Quest Labyrinth - Adventure 1

[Paragon]

Timestamp: 77th of Winter, 512 AV Duration: (5+2) 7 Days Skills Chosen: Ignotus (Hypnotism, Reimancy, Persuasion), Wrenmae (Hypnotism, Morphing, Long Dagger) Tier: - 2 OOCWelcome to the labyrinth. Remember these are mini quests, so no need for super long and detailed posts. Normal game rules don't always apply here. Have fun! The boat neared the edge of the sinkhole, the sailor's careful navigation the only thing keeping it from falling straight down the cascading wall of water. Spools of rope were gathered, and the other sailor helped Wrenmae and Ignotus descend down into the hole. They were trusted members of Zeltivan society, proven time and time again, and the Lord of Council was more than happy to allow these two exploration of the labyrinthine ruins that had been uncovered only the previous night. The sailors waved down to them, letting them know they would await their return. And below, the pair found themselves in a musty, lichen covered spiral of stone. Two concentric spirals, one heading east, one heading west. The water had been sucked right from the stone, back out into the bay. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

[Ignotus Everto]

They did not go alone. Perhaps anticipating some sort of horrible monster in the depths, or just for the sake of security, three hundred undead pigeons of varying degrees of decay accompanied them. It was really quite inspiring, when one looked at it. Ignotus stood with his foot planted solidly on the prow of the ship, his cloak flapping in the harsh ocean winds, a hand on his bent knee and another on his hip, looking stoically out into the briny blue... With two dozen rotting avian soldiers perched on his shoulders, and one planted firmly on his head, preening itself and hooting dazedly. The boatman was unamused.

Still, Ignotus felt much better about descending into the labyrinthine depths with the flutter of hundreds of wings behind him. And, of course, Wrenmae at his side. Then again, that in and of itself was quite worrying. There were certain... Coincidences, that happened to point in his companion's direction when it came to the plague. Now was not the time to bring it up... Immediately. Besides, it was only a small possibility.

Instead, at the sight of the fork, Ignotus remarked dryly, "Let's see... Mysterious magical maze, opportunity to split up, possibility of murderous cephalopods... Let's stick together, shall we?" he suggested with a grin and a pat on the shoulder.

The pat was not for show, of course. The moment they made contact, the Cordas mark over the Nuit's heart came to life, laying a set of glowing green threads on Wrenmae. They weren't for hostile purposes, however. Quite the opposite. They would serve two very important purposes. One: If they got separated, as long as they remained within thirty feet of each other, Ignotus could make his way back to his compatriot. Two, if danger approached Wremae from behind, as long as he was leading, Ignotus could cause him to dive out of the way. In all, very important threads.

"If superstition had any part in building this place, then the left path will likely be the more dangerous path. Of course, if it didn't, then which one is better is anyone's guess." Looking to his partner, the wizard inquired, "Which path do you think we should take?"

[Wrenmae]

Tell Danica to move over, she's been giving you the eye the whole ride.

Zan. For the LAST time. WHO is Danica?

Look to your left.

That's the boatman.

Now look down.

His feet?

On his shoe.

....

See her?

The...pigeon?

The pigeon? THE pigeon? She has a name, Wrenmae. Her name is Danica. I'm really starting to worry about the way you view the world.

I can't be racist against pigeons.

I have some startling evidence to the contrary

THEY'RE PIGEONS! GODS DAMNED ANIMATED PETCHING DEAD PETCHING PIGEONS!

Good thing that was to me. I don't think her family would understand...and they outnumber us.

They also can't understand Common

To YOUR knowledge. Maybe they can also understand telepathy and body language.

I'm not having this conversation.

Because the cold fear of truth has crept into your brain? Because the realization that these crafty thieves have been playing us as fools the moment we SAW them has finally dawned on those ever evil eyes?

Evil eyes?

That's what you took away from what I said? Evil eyes? Shyke. Self centered much?

Shut up. Just. Shut up. Shut up from now until sunrise.

Silly Wrenmae. We're going into a hole in the ocean. There IS no sun underwater.

That's the POINT

The point was to make a stupid suggestion?

SHUT UP!

Iggy will understand me. We're brothers, he and I.

Iggy?

My bro name for him. Bro, short for brother. You wouldn't understand. You don't have one.

He's your brother now?

More like white, soupy, retarded cousin...but yes. Brother...or as I say. Bro Iggy....or if I feel playful, Briggy.

We're done talking.

Sure. You're not legit enough to jive with me and Briggy anyways.


Stepping into the labrynth, Wren was quiet, marshalling his will not to stomp on one of the awkwardly moving undead pigeons that had followed them. He and Iggy resembled more the leaders of somewhat flightless, tiny shields than the explorers they had purported to be...and no doubt the sailor who had taken them over would have some significant tales to recount.

Meanwhile, they stood in the entrance of the strange new structure, watching the water twist and turn in paradox and obvious magical influence.

Ignotus spoke, and Wren listened, nodding.

"In my experience, one does not often trap places of living or worship. One traps tombs or places that have things worth taking. Let's try the left path, shall we? The more danger we are apt to face, the greater the secrets buried beyond."

He gave a smile and nod to his fellow hypnotist. In truth he'd been surprised when Ignotus had stopped him at the docks and asked to accompany him across. Originally Wrenmae would have traveled alone, used to the solitude these days. Ignotus was insistant, however, and so Wrenmae had relented.

The nuit had proved his worth and talent many times before and now would be no different...the only trouble was if they came across only one item of value.

Wrenmae cracked his knuckles, glancing back at Ignotus before nodding at him to send his pigeons first.

Well...if it came to that, perhaps they'd need to settle on an 'agreement'.

[Paragon]

The duo headed west, caught in another stone spiral that seemed to twist and turn forever. It grew cold in this place. Ice cold. So many memories, so much time was caught in this submerged realm. The western spiral gave way to another stone passageway, and at the end, Wrenmae and Ignotus were funnelled into a room. At first it seemed like they had ended up in a giant clam shell. There were no other exits, apart from a mirror on the opposite side of the room. As they closed in on it, to their horror, they would discover the twisted time of this maze had already worked its magic. Wrenmae stood, grey hair, a man nearing the end of his life. Ignotus' body peeled and flaked, the flesh long expired. If they turned back around, the clam shell had closed shut, blocking their exits. They could approach the mirror, or attempt use of a relevant skill.

[Ignotus Everto]

While Ignotus liked to think of himself as well-prepared, he had not anticipated he and his comrade suddenly aging fifty years. He disapproved. Fortunately, he also considered solutions.

If this was an actual clam, then smoke would likely irritate it into spitting them out. However, given that there was no clam in the clam shell, that probably wouldn't work. So he needed to find the cause of the magic. Doing so was as simple as stepping away from the mirror. If he got younger, then smoke wasn't such a bad idea after all. Otherwise, it was a mad dash for the mirror.

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae's first impulse was to shout, tear at the reflection in the mirror and deny it from existence. He was handsome, even old, but the lines of age riddled his skin like black marks of death, track marks of time's daggers on his body. Instead, he only hissed, looking down at wrinkled hands and then clenching them, stepping toward the mirror step by step. He kept himself centered at the mirror, staring at his reflection and marking it for any changes. If distance had anything to do with the effects of age, he'd soon discover it.

The clam around them was a prison, and not one he wanted to deal with at present. His magic might allow him to grow within the confines of the oyster and push the damn thing open, but it only opened the way back to where they'd come.

What if they were stuck like this?

No.

There was always something, a trigger. The shell had closed and they had aged, both had been reflected in the mirror, so perhaps it had something to do with its existence.

Another step. Two.

He'd find out eventually.

[Paragon]

Distance did not seem to make a difference to their ageing complexions. It was not necessarily the reflection, but the mirror that was at play. Was it fear that drove them? Fear of the person that looked back at them, worn, tired; one who had seen so many things? Suddenly the reflections changed further. Crouched. Withered. Dying almost. They were faded expressions of themselves. The Labyrinth was challenging them, and this first test was pitted at Wrenmae specifically. Ignotus' time would come. Of course, they felt normal in themselves, and so it became clear this was an illusion of some sort. But still, they were trapped in this clamshell like room. It seemed the only thing they could do was to try and break whatever magic had a hold over them. Wrenmae would need to shatter the illusion by choosing an appropriate skill.

[Ignotus Everto]

It was when the mirror showed the two of them as hunchbacked that Ignotus began to suspect something was wrong. Namely, neither he nor Wrenmae were crouching over. As such, either he was that dead, or the mirror was full of shyke. Smoke was unnecessary, then. So was panicking.

So instead of running like an idiot, Ignotus drew himself up and calmly dusted his cloak before taking a moment to clear his throat. "Well. That was embarrassing."

Hopefully Wrenmae had made the connection as well. Otherwise, a smack in the back of the head and an explanation was in order.

[Wrenmae]

Sighing, the hypnotist processed the words of the nuit behind him. As they approached, their forms had changed again till they stood only by strange powers of fate itself...for no time would ever let such collections of dust will itself to be aright.

"An illusion of the mind then," he said aloud, walking up to the mirror and drawing his dagger. "Perhaps we can pass if we shatter its source?" The reflection of him unnerved the mage, so he turned his gaze away from it, reversing the grip he had on his drawn dagger and bringing it across against the glass. Perhaps the mirror would shatter into a doorway, or the shell would open to allow them exit.

Personally, the mage wanted to penetrate deeper into these caverns...find what mysteries lay within.

"Ignotus," he called back, pausing before the pommel of his dagger made contact with the glass, "You seemed insistant on coming, almost too insistent...since when does a man with eyes for greater ambition seek to crawl through unexplored ruins? I'd expect you to send a horde of men in first to ware away the traps..."

He brought the pommel against the mirror.

"What's your real motivation for being here?"

[Paragon]

The dagger began to collide with the mirror, but the surface gave way, rippling to show it was no solid plane. In the end, the blade and pommel simply swam through it in an arc, and Wrenmae ended up pulling it out the other side. In the reflection, they grew more haggard still. Something beyond old age. Ignotus was barely recognisable, and Wrenmae was something akin to a Pycon left in liquid. Shrivelled and flaking. Brute force would not do. Wrenmae would need to select another of his skills to shatter this illusion.