The Shadows of Siukan's Haven

[Sighter Tnailog]

((closed))

"When an evil spirit comes out of a man, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, 'I will return to the house I left.' When it arrives, it finds the house swept clean and put in order. Then it goes and takes seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that man is worse than the first."
--Luke 11:24-25

When Findelfin stepped into the glade, he was struck by how unchanged it was. The very air smelled the same, like grass bruised slightly underfoot and wood slowly rotting into soil. A decaying log leaned awkwardly against a small rock bluff jutting from the forest floor, the entrance to a cave cut out of it. It looked like a mouth opened in a terrible shout, but the only sound coming out was silent, ominous: an empty cry in a fearsome dream.

The only thing that had changed was the light. Thick beams cut through the canopy, suspended like rafters in an old attic. When Findelfin last entered, it had been broad daylight, but now it was darkening to dusk. That, at least, seemed fitting. Hefting his pack, which included more than enough supplies, he took the remaining few steps towards the cavern.

As he walked, he crumpled a scrap of paper within his fist. Nobody was here; he had been foolish. He had seemed it appropriate at the time, to write out a flyer and disperse it through Radasanth. That was how he had started this so long ago, when he responded to a poster on a bazaar stall. But people were busier now, their lives filled with work, their time too precious to devote to a journey through an ancient ruin. It was silly to Findelfin now, as dusk faded into night, to even think there would be a response. He would have to descend into Siukan’s Haven alone. He had thought about asking Legeliwyn himself, but considering what his friend had faced here, he couldn’t ask him to come back. And Wyn knew he was going, so there was no need to ask in the first place.

Stepping towards the cave's yawning portal, he paused without stepping across the threshold. He wanted to taste the air one last time before entering that cavernous darkness. And something told him that he needed to give the light enough time to fade into shadow.

Night was the perfect time to descend into shadow, as you didn’t need to fall so far.

[Letho]

Duty.

Duty was a concept that Letho adhered to during his entire life. It was one of the few things that seemed to be following him everywhere he went, like a tagalong watch dog that had no other purpose but to stay on your heels as a constant reminder. Duty kept people in line, it brought order into chaos, it gave meaning to those that had none. But duty could also be a backpack full of bricks that somebody strapped to your back. Regardless of how resilient you were and how much endurance and willpower you prided yourself with, duty was something that wore you down sooner or later. The problem wasn’t that somebody told you – ordered you – to do something. The problem was when you were told what to do over and over and over again. And suddenly you found yourself spending more time on some inane tasks then you spent at home, with a woman you loved.

It was one of these tasks that took Letho Ravenheart from the serenity of the Willow Manor and the lively red firecracker that resided within it, offering the wilderness of the Concordia forest as an unworthy substitute. Apparently, some glory-hunter got the bright idea to visit a place called Siukan’s Haven. The name rang no alarm bells in the mind of the Marshal, but it seemed to be ringing plenty of brass ones that sat a bit higher on the hierarchic ladder in the Corone Government. Soon after the flyers came to their attention, the request for inspection followed.

“Nothing good can come out of people nosing around Siukan’s Haven. Something vicious sleeps there and it’s been years since somebody woke it up.� Leeahn’s words. Letho wasn’t impressed, more so because it was his name that the Captain scribbled on the order, designating him as the one that was to go and make sure everything was in order. Usually, Rangers didn’t take orders from the members of the CAF, but Concordia was Ranger’s jurisdiction, their responsibility. It was up to them to prevent somebody from strolling into a cave just to awake a sleeping dragon or something of the like. Granted, this was probably just a false alarm. “Routine check. You’ll be home by the end of the week.� Again, Leeahn’s words. Again, unimpressive.

But that watch dog that followed at Letho’s heels was there, so instead of dodging this bullet, the bearded swordsman took the hit and did what he always did. Follow the rules. Hold on to your honor. Remain a soldier. He sent a word to Myrhia that he got held up in Radasanth by some paperwork. It was a small lie, the kind people spoke or wrote in order to prevent concern, the kind that usually backfired right in your face. But Letho wrote it anyways. He didn’t want the redhead to accompany him on this particular mission. There were too many variables involved, too many maybes and somethings. Besides, it was just a routine check, nothing to worry about.

***

The day was dangerously nearing its end, casting a darkening filter over the landscape that shaded everything, the solitary rider included. There were no paths to follow anymore - no blatantly visible ones anyways – so Letho was forced to slow his mount to a walk speed as he advanced through the sea of tree trunks and underbrush. According to the map, there wasn’t much ground to cover anymore, but according to the sun that already ducked bellow the horizon, there wasn’t much time to cover it either. Then again, given the fact that the maps Rangers drew weren’t exactly immaculate, he could’ve been miles away from this Siukan’s Haven. That would make him late for the appointment and Letho hated being late.

However, for once his calculation of distance was proven to be correct, because no sooner then the doubt crawled into his mind, the rich foliage gave in and allowed for a clearing to open up before him. On the far end, standing near the gapping mouth of the cavern, the golden-haired figure of a man was hard not to notice. The peculiar hair color of the stranger was justified as soon as Letho’s steed took several more steps into the clearing.

“An elf. Small wonder there. They usually meddle with things they shouldn’t,� the Marshal thought, throwing his scarlet cape over his shoulder. He didn’t reach for his sword; there was no need for hostilities, not even the insinuated ones. It seemed that nobody answered to the flyer, and even if somebody did, they were either very stealthy or they were already within the cave. Instead Letho reached into the breast pocket of his simple, dark green shirt, producing a scrap of paper. After straining his eyes to read the stylish handwriting on the flyer, he spoke, his voice intrusive in the serenity of the twilight.

“You must be this Findelfin fellow that put up these notices all over Radasanth,� he said, his keen, brown eyes descending from above and landing on the ones of the dainty elf. “I’m Marshal Letho Ravenheart, and I’m rather interested in your business with this cave over here.�

It was crock; Letho wasn’t interested. But duty demanded him to change his mind.

[Sighter Tnailog]

As colors fade in the twilight, the first to disappear is red. No one knows why; perhaps crimson's fire grows to arrogant during the day and must bend and bow to the universal blue of the silky night air. Or perhaps red is too awake and alert during the day, and so when the sweet embrace of sleep calls the living, it succumbs the more quickly, fatigued by its daylight vigil. But for whatever reason red fall prey to the fading light, Findelfin noticed it. He had been planning on entering the cave then, but he had decided to wait a bit longer. He'd heard someone coming.

And when the man stepped through the clearing, there was no mistaking who he was. Even though the bright crimsons and dull brownish-reds of the autumn leaves had long faded with the night, the hint of scarlet that still shone in the man's cape gave away his position. Findelfin knew immediately why he was here, and smiled ruefully. They are more alert this time. 'Tis a pity, the time for caution was when Wyn and I entered this hole in the first place.

But as long as Letho Ravenheart, as the man identified himself, was willing to help, it mattered little to Findelfin what mission he was on for the Coronian government -- or whichever faction of the government this Letho happened to serve. Findelfin had heard the name before, but only in passing. He had once kept tabs on the heroes that walked in Corone, but now his attention and his passion had turned to Raiaera. There was little time left to keep track of the deeds of men.

Giving a brief bow, Findelfin responded, "Yes, that would be me. Although if you are to be Marshal Letho Ravenheart, I might as well identify myself as Captain Findelfin ap Fingolfin of Tel Aglarim. I hail from Raiaera."

Findelfin walked closer to Letho, to see him better. He was a proud man, but a deserved pride, not an arrogant conceit. Indeed, in his features were the soft lines of compassion and the hard edges of justice. Even if this man was sent by Corone to keep tabs on this mission, he seemed trustworthy. This was not a treacherous man. From what Findelfin had heard from Corone in these days, it was a rare find.

"You may be interested in this quest, Marshal Ravenheart, but I must warn you -- I have walked these halls before. Indeed, those I traveled with awoke great evil and brought ruin upon one of the most legendary heroes of Althanas and one of my closest friends. Alas, but Devon dan Sabriel, the Starslayer, has not been seen since he was gripped by what once lurked in these halls. I surmise we may even be watched by your own government -- your superiors in the Rangers, even -- for fear of what we might awake. But I think their fears misplaced; what may be awoken here is already awake and gone."

Findelfin paused; perhaps that last statement seemed to underplay the danger too much. For there was great danger. He quickly moved to emend the damage: "But we may have as much to fear from whatever that great beast left behind as we did from the beast itself. As they say, the viper's brood is more dangerous than the viper. Are you still prepared to enter this place, knowing what could befall?"

[Letho]

Elves. Even if they had an answer to your question, they never gave it to you all in one go. They acted as if knowledge was candy and the rest of the world was filled with children, so they didn’t want to give too much of it before dinner. Findelfin failed to deviate from the archetype much, stating his name and rank, but nothing coherent about the hungering cavern beyond. Something had been awoken there, some great beast, but it had departed, leaving – again, a very vague - something behind. However, amidst an abundance of words, a single thought was underlined with red ink: whatever lurked in this hole in the face of Althanas, it wasn’t preparing a friendly tea party for the visitors.

Tucking the leaflet back into his pocket, Letho spared a keen glance on studying his possible companion. Findelfin was everything a man could expect from an elf - tall, comelier then a man ought to be and gainly in every word he spoke and every move he made. He looked more fit for some lofty ballroom, where he would discuss diplomatic matters and fence with words instead of swords, but then again, most Raiaeran elves prided themselves with this perk. Myrhia would’ve surely been impressed. The Marshal, however, wasn’t too fond of elves, bladesingers included. There was too much pussyfooting in their demeanor for his liking, too much quasi-wisdom and patronizing with which they elevated themselves at least a step higher then the rest of the world. Of Tel Aglarim Letho’s knowledge was limited, but even as such, it was enough to elicit a prejudice or two. The most prominent one dealt with the fact that these supposedly elite warriors combined swordsmanship with bardic arts. Not something that should’ve been mixed in Letho’s book.

Still, all personal preferences aside, this disturbance was something that needed to be ascertained and Findelfin was the only one around who was willing to do just that. It seemed that the adventurers and self-proclaimed champions that usually swarmed into hazards such as this one took a collective leave of absence. Either that, or they were just too smart to answer the posted flyer. Letho wasn’t given such an option. Duty beckoned.

“You offer many words, but little information of this beast, elf. So I can’t exactly say that I know what could befall us,� the mounted swordsman spoke, his voice stern, though not in an offensive manner. “But I have orders to inspect this disturbance and I can’t do that from over here.�

With that said, Letho dismounted his chestnut charger, leading the mighty beast to a nearby tree. Picking a gnarly branch that looked sturdy enough not to snap, he tied the reins loosely enough to leave his steed enough room to graze if that was indeed what the animal intended to do. With a pat on the horse’s neck, the Marshal unlaced the leather saddlebags first, discarding them on the carpet of grass. Next came the saddle, the unbuckling and the consequent removal of the weight making the horse snort in bestial approval. With the beast taken care of, the Marshal lowered himself on one knee dug through his saddlebags, producing a pair of metal-covered gauntlets. He spoke as he donned them.

“Seeing as you and this place have somewhat of a history, I reckon you also have a pretty good idea about what is or was in there. Great evil covers a wide assortment of things in these lands.� He was done talking just as he finished putting on his gauntlets. The metal and carapace that covered them squealed as he balled his fists, almost giving in before the power of his grasp. Once he was satisfied with the comfort that they offered him, he tossed the saddlebags over his left shoulder and walked towards Findelfin. Beyond the elf, the deafening silence of Siuken’s Haven awaited, staring back at them with its abysmal gaze. Letho stared back, unfazed.

“Looks like an ordinary cave to me.�

[Sighter Tnailog]

((Our numbers will soon be five. I will need to carefully manage this thread from here on out, so until we get on a roll and establish clear posting order please do not post without instructions from me. I'll delete this OOC nonsense once we're off and good.))

As the marshal spoke, Findelfin whistled softly. The sound would let Pelektar know he needed her. She was maybe a few minutes away, where he had left her, but now that he knew that it wasn't a vagabond or a bandit who answered the flier it was safer for her to come.

Listening to Letho, Findelfin realized that he was not dealing with any mere Ranger, and certainly not a simpleton. He could already tell that Letho didn't believe him, or that Letho regarded him as merely a spinner of tales without any merit, and there were so many ways in which Findelfin knew he was correct. Indeed, what do I know of this place? Only the geography, how to avoid the Ukks...how to bridge the chasms and arrive at the Veil of Dreams. But what else? Nothing.

The marshal appeared to be done speaking, so Findelfin decided to lay it all out. Stooping to sit on a low rock, Findelfin appeared suddenly worn. Elves were like that, from time to time. Through all the glamor and the appeal, they suddenly would sit and sigh, and seem for a moment to show their age. Findelfin was still tremendously young for one of his people, but for a rare moment he appeared each of his two hundred and thirty-five years.

"Letho...can I call you that, Marshal?" He looked to Letho for approval, but seeing none was forthcoming he continued. "I must say that I do not know what we will find. When last I walked this place, I was younger. And I have learned some things since then, many things. But of this place I know scarcely more than I knew before. All I can say is that when I entered before, it was for grandeur and glory, to be able to march into Corone with the head of some fabled monster and claim gold and maybe a memorial in some mummer's play."

Findelfin shook his shoulders, and continued, "But no, Letho Ravenheart. We found that whatever is down there did not have a head to sever from a body, nor a weakness that we could find. It left with us in the body of my friend Devon, and I doubt it remains down there anymore. But when I say we confront great evil, and you seem to want more...well, more I cannot give. I go down there to do what you suggest," he paused, then the inflection of his voice changed, "investigate a disturbance."

Suddenly, Pelektar was there, trotting into the clearing and nuzzling against Findelfin. He got up to check in her saddlebags, and then pulled off a few basics. A pack full of food, a torch, and other spelunking necessities. As he unstrung the bags, he said, "I hope you don't mind that I hid my horse away. You never know if the people who respond to your fliers will be thieves...or Rangers."

As he pulled off the last bag, full with salted pork and other foodstuffs for cavern-crawling, a heavy metal object fell out and hit the ground, kicking up a little bit of soil where it landed. Findelfin's hand darted out immediately to snatch it up, brushing it off and sliding the key -- for key it was -- into his breast pocket. I have got to be more careful.

Grabbing the last bag, he said, "It doesn't appear anyone else is coming, Marshal. But it might be a good idea to leave your horse untethered. Pelektar is good Raiaeran stock, and we've been in these woods before. Better to let your horse and mine roam free, where they can stay together and get away should wolves or brigands attack and return at my call once we arrive back safe above the earth."

It was time. As he shouldered the bags and took a step towards the cave, he said, "That is...if we ever do."

[Skie and Avery]

"Both wolves and brigands keep well away from here," a voice floated down, silkily sliding through the boughs of Concordia to the adventurers. “Could you tell me the last time either of you heard the songs of birds? I would have expected a ranger to notice that.�

A small rustle of leaves told of movement in a tall oak that watched over the evening’s meeting. As leaves fell, spiraling down to the forest floor, a larger figure dropped lightly. The tree shadowed her, but she didn’t hesitate to step into the dim twilight that managed to spackle the clearing. She looked like a normal human woman, though there were a few telltale signs that perhaps there was something more to the story than just the young woman before them. Her face was pale, darker circles haloing eyes that seemed to mirror the night sky above Raiaeran plains. The indigo irises were dotted with moving lights, like stars shimmering in and out of reality. A tinge of earthen brown flecked along those tiny universes. Her raven tresses were pulled back, but they were long enough to cover her back. They were not, however, long enough to cover the blood that had long dried down the back of her emerald and cream striped shirt. The seat and calves of her low slung denim pants were spotted with the stains that had lost their red hue long before dusk had stolen them away.

“I would chastise the elf as well, but I’m sure he would know several reasons that wildlife would know better than to wander too far into Concordia. I’m sure he knows the warning the red Soema holds.� she said quietly, walking to the edge of the cave, where tiny crimson blossoms bloomed just outside the edges. She leaned down and inhaled deeply. “They smell sweet, and they hold a secret that is very powerful when it comes to the touch between men and women, as they should. These tiny guardians are Moontae, and they told me of your trespass.�

When she looked up again, a beam of soft silver light caught her face, illuminating enough of the planes and angles there to reveal a secret of its own. There, in the spitting image of the slain Natamrael, Queen of Concordia’s Moontae tribe, there was another visage that stared balefully at Findelfin. An old friend brought unbidden to this place where so much of his touch was still felt in the bones of the earth. Skie’s face whispered of her father in the turn of her chin, the way her hand sat upon a simple steel long sword.

But mostly, Devon dan Sabriel had given his daughter his eyes.

[Letho]

The intruder was right, whoever she was; a genuine Corone Ranger would’ve noticed the eerily lack of fauna in the proximity of the cave. Chances were one of the Corone’s elite would’ve noticed her presence as well. Rangers were more then just in tune with their surroundings – they were a part of it, using all the telltale signs as extensions of their senses. Compared to them, Letho was a blind man, tapping his way through the never-ending darkness and hoping that he wouldn’t fall into a hole out of which he couldn’t climb. The Marshal wasn’t a real ranger; just a bludgeoner with a badge and a conscience that liked to right a few wrongs here and there. Finesse and awareness weren’t high on his list of perks.

However, when her voice announced the rather garish introduction, Letho paid heed to her with no more then a glance and a turn of his head. Surprises were something scarce for the swordsman nowadays. They usually came as a direct consequence of fear from the unknown, and there was little that struck fear in the Marshal nowadays. When you tested your mettle against a myriad of monsters both bestial and human, a voice from the shadows was just that; a voice, nothing more.

Soon, though, the voice got a body. The patronizing woman walked towards them with calm confidence, presenting herself but not her name, acting as if they were supposed to know it. Like Findelfin, she had a knack of saying things that made little sense to Letho, but by now the vagueness became a rule and not an exception. Ever since the elf spoke of a beast whose head couldn’t be severed, it became clear to the Marshal that there was more then some dragon waiting for them in the darkness of the Siukan’s Haven. There was a cloud of mysticism gathering above what Leeahn said would be a routine check, a storm waiting to happen. It was an intangible thing, evasive to the senses, but Letho felt it in his gut the way he always did when something awry waited around the corner.

But even though the raven-haired woman caught them with their pants down, the Marshal wasn’t about to bend over. “Maybe you should chastise yourself while you’re at it. Stalking armed men from the shadows in the depths of the forest is a good way of getting impaled on a sword.”

A younger, more jittery Letho would’ve had a hand on the hilt of the sword the moment the woman spoke, the instinctive gesture supporting his retort. Perhaps that would’ve added more weight to his words. As it was, they barely grazed the nameless interloper who seemed far more interested in Findelfin, locking her azure eyes on the elf in a gaze that was supposed to mean something. Whether it was a rendezvous or just an inauspicious case of déjÃ* vu, Letho couldn’t decipher. Not that he really tried to anyways.

Not seeing a threat in the woman, he reached into one of the saddlebags that hanged over his right shoulder and took out a torch. The night was creeping upon them, but the darkness it brought forth was bland and almost grey when compared to what awaited them in Suikan’s Haven. And while he was uncertain about his pointy-eared acquaintance, the Marshal sure as hell couldn’t see past his nose in the dark. So he fished out a match from the pocket of his pants, lighting it with the tip of his nail. The coarse fabric at the end of the torch – soaked in some oddly smelling flammable fluid – caught flame as soon as the open flame neared it.

“So, are you here just to share your wisdom with us, or will you be joining us?” Letho asked, snuffing out the match. He left his horse bound to the tree. Findelfin perhaps did look like a trustworthy fellow, but it took more then just genial words to earn the trust of the brooding swordsman. Some of the most suave men he crossed paths with did some of the most gruesome deeds he witnessed.

[Sighter Tnailog]

((From now on out, all bunnies are approved. With every post, feel free to bunny us getting deeper into the cave. Wyn will be the next poster after me. If someone bunnies you in a way that you absolutely abhor, let them know -- and if someone contacts you letting you know that you bunnied them badly, edit cheerfully.))

Findelfin had lain the packs by the cave mouth, and was turning to gesture Letho downwards into darkness with him when the voice appeared. He had not heard her approach at all; that chastisement, at least, was warranted. He'd been too focused on the Marshall to pay proper attention to the sounds of the woodland.

But he did not hear her individual words as much as he heard her voice, and as she materialized from the deepening darkness his breath caught in his throat. Could it be? Wyn had told him of Natamrael, how she was no longer alive, but for one moment, a second too long to bear and a minute too short to remember, he knew hope. She was here, coming back to draw him from the danger and deliver him from evil.

But it was not her; she bore too much daring to be Natamrael. Every line in her body spoke to the Starslayer: her beauty was dangerous, her graceful motions held all the peril of Devon's fabled sword-stance, the Middle Guard. It was strange indeed to see the one Wyn had told him of, Skiel. The last time he had been near to her, she had been nothing but a fluttering kick in Nata's womb.

And now she was here, and he cursed himself. He knew not to bother with trying to keep her from coming, Devon's spirit was too strong for that. And now Findelfin was forced to lead her into the same darkness that had swallowed her father alive. Findelfin silently resolved that this time would be different: this time, he would lead out everyone that followed him in.

Inclining his head to Skiel, he said, "Join us. That sword, at least, has earned you the right." And silently, carefully, he sent her another message. Dear Skie, please, be careful. That sword can no more defend you in Siukan's Haven than it did your father. He knew she would have heard that ring within her head, and knew she would have the sense to keep it to herself.

Tossing Skie a pack, he said, "We all must carry the weight below the earth. And now," he gestured towards Marshal Ravenheart, "it appears our good Ranger has provided us with light. Let us move quickly, for that torch cannot burn forever. Oh, and move quietly -- the first few floors of the haven are occupied. The creatures there are, thankfully, sightless, but they can hear well enough. Be on your guard...and be prepared to run."

He stepped forwards past them both, and into the yawning mouth of the cave. There were things in the antechambers of Siukan's Haven...things that would find them if they tarried too long. And so he stepped forward, guided by Letho's torch and comforted by the footsteps he heard falling softly behind him.

* * * * *

The silky dim of starlight was noonday compared to the oppressive darkness inside the cavern; the cool breezes that drifted underneath the trees were fiery gusts when set against the clammy chill within those empty halls. Like twin armies charging against the same fortification, the cold and the black were enough to depress Findelfin. He had forgotten how utterly forlorn this place was, how it tried to enter those who entered it. Something in the very atmosphere seemed to contend with all within its domain.

They had been walking deeper for nearly half an dhour, the only sounds being muffled footsteps and the occasional scatter of small rocks against the hard ground. They had finally passed the raw rock passageways that formed the rough entrance to the halls, and had entered the area that had been hewn and designed by strong hands in distant ages.

Suddenly, he heard something that made him draw up short. He threw out his hands, and sent yet another one of his messages. "Halt! I hear something!" This mental power made it a bit safer to travel here -- when he had first traversed the halls, he would have had to speak the command. And sometimes, being able to communicate without speech meant the different between life and death.

He stood entirely still. For a moment, all his energy was devoted to trying to see beyond the small circle of light created by Letho's torch.

[Wyn]

Wyn wove through the darkness of Siukan’s Haven like a fog, traversing the cavern deftly and with little sound. It was as if he knew the way by heart. The light from the torch that he brandished in one hand seemed comically unnecessary. Everywhere there was something he recognized--a stream vanishing under the earth at the juncture of two ancient rocks, the skeleton of an oft-used fire pit in a lonely corner, and finally the decaying wooden signpost that pointed toward his goal: the manmade reaches that lay at the end of the cavern, a crumbling museum for a long-forgotten era.

Years ago, shortly after Wyn had abandoned his job as guardsman in his native village of Kalewin, he had come to this place called Siukan's Haven. A nearby town in the wood had contracted him to venture into the place and slay a malignant force that lurked within. Wyn, younger and more foolish than he was now, had accepted with little preparation. He had recruited through an advertisement and set off into the cavern with three others.

It had ended badly. Wyn had been possessed and by the force that lurked inside the cave, a thing that the citizens of the town had simply referred to as "the Shadow." The innards of the underground lair had collapsed, trapping Wyn there for months--delirious and mad in possession--until he had been rescued months later by a companion. It was a harrowing experience that Wyn had spent years trying to forget without success. When in the desert land of Fallien, he had encountered some relative, some reflection of the creature. He had defeated it that time, but had gained no satisfaction from the matter. He knew it still lived. Somehow the Shadow was tied to him now.

Returning here after all these years terrified him. But he was compelled. When he had caught sight of Findelfin's ad by chance in a Radasanthian tavern, the idea had consumed him. Findelfin did not know what he was getting himself into. No one knew the Shadow like he did... Except for maybe Devon Starslayer.

Wyn’s heart began to race as he heard the sounds of a group traveling behind him. He whirled around and his gray eyes narrowed on the band of companions gathered beneath the light of a torch: Findelfin he recognized, as he did Skie, but the other he did not. The three of them seemed like only hapless adventurers, just as he had been all those years ago.

“Findelfin!” he said, shocked. “I had thought I was too late to stop you… I came here and saw no one, so I went in to find you.” He was trying, and failing, to maintain a sense of determined calm. “You can't do this. There's no need. Don't you even remember what this thing did to me? What it did to Devon after he came back to rescue me? It took him and he hasn't been seen in years. He could be dead lying at the bottom of some river, he could be cavorting about with the devils at the bottom of Dis--we don't know. You have no right to do this to yourself, to drag these people with you!

“Leave this place with me. It still has Devon, Findelfin. It's not there anymore. This place, this tomb--it's empty... I beg you not to make it yours.” Wyn's eyes were pleading, but he knew the words he spoke were false. Somewhere down there in the dark the Shadow was waiting for them. He knew this. And he knew Findelfin knew, too.

He paused for a moment, looking angry and forlorn, shooting Skie a look that seemed to say You should not have come here. But he held out his free hand to stop Findelfin from speaking. “I know that you will not listen, so I am coming with you. No one knows the Shadow like I do. There is a chance that I can protect you.” He smiled half-heartedly at this, knowing well that his words were as weak as his smile.

[Sighter Tnailog]

Squinting into the darkness, even his elven eyes straining in the gloom, Findelfin suddenly saw light. His hand gripped Ainalindil's hilt tightly, ready to slash whatever came forward.

Then another torch appeared, and in the growing light Findelfin discerned who it was. At any other time the face would have been welcome. But now Findelfin's visage seemed to grow colder than the surrounding blackness; what would have been a smile was instead a deep foreboding frown. Legiliwyn Aeyl should not have come here. The thought chilled Findelfin's core.

But he would not be dissuaded from going deeper. He had to see for himself what sort of strange things lurked where the Shadow had walked. And it appeared from Wyn's speech that he would not be distracted either. Curse Galatiriel's eyes! They would have to keep moving, though. They had waited too long already. With only a nod to acknowledge he'd heard Wyn, he turned and began walking forward again.

He spoke to nobody, but knew everyone there would here him, "I hate to skip the pleasant introductions, but we need to get out of this part of the cave before we can chat about days gone past." Casting his eyes upon a place where the tunnel fanned out in three different ways, he went on, "Otherwise we might run in---"

He was cut off when he heard a shriek from behind him. Whirling, he could see in the flickering light of Letho and Wyn's torches that a small creature, as ugly as a whole brood of deformed goblins rolled together, was wailing and waving a short club. In less than a second, Findelfin's bow was out, strung, and nocked. An arrow sailed past -- guided right between the space dividing Letho from Skie -- and struck the beast full in the head.

But it was not enough. Although that beast feel with a gurgling cry, more shrieks could be heard all throughout the cavern, echoing with angry malice. Findelfin spun with a curse on his lips, unstringing his bow and putting it back on his backstraps. As rapidly as he could manage, he opened his pack and pulled out another torch, pressing its oily head against the flame of Letho's firebrand. He tossed the flaming stick to Skie, drew Ainalindil. As the white glow of the sword penetrated the darkness, the features of the companions behind him were suddenly thrown into stark relief.

Looking each one in the eyes, one by one -- and lingering for a moment on the eyes of Wyn -- he uttered one word.

"Run."

[Letho]

The change of setting was evident, but the mysticism was persistent, sticking with them as they ventured farther into the cave’s mouth. In fact, there was so much of it that Letho started to feel it would start coming out of his ears. Hushed voices, telepathic messages, admonishing characters that seemed to appear out of nowhere to share their wisdom... It felt like even the rocks knew more about this place then the Marshal, and their silence made as much sense as the words of his companions. And then there was the darkness. The Marshal knew caves as well as any adventurer – they made good shelters unless there was something inhospitable dwelling within – but there was some sort of queer heaviness to the darkness here. He almost fell as if it was pressing down on him, a black tide eager to smother his torch and overwhelm him completely.

And the situation was getting a lot worse with little hope of getting better anytime soon. No sooner then they rendezvoused with Findelfin’s alarmed companion the cave offered a more tangible manifestation of its malice. The impish creature was a grotesque thing, all sagging skin and gnarly limbs, uttering a shrill that remained with them even when the elf’s arrow brought and end to its wretched existence. The sound lingered, echoed, faded, and then returned thrice as strong. Letho repositioned his saddlebags so then hanged over his left shoulder now, and drew the bastard sword from the scabbards on his back. Whatever that shrieking thing was, it had many a friend, all probably as ugly and vicious as their dead comrade.

“Run.”

The command couldn’t be simpler, and yet the bearded swordsman wasn’t keen on obeying it. These goblins were perhaps nasty creatures, but aside from their horrifying scream they were unremarkable, unimpressive things. It would take a legion... nay, a swarm of these things to overcome the four of them, especially in such cramped quarters. Running was asinine. They needed to make a stand, pair up and fight back-to-back. But by the time Lehto wanted to suggest such an approach, the trio was already on the move, their lights cutting through the jet ink of the cave. So, as much as he disliked the notion, the Marshal ran.

And ran. And ran. All three of his companions were lighter then him, more graceful, scurrying in front of the bulky swordsman on light feet. Luckily, the packs on their backs were a ballast, clumsy, bulky things that assured Letho that he’d be able to keep the pace albeit barely. He was a man of combat, of fencing and slicing and parrying; long distance running wasn’t necessarily covered by his stamina. The cave wasn’t doing him any favors either. Their speed and the cavern’s darkness were a treacherous combination, revealing jutting rocks and sharp turns at the very last moment more often then not. Even with the trio lighting the way before him, the Marshal stumbled at least half a dozen times and shouldered into a stone wall once. It was when he nearly crushed the bones in his shoulder that he finally spoke.

“This is folly!” Letho shouted, his booming voice bringing his three companions to a halt. Follyfollyfollyfollyfolly rang for several of seconds, but it was soon effaced by the bestial cries from behind and the frantic pitter-patter that edged closer. The swordsman was breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his furrowed brow as his eyes met those of his companions.

“They’re naught but imps and I’m tired of fleeing from their screams!” Straightening his posture made Letho look almost royal, adding gravity to his voice. Dark orange from the flickering flame of his cave, his face looked wroth and bloodthirsty. “I say we face them now and send them back wailing. How many can there be that the four of us cannot stand against them?”

((I figure somebody will say that there’s a shitload of them, thousands even, so feel free making Letho follow the three of you again, albeit grudgingly.))

[Skie and Avery]

The three men seemed set against her from the beginning, she had noted. It was a bitter reality that was hard to swallow, like a poorly made pill that crumbled on the tongue. She knew that Wyn recognized her. Their talk in the Citadel libraries so long ago was still among the most cherished of her memories, for it was from his lips that she learned the name of her father, from his knowledge that she gained the resources to seek him out. His glare had been more cutting than hearing the elf's name at last. He had spoken her name within her mind, a warning of caution that came with a melancholy tone. Now she knew how he knew of her; he had been family once. There had been a day once, under the Concordian canopy where a black garbed assassin had stood, and Natamrael had spoken her last words to the older of the twins.

Skie-baby, run! If I don't come home, find the elf Findelfin.

The past had ways of coming back to haunt people, like the skittering of claws on stone down the pathways. Now she was faced with an old enemy of her people, the goblins of the forest caverns. It didn't take Findelfin calling the retreat for Skie to move. She may have unfinished business in the form of her mother's old golden-tressed friend, but that conversation would never take place if she was dead. The Moontae instinct for self preservation kicked in, and holding the torch tightly, Skie had already begun to run. Her bloody back retreating into the caverns, her boots echoing loudly, she ran for all she was worth. Between the pack and the injuries she'd sustained earlier in the day, she stumbled a few times, Wyn and Findelfin passing her. Only Letho stood behind. When his voice rang out, announcing his intentions to stand and deliver, she heard her own curse echo around her. She turned on heel and stumbled back to where Letho was standing, his stance just as ridiculously gallant as his ideas. Skie placed a hand on his shoulder, her small fingers clutching at his emerald shirt.

"There are more of them coming for us than there are leaves on the tallest tree in this forest. If you do not run, you will die, and whatever hearts may beat for you above these caves will shatter from the heartbreak. This is no time for heroics, you fool!" In the light of the torches, small sharp claws flashed, as the imps pulled and slashed at each other, each one wanting to be the first to dig tooth and nail into soft, supple human flesh. A myriad of emotions flashed over the ranger's face, and Skie released her hold. Not waiting for Letho to finish the fight with his pride and whatever chord her words may have struck, she turned and again began to run. It was with a sigh of relief that she noted heavy footsteps pounding against the stone behind her a few moments later.

As Skie began to catch up again to Wyn and Findelfin, she noticed that the cave branched off up ahead. The two adventurers seemed to be pulling to the right, so Skie did as well, gritting her teeth and using her terror of the little beasts behind them to push herself forward. She overtook the other too, bursting into the branch on the right, noting too late the way the echos of the cavern seemed to be somehow off. Her intuition wasn't entirely off, however, and she managed to stop just short when the first stones began to fall from the ceiling. Turning around, she barrelled into Wyn, falling to the ground, the torch flying from her grasp.

"Turn back!" she cried in a strangled yelp as she hit the stone. "It's going to cave in!"

{{Okay, Sera, that should be your cue, I believe!}}

[Seraphima]

Sara had been wandering through the forest ever since she'd been separated from the little group she'd met a few days before, and even the man that had been talking with her earlier that same day had vanished. She was completely and totally lost, and ever since the rain of a few days before, her lungs had been acting up more and more. She was pretty sure that she wasn't going to last much longer, and just hoped she could find Maurz a good home before her lungs worsened to the point that she couldn't move.

She had no idea what time it was. The hints she relied on while in the woods -- the songbirds to indicate the day and the soft hoots of the owls to mark the night -- had long-since fallen silent, and under the thick foliage of Concordia's canopy, she couldn't tell by the warmth of the sun on her skin what time it was. All she had was the steady tug on Maurz's lead and the soft and omnipresent sound of leaves whispering in the breeze.

When the dog finally stopped, Sara guessed that it was too dark for him to keep on going, and she sat down wearily on the soft grass, feeling the smooth blades bend under her silken skin as she set her walking stick beside her. She turned her head nervously, not reassured in the least by the seemingly utter silence of this part of the woods, and her hands picked at a slightly frayed portion of her linen dress. There wasn't even the chirp of a cricket to reassure her that there wasn't anything dangerous about. Maurz was moving skittishly around beside her, as well, making her wonder why he'd stopped them, and why he'd even led her this way.

"Sit, Maurz," she urged in a hushed tone to not disturb the silence, and slid her arms around the big lab as he settled next to her, feeling slightly safer at the touch of the warm, soft fur against her face. "I don't know why we're here either, boy...but let's rest and get out of here in the morning. You hungry?"

She heard his tail make a rustling swish! through the grass at the mention of food, and smiled softly, reaching into her bag and digging out some bread. Maurz had gone through all the meat already, so hopefully he'd eat the bread. Breaking the piece into parts, she gave her dog the much larger piece, eating the small bit herself. It was a couple of days old, so it didn't have the same flavor or soft texture as it had when she'd gotten it. It was a pity, she thought ruefully, that bread tasted worse as it aged. Fresh bread was definitely her favorite food -- a little bite from the heavens. To be honest, though, she had no appetite. She ate simply so that she could live just a little longer to take care of her dog. She'd have died without him long before, she knew, and he was the only thing keeping her alive now.

She sighed softly as she finished, drinking a few mouthfuls of water and letting Maurz drink, too. "I'd be lost without you, Maurz," she murmured, scratching behind the dog's ears and listening to his heavy breathing. "I just hope --" her hopes were interrupted by a tightness in her chest, followed directly by the harsh coughs that had plagued the blind woman since before she'd left Scara Brae for what she'd hoped to be more prospective areas.

Her hopes had been shattered, though, and with dwindling finances and no place to turn, she had begun wandering Corone, her desire to find a job swiftly becoming a desire to find a good home for her dog and die peacefully. She kept her spirits up to reassure her dog, but she knew that she couldn't lie to him. He knew her better than anyone, and probably kept his spirits up to help her keep going.

As the wracking coughs finally subsided and the frail woman greedily took breath after agonizingly burning breath, she caught a scent on her hands for the first time -- metallic and bitter. She knew exactly what it was, even as Maurz whined and nudged her with his nose, upset. For the first time since the onset of her illness, Seraphima had hacked up blood.

The very thought of it nauseated her. The one time she'd been able to see a physician, he'd told her that there was nothing he could do for her. He'd been more than honest, saying that eventually blood would be mixed with the thick phlegm that she coughed out...and that from that point, she would only have a couple of weeks at best before...

"Don't worry about it, Maurz," she reassured her dog, wiping her hands clean on the grass and stroking the creature to quiet him. "Let's just...get some sleep and keep going in the morning. We don't really have much choice, do we?" A tingling sensation rippled along her skin in response to the sorrow she felt at the latest complication from her illness, but she saved her tears. There was nothing she could do to escape her fate, so she would face it as bravely as she could.

The dog settled down at his mistress's request, casting her a mournful and loving look. He could smell death starting to take hold of her, and the enemy was inside her body, not something he could fight off for her. He knew he was going to lose her, and that knowledge filled him with a painful ache brought on by a despairing sorrow. She was his life, his world -- she was his alpha. She took care of him, and in response, he took care of her, and delighted in helping her and making her happy. All that was swiftly coming to a close, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. She was sad about it, he knew. The light that sometimes outlined her weakening figure was a soft blue, and he could smell it. She'd started giving up hope, as hard as she'd tried not to over the past several months.

Sara ran a hand over her mussed mass of curls before curling up with her head on Maurizio's back. "Let's get some sleep, boy. We'll both feel better in the morning."

[Sighter Tnailog]

Findelfin did not wait for the others to follow. He began to run, listening intently for the sounds of pursuit. He could hear Wyn close behind, but he cursed at Letho's muttered protests -- and then smiled at Skie's wise words. Turning on his heel and coming to a stop, he aimed Ainalindil down the corridor. With one short burst of concentration, a white light shot from the tip of the blade, flying with pinpoint precision between Skie and Letho. As it traveled, it illuminated the horde. It flew above their heads, travelling down the hallway for a long time before bursting harmlessly into a rock flow.

That little ball of light was most telling. It had shown enemies stretching down the corridor and around the corners, coming from side passages. And the little imps bore many banners. For a moment, something in the banners struck Findelfin as odd -- it seemed the Ukks had foregone their tribal enmities and banded together. That made them doubly dangerous. And in numbers this great, they were dangerous enough.

"See that, Marshal Ravenheart?" Findelfin's voice was enhanced by the rock, but still small in the echoing darkness surrounded by the tinny cries of Ukk warriors. "Fight if you will, but don't expect me to die for a cause so foolish. They won't pursue us past the Veil of Dreams, we don't have far to run."

That was all the speech he had time for...from the lights he had sent out earlier, the Ukks would be upon Letho in a moment if the musclebound Marshal refused to run. Turning, he began to run again. Wyn was far ahead, so Findelfin followed him -- Wyn would know the terrain better than he, anyway. A blur of motion sped past him. What speed! That could only be the daughter of a falling star...

Findelfin sped up, trying to keep close to their fading torchlights. Finally he got to where he could see them running, when suddenly he saw Skie turn and scream something -- he couldn't tell what from the echoes of shouts and footprints all around -- and Wyn run right into her. Catching up to where they fell, it only took one look at the ceiling where she was pointing to know what she meant.

Quickly putting his arms around both of them and hauling to his feet, he quickly messaged them both. It's not far, the fault line extends farther behind than it does to the front. Keep going! Bearing them both forward with the strength left in him, he cleared the edge of the gap before the rocks fell. Turning, he saw with relief that Marshal Ravenheart was close behind. But only barely...even as Letho put on a final burst of speed, there was a tremendous crack, and a shower of rock fell from the ceiling.