[Iron League] The Serpent Temple

[redford]

(IRON LEAGUE)
(OPEN)

John stepped forward cautiously in the darkness. It held, and John put his weight behind it. It still held and the half-giant breathed a sigh of relief. . Jor had suggested this arena, damn him thrice, promising that it would be a ‘once in a lifetime experience’ in terms of citadel battles.

Mostly cause I’m going to kill him when I get out of this one.

He’d been navigating this ‘snake temple’ for fifteen minutes, having to avoid all kinds of hazards in the dim light. He’d been lighting the torches around the place, but there were so few open areas that it was hard for any light to go any where in this dank place. He stepped forward again, and heard a click.

Without thinking, the half-giant dropped to the ground. He chose poorly in his reaction though, and the floor gave way, felling him into a pit. He landed with a thud that took the wind out of him, and heard the hissing of vipers. He reacted quickly, shielding himself fully with the magical armor, and as the vipers tore into his flesh, they found titanium underneath. Snakes wouldn’t be killing him today.

Maybe, he added as he climbed up and out of the pit, stepping forward again. He lit a torch to his right and there was a large open area up ahead. He cautiously proceeded until he was through, and saw the room in its entirety, lighting a torch beside him. A large brazier sat in the center of the room, which he lit. light cascaded across the cobblestones, and he heard the sound of ancient, geared machinery, and groaned himself. This was not good.

Many of the cobblestones in the large room rose, becoming pronounced a few inches above the surrounding stones. A whispering serpentlike voice called out through the low light as all but one of the doorways, one on each side, closed with a small portcullis.

“Yeeeesssssss… weeeelcoooooome to myyyy teeemple, mortal!” It called. “Insssssiiide you will fiiiiiind….. Yeeesssssss, a ssssssinister ssssseet of trapsssssss…. Find your nemesssssssssisss in the tunnelssssssss, or fight him heeere. The choicssse is yours, but I will be watchiiing.”

The voice went silent, and there was naught but the machinery and the crackling of the brazier. John thought.

Better to fight him here than in those damned tunnels, can’t fight if I have to turn sideways to fit through and inside.

His mind set, he navigated to an area of the floor with fewer tiles (which was still a lot) and made ready to meet his opponent.

[FennWenn]

Holy shit, this was the best arena Fenn had ever explored.

Amid the dusty temple ruins were hundreds upon hundreds of hidden traps. Trapdoors, tripwires, and weight-reliant stones were the most common triggers. He had a vague sense of where to find them. Exploring dangerously abandoned places was one of his favorite pastimes, after all! It helped that he was a slight slip of a fae. Fenn grinned as he hopped onto a particularly sunken stone. On purpose, of course; he wanted to see what it would do. The obvious trap-trigger only clicked into place once his full weight of fifty-two pounds was squarely pressing upon it. Gleaming blades whooshed out of the thick cracks in the wall, aimed towards his neck -- or rather, where his neck would have been, had he stood two feet taller.

What didn’t hit you didn’t hurt you! Fenn gave a delighted squeak at the blades as they slid back into the wall. Yep, this was the coolest arena ever. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to meet his opponent -- maybe they’d just perish in the traps before he even found…

...was that a lit torch in the tunnel up ahead?

Fenn gasped and slunk over to investigate, carefully stepping over a trip-wire near some holes in the floor (probably spikes). Yes, that was a lit torch. The fire crackled with sinister cheer, seeming as happy about its surroundings as Fenn was. Though he had noticed the torches around the temple, none of the ones he had passed before had been lit -- and he hadn’t bothered to change that. Why ruin his decent-enough-ish night vision? Especially since they were so spread out as to be practically useless. But, someone else obviously hadn’t been thinking the same way.

He didn’t know how long he’d been wandering around in the dark, but he knew that it was longer than it usually took for him to find his opponent. A sigh fell from his lips. If they had lasted as long as him, they probably weren’t going to up and die from the traps alone, were they?

Oh well. Better find them and make sure that they do. Or, find them and end the fight by getting smashed into an oozy, oily little pulp. Again.

Following the indistinct path of lit torches for a few minutes, Fenn came upon an open section in the floor. Oh, another trapdoor. There were no more torches glowing ahead, so he supposed his opponent had fallen into the lower levels of the place. A seething mass of hissing emanated from within the dark pit. Fenn could see glassy, slitted eyes writhing around at its bottom.

Snakes. Fenn made a face. Bad news. Still…

Bracing himself for both the landing and the literal nest of vipers he was going to stumble into, Fenn lowered himself over the edge of the pit and dropped in. Fenn be nimble, Fenn be quick, Fenn jump over the -- OH GOD THAT IS A LOT OF SNAKES RUNRUNRUN--

(note; Fenn will be fleeing the sneks very fast in the next post, probably will end up in the same room as John with a bunch of them behind him? is that okay?)

[redford]

(I'm working under the supposition that Fenn makes it through the doorway into the room, and the door slams behind him, sending fenn to tumble across the floor for a second. John's surprise will likely be unsurprising. Let me know if this is good or not please.)

The half-giant's ears perked up as he heard distant footsteps pattering his way, coming from the open doorway ahead, and slid his foot back, readying a defensive stance in case his opponent wanted to jump through the darkened hallway at him. This place was already full of surprises, the half-giant didn't want another. His supply of certainty dwindled as the far-away pattering of feet suddenly, and quite surprisingly, produced a tiny form, leaping through the doorway and skidding on the ground. Just as quickly, a door slid down from the ceiling, sealing the room with a reverberating, deep clang. Snakes, chasing the little one, were caught in the falling door and cleanly severed. Some had the vigor to manage a few hissing noises as they writhed reflexively on the cobbled ground before falling silent.

John raised an eyebrow as the form rose, revealing a snow-white face that glistened in the firelight with what would be thought of as some kind of makeup, but John knew different. His other eyebrow joined the first and the half-giant opened his mouth in protest to some unknown standard. The dusting of imperceptible refraction on his cheeks was ice crystals, and the boy was no boy at all, but an ice fae, and one of John's friends, if the mischievous little thing wasn't swiping a wedge of cheese or a shiny bauble from his place.

But for all his mischief, he was almost an innocent thing, he was almost like a child, though he was well into his third decade. He wanted to ask the boy why he had come to the citadel and who he thought he'd be killing, but all he could manage was a cautious step forward as the tiny ice fae righted himself further, and a single word.

"Wha-"

Well, half of a word. John cut his voice short as he felt a stone's resistance give way, sinking from its raised position to be flush with the surrounding floor. He heard the characteristic twang of a bowstring, pain blossoming from is thigh. He looked down, seeing a crossbow bolt protruding from the side of his right thigh, gone halfway through his quad muscle. He started to feel dizzy.

Poison, he thought. Alright, no pulling the bolt out, the barbs would cut more. Let's seal it in, hopefully the poison was designed for someone smaller than me. In fact, he had no idea if the citadel's magic made the poison more effective or not, but either way he was going to have to deal with it. His head rolled back, or seemed to, and John laid a hand on the side of one of the dark green stone pillars to steady himself as he focused on the armor, sealing the breach around the bolt in his leg, fusing the two. It would stop the external bleeding, but the poison would still do its work. John tilted his head back, trying desperately not to though, and spoke dizzily.

"Fennik, what the hell are you doing here?"

[FennWenn]

Hi Jo-

Wait a moment.

Oh no.

A part of Fenn wished he’d been able to tell John about that trap, but another part of him knew better. His ears flattened frightfully. They were friends in Althanas, but any who met in the Citadel were bound to a death fight. Besides, he hadn't seen John since before the… uh… Amari incident. And meeting the Winter Court. The boy absently rubbed at his blackened wrists. He hadn't really seen any of his old friends since then; it had been a few months, at least. Maybe longer. Time-telling eluded him. Either way, he was not sure he had the heart to face an old friend in battle. Especially if that friend was the fucking legendary John Cromwell.

His heart skipped a few beats. Balking, Fenn glanced over his shoulder, empty green eyes glittering in the torchlight. You know what, could he have the scary snakeroom back? Nope. Door closed.

Alright. He had to face this then. The little fae slammed his hand against the grainy stone of the wall, looking away from the crossbolt sticking out of John. Fuck, fuck, fuck... JOHN. I FIGHT, Fenn explained in his quick, slashing handwriting. LOT HAPPEN SINCE LAST MEET. I DEFEND SELF. WE FIGHT?

He felt a bit icky about doing this, but…

Waiting for John’s answer, Fenn’s eyes flicked across the room, trying to take in all the little cracks and oddities in the architecture that he could. His left hand was twitching in anticipation, paradoxically being physically cold and warm with magic. A chunk of ice would do nothing against the giant -- Fenn’s magical and physical abilities were pathetic -- but there might be a trap or two that he could convince to fire off...

[redford]

John's head still swam in the dim, green torchlight. He read the boy's words slowly, deliberately, fearing if he glanced over them he wouldn't have the brainpower to understand. Well, if he wanted to fight, they would fight. He vaguely noticed the boy's rugged, worn look. He looked under the weather, if ice fae even got sick, that is.

He nearly vomited as he settled into a relaxed stance. He'd be slower, but the boy wouldn't prove much of a challenge.

"Fine then, boy, let's dance," he said, coating his hands in metal. He took a quick step forward, much too quick than he liked at the moment, on a patch of floor he saw no raised stones in, and lashed out with an open hand, hoping to catch the boy's flowing shirt or maybe his arm. Catching the fae would be the difficult part, but once John had him, the fight would be as good as done.

[FennWenn]

Next time he spoke with the monks, he was going to have to specify “not against John Cromwell, never ever”.

Fenn was somewhat unprepared for the outspread hand that came swinging towards him. Soon as he saw it, he panicked If John got close, that was it -- tiny twig kid was done. The half-formed ice chunk in his palm that might have gone towards a useful trap instead bapped harmlessly off of John’s hand as the tiny Fae fled to the right of the staggering warrior. Fingers about as large as the boy’s wrists brushed against his trailing cloak -- and found a fistful of green fabric. In his head, Fenn was screaming in panic as he was lifted off of his feet. In reality, a pathetic squeaking came from him, which did not seem very dignified when one was also feistily flailing about one’s frail limbs like a tiny madman.

A new chunk of ice was slowly forming in his hand, though not quite fast enough for his liking.

In this moment, he was not grateful for his excellent imagination. Snapping, crushing, stomping -- any number of abrupt endings flashed through his mind.