-
Betrayal at Amon Lungan
For hundreds of years, the enormous doors had remained closed. Spiders had spun their webs across the entrance, the fine strands shimmering silver in the moonlight. Dust covered each of the forty-nine steps that led up the hill, pooling thickly in the corners of the massive porch. But now, footprints scuffed the dirty stone, and many of the cobwebs hung limply from their tethers. The house, the peace, had been disturbed here. So had the spirits that dwelled within the walls.
For the second time in less than a week, the enormous doors swung open. A small woman peered inside, her emerald eyes squinting against the glaring light of the foyer. Lit by one hundred flickering candles, the bright room stood in sharp contrast to the inky darkness of the forest. Had she not expected the candles to be lit, or the house to be ready to receive her? How else would she be able to appreciate the stunning beauty of the entrance hall? Her footfalls echoed in the massive chamber, boots thudding smartly against the glossy tile. Despite the dust, as fine as a light brushing of snow, the floor seemed to shimmer with the reflection of the candles' gleam. The ceiling seemed to come together miles overhead, consuming two entire floors of space. Twin staircases arched upward on either side of the room, connecting the main level to the upper rooms. Thick fabric of deep, royal blue was draped along the walls, hiding various doorways on the second floor from view. Ornate candelabras reached inward from the walls on all sides, twisting silver that perfectly matched the chandelier. It was that chandelier that stole the show, dangling high above even the tallest visitor. The piece was massive, held by a chain as thick as a man's arm, and easily eight feet in diameter. It was the shimmering centerpiece that drove away the ghosts that lurked in the shadows. Or, most of them, anyway.
For the second time in less than a week, the enormous doors slammed shut. The sound boomed through the seemingly abandoned house, rivaled only by the subsequent crack of thunder. Now the soundtrack for the rest of the evening, the steady rumble of heavy rain on the roof settled in to fill the silence. She had beaten the storm, but was it only sanctuary that she sought? Was it only the weather she hoped to escape from, and was it safety that she would find as she ventured deeper into the house?
-
Quietly, he regarded the man shivering before him. Straight-backed, proud, knowing, strong, one hand raised under his chin he looked the perfect picture of contemplation and wisdom. Long white-blonde hair flowed down to his shoulders like twin waterfalls, optimisingly matching the light grey tail coat, trousers and white, open-necked shirt he wore as he sat upon his oak throne. A throne in which was in prime place of this well-sized, panelled room, with only one door and half a dozen guard dotted around the walls. All focused inwards to the human shaking on the rug in the centre. Slowly the one on the throne blinked, and set his hand on the arm of his throne, glancing to his right. There stood a tall elf, with wavy brown hair and green eyes, supporting a sword at his side. He gave the lord a slightly nod, to which the lord responded by looking to his left. Partly back in the darkness of the room, stood a kenku. Clothed in a thin tunic her glossy black feathers allowed her to partially merge with the shadows in which she waited - watching as the interview came to its conclusion.
She gave the lord little regard other than a clack of her tongue against the side of her great, dark beak.
The lord, a noble of Beinost by the name of Sir Vitruvion Elssmith, turned back to the one on the rug.
"A house you say?" questioned he, his rich, succulent voice sending all hearts in the room pounding.
With a thick swallow the interviewee gulped a huge, long breath. And a tremour ran through his body as he tried to gesture a simple, unbroken nod. The man had been here for an hour already, snatched from the streets of Beinost by the same six guards who stood about the room. Already the world of the city had been hammering him for answers to his riddle about the 'crunching of bones'. He had been treated well by the kinder citizens, it was true, but when nobody had been able to answer his question over the grotesque sound, the man - still shaken and gasping - had stumbled back onto the streets, better clothed and fed -and that was where these people had found him.
And it had not taken long for him to meet the lord Vitrivion and find out that he could see into his mind.
"C-crunching of bones," the man whispered again. But his mind showed an image of a ghostly house, an entrance hall lit by a hundred candles. "Crunching of bones," he repeated, and his mind showed a dark forest.
"I see," Vitruvion agreed, "The forest near Amon Lungan."
"Crunching," the man nodded, this time in a better controlled manner. "Crunching, cr-crunching of bones."
Looking to his left, to the elf - Raevin was his name - the lord paused for a moment, but then changed his mind and looked right suddenly. For a long moment the kenku there, who was called Avis, or rather Stare, disregarded him, her eyes focused in on this apparent lone survivor of a terrible ordeal. But then she felt a sharp twang against her consciousness. It was not painful - there had been a time when Vitruvion had needed to use pain to get her attention - but rather just uncomfortable. It was an indication of presence, a way of saying 'give me your attention'.
With a grunt Stare looked over at him, the ridge above her eyes that was the closest thing to a brow rising.
"Yeah?"
"I want you to go and find out what this is," Vitruvion said, his voice still like honey. "Clearly there is some devilry going on here."
"You are the only one who can see what he is thinking," Stare objectively retorted, "So its not very 'clear' to the rest of us."
Another stab at her conscious. This time it made her wince. With a roll of her eyes she looked away, back to their interviewee - victim - on the rug.
"Fine," she thickly replied.
"I will be watching all the way," Vitruvion regarded her, "Naturally you will need my help. I expect also there to be other adventurers heading there, having heard the rumours from this wretch. He is the last survivor of a group of four that originally went in. It was just luck that he happened to stumble into my city." He indicated the rug.
"Crunching oh-of b-bones," came the agreement.
Stare grunted and pushed away from the wall. "Beinost is not entirely your city," she replied, dryly. But all she received was a stern glare. After the destruction of the house of Heysan, a rich merchant and noble family in the city, Vitruvion had begun to presume more power over the broken city day by day. Nothing she could do about, however. Her job was to simply follow orders.
Shifting her weight onto the clawed feet beneath her she gave in, and set her hands on the two dagger hilts by her waist.
"When do I leave?" she asked.
"... Now."
---
A cold and harsh wind drove pelting rain against her feathers. It was dark - terrifyingly so, as it was under a thick bed of cloud and whatever dark magics held his place in constant horror. She had, though, the luxury of being able to still perfectly see, for her eyes were capable of finding any light, even if it was invisible to others. As fast as she could she ran from the cover of the forest, leaving behind the dapple-coated chocobo she had rented from the closest town. The bird was patient and bold, responding to her touch as if it felt the avian connection between them, but it had no place in a potentially haunted house. Thus, Stare had left the beast just in the trees, unbound so it could run home if it needed.
And so she was now alone, braving the sodden wet to head for this terrible gravestone of a mansion before her. She already had an expectation of some of the rooms here - for what Vitruvion had managed to glimpse from the shaking survivor he had passed now onto her. Images of candles, traps and odd-looking rooms were now locked in her memory, at least giving her an expectation of what was to come. Even if the vast majority of the pictures were far too vague for any true advantage.
As she reached the large, front door she extended a clawed hand and grasped the handle to pull it towards her. A large, terrible creak resounded around her but it did not make her less daunted. She had a purpose to do, after all, and the storm here was picking up.
Desperately she darted in when the crack she opened was large enough. It took a mere second for her eyes to adjust back from their infrared specialisation to normal sight. They swept the room, avidly, taking in the same sight that she had been promised - and expected. A vast hall, two stories high. Indigo and prussian blue drapes across almost every wall, with tens upon tens of candles lighting it from walls and from a huge chandlier, with a glorious beauty. A quick intake of breath and Stare assessed the ways out of the space, finding the two staircases leading upwards, and the places where she could hide. Some micro-seconds later she scanned the room once more, stunned to find another body there. A small, surprised looking woman. Rather neutral in allignment, according to her greenish aura. But only the one being.
At least for now.
Stare slipped further into the room, not caring about stealth. Clack, clack, clack, went her talons on the floor, cutting large grooves in the dust as she did.
-
(edits in progress)
-Amari beats the storm, throws open door, gets a little cranky, parts of the enamel and wood decay udner her fingertips.)
-Sees bird creature, huffs and ignores bird creature,
-internal monologue about her being hungry and wondering if bird creature tastes more like hcicken or duck
--- --
her happening upon the house-
---
her entering the house
--
Scarlet pushed back long strands of crimson hair away from her broken face. She'd kill for a hair tie right now. Literally. It was frizzy and matted in some places from the humidity and the heavy wetness in the air. The storm was right on her tail. She managed to slip through a crack in the door before it slammed shut behind her. The sound reverberated and it felt as though the entire house shook from the force. Scarlet paid it no mind. It was the wind. Why else would she think it be anything different?
Clothes were a difficult thing for the woman to wear lately, if Scarlet wasn't careful they'd simply melt away from her. The miasma from her blackened and corrupted soul was still precarious and untamed. Now her very skin was broken. If she were to take off the leather jacket it'd reveal holes in her upper right arm and lower left arms, as though she were a porcelain pot that had been glued back together but some pieces were missing. Did it bother her? No, not really. It was just a hindrance.
--
Scelera eyes, lined with a single golden rim regarded the feathery creature. It wore clothes and stood with a straight and confident back. Whatever it was, it was sentient. Scarlet's head tilted to the side slightly as she pursed her lips. She hadn't eaten since her last stop in town, and that was many hours ago. A hand rested lightly on her ever so slightly swollen abdomen. The creature could prove to be a decent meal, didn't look like it could put up much of a fight. Do giant black feathery bird-human-things taste more like chicken or duck? Would their meat be gamey or filled with sinew? Was it even worth the fight? The creature didn't look like it had a lot of meat on it, but it'd do in a pinch, Scarlet supposed.
The woman sighed, turning her eyes away from the black beaked creature and instead focused her tri-coloured gaze on one of the lavishly decorated walls. Scarlet stepped away from the entrance and approached one of the walls, her hand reached out and grazed its dusty surface. Palms and fingertips tingled as she left faint trails of decay in her wake. "Damn, thought I had that under control." Scarlet pulled her hand away and clapped it against her other hand to rid herself of the dust.
The oncoming storm meant she had the option of spending the night with a strange bird creature, or slinking out and about in the rain. A sigh of mild annoyance fell from her lips. She wasn't sure what she preferred more.
Damn....lately storms seemed to have their way of trapping her amongst places she did not want to be, first the tavern. Where she had to put up with Philomel being all huffy as she took Fenn away, then Madison and Lye as they became all serious and bonded over god knows what. Then...
Then...
Shinsou.
It was at times like this Scarlet was glad most of her emotions were non existent. Sure since her fall into brief madness she found herself feeling remnents of emotions here and there. Annoyance, anger, frustration, but when it came to him. She was glad there was a large and empty void. He didn't seem to pay her any mind back then, perhaps he did not remember her, perhaps he did not care.
But what did it matter to her? Until recently she thought him dead.
Scarlet turned her gaze back to the door.
Perhaps the storm would be better than this.
-
His mind wandered as wagon wheels creaked along the dirt road. Glossy and out of focus, the Raiaeran countryside twisted into an amalgamation of dreams and thoughts. Beautiful women danced in rhythmic circles around the wagon interior as he took a deeper drag of his pipe and shut both eyes. "Strong herb you have there," an older man remarked as Tobias relaxed. "Medicinal stuff?" he asked curiously.
"You could say so," Tobias drawled. In reality, the ill-gotten herb passed to him from a black marketeer around Beinost. It mattered little where it originated. Instead of foul memories of Salvar and degenerate slaughter, his nights were filled with carnal ecstasy and voluptuous bosoms. It made for better medicine than the salves of a Raiaeran Druid. He opened an eye to regard the salt-and-pepper haired fellow, and he snorted a plume of white smoke from his nostrils.
The other man chuckled. "Secret's safe with me," his newfound friend whispered conspiratorially across the distance between them. "So," he began. "What brings you to this forgotten edge of the beautiful city?"
"Work," Tobias answered. "More specifically, the prospect of work. Rare is the time I actually find gainful employment." Mercenaries of the day found most of their contracts near Alerar and toward the fringes of the Plaguelands, places where combat was prominent. Treasure hunters like Tobias however, sought their fortune in high mountains and deep caves, and on occasion in the coffers of abandoned mansions.
Amon Lungan was something of a legend to the local populace. Different stories surrounded the happenings there, and the newfound property that stood just north of it roused even more interest. The rising popularity drew his attention, mostly because he wanted first pick of any loot to be found in its balls.
Few people were brave enough to enter houses left alone for an age, and more still believed in the folktales about ghosts and devils. Tobias learned long ago that such powers were real, and the talk of dangers was all too true. The real problem lay in preparation, and in the approach.
Where he sat now among the hay bales of a farmer bound for Amon Lungan gave him perspective. He broke free of the drug illusion and glanced northward to where the untouched estate stared down at him. Tobias tapped the ruined herb out of his pipe and sighed deeply. "Looks like I won't be the first one to arrive," he remarked blandly.
"Oh no," the farmer laughed, "folks have been showing up for months. Word is, some damn fool ran out screaming about the crunching of bones some weeks back, and he hasn't shut up about it since." Tobias glanced over, vaguely interested.
"The crunching of bones?" he asked.
"Aye," the farmer reiterated. "Was all he could say. Like every other word in every other language was ripped out of him, and he was struck dumb."
"Curious," Tobias murmured to himself.
"This is as close as I can get you," the farmer told him as he brought the wagon to a halt. "The mansion is just up this hill, and only a short walk. If you plan on coming back before nightfall, I can wait for you?"
Tobias shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary." The man adjusted his cloak and hopped out of the hay. "It might be that I have to stay through the night to find what I'm looking for. I'd rather not put any extra burden on you. Thank you for the ride."
"Of course," the farmer smiled. "Safe travels, my friend."
Tobias nodded. "And to you," he said as he headed up the hill. Then came the thunder.
