Fantasy ┌ spellsword ┘ Amaric Temple

[Haze-]

LOCATION— Amaric Temple (6th Floor)
DATE— 07/06
TIME— 0934

⚜ Leonel Blackmane ⚜​

Level 2 | Guardian-Paladin
Status: Tired
Spell Slots
Lv. 1 3/3

TAGS @ERode Sir Les Paul @November Witch @Carolyn

The paladin stood dead still, a glowering fist close to his heart, his focus unbroken even after Heleni had addressed him. The only acknowledgement came from the thousands of starry, unblinking wisps turning toward her in unison, widening like dilating pupils as they silently scanned her. A whirring, low rumble echoed within the astral projection that hovered over his shoulders. Leonel’s brow ticked down, then the projection faded away entirely.

He saw nothing. At most, he caught a glimpse of the purity in everyone’s souls. Aside from that, there didn’t seem to be anything inherently evil in the room with them.

“Not long.” — Leonel finally replied to Heleni, lowering his guard. The constant flittering of the moth’s wings still had him on edge, but he knew at least there was no immediate danger — “There’s nothing here. Nothing at all.”

He pointed an index at one of the glowing orbs he’d set around the moonstones, waving them off to the surrounding walls. Some moths followed Espel’s light to circle around it, others were too engrossed in their dance to even care about them. Leonel sheathed his sword, a begrudging, almost exasperated grumble forming on his throat. He would still have to touch some moths to get to the moonstones, after all.

Hell, he figured even the moths themselves had their own value for their silk. The unborn larvae, at least. Stooping down to stuff some cocoons into his bag wasn’t out of the question, to his dismay. Leonel had to bite his tongue not to curse himself under his breath the moment he noticed Symphony had the exact same idea.

No use moaning and complaining.

The lion walked over to the swarm, trying no to make a face as he swatted his way through them to the crystals, instinctively holding his breath out of an irrational, childish fear in the back of his mind telling him that one of the moths may end up flying into his mouth. He started shoving the stones into his bag, some uncooperative moths here and there following along, his disgust barely showing through the poker face he put on — “So, how valuable are these things exactly, Stonehart?”

 

[Shotgunpenguin]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (7th floor - Room of Surprise)
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—11:27

Lucas Decovo

Level 3 | Alchemist/Supporter
Status: Concerned
Ki Points 4/4
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 1/2
Lvl. 2 1/1

TAGS The Regal Rper @Daddy Dream @Megilagor Sir Les Paul

As Malikron struck the hind of the stuck spider, earning a high pitched hiss of pain, Lucas’s attention was turned by the sound of a different cry of pain, that being from one of their own. Fighting back the urge to cough from the burning sensation still wreaking havoc in his lungs, he glanced over as Roika was quickly making her way towards himself and Malikron. ‘Dammit, she got bit.’ The female elf quickly positioned herself a small ways behind Lucas, the offending spider that had bitten her having been rooted to the spot as it ferociously attempted to free itself and move in to claim its prey.

Blaming himself for letting a delver get hurt on their first dive could come later, and it would be coming. But for now, he had to take steps to try and help Roika. Despite the pained expression and deep flush to her face, the fact that she was still able to move despite being injected with the thief spiderlings venom meant that she either had a resistance to it, or that the juveniles venom wasn’t as powerful as a fully grown spider’s would have been. Regardless, he had no guarantee that the effects wouldn’t become more apparent the longer it circulated through her system. “Roika, can you still fight?”

His tone was short and to the point, inviting a quick and concise answer from the elf. Her answer would determine their course of action, of whether they would be fighting defensively to cover a retreat from the room of surprise; or if they would go on the offensive, attempting to finish off the spiderlings as quickly as possible. While the former would mean missing out on the potential treasures that a double room may contain, treasure was only worth something if you survived to use it.

After striking his blow, Malikron swiftly moved away from the injured spider, moving instead to focus on the one that had injured Roika. He rushed past Ake, who was still demonstrating his peak physicality as he slung his axes around with equal parts of grace and brutality, before Lucas tore his eyes away. He had his own spiderling to worry about, one that despite being momentarily stuck still posed a threat. “God's damn, you better know what you’re doing.” He muttered to himself, before focusing on the task at hand.

The spiderling in front of him was slowly recovering from its stunned state, its remaining eyes coming back into focus as it let out another hiss and attempted to lunge at the duo, only to find itself still stuck to the ground from Lucas’s concoction. It wouldn’t hold it for long however, as its attempts to strike at them were accompanied by the sound of ripping fur; the hairs on the bottom of its body that were stuck being torn off with little effort. Thankfully its legs proved more durable as they remained rooted to the ground, but it wouldn’t hold forever.

He couldn’t take the beast down with his bare hands, he lacked the physicality and the means to kill the creature with his style. Flowing stream wasn’t designed to kill, only to incapacitate and disable an attacker. Lucas very much doubted that his master intended for it to be used against wild beasts relying on pure hunger and instinct. Without knowing what would work and what wouldn’t, using his alchemical creations was a guessing game that he didn’t have the time to play; leaving one option.

His eyes darted down to where his quarterstaff lay on the ground, having impacted off of the spiderling when he threw it in order to give himself space to step back. Pushing out his leg, he pressed down on the middle of the shaft with his foot, pulling back and rolling it backwards onto the tip of his other foot. Kicking it up into the air, Lucas snatched the weapon in one hand before bringing the end of it to bear towards the spiderling. His other hand quickly joined his first, gripping onto the shaft as he prepared to strike.

Small strikes would only cause more problems, he would have to kill it in one blow or risk another shower of irritating fur. Bracing his feet on the floor, he reared back with his quarterstaff before surging forward and thrusting the steel capped end directly into one of the creature's burst eyes, intending to pierce through the wound and scramble whatever passed for its brain.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (7th floor), Room of Surprise
DATE—07/02 | Early Summer
TIME—1142

The poison that came from Primal Rend would prove unnecessary from Malikron once he had transformed. His elongated claws, much like the axe head from Ake, were enough to tear open and asunder the exoskeleton of the arachnid that had attacked Roika. His attacks were not as swift or definite as the Goliath, though. Malikron may have grown stronger as a Dire Wolf, but that did not mean Ake could be compared to such. He had of course fought off plenty in his frozen homeland. The difference in how easily the arachnid was dispatched was fairly obvious. Malikron needed his dagger like claws to rip them apart, sending their inner white ooze of blood-like material flying into the air with his messy swipes. Ake needed merely bring down the full force of his axe, which could crack through the exoskeleton with ease and rip right back out of it.

It was no wonder the entire Goliath race were known as fierce warriors. The natural advantage here almost seemed unfair.

This was more than likely the sentiment of none more than Lucas. Despite his skill with the bow staff and strength from training in martial ways, some of that strength had faded by his difficulty breathing. A huff and a puff stole some of his might, not to mention his time as an alchemist instead of a warrior. Still, he was in fact able to burst the black eye of the arachnid he was facing off against, impregnating the endcap of his staff into its skull. It just wasn't enough to kill it. The arachnid made a horrific screeching sound, as distressed as it could, but in truth it was a tone that the creature ought never utter. Thief Spiders were solitary by nature and communicate more through dance than noise. It only made this sound due to the foreign object implanted by Lucas.

In its distress, it fought not only against Lucas, but against the foam that bound it. Now panicked more than starved, the creature had mostly freed its limbs from the restraints, but could not easily attack due to the weapon in its skeletal socket. This left Lucas in a veritable tug of war match with the spider, all while he could feel his lungs aflame and body afoul by the fur he had taken in.

With the most recent arachnids slain by Malikron and Ake, a rough estimate would show that about half of the spiders had been slain, assuming they could all be seen. Roika who was assessing the situation would likely best know this, given her attention was on the battlefield - only split by the growing burning sensation in her hand. Still, given the relative ease Ake and Malikron could kill these spiders, it might not have seemed like a problem.

Unfortunately, it would be.

While Ake was making his conversation with Malikron, a new reality was upon them. They had let some of the remaining spiders feed. This, in turn, meant they were no longer as feeble or as desperate. Ake would find himself surprised by the new speed of one of such arachnids, lucky that it did not strike with a piercing blow. Instead, of shoved him backward with such force that it could push the Goliath damn-near against the wall. Had he been a smaller man, like Lucas, he would have bounced off the stone wall with his breath stolen from him. Yet again, his stature was a blessing.

The now-fed arachnids were faster and stronger, it seemed. Ake now faced off with one, but he was no longer able to so easily read its movements. The fur on its legs and its erratic movements made it harder to see any pattern to them and now that it was moving more, it only worsened the situation. It would lunge at him, a bite aimed for his torso, then back off out of range. A feint. A new tactic they did not display in their desperation. It was trying to create an opening.

Meanwhile, three more spiders crawled out of the water after their aquatic feast. Just as strong, just as empowered, their eyes were set on Lucas and Roika. Clearly the weakest of the group with Lucas stuck in his staff-based grappling match with his first arachnid and Roika seemingly helpless behind him. This was not to say that Malikron was ignored, quite the opposite. Two of those three spiders became a vanguard, trying to protect the third from the Dire Wolf while it went in for the kill on Lucas. In just a few more seconds, it would have a potentially lethal spider fang headed his way.

The only creature ignored was the reanimated spider. While the first desperate arachnids would dare to attack it, these newly refreshed ones did not. Instead, it was met by another Thief Spider from the waterfront with curiosity. Young and naïve, it knew not what was wrong with its kin in front of it, but it did know it was in the way of Ake, who it wanted to flank with the other spider that was attacking. Unless willed by Roika, this put it in a type of stand-off with her reanimated spider.

At the very least, this looked to be all of the spiders unless more were hiding in the shadowy portion of the room. None in the group had Dark Vision to truly see and Malikron had not the time in his form to smell them out, even if he could. Nonetheless, even if there were more in the shadows, they would be of the weaker, starved variety. What was left in front of them was likely the last of this fight, if they could finish it out.

@Daddy Dream @Megilagor The Regal Rper Shotgunpenguin

​

 

[SCP-0029]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple
DATE—07/04 | Early Summer
TIME—1030

Vaelithra Velaryth​

Level o1 | Frontline Class
Status Annoyed & Exasperated

Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 1/1
Pact 2/2

TAGS @November Witch @Merciless Medic EmperorsChosen Sir Les Paul

“Did your father also teach you to give white lies when you apologize, or was that something you taught yourself?” Something in her jaw clicked, eyebrows furrowed as she processed the audacity of the demi-human with an incredulous expression. She hadn’t believed Leander lied, yet for some reason Cole did.

With the dynamic between Leander and Cole being precarious enough, Cole’s audaciousness was hardly a recipe for a smooth expedition. Then again, it wasn’t as if the ruby-eyed dungeoneer had struck first, for he had been harped on by the lot shortly before he scorned them.

So it didn’t come as a surprise, for there it was—that thrum of deep and primal power that coiled, and crackled to life in his grasp, before Leander’s hand released it with a thunderous growl. There was a familiar chill as the air shivered, charged with something volatile, right as blinding light ripped through the dimness of the hallway. Lightning seared the stone in its path, and the acrid scent of charred rock lingered in the air.

She heard Cole shift, felt the weight of his skepticism settle into the space between them. He had nearly gotten hit by the man’s cantrip, and like the hairs on his tail, Vaelithra was on edge.

This incantation felt like a warning, or rather a declaration, for it felt like Leander presumed himself inherently superior, his arrogance laced in the arcane words: “Fulmen-telum.”

As Vaelithra’s eyes adjusted to the fading light, ears drumming, something unexpected stirred within her—a quiet surge of power. The area around her was significantly colder, like the distant north was seeping into Amaric Temple, leaving traces of its cold footprint behind. And then there was the intensity of those red eyes, and how he proclaimed himself ‘the spectacle’ sent something bristling within her. The scorn didn’t miss her, and it wasn’t what he said, but how he said it.

“Hope expending that energy doesn’t bite you in the ass,” she eventually heard the demi-human say.

Snapping her gaze away, Vaelithra found herself regarding Cole, visibly taking in his appearance, and trying to learn what the contortion of his face might have meant. He sounded annoyed, and he wasn’t hit. She believed Leander’s reaction was justified, but it was good he hadn’t been hit. In the short time she had known Cole, he seemed alright, and she would hope so since they will be working together to clear floors. However, that’s not to say she cared for him, so much as she would prefer that nobody gets injured before they actually make any progress.

Eventually, if not the storm brewing under those deft hands, then surely a northern frost bite would.

Speaking of, Lumina—ever the pragmatic one—stepped in with a sharp edge to her words, her tone laced with a cold finality as she did her best to keep them from tearing each other apart. Vaelithra agreed with her as she was determined to move forward rather than measure her temper against theirs, and certain things were uncalled for. Even when Lumina threatened to go back the way they came, only to smooth things over with dry humor, Vaelithra stilled. It was as if hearing thunder in a snowstorm for the first time, unsure if she had heard it, and waiting for the weight of the silence to confirm it.

From the hilt of her sword to the tips of her boots, frost coated the snow elf in scattered, uneven patches. For the snow elf it wasn’t fear that kept her in place, nor was it awe. It was the quiet realization that both men had proven something essential. Rather than careless they were, “Reckless.” The word escaped her like fallen snow, silver eyes darkening to teal as she regarded both men with something sharper than disapproval; reading them like a map she wasn’t certain she’d need, but kept anyway.

It wasn’t the urge to provoke that settled in her chest. It was the habit of assessing threats, of keeping tabs on fractures before they became fault lines. Cole’s posture, Leander’s eyes, the tension that crackled between them because it all said enough. There was no need to press further. Not yet. Instead, she pivoted sharply on her heel, giving her back to two men she already knew she’d have to watch.

Not trust. Watch.

Her pace was measured, each step a quiet severance from the tension behind her. She spared neither of them a glance. Even when she trailed after Lumina, she allowed herself a final, fleeting look back with unreadable cold finality. It was neither a warning, nor a challenge.

Inhale. Exhale. No words. No wasted breath, for she had nothing worth saying. Although, with another turn, a soft mutter, dry as winter wind escaped her as she said, “Ice preserve me.”

 

[The Regal Rper]

Malikron | Amaric Temple, 4th Floor

Skinwalker​

Wha--?

A very confused canine head tilt was the only reasonable response that Malikron could give Ake for the brief window his attention wasn't still occupied as more spiders joined the fight. It was brief, confused, but from the way the giant had spoken he just became more cautious towards him for speaking to him in that manner at all.

He had no idea what a Skin walker was, maybe it was a shapeshifter like a Changeling from how Ake had said it? In the current state of affairs, he decided not to pay it much more mind as long as Ake didn't turn the disdain in his voice into an action against him. If anything, all he did was just raise Malikron's guard.

The druid turned to the array of spiders defending their injured ally and eyed their movement. With his claw spell still active, Malikron moved cautiously. He had caught the sight of Ake getting shoved back by one of the spiders, and was aware these ones that had been eating in the pool had just basically gotten a energy boost. Speed like that wasn't a joke especially as the two were playing defense for the injured one.

Malikron decided to merely blitz forward, going in for a slashing swipe on one, while gauging the reaction of the other two, ready to give it a savage bite with his jaws if it moved in to take advantage of his movement. At the same time he also made ready to use another spell as he attacked.

Mentions: Sir Les Paul Shotgunpenguin @Megilagor @Daddy Dream

Interactions: n/a

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (6th floor)
DATE—07/06
TIME—0948

The stone door behind them slid shut, moving of own volition before sealing itself entirely. An odd, inexplicable sensation came with it. The room, the cavern they were just in, was gone. The door shutting somehow held both a physical and symbolic gesture. Not clear on if some absurd amount of force or magic could burst through it and if so would what they just experienced be there. The Dungeon—no, the Temple—proved itself a mercurial force. Ever-changing, constantly shifting, and perhaps even evolving.

The group had successfully acquired the floating moonstones and countless cocoons of silk, many still containing larvae, many half-ruined from their digestive saliva. The logistics of mining the glowing quartz resulted in it being left behind. Though it could have added value, that value against what could be their time and effort was deemed not worth it. It didn't help that Markus wasn't exactly being helpful about acquiring it, mostly due to his background with the church. Perhaps some type of rigging to create a pulley system to hoist up Symphony to mine it was possible, but Markus wasn't exactly being forthright about the equipment he had on him or helping to brainstorm for it.

It wasn't as if Heleni or Leonel were applying any pressure, either. A light that wasn't blessed by Espel was surely some type of an abomination.

The group moved on to the next door down the line. Their role was as simple as that. No other group had came by to take a door and this one wasn't marked, so it was another attempt at a Room of Surprise. The party had thus far had a fairly challenging and more unique combat encounter in their first day in the Dungeon with the mossmen. Their second encounter was more lackluster, but still profitable. Split five ways, what they looted from that room was still likely as much as a laborer's monthly wages, perhaps less depending on the market. Even if they were not honing their skills, it at the least was not a complete waste of time.

Given there was no lesson learned from the last encounter, there was no reason to switch up party dynamic. Leonel would lead them into the next room. The door opened to utter blackness. Inky, thick, deep. It was unlike the cavern where there was some natural source of light, unlike the hallways which had least had dim ambient lightning, and even unlike the room they fought the mossmen in; right out the gate, even Leonel at the head could not see further than a few feet into the blackness. It was even as if the faint light from the hallway refused to take step into the room.

What came next would depend entirely on the next actions of Leonel.

GM Note
The previous Room of Surprise has been auto-resolved and we are now starting the next. Assume Markus holds all loot. I have not yet made a map for this room because the characters have no means to see where they are or what they're doing. Leonel will be the first in post order and his actions may result in a GM quick response for reactions. The game is on.

@ERode Haze- @November Witch @Carolyn

​

 

[Haze-]

LOCATION— Amaric Temple (6th Floor)
DATE— 07/06
TIME— 0948

⚜ Leonel Blackmane ⚜​

Level 2 | Guardian-Paladin
Status: Tired, focused
Spell Slots
Lv. 1 2/3

TAGS @ERode Sir Les Paul @November Witch @Carolyn

Leonel stood with one foot swallowed by the darkness, just at the threshold where the light didn’t dare set in, throwing a hand out over his shoulder to signal the others to stop.

The dungeon was a living thing, a predator, and a cunning one. It shut the door closed behind them and herded them here, staring back into the abyss. It was almost as if it were using one of those old, tired lectures about warmongering his father used to drill into him. The art of war. Basic, common-sense stuff. Humans weren’t nocturnal animals, you lead the enemy into the pitch-black emptiness of a starless night and they’ll be as lost as a calf left in the tall grass without its herd, left to the lions.

Hell, humans were barely animals at all. It took one minor disadvantage, subtle irritancies to throw them off the flow of battle; droplets of rain on their helmet, mud sucking on their boots, or sharp, ungiving wind biting against their eyes; all to tip the odds in your favor.

Other races required a touch more of ‘artistic’ creativity to overcome, but the dungeon seemed to have the bare basics of Blackmane warfare down. It knew how to lead, how to stalk, and it knew that most humanoids couldn’t see a damn thing in the darkness. Either the walls around him truly were the innards of a living-breathing abomination, or he was just overthinking coincidences.

Either way, it wasn’t the time for thinking. Thought blurred into motion, action, and the lion raised his shield to his chest, muttering a string of prayers as his claw caught aflame with radiance. The same orbs of light as before were the first thing that took the room, he scattered them around to see if the darkness truly was impregnable. Then the firmament manifested around them again, a dozen starry wisps revolving around each party member.

He didn’t need to cast the eyes around the room to see if evil lurked in the dark, he was almost certain that there was something out there hiding, waiting to strike. Finally, Leonel took one more step, standing just beyond the entrance, half-covered in darkness, his shield raised high. Holding his ground and an open invitation for anything to try and take a bite of him.

It wasn’t too unlike a paladin of Espel to take one bold, blind, idiotic step into the dark after all.

Spoiler: Spells casted

Lv.1 -
Bulwark Stars

Cantrips -
Gift of Espel

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (6th floor)
DATE—07/06
TIME—0948

QUICK RESPONSE​

While Leonel was not directly targeted by any force within the room, given he had only just stepped in, the orbs that were the Gifts of Espel almost immediately were. The inky blackness was banished, at least in part, by the orbs. Unlike other rooms, the lumens they provided were dissipated much more so in a room as pitch black as the current one, meaning it would take more time for the room to be illuminated. Given it had only been a few seconds since they entered, it would take them more time to explore. From what they had thus far revealed, the floor transitioned from its paved stone pattern five to ten feet in to a more natural dust and stone, much like the cave floor they just came from.

The glowing orbs could not be damaged, but what shot at them were balls of a off-yellow, slightly green gunk. The creatures shooting it scurried away, revealing only bits of white flesh behind without divulging much more of their form, but none were larger than a typical garden snake. In a few places on the ground, those mucous-comprised spit balls attached. While no immediate effect seemed to take place on the stone, it filled the air with a noxious odor reminiscent of vinegar or overly fermented mother used to make yeast rolls. Not so fetid that it was impossible to pass, but sufficiently pungent that nearly it would burn the nose and perhaps sear the sinuses if directly over it.

@ERode Haze- @November Witch @Carolyn

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[EmperorsChosen]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple
DATE—07/02 | Early Summer
TIME—0931

Cecelia Blake​

Level 1 | Arcane Assassin
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 3/3

TAGS Sir Les Paul @Merciless Medic SCP-0029 @November Witch

Cecelia's unimpressed eyes methodically slid back and forth between the speaking parties as they took their turn, with the exception of Leander, whom earned a more stern, observant gaze. She was unsure if that was a threat or simply what she had heard to be considered a dick-measuring contest, but regardless, she was about as exasperated as Lumina. Cecelia cared not for harsh words or fancy spells. She came here, in a way, to get away from the stress of her normal life. While still an improvement, she was hoping she wouldn't have to be watching out for a fight between her team.

At the very least Lumina could play the part of a keeper of order despite being a trainee, which brought some comfort. While her words almost sounded like a motherly lecture, the cold chill that surrounded them certainly gave a certain emphasis to them.

The assassin's eyes glided over to the elf's. She surmised this was quite the culture shock for her. While Cecelia wasn't totally inexperienced with such meandering, she had no idea what kind of culture this woman came from. Cecelia only hoped it was unlike this, else she would need to help Lumina hold all the leashes. Either way, if Cecelia were a woman of the cloth, her faith would be dwindling.

"Is there a plan for how far down we will go?" Cecelia asked calmly as they began to traverse again, changing the subject, or perhaps not. It would be some time before they came up against a 'real' threat, but she was questionable about the squad cohesion when dealing with said threat, or any. It was one thing if Leander could eviscerate it, or Cole, but something that required teamwork? The mason had her doubts.