The Heroes Die Two By Two (Open)
Quote:
Open to one character with an NPC, or to a duo.
Unsurmountable darkness. Endless, unfathomable leagues of caves, cracks, and crevices. Forgotten cities and forgotten empires, crumbling to dust without the light of day to chronicle their decay.
Infallible radiance. Brief, uncountable millions of gems, gold veins, and fungal forests. Unknown valleys and beasts unimaginable, a wilderness falling into myth without hunters to harry and miners to quarry.
To some, the Underdark was the stuff of nightmares. It was the hell beneath your feet. A place one visited only in the deepest of sleeps. To some, that hell was a haven. Dwarves once carved great civilisations into the bedrock of the world. Orcs ventured to search for sleeping gods. Elves, when exiled from the sun, journeyed into oblivion to build cities of their own.
Cydnar Yrene had seen all this and more in his intolerably long life. The weight of years and wars and worries threatened to break his spine. He had fought to be free of the shadows, to rise up to the surface once more. No sooner than he had claimed a foothold in the frozen hearth of Salvar, his mistake became apparent.
“I am sick of running.”
He glared into the mists. The tunnel behind him swallowed all light. The cave ahead, a mile high in places was a tropical, verdant jungle. Water poured down through cracks in the ceiling, scattering to vapour as the geysers along its floor darted boiling jets a mile high at their apex.
“You really want to go back?”
Behind him, sword held firmly in two hands, Cydnar’s younger brother stared into the tunnel. His feline senses searched beyond the torrent of running water and the sound of self-regret. Something, somebody, was following them.
“Don’t you?” The sage unclipped one of his haematite canes from his belt, and tapped its tip onto the rock. The blade sprung up, landed in his waiting hand, and spiralled through a deadly, silent rotation.
“Without hesitation.” Dalasi longed to return to the Capital, Ict. “I believe the Umber Hulks might object to that decision, however.”
Cydnar cursed under his breath. It had been a decade since they had first heard the trembling of The Great Migration. It had been centuries since the creatures had last left their breeding grounds. The city had almost forgotten the dangers, and paid terribly for it.
“It will be hard fought. However, we belong here now. Ict will be ours once more.” In time, Cydnar hoped to re-establish outposts in all the geodes where once the Hummel had lived and prospered.
“Do you even remember how to use that?” Dalasi rolled his eyes and, satisfied they were in no immediate danger, turned to stand at his brother’s side. His dark, tanned leather armour stood in contrast to the purple and white robes of his sibling.
Cydnar was not sure that he did. The construction of Aladar had become a trial of errors, logistical, not swordplay. Even the constant company of his magic had faded into a long forgotten scent of power. Though he could lead men into battle, there was much to do before he could fight alongside them.
“We shall see,” he said glibly.
The jungle ahead was a replication of the geodes that surrounded the ancient city of Drizz. Long ago, in the golden age of the Hummel, it had been home to the hunters, herbalists, and hedonists of their kind. Here, dark elven and high elven faith collided, and the jungle that remind prospered on their druidic legacy. It would make for an excellent proving ground.
