(The Old Leywellin Mines) Ghosts in the Darkness (rayage)

by **Archelon** on December 20th, 2011, 8:02 am

The ghost waited patiently for the Sahovan mage to finish, nodding his head to note that he had heard the words of the man. "Cobbletrop. I'm dead, you're alive or at least a bloody nuit that are out on the Isle. Probably came here to see if the shipments weren't working, bloody world of Mizahar went to hell. People making up a few names for it too like the 'cataclysm' or the bloody valterian. Not that we could have done much out here on a long post. I came back after serving my time as a reserve in the ol' legion. Sunberth was my home, my family was here, Dear ol' grandpa's still buried from what I can see in the ash in the family crypt up by the hill. He's the one that gave me that vial you know. Much better spiritist then I. Petch, Dad gave me the falchion too, but kep his mage's staff, buried him with it if no thieves got there by now.
You want to know what's in these mines, and take it back to Sahova right?Well I ain't got no choice but to help ya' but you got to do something for me afterwards. You hear me?"

Rayage nodded once and brought his hand up the falchion's hilt, it showed signs of wear, but nothing that a hundred gold mizas worth of restoration wouldn't assist to bring it back to its former glory. The Knight's armory the rogue brought him too before had an isurian smith... perhaps he could learn something there... though the idea of one old alahean retired legionaiire being buried with a common staff seemed to excite him more. "Well if you know what I require, then how can we come to an agreement here?"

The ghost looked at him, "You're a mage helping create and equip an army for the empire right? That's what you guys do out there? You know the army used spiritists, I"m a petching ghost now, my only duty is my family's to see the alahean empire rise once more. You let me train you a little so we can work together, and I'll let you use me to help restore that dream. Just eventually... eventually I want you to take these bones to my father's side in the old crypt, then I'll be able to pass on. Until then, I'll serve you and consider you my officer in charge of my detail. That sound alright?"

The mage nodded to himself to consider things, thinking that in the old wards: fallen soldiers ghosts were coerced by the spiritists who fought to help them in their battle. In time, many of those spirits were granted peace, brought home in a manner of sorts by loved ones, brothers, sisters, friends, back to their family. Even as he thought of it, he could see the old ghost's form continue to coalesce more, mirroring the hardened shell of the ancient armor design. For a moment, he imagined what the ancient recruit might know, or help him draw corallaries to the old alahean armies.

Sahova had a bunch of books on the subject, many of the warring arts sealed off in sections of the ancient libraries which needed permission to enter. To a young nuit like him, the glimpse into the past would be invaluable, especially if the rumors of animation and alchemy intersecting with magecraft to create extra powerful golems proved true.
What would the gains be? What would the costs be?

"What would be first?" Rayage spoke aloud.

"Like anything in any art, you must willfully accept possesion as a spiritist, something which might prove difficult to a nuit. Then... if I ... " Cocking his head the old ghost legionairre heard the whispering howls of the other ghosts int he distance crying out in an echoing whisper, one that shivered up Rayage's spine.

A whisper which said , ''One of the fool's has been awakened, we must destroy him again. Destroy all overseers. This is our town now, our children, no authority rules us ever again."

by **Rayage** on December 20th, 2011, 9:33 am

The nuit would look over to the howls which made him uneasy, "Ill accept any price." he told the spirit. Any price was worth knowledge, anything was worth getting some fragment of the old empire back to him. The ghost captain nodded once, and dived into the nuit's body... letting himself seep into the preserved carcasse as it began to settle like icy fingers beyond the nuit's eyes.The ichor in his stomach and his body bubbled at the intrusion... like it did every time switching bodies... but eventually the precious nuit fluid settled within its chosen corpse's veins.

The sensation was rather particular, unsure, and nerve wrecking. He was doubting himself about this decision, but it will be worth it. He told himself. This will be worth it. Turning towards the howling the nuit took a step back hand resting on the ruined hilt of Flamberge, what was he thinking? What could he do to ghosts? Maybe there was a good reason to fear them. Curse the doubt that crept into his mind. Who did these ghosts think they are keeping the living from what lies within? Funny, he thought, how his little escapade into the caves could turn into this... slaying the overseers. All he wanted was to get to the golem lab. It looked light he was going to have to find a more creative way to get there. "H1-A" he said taking the hand off the sword and patting it on the head, "Don't fall and be careful."

A voice echoed in his mind, "Do you know how to make soulmist?" There was a pause before another reply came, "Soulmist coated on weapons can injure a ghost. Allowing you to harm it. There are many recipes for soul mist, mainly goats cheese and some concentration, including meditation. The ghosts are far enough away however that you should have time to make a single batch if you act quickly and follow these instructions. Are you ready?"

"In my pack on my corpse were a set of rations given to us by sahovan mages, I kept them since they don't seem to go bad and a small bit was enough to keep a man on his feet for a week. I kept them for a long time. So quickly find them!"

Rayage would find in his investigation a small metal pouch, covered by an alchemic alloy that was unfamiliar to him... at least so far that was.
Reaching the pouch he shook it wondering what the glyphs on its surface did, but deciding it was for the better."Now what."

"Soulmist comes from three different sources of food, a bit of blood, and in your case, ichor. Mixed together and imbibed to maintain within the body, or a stomach or in your mouth will help produce some very weak soulmist for the first time. The only problem you'll need is water... I don't know why but that food requires water to be edible. There's plenty in the mines, you just have to find it."

Ray looked about the space he was in and saw that there was some water dripping off the slagtites going off into a small puddle on the ground. It was better than nothing. Opening and following the spirits instructions he carefully opened the package, hoping that the glyphs would do nothing nasty, and shoved the 'food' into his mouth before going over to the puddle, and setting his torch down, used his hands, cupping them, and dipping them into water. Bringing the cupped water to his mouth he sipped it, bringing it into him as well. Taking a moment he pricked his finger carefully with a dagger and added the precious nuit ichor, but not too much. He did not want to risk anything rash. He had hypnotism for that... As he chewed the substance, he got comfortable and started focusing on what he wanted to do: Make soulmist.

The djed of his ichor soon became like chewing an amoeba in his mouth as the key component of soulmist creation did its work: time. Time as in five minutes passing he soon (if a nuit could feel sick) would be instructed by the ghost that it was ready and that he should begin spreading the viscous transluscent mixture over the weapon of his choice: his dagger, or the Flamberge before he should stand ready.

Taking out the Flamberge he looked at the old sword and frowned. His mouth full of the soulmist he leaned over the old blade and spat the pure white substance out, letting it drip and cover the blade. Then he used his hands to rub it in and fully cover the blade with the mist. After that was done he picked up the sword and brandished it in front of him. He has never wielded a sword himself, but he has seen others. Monkey see, monkey do. The easiest type of learning. He waited for the ghosts, or any more instructions from the ghost in his head. The nuit half wondered how good of a swordsman this captain was since he was... you know, dead.

I was killed by ghosts, couldn't do much against a hundred of 'em' whispered in the back of his mind. Well that was comforting. Just how many ghosts did he take down before he died, he wondered. Gaining some confidence he just hoped he wasnt swarmed. He had a body to look after. Just then, coming up the slope he saw the first ghost and the nuit prepared himself, as he tried to take the first action and strike first with a thrust. He knew he had some advantage. He had higher ground and a captain's spirit within him.

by **Archelon** on December 22nd, 2011, 6:55 am

Rayage's first attack against the intruding ghost was shakey from the weight of the sword, though invisible hands seemed to guide his at the last moment, adjusting his strike to twist and pull to the side at the moment of penetration with the miner's spirit.

The ghost inside Rayage would help him some of the time.

The Soulmist upon the blade was weak, as it was only the first batch of the substance the nuit had ever made. But, it did the trick of making the ghost blink from existence to appear somewhere deep in the underground chasm behind the nuit. The mage of Sahova , if he was careful would note the strange hum in the sword at the touch of its blade with the ghost and rayage's own soulmist.

A faint sigil of glyphs marked into the blades core would be shown, spelling a name. A name written in the ancient tongue. "Althamar Rivenshorn" What would be even more interesting was that in the first strike with the weapon towards a ghost, part of the blade became uncluttered from the dust of ages. It was a window of glass, painted with a small series of ornamental circles. No wait. The circles weren't upon the glass itself. But rather behind it Within the glass casing , behind the painted glowing letters were bones. Fingerbones to be precise.

The falchion he possessed was a familial blade of the Rivenshorn family. A rare maledicted weapon from the ancient wars...

'Althamar was my father's father... an even greater spiritist. Strange. The name only glowed when a relative of our line bore it in battle against the other ghosts. This is most peculiar... It should not have come into being with you. The only other relative I knew of was my sister... Perhaps fate brought us here together Nuit.

To Rayage this was another mystery to puzzle... was the sword reacting to his body, or to the spirit within him. Whatever his thoughts , they would be interrupted by the captains voice, as he could see an ephermural tendril of soul mist stretch from his body to look down into the next passage.

"Regrab the torch, and make haste my commander. Three mine tunnels to run before the entrance to the second level of the minds. Make a left, a right, and then the third left. Watch for traps. The infidels did many things to kill my fellows.

Item Note to add into your CS at this time :

note on Cptn Captain Kogal Rivenshorn :

by **Rayage** on December 29th, 2011, 12:36 am

The blades swing left everything to be desired. Ray had no skill with a blade, and if he had ever wielded on it was a long, long time ago. Though even the clumsiest of swings could do some damage which was demonstrated by the nuit. Although he had no form a swing from a sword was a swing. If he was facing a mortal foe the blade would most likely have been parried, but it slashed right through the ghost. Then something interesting happened. The ghost blinked out of existence. Interesting, the nuit smiled observing what had happened. This blade has some sort of power over the undead, or perhaps just ghosts.

The name glowed, and some dust from the ages fell from the sword. A name, he looked at it, it reminded of someone though the name was fuzzy, but familiar. Nodding he banked the name in his memory for later use. He was sure the name was important, but Ray had long ago forgotten his mortal name. The loss wasn’t much for him, no; names can be replaced and easily made up. Now he didn’t care what he was called. Rayage was as good a name as any and one that he had kept ever since he could remember. For his near perfect memory and attention to detail, he sure has lost a lot of facts from his past.

Though he could solve this mystery later when his life was not immediately in danger, for now, he needed to cut his way through these ghosts and put down the ‘overseers’ who seemed to be trapping the rest of the worker ghosts here, or so it could be assumed. No longer will there be ghost slaves working in the mines when he is done. Gripping the sword tighter in his hand he actually liked the feeling of it.

Picking up the torch again, ”Your sister?” the nuit laughed at the concept of fate, ”Fate? Not everything is a show put on by fate. If fate had its way I would have died a long time ago.” The faint firelight seemed to add a sort of eerie feeling as the soulmist could be seen slowly crawling through the tunnels, and he was going that way, heading into the tick of battle, with ghost as his aid. Even now he could hear the advice chattering in his head. ”Your next swing, loosen your grip on blade just a bit. You have to feel the swing, visualize it before you strike, and just do. Don’t overthink the situation, just react, Rayage.”

Nodding the alchemist noted the advice. Advancing through the tunnels he made sure to take every step cautiously looking, actively searching for any signs of traps. He did not wish to end up as a ghost he would not live in that cursed existence, and he could not die yet. No, he hadn’t even completed his mission for living, the one thing that he needed to complete.

The tunnels were dark, but he had his little light, and that was enough for him. These ghosts could not harm him too badly and with this blade he had absolutely no reason to fear these beings. They might be superior in skill than he is, but once hit with this blade they disappear, and that fact was so very comforting to him. He had confidence in his stride, even though he knew he was probably going to the heart of it all, as long as he had this blade, and his ghost companion he would be safe. The ghosts wails that chilled the mortals to the bone only made the nuit laugh. He had a purpose and so he could not die yet, no not today.

by **Archelon** on January 4th, 2012, 5:53 am

The nuit moved down the stone mineways, following the maps through a series of twists and turns, content to feel like a god amongst the undead as he made his way to the next level of the mines. Rayage's confidence was not well founded, and the ghost inside him knew it. "Don't be a fool, that will not happen all the time, in fact, very rarely. You got lucky; most ghosts you may have to hack apart if you place soulmist upon the blade. Ghosts can only be hurt really, by two things unless they are materialized and attacking you: A souldart, which you'll learnt eventually to make, and by smearing any weapon with soulmist of your own creation."

At those words, he would come to a beveled gantry, its holding bucket still seeming to be in somewhat working order and the iron chains to progress its descent, though lined in a layer of rust would still seem strong if he chipped away at it with his dagger. It was a lift system of sorts, run by weights and counterweights, a gadgetried makeup of mechanical fashionings he'd only found evidenced in sahova before. On a wall nearby , glyphed out in old common of nader-canoch was a sign reading 3rd level, golem workshop. In the cage itself, an old steel mechanism seemed to have rusted over. Though if he looked a bit further with the torche he'd spy a stairwell traveling down.

There was a person sized lift, and a cart sized lift, and the stairwell. Whichever one he chose would be his decision. What wouldn't be his decision is a wailing from behind him... and the nuit would spin as another ghost, this one wielding a shovel phased into view as it came in for the attack.

The first strike of his soulmist covered blade did not force the ghost to blink out as the prior one had. Instead the spectre reeled back in some sensibility of pain as part of its soulmist was bashed aside, and the phantom would respond by bringing the rusted tool down in an overhand chop seeking to brain the nuit senseless. Should he act quickly, a faltering block would parry the age old weapon, and let him gain an opening for a follow up attack.

oocFeel free to have rayage beat down the miner ghost here. It will eventually flee from damage, or dusted. Your actions will decide the outcome. Feel free to wail on it a little in a mock spar.

by **Rayage** on January 4th, 2012, 9:05 am

”Very rarely, uh?” the nuit was slightly disappointed by this news, but this did not stop him from advancing, no, it actually made him go a bit further, ”Well there are challenges in life.” he said, ”I guess this is one of them” he talked out loud to the ghost. Advancing and coming upon the gantry, ”Though these soul darts sound more than helpful” he mused, ”You don’t happen to know where some might be located?” he mused the idea. If he could use another’s soulmist to bring back a ghost why couldn’t he use their souldarts as well? It seemed reasonable, but somewhere in the back of his mind doubt crept in. The world was never this simple, that was one lesson that life had taught him long ago.

Looking carefully at the impressive system of counterweights and pulleys he smiled. How he loved this. It really did bring him back. One hand touched the edge of the enclosure eager to ride in one just one more time, but his thoughts were cut off by a shrieking ghost.

The sword still in hand he had swung, but this time it did not blink backwards. Grinning, great, now he had to take care of this one himself. Luckily this one seemed as unsure about combat as he was. Though he had one advantage at least, the ghost inside him. It took control partially of his arm moving it defend against the shovel, the specter’s hand guiding Rays blade. Once he knocked the shove to the side with a swift, or as swift as a nuit can move, hit to the right the undead saw his mark. Going for it he lunged the blade at the ghost trying to pierce it right through its body. The blade followed his commands and hit the ghost square center. Beginners luck or was his hand again guided by the ghost within him? He couldn’t tell, but he was liking it.

After he has pierced the ghost he brought the blade up and through the ghost as if trying to split it partially in half. He went to slice downwards, diagonally, but found the shovel blocked his blade. The ghost was writhing in pain but it still managed to bring the shovel for a weak block. Nothing was like a good pair up of undead verses undead. Though it was obvious to Ray who the victor was going to be, for he was not going to die at the hands of some pathetic ghost, no, he had other things to do, other plans… He was a great Alchemist after all, but what harm could branching out do? These spiritsim techniques seemed to work very well against foes that he would otherwise be powerless against.

The shovel hovered and held the blade, locked, the ancient sword against the shovel and none were giving way. The ghost seemed to have the strength of a nuit, which could be a bad thing, but Ray liked it like that. Thinking about it the nuit did have one thing the ghost did not, and that was body weight. Leaning into his strike he felt the shovel give way slightly. Supplying more weight to the standoff the shovel, which was being suspended by soulmist, started to move backwards and actually into the ghost. Then his blade touched the ghost again, and the spirit seemed to grow increasingly nervous as the shovel gave more and more until the blade was sufficiently in the ghost. Again letting out a shriek of pain the ghost moved back and so did the shovel. The blade slid off the wooden support and as a fault of putting so much weight on the blade the nuit stumbled forward, blade sinking slightly into the ground.

Lucky for him the ghost was in too much pain from the shredded soulmist that Ray just took off it to react to his little stumble. The voice in the head told him to get back up and get in a ready stance again. Once achieved, it seemed the ghost was ready for more too. ”Why don’t you just give up already?” he asked confident in both his luck and abilities, errr, or that of the ghost that was harbored within him.

With that the nuit again slashed at the ghost, his attack blocked, and was met with a counterattack. A ghostly feel coming over him Rays arm moved the sword to block the counterattack, and a voice warned, ”Boy, stay alert.” the ghost had just saved him from having his head knocked in a second time today. In fact, probably many more times than he could count if he had been paying attention.

Gaining control back the nuit shifted his stance and weight and put it into a chop, swishing the blade through the air and attacking his ever relentless opponent. After a while of this give and take and exchanging of blows and blocks the ghost seemed to be wearing thin. It was visibly getting harder to see it. In one last effort to stop Ray it swung the shovel, its attacks getting slower as its power dwindled, downward at the nuit. This time he easily was able to hold the blade above him and block the attack, grunting only a little bit.

Knowing how the battle was going to end, or so it assumed, the ghost released its control over the shovel and darted the other direction. Watching it go the Nuit nodded, ”Now then…” he began sheathing his blade and turning back to the long abandoned lifts. His urge to ride one of these outweighed his need for caution. Opening the gate and climbing in the nuit tried to activate the machine. This was obviously the fastest way to the golem lab.

by **Archelon** on January 6th, 2012, 3:46 am

Rayage's choice of direction within the personal lift was a fortuitous one; Impeded only by a large rusty lever with a squeeze handle upon its grip. With a bit of exertion, throwing his frail form's weight against it the ancient gadgetried mechanism would slide two notches in its track before the ghost inside the nuit yelled at him to stop.

Slowly, the lift began to descend, and the brisk wind of its passage would be felt upon his undead skin. On the ride down two mine levels; a clear view of the mineshaft would have him note that halfway down in the large , the chains keeping it suspended would have been broken off. Shorn clean as it were by something, or someone. Had he chosen that route ; it was obvious he would have met a quick, and squishy splattered end. But not with this smaller lift. At the appropriate level, the car would grind to a halt with a protesting squeal and the nuit would step out to another mine corridor, his flickering torch illuminating the area.

He would soon have to find , or make another one.

"Large door to your left, commander." The ghost would say, and the nuit would follow along the path to see a large set of iron doors, still in their hinges despite the valterrian. For a moment he wondered how he would get inside... and his bewonderment would be answered sooner rather then later, "Take a closer look your nuitship. There's a smaller wooden door on the inner frame, though it looks like it's rotted out. A good couple chops of yar blade might help kick it out."

by **Rayage** on January 6th, 2012, 4:35 am

Rayage was glad he chose the path he did, and with only a bit of effort, ok quite a bit for being a nuit, he got the lift to work. It began its descent and the nuit looked around growing almost weary of the encompassing darkness that was surrounding him. Luckily he had his torch and wondered if there were going to be any more of the crazed ghosts. He knew that it was quite the possiblity, but
they were standing in his way between him and lab. Annoying and pesky things. Foul creatures that should have moved on so long ago. He was actually growing a steady hate for them. Why do they feel the need to continue to exist? Then again, it seemed the only ghosts that annoyed him were the ones standing in his way and not the faithful captain.

The cage and contraption lumbering down he would notice his near fatal decision. He was glad he chose this route instead. Though riding in the cart brought back memories of the old days. They were foggy of course from the hand of time, but they were still there. He could half picture this contraption in its prime. It almost made him feel alive, but that shadow of a memory, that whisper of a time, was brought to a hault when the cart stopped. He was here.
The tourch flickered, dieing, just like everything else. He would have to replace before long. Frowning at that fact he made haste to the iron doors. Grinning he looked at the massive size of the barriers. It reminded him of his lab doors back in Sahova. They too were made of metal and thick and heavy. It takes him quite a while to even exit his own lab.

Seeing the old wooden door that the ghost mentioned he half wondered how the ghost knew these mines so well. Well, it seemed at least the beings memory was as good as his. That was quite reassuring. Taking a second to look at the door he put a hand over it and observed it. Such a shame that he would have to be breaking this down. Or trying to at least. It was old enough and therefor weak enough. Nodding and stepping back he drew his blade once more. Getting into a stance, having trouble holding both the sword and the torch in the same grip, the nuit lunged forward with the sword bringing it down in a hacking motion, much like one would do with an ax. The blade hit the door and thudded, sinking into the wood. Having a bit of trouble yanking it out the nuit would stumble backwards before getting back into position. Again he swung at it, same style as before, but he tried to put more weight behind it. The blades bite sunk in deeper and the moan of the doors giving away could be heard. He had made a nice hole in it and yanking the blade out the nuit pushed on the door. It gave way. Stumbling in the wizard lost grip of the torch he had, and it fell on the ground, along with his sword.

Well... he was in. Standing up he brushed his robes off and went to retrieve his sword. Sheathing it, he would attempt to get his torch if it had not went out.

by **Archelon** on January 8th, 2012, 1:39 am

A world full of dust and grime, laying heavy like blankets upon the tables, desks, and berthing areas of the golem workshop. The design was reminiscient of the labs upon the nuit isle... a place where golems were created every year to replace the old; experimented on ; or hacked. Yet here, her in this workshop it was blockier in layout. Designed less for research and more for repair, and use.

Indeed twenty four blocks lined a corridor ; twelve on each side, heading towards a large cavenous room at the end of the passage... an empty mineshaft lay open, bare to the elements; a place where the golems were once lifted to other areas of the mines, by a similar contraption that was the smaller lift the nuit had rode down upon... save that is was larger. Indeed, probably the same contraption he had seen for the mine carts.

On one secluded alcove; there was a doorway, set beside two much larger doors and with his torch the nuit would enter the room... only to find something very similar, yet oddly different then usual. He was looking over a large warehouse; its walls carved out of solid rock; and it's floor studded with many a strange design spread out before him to form an alchemic circle of such scope and magnitude it would dwarf his imaginations.

At least it looked like one giant alchemic circle... for what of it he could see... ancient torchers were in stands about ithe room, and Rayage would spend some time, lighting the old wood; long since past the time it should have rotted, yet oddly preserved. If he had paid any attention when he lit the next one, he would note the fine visual lines of a shield , far too old and brittle fraying from the heat of the burning pitch. As if the torches, nay the cavern itself had at one time been heavily shielded in order to preserve it from the ultimate degrader of books, spoiler of meat, and other precious things: the element of air.

But soon enough, he had an inkling of what he was standing upon... a room filled with glyphed circles, animation rings; alchemy patterns, sometimes criss crossing in their intricacies as on the far side a series of pedestals sat in line; upon old stone desks.

On shelves, ancient tools of artificers would lay, their implements worn by time, fragile, and aloss of their original purposes.

His eyes would take in it all and wonder at the sheer amounts of operation such golems would have required... for a time the ghost inside would leave him to his revelrie, merely sitting to watch and wait as he pondered what he had seen so far.

by **Rayage** on January 10th, 2012, 11:12 pm

The lab, a whole new world compared to outside caverns, opened and allowed him inside. The dust of the ages did not bother him, no, because dust could be removed, and everything can be restored. What a find. The nuit felt oddly small in such a big lab. Sure his Alchemy lab was huge, but not this big. The fires light flickered on the walls as the nuit took in his surroundings. There were twenty four blocks. He counted them as he walked pass. Yes, this was nothing to his Alchemy lab, and probably dwarfed, if he was being generous, was 'better' suited than his lab in Sahova, but that is making quite the assumptions. Sahova has the best magical facilities in the world since its creation. Though if this place was indeed somehow connected to Sahova, as the map and golem factory made it seem, then perhaps this place could give the island a run for its money. He shrugged away his own thoughts. If you thought about Rays assumption was probably correct, and if so this place would have been better than Sahova only for the fact that it was on the mainland and access to materials needed were easily found, or more so than having it imported to an island. Impressive indeed.

Then something caught his eye. Barely noticed in the flickering firelight, and if he wasnt really observing, really looking at the much larger doorways, he would have missed the smaller, more easily unnoticed entrance snaked between two larger doors. Only a passing divot, and in the darkness looked like nothing more, but upon further inspection found it was much more, a door. How these door made him excited. "Well..." he said to himself, or perhaps the ghost within him, "What is behind the mystery door?" half expecting an answer. Entering it anyways, just curious to see what could be hidden in such a small door. What would someone hide? Well, he would soon find out. There was nothing quite like exploring. Opening the door and pausing a moment the faint light cast by the fire only extended so far before it was ate again by the darkness. The light feeding the dark... That is how it went. No matter how brightly you shine one will always cast a shadow. He laughed at the ironic thought moving the torch from side to side. Noticing the carvings on the ground Ray would bend down, his hand going along the surface, feeling the crevasses made. "Interesting..." he muttered
this time definitely to himself.

Standing back up he would spy what seemed to be like torches and started to light them. As each one of them were being lit and more and more of the inscriptions of could be seen Ray would be get more and more... well, excited. Or as excited as a nuit could get. With each torch lit more and more of the circle became visible along with the room itself. This was... could it be? Yes, it was an alchemy circle but unlike one he has ever seen or imagined. Chuckling to himself he moved to the last torch, the faint light that the mass of torches gave off was enough to light the room to a reasonable level. Though... he did in fact notice the faint sliver of magic fade away as he set fire to each torch. He knew the magic as none other than shielding. Having not experimented much in it himself, he could not determine the power of the shield, only that, if he could tell by the surroundings, that it once was very powerful to have lasted this long. Someone wanted to make sure they did not damage anything with their alchemy experiments, but something did not add up. He looked over the 'alchemy circle' along with the other devices in the room, what was all this extra stuff? Surly not extra counter space, no... they served some kind of purpose...

Taking a moment to realize what he was looking at he followed one line to the next to the next to the next to the next. Sigils, runes, glyphs, and circles of all kinds filled the rooms. "What is this place?" he asked himself, if he had been mortal he probably would have been gawking, but instead he just stood there, slowly turning in a circle, observing all he could take in. "Simply
amazing" he nodded. Stopping his spin abruptly he noticed something that resembled a book laying on one of the farther pedestals. Going over to it he would stop at the edge of a runic circle and observe the book. Yes, it was indeed a book. Old too, but again oddly preserved and in finer condition than he would have expected it to be on first glance. Everything else in these caverns were so old but this book... Yes, it had to be protected by the same kind of magic which held those torches together all these years. A hand carefully reached out, but stopped. He couldnt let his curiosity get the best of him, not when it could be trapped.

Laughing, he knew mages guarded their secrets well, but he didnt sense any danger around, and the magic in the place has mostly faded, only leaving him a slight tingle of Djed in the air. Nothing much, but just enough for him to tell magic was once about. Quite impressive. Going against his better judgement he grabbed the book and went to open it.