if any sort of magic was being used, but he still ambled with his limp, loose armed gait as he had before.
As the rings were passed out, Keene extended his hand outwards towards the head councilor, receiving the ring at the peculiar tidbit of information with a questioning tilt of his head before bowing his head in understanding and respect. As the nuit returned to stand beside Wayza, Keene slipped the ring over the middle finger of his left hand, peering down at the intricate design with a curiosity beyond the engraving. He found it odd that any one bearing a Wizard's ring would simply "leave it behind". He glanced up as Farke explained the use of the rings, and Keene felt his hand grow a bit heavier as the weight of their importance sank in. He let the hand fall to his side as he turned to introduce himself to the others in his group. Before any of them could speak to one another, Atziri approached, stating she had to return but offering a last bit of advice before she did.
First, to the woman Redwulf who was clearly in the leadership position the original three she had stood with, he extended a hand. Then to the scruffy man with the trident, Keene spoke with a calm, easy tone, his breathing having finally come under his control. "I am Keene Ward, may this arrangement prove beneficial." His cool, grey stare meeting the eyes of both with interest.
Her strength was astonishing, though Keene had expected no less from his fiery master. His stumbling increased exponentially, but each time he felt his balance shift, Atziri corrected it with a shake of his arm or pressing back against his weight. It was, by far, the most uncomfortable interaction he had had with his master, but Keene's mind was primarily focused upon breathing in enough air to keep him from suffocating as they ran through the caverns. The urgency was apparent, but it wasn't five chimes in before Keene's legs felt numb as they crunched against the rocky ground. It was all he could do to keep his legs moving without tumbling to the ground. He knew that if his balance was lost, Atziri would have most likely just continued to drag him onwards. She had the strength for it. Her grip about his wrist was that of iron, not uncomfortable in terms of tightness, but he could feel the warmth of her fingers as they pressed into the skin of his wrist. The combination of his antipathy towards physical contact and fear of becoming a human sled, Keene was able to stay on his feet, just barely.
By the time Atziri released his wrist, Keene's side had a splitting ache, he was covered in sweat, and the air whooshed in and out of his lungs as if he had just been in the process of drowning - complete with coughing and spluttering. When he finally felt stable enough to look at more than just the ground in front of him, he saw Atziri place her hands on the ceiling above the chalked marked "x". The tunnels, as he now noticed as he leaned up against the now more substantially curved walls, had slimmed, losing both width and height. As the exit was revealed thanks to his masters efforts, there came a howling rush of noise that flooded into the caverns. Too winded to give the advent of cacophony anything more than a widening of the eyes, Keene pushed himself back onto his feet. His breathing, though still ragged in comparison to the easy rise and fall of Atziri's chest, had slowed enough that he didn't feel as though he were dying. His legs shook a little with the added weight of his body, but for the most part he was alright for the time being. He moved over to stand next to Atziri, wondering if they were supposed to climb out using each other as supports when he felt a cool grip around his torso as his feet lifted up off the ground. He turned a quick glance of alarm at Atziri, but he was only giving a knowing smile.
Setting down on the ground above, Keene felt the chill abate as Atziri joined him. They were in the courtyard, and it was awash with activity. Spirits darted all over, some wailing, others chasing. The atmosphere of chaos was palpable. Trying his best to stand straight and alert, Keene lets his eyes flick over the gathered faces, the mists had abated to a mild fog about the feet allowing him a relatively clear line of sight. There were a group of foreigners, quite certainly Pulsars, who stood gathered together. They were armed and seemed quite capable, alert in the obvious presence of danger. Their eyes were that of hardened veterans, people who understood what to do when an alarm was raised regardless of the situation. There was Mistress Wanda, as well, hunched near the middle of courtyard, looking at nothing in particular as the spirits' activity began to die down. He assumed she had something to do with it.
Two more joined the gathering, first a man, then a wolf. The man rushed into the courtyard hurridly, his state of undress either a confident statement of fashion or a clear result of the sudden nature of the emergency. The wolf that followed behind came to rest at his side, glowing with uncertainty at the situation. He spent little time examining the duo as the sound of flapping wings drew his attention to the skies. Above, there descended the figure of a bird with the face of human. Gusts of wind were cast downwards by the beat of wings, swirling the hem of Keene's tunic and forcing his arm to move to deflect of the debris kicked up by the breezes. From the creature's claws descended two figures, a lithe, pretty young woman and the initiate he had met earlier: Derain. They pair hit the ground with different levels graces, but both rose to stand off to the side of Keene and Atziri. He wondered if the woman beside Derain was the "lovely Lorelei" he had spoken of. Signs pointed to yes.
The bird creature fell out of the sky behind them, her body twisting with a smooth elegance as she hit the ground with a gentle arc of motion, standing straight as her clay like manipulation of her body finalized into that of a woman's. She strode with an easy strength across the Courtyard towards Mistress Wanda, her authority unspoken and obeyed. Keene glanced at the others who had gathered, gaging their reactions. Lorelei and Derain both seemed attentive and alert, though there was a easily recognized deference in both of them as they kept their gazes focused on the authoritative morpher. The others seemed to be a bit more confused about the situation, though it appeared no one made a move to explicitly interrupt her. As to woman, Wayza, as Mistress Wanda had referred to her, stated the need for more information, there more figures appeared from within the shadows of the vestibule. A gazelle nimbly crossed over the courtyard's length, stopping to rest between Keene and the initiates from the Bloodhills. Keene gave the animal a curt nod; Kinapak had arrived. The hound dog that lumbered in after him was most certainly Darin, the other prairie's initiate. Keene supposed it wasn't much of a surprise that so many capable people be gathered at the advent of such an emergency, though as Wayza had already stated, the actual state of the emergency was a bit vague. Behind the two finally hurried in a blond haired man. He seemed a bit out of place among the collection gathered in his fashionable, sleek clothing. Keene wondered if he had been out working on experiments and had returned to see what was going on. He supposed, had he been in the same situation, he would have done much the same.
As Keene prepared himself to follow what orders might come next from either Wayza or Atziri, the doors to the Gug Andjak were opened to reveal the slow amble of a dazed looking man in grey slide out from between them. Keene's attention flicked back towards Wayza who had stopped in the middle of her speech, the new arrival seemingly higher up that she. As Keene turned his head to reevaluate the distant looking figure, there emerged one of the most "dead" looking nuits Keene had seen since his arrival on the island. Despite the decay, he strode with purpose that far outrivaled that of Wayza's. There was an aura of confidence about him that clearly denoted him as someone of major importance, if not the most important. Keene straightened his back some, feeling as though maintaining his admittedly weary visage would win him no favors with the newly arrived nuit. Kinapak shifted next to him, his hooves making small clicks against the stone, signaling that even the narcissistic initiate felt uncomfortable in the presence of the nuit as he positioned himself next to Wayza, gazing down at those collected in the courtyard.
He spoke of "wailers" and of Farke, the assumed name of the nuit who had wandered into the crowd with an appraising eye. Keene heard Lorelei reiterate the foreign word, and from the sound of the tones of both nuit and initiate, Keene figured the "wailers" were a bit worse than a Gibbat dog infestation. As Farke passed him, Keene met his gaze with his own curious grey to the nuit's darer irises. He continued on, finding little interest in the Pulser. The authoritative nuit had begun to speak once more, ignoring the shuffle of his subordinate in favor of explaining the situation at hand. He spoke with a matter-of-fact tone that was anything but rousing. While Keene was confident he would be perform as optimally as possible, he wasn't fond of the idea of another soul occupying his body should he fail. It was, however, good incentive to stay alive.
Farke finally seemed to have collected what it was he'd meant to find, and began to speak, explaining the groups and detailing the respective objectives of each. As he continued, naming specifically those in each party, Keene felt a strange pressure on his shoulder, simliar to that of the ghostly grip that had lifted him from the caverns, but lacking all sensation beyond the gentle pressure that pushed him across the courtyard to stand beside the armored Redwolf and the man with the trident. Keene gave the two of them a respectful nod of his head as he took his position next to them, their similarity in height creating a small, human sized wall. He watched the other move into their own groups, some seeming to be pushed in much the same way he had. Keene glanced at Farke to determine if any sort of magic was being used, but he still ambled with his limp, loose armed gait as he had before.
As the rings were passed out, Keene extended his hand outwards towards the head councilor, receiving the ring at the peculiar tidbit of information with a questioning tilt of his head before bowing his head in understanding and respect. As the nuit returned to stand beside Wayza, Keene slipped the ring over the middle finger of his left hand, peering down at the intricate design with a curiosity beyond the engraving. He found it odd that any one bearing a Wizard's ring would simply "leave it behind". He glanced up as Farke explained the use of the rings, and Keene felt his hand grow a bit heavier as the weight of their importance sank in. He let the hand fall to his side as he turned to introduce himself to the others in his group. Before any of them could speak to one another, Atziri approached, stating she had to return but offering a last bit of advice before she did.
First, to the woman Redwulf who was clearly in the leadership position the original three she had stood with, he extended a hand. Then to the scruffy man with the trident, Keene spoke with a calm, easy tone, his breathing having finally come under his control. "I am Keene Ward, may this arrangement prove beneficial." His cool, grey stare meeting the eyes of both with interest.
