Fantasy ┌ spellsword ┘ Amaric Temple

[EmperorsChosen]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—0931

Cecelia Blake​

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

TAGS Meredith Sir Les Paul Merciless Medic Prizzy Kriyze November Witch

Cecelia's reaction to the Dungeon's gift of mana was moderately more restrained than Leander's or Cole's. She shut her eyes briefly as she felt the influx of magic. She didn't need to test her abilities, she could feel it. They were all empowered. Here, she was only restricted in the form of her spells that required physical components. Unfortunately, her skills were less 'fun' than Leander's or Coles. She had no electricity to spark about nor ice to form. She could create more illusions or a magic hand or--poison...

Yeah, probably best not to...

Cecelia opened her eyes as their new guide appeared to greet them. Her eyes drew over to the mage with a gaze just as icy. Her expression was cold, though outwardly she was polite enough. She was a guide in training as well, so presumably she held an interest in apprenticing young adventurers. Unfortunately, Cecelia didn't have much time to analyze the woman before Cole slithered up to her. It seemed their cryomancer had a type.

The rogue watched him shoot his shot and form an icy flower in his fingertips. She stared, spectating with an unreadable expression as the flower drooped and his smirk disappeared. Even though Cecelia had mastered the art of the poker face, she felt her jaw clench as she suppressed a crack in the mask. The nonexistent chuckled was suppressed, however she could do naught to hold her tongue.

"...I'm... sure they have a potion for that at the trading post... Ehm-" Cecelia remarked dryly before she cleared her throat a bit and gave an acknowledging nod to Lumina. "...A pleasure to meet you, Lady Wynntress... I have no qualms with continuing on."

 

[Daddy Dream]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple, Meeting point
DATE—Early Summer
TIME— 9:25 AM

Rioka Yorel​

LvL 1 | Spore Druid
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1: 3/3
Pact: 1/1

TAGS Shotgunpenguin | AzaleaWonderland | The Regal Rper | Megilagor

Rioka rose from her bed early morning and yawned. The sun hadn't even woke up yet, but here she was, swinging her legs out of bed in the darkness of the room to begin her day. The first thing she did was was her face and hands before moving on to brush her hair and dress. Out of all the places she had stayed in, this one was one that she liked as it allowed her a comfy bed and a small area to wash up at. She was thankful for it as she didn't always get a place to wash up due to her always traveling and most of the time spending night outside. Once she was done getting herself ready, she starting packing the gear she had before leaving her room and into the small dining area. She didn't want to sit and eat a big meal, instead she decided to find out if they had any rations, and if so she would buy some and head out.

By the time she left the tavern, the sun was just starting to light the sky in an inviting violet blue hue. Her red eyes stared up at it for a while as she lost herself in thought. These last few months were rough, and she barely hand any time to look up at the sky and appreciate it. Even now, she had no time as she was needing to be at the temple to meet up with a group and a guide. She sighed and turned her eyes from the sky and made her way down the street, her black hair fluttering behind her and clothes catching the wind as she walked. She traveled through the settlement that surrounded the temple as it slowly lit up from the suns gentle rays, the cool evening air finally being chased away. Soon the red eyes of the wood elf would find themselves staring up at the temple, taking in the overwhelming feeling of power, before falling upon the comrades gathered before it.

"Hello there, I can only assume this is the group I will exploring with right?' She spoke soft but clear as she approached, a simple smile of greeting across her lips. So far, she only spotted a large man and a smaller gent who gave the air of guide. Giving a brief greeting and just her first name, she awaited for their answers before noticing their confused looks on their faces. Her brow furrowed and she tilted her head, were these not the people she was traveling with? Rioka swung her pack around as the other two started shuffling away and retrieved a sketch of who she needed to find. Turns out, she should've studied the sketch more because they were no who she was suppose to meet. Feeling a flush run to her cheeks, she quickly scurried away into the crowds and started to look around with sketch in hand. It took her awhile, but eventually she found someone who looked similar to the guide she was looking for on the paper.

"Excuse me, is this you?" Rioka gingerly approached the man who looked at the picture before scoffing, moving away from the elf. She was confused by that reaction, but continued onward as she navigated the crowd and inquired to people about the person in the sketch. By the time that she realized it, the sun was already fully out and the area was getting busier as people woke up. By this time, Rioka was getting frustrated and stood in the middle of the market, glaring at all the faces that continued to pass her by. None of them looked like the one in the sketch and everyone she has talked to says they hadnt seen him.

 

[Shotgunpenguin]

LOCATION—Marketplace/Amaric Temple
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—7:15/9:27 AM

Lucas Decovo

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

TAGS The Regal Rper Daddy Dream Megilagor AzaleaWonderland

The sun had only begun to rise, a slight chill in the air that caused Lucas’s breaths to puff out a small cloud as he made his way up the staircase. He had departed from his campsite during the first signs of daylight, eager to finally arrive at the temple after leaving his shop in Grant’s hands for the time being. His legs twitched, not with fatigue or soreness, but from excitement at what was to come.

He had ascended this staircase dozens, if not hundreds of times, the climb a slow and meticulous process that he had grown physically accustomed to. The only sounds to accompany him were the metal clink of the head of his quarterstaff as he used it as a walking stick, and the occasional chirping of birds. When he had first begun to descend into the dungeons, he always hated having to climb and descend down the stone stairs. It wasn’t the physical aspect he hated, although he could understand why it would be a pain for some. No, it was the long period where he was alone with his thoughts that he hated. With only the occasional person crossing his path as they made their own way, and the chirps and cries of birds to break it up.

He was impatient back then, filled with nerves and fear at descending into the dungeon. With just his own thoughts, he was unable to distract himself from the possibilities his mind conjured up. Being killed, falling prey to a trap and finding himself slowly bleeding out, being eaten alive by all manner of horrific beasts. It was enough to send him sprinting up the stairs as fast as he could just so that he could get the ascent over with, leaving him a winded mess when he finally reached the summit.

As he grew, both older and more confidently in his ability to survive, he found himself hating the process less and less. Now, he actually looked forward to the ascent, the thought of being so close to once again being able to descend into the dungeon filled his chest with excitement. Recently he had felt like he had been cooped up in his lab for too long, an unfortunate reality of needing to brew and create his products for sale. Alchemy wasn’t a product that could be rushed, which meant that there were long periods where he was unable to leave his lab to go off on a delve.

When he finally reached the top of the staircase, the grand visage of the temple stood as it always had, a grand building that welcomed adventurers preparing for their descents. He took a brief moment to breathe a deep breath, allowing the crisp air to fill his lungs before exhaling. Now that he had arrived, it was time for him to get to work.

But his destination wasn’t the temple itself, or the entrance to the dungeon. No, the chest on his back rustled slightly as he made his way towards the markets of the temple. The market was a bustling place, with vendors selling everything from tantalizingly delicious food, to extra supplies such as bedrolls and torches, and even one seller offering hounds for purchase. It wasn’t only physical items being sold too.

There were countless merchants offering services as well, such as short and long term item storage. For a small fee, these services would hold onto items that, for one reason or another, couldn’t be brought into the dungeon. It was useful for those who intended to return to the surface often to re-supply, lowering the amount of luggage they would need to bring with them. Pretty much everything one could want could be found in one regard or another as newbies and seasoned adventurers alike haggled and purchased their goods.

Finding an unclaimed plot, Lucas got to work. Unpacking his chest, he rolled out a thick fur blanket on the ground and began to arrange his wares. Vials of ruby liquid were placed next to small strips of tearable paper housing a foul smelling powder, while two cloaks with large swaths of spices and plants were laid out in full. Once he had everything set, he took a deep breath and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Potions, salves, scent cloaks! Get your supplies here, before it’s too late!” He called out, raising his voice to join the shouts and offers of the other vendors.

​

---

Eventually as the sun shined brightly in the middle of the sky, Lucas packed up his wares and deposited them back into his chest. It had been a good day for sales. Not the best, there were still some products left over that he would have to take back with him once they returned from the dungeon, but enough to pad his coin purse a slight bit. Of course, that’s not to say there wasn’t a fair bit of headache he had to deal with. He had intended to sell his wares before proceeding to the meeting point to meet and greet with the group he would be guiding. However, there was an annoying customer that had raised a fuss about his prices and claimed that he was trying to rip everyone off with his crappy junk. Sure, Lucas upped the price from what it would normally cost in his shop, but it wasn’t like he was ripping anyone off. His products would work, it was just that the upcharge was for him having to lug everything from his shop in Ardynport all the way to the dungeon itself. Not that the guy understood that.

Regardless, the man had eaten up a decent chunk of time with his baseless complaints. Because of that, he was delayed in getting to a merchant offering to store his chest. He still had his pack with a few days of rations, water, his bedroll and a few of his concoctions that he kept for personal use. Hopefully the others wouldn’t be too peeved off at having to wait for a bit. Who knew, maybe Lucas would get lucky and they hadn’t even showed up yet. After a short walk, he returned to the area just past the top of the staircase.

While those he was supposed to guide would have some inkling of what he looked like, the same couldn’t be said for him. Which meant that he would have to rely on them to approach, unless he wanted to randomly walk around and ask everyone present whether they were in his group. Instead, he decided to make it easier for his group to find him. Hiking his quarterstaff up in his hand, he raised the pole into the air and brought his free hand up to his mouth before shouting. “Oi! If any of you are looking for a guide named Lucas, I’m right here!”

 

[ERode]

Huh, so that sad ol’ drunk was actually really good with religious magic, huh?

Ayn, having neither heard the voice of God nor having had a prior understanding of what exactly Leonel’s magical limits were, simply assumed that the warmth spreading within her core and the flames that coated her swords were of the same source: a single man’s magic. And if that was the case?

She took in a sharp breath, spent just a half-second trying to figure out whether she should wait for Symphony to continue to showcase her leadership potential, before discarding all that in the heat of the moment. Her weapons were enhanced, and the enemy were shaken! The glowing spheres illuminated just how cowardly they had become, clustering densely around the living core of these mossmen as they practically wet themselves in fear! In a duel, what reason was there to give your opponent breathing space when they’re stumbling back?

The swordswoman’s blood ran hot. Strike, strike, strike!

Like a bolt released, Ayn dashed. Not forwards to the core of the mossman cluster, but to the side instead. A blade of white flame cleaved through the back of axeman locked together with Heleni, before she followed through with her other sword, twisting with the momentum of the strike to split the fused mossmen that had grabbed Leonel from crown to groin. Clearing out the trash was important too; she’d leave the problem of the golden spores for the others to puzzle over.

At least if they didn’t decide to outright torch the entire chamber.

 

[November Witch]

Symphony

~{A Pleasant Surprise}~​

Status: Determined & Hopeful
Spells: Steelsilk Enchantment, Thread Lure & Razor Whip
Location: Amaric Temple - 5th floor
Interaction(s): ERode Sir Les Paul Haze- Carolyn

Her stance and preparation to meet the vine with her own might seemed unnecessary now as she felt it land in her hands perfectly, but with hardly any force. Well, the fires of Espel that burned on Ayn’s sword likely had something to do with that. Looking around, she’d see it on every weapon now, even her whip. What a strange turn of events… But she got a tinge in her mind somewhere. That sometime in the past, she’d experienced something similar. Deja vu and all that… Though this was not the time to dwell on such feelings. Now that she had basically a large log, it was time to add fuel to the fire.

She dipped one end into the burning mossman’s remains until it was set alight. At this point, she spun, once, twice, three times, building momentum and moving towards the mass until she let it fly towards the writhing mass of fines, and spore expelling flowers. The large flaming vine would fly with force, and whether it would make contact or be swatted away by the other vines didn’t matter. At the very least, it would hit its mark or make an opening for her razor whip. Taking a few steps closer so she was in range, she’d slash at the blob of alive flora with her flaming whip, still dragging the corpse of the mossman with her via her threads in one hand and slicing the flora with her razor whip in the other.

As the sap and spores were produced by the plants, she hoped the others would note the spores. They were all biological in nature. Surely, she wouldn’t have to baby them and tell them to be careful of the spores, right? She assumed as much, and let the others continue to fight and do their own things. Symphony would have to start slow and build up from there. She didn’t know what the others could and couldn’t do. How they would respond to being asked or told to do something in the heat of the moment. So, for now, she approached leading with a laissez-faire mindset. As she got to know the others better, maybe she could become more hands on. For now, she assumed letting them act more or less on their own with what they were comfortable with would be better than running the risk of making bad decisions or putting them in disadvantageous positions due to her lack of understanding of them.

 

[November Witch]

Lumina Wynntress

~{A Quick Explanation}~​

Status: Exasperated & Bored
Location: Amaric Temple - 1st Floor
Interaction(s): Merciless Medic Sir Les Paul EmperorsChosen Meredith Prizzy Kriyze

It seemed that before her question about moving on could be answered, she had some dungeoneers to calm down. First up seemed to be this demi-human who had just humiliated himself in front of her. When the crude flower drooped, she let out an amused exhale but rolled her eyes. “Normally, winning a prize means it’s something someone wants.” Lumina dismissively waved a hand at him. “Go ahead and give it to the second place winner. I don’t want it.”

With that, she turned her back to him and looked to the blue haired man who was head over heels excited about the level of mana and what he could currently do with it. Just before that though, she made note of what the woman said, and gave her a nod, thankful someone had answered her question.

“It’s quite something, and I do not blame you for being so excited. But take a breath and focus. Alot of information is thrown at you in the first trip down here. It’s all important. You’ll have plenty of time to play around with this in the future, but for now, I need your attention and focus. Today, of all days, I need you to really absorb this information.” Lumina said, then added, a little louder. “That goes for everyone here. You’ll be able to have your fun in the future, but for now I need your undivided attention.”

Lumina let the words hang in the air for a few moments before taking the lead of the group and walking them towards the trading outpost. She remembered her first day. She’d almost died, she’d been so distracted. By the amount of mana, the way it worked, the monsters, everything. Due to her connection with dungeons and her scholarly spirit, it was certainly worse than most. Actually, it was multiple times in her first two weeks she almost died. Getting distracted and going to research things, and inspect things more closely. Taking notes and acting like it was a school field trip. It was why she was so serious when speaking. Her inflection was one of academic authority. As if a teacher talking to an unruly class.

After walking for a few long moments, they arrived at the trading post. Though she didn’t stop, and simply walked through it with her group. They would familiarize themselves with it soon enough. Though they deserved a cursory glance at least. Even being in an enclosed space now, it certainly seemed bigger than the marketplaces on the surface. The east side looked similar to the surface, business wise. It seemed to be focused on a marketplace and trading. The west side, though, was housing for different guilds and groups. From Freemasons, to the Dungeon Guild, to the Church and more. Though there were also some other places, like the infirmary and kitchens to make food.

“There isn’t much to note on the west side.” Lumina said, turning around and walking backwards so she could speak to the group and point. “The infirmary is always free and available to use no matter the time of day. You have to pay for your own food though.” Lumina pointed towards the infirmary tent, in case the others couldn’t put 2 and 2 together. “The Dungeon guild has lockboxes which is nice. You can store items you might not need for a delve, or something you may need later. It’s free as long as you’re in the guild.”

Lumina turned around, continuing on to the east side of the trading outpost. “Now this area is just like any market you’ve ever been in, except it's all trade. Daric won’t buy you anything here.” Lumina pointed to a board, not bothering to turn around this time. “That changes every hour and gives an estimated price for items you want to exchange, sell, etcetera.”

Lumina exited the trading outpost and stopped at the base of the staircase that led to the second level. This time she turned around, her arms crossed.

“Any questions? You don’t need to fully understand it right now, nor do you have much use for it. But it’ll become more and more useful as you expand on your career. If there’s nothing else, we can move onto the second floor.”

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (Summit)
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—0951

Leander 🗲 Cromwell​

Lvl. 1 | Mage-Storm Sorcerer
Status Excited
Spell Slots
Lvl.1 3/3
Metamagic
1/1

TAGS Meredith Prizzy Kriyze Merciless Medic EmperorsChosen November Witch

Leander was, in a word, disappointed. In his hands, he channeled his very favorite element. Magic coursed through his fingertips, it sparked from his flesh and into reality. Never in his whole life did he ever feel so connected...

...and he was told to move on almost as quickly as the sensation hit him. He had to face the truth. A bitter truth, one hard to swallow like the most vicious, pungent medication. One that left a taste in his mouth so foul that he hated it.

The others simply didn't share his enthusiasm. How dare they?

The only consolation that he had was that he could at least maintain his magic. The warlock over there apparently couldn't keep his Spell going in quite the same way. Even in a world with infinite mana, it took some modicum of skill to keep the flow of magic going. Whatever being that shadowy lump consorted with apparently left him so reliant on it for control that his poor flower wilted in front of Lumina. A couple dozen snide comments came to mind and Leander even let loose a dry, but soft chuckle at the one Cecelia had made. He, however, took a note from the page of their stalwart monk and decided to remain quiet. The group wanted to move on, after all.

He soaked in the information provided by Lumina, then the general atmosphere of the Trading Post once they arrived. It was impressive so much was fit down inside the actual Dungeon. It felt like there was more actually to the outpost here than up top despite the size constraints within the stone walls of the first floor. That was, in part, because there actually was more room. It was also because the room was used far more efficiently.

But, then, of course, Lumina finally said those words. The words this group, so long as Leander was part of it, would likely grow to despise. Any questions?

Always.

"Well... now that you ask," Leander started, the first to speak up.

"What do you actually do?" Leander excitedly asked, sparks flying off his words as if they were the same sparks from his fingertips just a moment prior. "Lady Neha said she was a Shaman and told us how she converts planar energy into spells, which sounds reaaaaally cool and I'm excited to see," Leander explained, speaking in a rush, "but, you didn't tell us anything!"

"Oh!" he continued, his speech and overwhelming maelstrom of questions and pacing, "and, why wear that? White in a Dungeon? It looks like regular cloth. I get that miss Neha needs to fly, but for the average person, wouldn't a big ole hat and skirt just be problematic?"

He didn't dare go on to point out that girls didn't have to wear such stuff. Cecelia obviously didn't, she had a metal chest plate. Instead, he shelved that thought, only allowing a brief pause before he turned back to Cecelia.

"So, where's that potion for Cole?" he asked plainly. Between his serious tone and statuesque face, it was impossible to tell if he was poking fun at their companion or was genuinely ignorant to it.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (5th floor)
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—1102

Markus ⚜ Stonehart​

Lvl. 5 | Supporter-Paladin
Status Focused
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 5/6
Lvl. 2 3/3
Lvl. 3 1/1

TAGS Haze- ERode November Witch Carolyn

Markus could only smirk. A miracle on their first day in the Dungeon? This was an auspicious sign. He had been a Paladin for nearly a decade and in that time could count on both hands the miracles he had seen, only being an active part of two of them. In most cases, they were the result of some bold act in the name of Espel or for years of dedication. Never before had he seen one given how so willfully. Never before had he heard the voice of Espel sound so... compassionate.

Then again, Markus had never been on such a small group with so many Twice-Blessed. Four Spellswords and Living Doll, little did he know was also touched by a God. He had worked with plenty before, even Kaelic was a Spellsword, but perhaps there was something to being this close. Perhaps Espel had his eyes on a party so promising.

It was difficult not to be inspired by the voice of his God and the sight of his party revitalized and empowered by a white flame that burned with divine fury. It was in a way disproportionate. The stakes at present were so low, yet the hand of God was present. Espel could have been anywhere in the world, gifted his grace to all that the light touched, yet endeavored to muddy himself in the darkness of the Dungeon. In a way, there was a type of divine intimacy in the moment. Not only was Markus so close to his God, but he shared the same radiant connection that touched both Leonel and Heleni. It was something perhaps only reserved for the most dedicated priests, not a Paladin like himself.

A moment like this would not go wasted.

"Hear me, O great sun that is the origin of all life," Markus chanted, prayed really, his graveled voice softened and smoothened as he spoke directly to Espel, "bathe mine allies in the glow of your light and wash them of their earthly ailments."

To hear Markus pray was a unique thing. At first glance, especially to those that could not sense the presence of Espel, he appeared like no Paladin or Priest. Gruff, his beard uneven, sad eyes and loosened muscle from the training he had forsaken. There appeared no light in him and he wore no armor to indicate his status, like Leonel. Heleni seemed more Godly than he. But, to hear him pray was another thing entirely. Those gifted in song could hear the highlights of his vowels, the emphasis on his syllables, the flow of his words like a roaring river carrying meaning deeper than they could ever achieve without.

'My dear fallen champion... if that is your wish, then I shall grant it. In turn, hear my will: you shall toil in the fields, prostrate yourself in the radiant sunlight, and all you endure will feed the soil and bear fruit...

...so that someday you may taste that sweet absolution from your failures.'​

​

​

With that prayer, and that answer, all audible again to Leonel and Heleni, the bleeding Paladin was bathed in a glow that briefly drowned out even his starlight. With it, all his fatigue had vanished, and the cut on his forehead burned close with a fire that did not sear in agony, but instead sizzled with relief. His bloodied eye, too, became washed of its irritant and vision was soon restored. Perhaps, had Markus had worded his prayer more eloquently, Espel could have even healed the lost eye of Leonel; other miracles were being granted. Even without such a grace, a prayer was answered and answered directly. Paladins and Crusaders often offered prayers to Espel and only saw the light through what they willed into the world. It was rare to see their God directly grant such a boon.

Yet, here was Leonel healed by Espel and Heleni hearing his voice as he shared her very strength. The three would need to visit the Cathedral after to explain their miracle to the priests. To share their story of divine intervention. To see, if perhaps, they had truly been touched by God in some way.

For now, they still had plant life to contend with.

 

[Haze-]

LOCATION— Amaric Temple (5th Floor)
DATE— Early Summer
TIME— 1103

⚜ Leonel Blackmane ⚜​

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

TAGS ERode Sir Les Paul November Witch Carolyn

Leonel felt a thump fall heavy on his shoulders, weight rolling off. Then a lashing at his sides, like a thorned whip, trying to make him flinch. Leonel didn’t move an inch. He was kneeling, hiding his nape and all the other parts of him that wouldn’t quite take a good hit behind the shade of his shield. Unshaken, unmoving, frozen like a statue with one resting on the pommel of his blade dug to the floor. Awfully calm, oddly solemn; it was all he could do to be an anchor to his team anyways. Just lay down and take the hits coming their way.

It wasn’t until that voice, all too familiar, rang in his ear that Leonel peeked out from under his iron shell, the roughened, tense frown lines across his face easing away. Bleary, bloodshot eyes opened to look around wildly, searching for the light. A flash of mixed emotions crossed him them: bewilderment, relief, and utter shame for showing himself so weak in front of his Lord.

He’d only heard his God’s voice in drunken stupors and blackout, lucid dreams— the words of Espel from when he took his oath, on constant repeat out of sheer delusion. Now here he was, finally…

He felt like a useless fool, being down on his knees as Espel offered aid, as the rest of them fought.

He didn’t have time to wallow in it, wouldn’t allow himself to. Espel’s voice sang through his bones like an invigorating chant, drums of war before a crusade. It stilled that inner voice in his head telling him he was falling behind, that he wouldn’t shake the ghosts of the past as weak as he was, made his legs move on their own, forced him to stand— hiss through the shooting pain in his eyes and pry them open. His guiding light was there, hadn’t abandoned him.

Even if it meant fighting completely blind, Leo had to show his devotion somehow.

He took a breath, loosened the cape; it’d weigh him down, make him clumsy without his eyes. He hefted the sword, heard the woosh of the white flames clinging onto the blade; got accustomed to them. And just as he was about ready to try and make himself useful, he heard the prayer behind him— followed by Espel’s voice again, words for Markus. The crimson in his eyes cleared out, the throbbing pain across his forehead washed away in cool waves of relief, and the exhaustion was taken off his shoulders. The world had color again.
He could only glance at Markus for a spare moment, a singular beat, nodding before turning back to take a stance before the mossmen. Sword low at his feet, claw crossing over, fingers slowly tensing to a hook like a loaded crossbow. He scanned the room, got a clearer notion of what he’d been missing out on in the few minutes he’d spent enjoying his lack of eyesight.

He wasn’t flashy like Ayn, not theatrical like Heleni. He was course, rough, straight to the point. His approach was that of shuffling feet in a lowering stance— ‘Like a drunken crane,’ his father would often dumb down the Lion’s stance to him that way. Leonel narrowed his sights on each of the mossmen retreating to the walls, they were like bugs skittering back into dark corners when torchlight lit up a room. It would’ve been somewhat of a stalemate, knowing they couldn’t quite reach into the main cluster with the spore cloud hanging around it.

Would’ve been, if they didn’t have any ranged options that was.

He reached down to pull the waterskin slung across his core again, swished the cheap ale inside, got a good measure of it. There wasn’t much at all, but with how flammable these mossmen were it’d end up being plenty. His hand flashed forward, snapped to the side, and doused the mossmen huddled close to their main pod in a shower of alcohol— a Virgin Merrow special. They were practically asking to become a living pyre, grouping up so conveniently for them.

Leonel switched his grip on the handle of his sword, took a different stance this time around; pulling his whole arm, twisting his body— and releasing the sword like it were a flaming spear. It flew straight at the main body, drawing a line of white flame on its way before it impaled the twisting mess of vines and dried bones. He turned, whipped his head around with a firebolt already hovering over his claw, tossing it up and batting it with his shield to send it flying at the rest of the cowering mossmen.

He sucked in a breath, reached behind his back for his spear while glaring at the long-armed mossmen. Unblinking, in absolute focus. The stars orbiting the party hadn’t flickered even once. Finally, he blew out that breath through his nostrils, rolling his neck, and taking another open counter stance with his hands at his sides. It was a simple message, body language even a wild animal could read at a glance— ‘Come at me.’

It was a bad old habit from his mercenary days too, really. He stood there waiting for any daring mossmen to realize they had to step up or be engulfed by the flames.

 

[Megilagor]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple, Meeting point
DATE—Early Summer
TIME— 9:27 AM

Ake Sigurd​

LvL 1 | Totemic Warrior
Status: Finally not as bored since the guide arrived
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 2/2

TAGS Daddy Dream , Shotgunpenguin , AzaleaWonderland , The Regal Rper

The man Ake approached after just arriving at the top of the staircase turned around to him and spoke up.
"And what are you looking for lovely? Some fun before dungeon diving." It turns out this was not the person he was looking for, and neither was this person a man. Though he couldn't be so sure with how the elvish person looked it could be either gender, but one thing was for sure with how the person dressed, the person here wasn't here to dungeon dive, though something would be diving in some hole......

With that knowledge and realization Ake turned around on his heel and walked off in some random direction at the top of the temple, arriving at the merchant part of the top. There Ake simply passed some time by buying himself something hot to eat and drink to warm as he didn't really have anything good to eat since he left the inn. Managing to buy a roasted lamb leg off of someone and a mug of mead from someone Ake showed the never-ending emptiness of an endless abyss, known otherwise as a hungry Goliath's gut, within but a few minutes Ake drank the full mug of mead and consumed the whole lamb leg, even cracking the bone to devour the bone marrow inside, leaving only bones aside, and only because he thought he saw the one who was his guide walk in the direction of the meeting place.

So with that in mind Ake walked back after the man to the meeting place. What did nail the fact it was the person he was looking for, was when he began shouting and swinging his quarterstaff in the air to gather attention.

You have one behind you! Guide Lucas. The name's Ake Sigurd. I hope our dive together will be eventful."

 

[Carolyn]

HELENI​

What is food to the hungry? Salvation.

What is ardor to the downcast? Deliverance.

What is divine favor to the zealot? Exaltation.

Heleni had been smiling when she threw the torch high in the air. Though her original plot failed to account for the extra vine, her enemy failed to account for an even greater force. The hand that tilted the balance to her favor was the master she swore an unyielding oath to. Now she was outright laughing.

“Lo, be praised to the LORD, sovereign of my heart and beyond it, that has sent upon us fire.”

She dodged the attempt to entangle her sword in time with Ayn’s slash on the ax-wielding mossman. One step later she struck with her own attack at the stunned creature. The left side of its torso was ripped all the way to its right shoulder in a single stroke. Then she kicked the upper body toward the rest of its blighted ilk.

“Smolder, you wretched shadow. By my master’s hand is your perverse dwelling blown apart and your children rendered as ash to the pyre. Tremble and lament for Their judgment, fair and true, falls upon you as thunder, and through it is shown: there is a God in heaven.”

Next to Markus’ prayers and Leonel’s silent contemplation, Heleni had a sermon hot in the air. The doctrine that came forth was clothed less in scripture and more in heady passion. She pointed her hand at the creature’s main body. A shimmering light traveled from the tip of her finger to the area where she should plunge her blade. Another surge of mystical energy flowed through her body.

“And may the Sun spare you not punishment supreme: eternal vengeance and hate!”

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (5th floor)
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—1100

​

Undoubtedly, the mossmen of the Dungeon were no match for the white flames of Espel. Ayn and Heleni had little difficulty in cleaving them in two. As individual warriors, the two would have struggled mightily against the allotment of foes in a living environment fighting against them. However, the marriage between the firepower of the crusader and the skill of the bladed monk was far greater than the sum of its parts.

The same could not be said for the one-eyed Paladin. His effort with his liquor and Firebolt would prove to be little more than a parlor trick. Alcohol burned fast, and wasn't particularly hot. His Firebolt itself ignited it for but a moment and did more damage with its initial impact. As for his sword, it was blocked in much the same way as the frontal assault made by Symphony; the vines that were apparently expected to deflect incoming projectiles instead wrapped their wetted forms over the core of the vine cluster. A simple tactic for a simple creature: shield itself. Though it was not perfect in that it did not cover the entirety of its form, it was sufficient to block the flaming sword of Leonel and the thrown limb from Symphony.

In a way, it seemed the vines were on the backfoot of the fight. Ayn and Heleni had dispatched of the mossmen not at the core and the rest were surrounding that very same core which, in a word, was turtling itself.

The fight was still not over. The pollen that had been released, mistaken for golden spores in the minds of many, was not just present, but inching forward. Overtaking nearly half the room and being first inhaled by Leonel, he would soon learn that there were, in fact, many ways for a foe to come at him. In this case, it began as a mere burn. An irritant. As if sandpaper had been ripped through his nostrils and the peppers native to the Borosi had been cut in front of his eyes and spilled onto his tongue. Milliseconds mattered. The longer he stayed forward, the worse this sensation would become. It would venture into his mouth, beyond his tongue, down his throat, and into his lungs if he did not retreat with haste. His toughness be damned; he could not withstand an aerosol attack on his very lungs.

Neither could Ayn or Heleni, the latter of which being the next closest to the inflammatory cloud. Light might have shone where she wished to attack, and it shone true in that the core was the weak spot of the creature, but it was doubtful she could make it five feet into the cloud before succumbing - let alone the fifteen or so it would take to rush it. The decision to attack the mossmen along the wall had shown its cost: precious time.

The few mossmen that remained demonstrated a new ability, or at least one the four had not yet actively seen. Those that remained had all their left arms shift and restructure themselves until they resembled the rigid frame of a simple longbow. A tactic they had clearly learned from the original trap that drew in Leonel, but more likely indicative that they had already taken in an archer and were using learned skills. In any case, it proved that it was committed to its remaining strategy of hiding in the pollen cloud. The archers unleashed a volley, though only a volley of three, arrows targeted at Leonel.

Of course, the flaming sword that Leonel had thrown was in fact still burning inside of the vine-shell the cluster was covering itself with and the few places that surrounded it glowed due to the ability of Heleni, showing its most vulnerable locations between the vines that it could not cover. Notably, only the white fire burned the vines easily; the regular flames from Symphony merely knocked off embers after one vine collided with another. The situation was, at least for the moment, a slight stalemate: to venture beyond the ever-encroaching pollen would mean certain suffocation, though only Leonel could confirm that for the moment; it was a mere suspicion to the others. On the other hand, the mossmen and vine cluster had not the actual strength or power to kill or maim any of the party as it stood. It instead relied on its pollen to eventually force them out of the room.

It created the question: could either one actually kill the other?

November Witch ERode Haze- Carolyn​

 

[AzaleaWonderland]

LOCATION—Marketplace/Amaric Temple
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—5:25 AM to 9:25 AM
BACKGROUND CREDIT— Ringetsumon

Artist Credit ~ Reiga000

Flow​

Level 1 | Class Drudic Herbalist
Status
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 2/2

TAGS Daddy Dream Shotgunpenguin The Regal Rper Megilagor

With a pop, the jar lid came off revealing the translucent red crab apple jam within. Taking a dull butter knife to the jam, the mouse girl scooped it onto some hard tack before sprinkling a bit of sage to round out the flavor profile of her snack. With a hard crunch, the tack gave way to her teeth as she began snacking. The mouse girl's feet started kicking from the branch she sat on, and her eyes lit up with joy, she knew this combo would kill, it just took a while to find an appropriate time to use it. The tartness of the jam paired great with the slightly sweet slightly savory profile of sage and masked the normal blandness of the hardtack. If only Aramyst were here so she could share and brag about how right she was. After she finished relishing in the first bite, the mouse girl carefully broke off a tiny piece of the hardtack before scooping some of the jam onto it. She then used her tail to move her woven basket closer and held the hardtack piece slightly above. The blanket covering the contents of the basket started to shake before the small fuzzy head of a mouse poked out, the mouse took a moment to sniff the food before grabbing it and nibbling till it disappeared. The girl continued to enjoy her snack until it also disappeared. She tightened the cap back onto the jar before carefully placing what she hadn't eaten back into the basket. The mousegirl let out a satisfied sigh made visible by the low temperature of morning. The mouse girl stood up on the branch and began climbing the tree higher up. From there she could get a good look over the With the direction confirmed she scampered down to the forest floor and continued her journey, eventually reaching the great summit of Amaric.

Now here, the girl had to find someone going by the name of Lucas. It was rather generous and a bit surprising that they provided her with a sketch. It is far more information to go on than flow is often forced to work with. Having studied the sketch during the journey, it wasn't too hard to cross-reference passing faces with her memory. Any novice would likely swing the flyer around while looking, but unless you happen upon an enemy of the person you're looking for, most people assume it's some manhunt, and shut you down quickly. The mousegirl chuckled to herself, remembering getting scolded for doing that once. It was slightly challenging finding someone who remembered a specific person out of the many hundreds at the market, but making use of those who were sure they hadn't seen him allowed her to rule out several areas, narrowing the search. While navigating the market, her ears twitched at one of the many voices calling out, “Potions, salves, scent cloaks! Get your supplies here, before it’s too late!” The pitch sounded like an alchemist, those were her favorite vendors because they allowed her to browse professional work, allowing her to compare/contrast her work. The mouse girl figured it was worth a shot to ask a few investigative questions that could help her find Lucas. But, to her surprise, the merchant looked nearly identical to the man in the sketch. It must be a touch too early to meet up if they're playing merchant. Either way, they did step up to browse but after taking notes of the hues and viscosity, she decided not to buy anything. Before she left, the mouse girl asked for the alchemist's name just so she could mentally confirm that it was Lucas.
Now, with more information on Lucas and knowing exactly what he looked like, she was free to peruse the market until having to find him once again.

Once the sun was shining brightly within its sky palace, the mouse girl started to search once more. Judging from how fast the wares were going when she stopped by, the mouse girl assumed there'd be at least a few left which likely forced him to leave the leftover chest with a merchant. With that in mind, the mouse girl asked around merchants storing chests for those descending into the dungeon. Eventually, she was able to get a direction but while she was asking around, the topic of a confused-looking elf who kept questioning people over a drawing that looked similar to Lucas's description. Hearing this made the mouse girl pause to think, she was very confident she could find Lucas in less than a minute, but if one of the group members couldn't, that'd stall their descent. She sighed, it was better to strike when the irons hot and all that. She gave in to her instinct and pressed for more information on the elf.

As she speculated, they confirmed the sketch the elf held was the same one she possessed. She also learned that the girl had deep red eyes and long black hair done up with ornate hair decor. Question after question, this one felt like a wild goose chase. After all, finding someone on the move will always be more difficult than a stationary one. The mouse girl took a moment to think if she were this elf, someone who's been slowly and politely asking around to no success, how would she be feeling? Where would she be looking? She'd likely not ask around in the same place, so soft crossing out where they've been before will help, but there's no guarantee they won't backtrack. From the accounts she heard, the elf has been at this for a while so they might feel hopeless. When someone is hopeless, it feels as if their course of action has no impact and they'd likely give up. There's a few ways to give up in this situation, changing their approach like getting more aggressive and shouting the name of the person you're looking for. There's also the shutting down part where they just stop trying. This made the mouse girl reach a simple conclusion, to throw away all her past clues and return to the center of the market. It gets the most foot traffic and will allow her to collect the most up-to-date information. The demi~mouse could only hope that the elf was standing still. As luck would have it, the elf wasn't far at all. After they convinced a few kind strangers to help in their search, it wasn't long before they found the elf. The demi mouse quietly approached, before tapping on the elf's shoulder and holding the sketch up. "I believe you've been looking for our guide. If you would allow me, I can show you where they are. Oh my, apologies, where are my manners? My name is Flow, it's nice to meet you," Flow said, realizing she still had to refind the guide, but that turned out to be easy with their guide's straightforward approach.

 

[The Regal Rper]

Malikron | Amaric Temple, Meeting Point

He was a fish moving past the schools. Bodies pushing and shoulders occasionally bumping, this reminded him of the crowded market squares not far from the distant richer homes.

He had tried using one group of people that had gathered to see if they knew of any particular character that matched the description of his Guide, but no luck had been found. Malikron wished a passing bird sat nearby, perhaps it would be easier to talk to one of them and see if the bird's eye view would deliver better news.

Luckily, he did hear the cry Lucas made to get the attention of his scattered members. It took some searching but Malikron did notice the rather tall fellow in the distance with red hair moving in the direction of the guide, and following the line of sigh was able to notice the raised staff in return. Giving it a shot he followed that trajectory, and was last of the members to reach Lucas after Ake had.

With a light amused chuckle, the Wood Elf replied, “Well good day to you all” he greeted with a relaxed yet warm tone, the smallest of smiles, slight dip of the dimples, making it's way to his face. “Lucky for me you were who I spotted first” he nodded to Ake in a friendly manner, “I almost didn't see your staff sir. It is a pleasure” the elf reached out his hand in offering for a shake towards Lucas- short as it would be, firm grip returned.

“What a way to start the day, bit of a hunt for our guide” he said in good jest, “and here I was wondering who my fellow party members would be.” Eyes glancing to the approaching other Wood Elf and Mouse Demihuman that seemed to be enroute their way. “Ah, but my manners” he pulled a minor cloth to dab at the sweat on his brow and neck, “I am Malikron. Once again a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Though I must say I've never met another elf dressed quite like you since my time here in Ardynport, quite lovely attire though,” speaking to the other Wood Elf once she had truly arrived, “Or a human quite so tall” head tilting up to look at Ake.

Mentions: Sir Les Paul AzaleaWonderland Shotgunpenguin Megilagor Daddy Dream

Interactions: n/a

 

[Daddy Dream]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple, Meeting point
DATE—Early Summer
TIME— 9:25 AM

Rioka Yorel​

LvL 1 | Spore Druid
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1: 3/3
Pact: 1/1

TAGS Shotgunpenguin | AzaleaWonderland | The Regal Rper | Megilagor

She was tired and frustrated, near giving up on searching for her guide, when a few strangers who had watched her wandering around came over and offer her some assistance. Too tired to feel embarrassed, she agreed and showed them the picture, explaining all the places she had already looked. With nods of determinations, and a few encouraging words, the small group fanned out a bit and started asking around. After a few moments, they regrouped to see if anyone had found anything, but before they could say anything someone tapped on Rioka's shoulder.

She turned to find a small mouse girl holding a sketch of their guide and saying she can help. The two others said they were going to leave since she found a team mate and Rioka nodded as she listened to the girl introduce herself as Flow.

"Hello Flow, I am Rioka. I am grateful for your assistance in helping me find our guide. I have gotten overwhelmed with this crowd that my senses have dulled." She gave a kind smile and rolled up her sketch. "Please, lead the way. I am putting full faith in your tracking abilities.

Rioka followed the small girl through the crowd and smiled when she spotted their guide followed by two other people. She gave a graceful bow at them and introduced herself as Rioka, a mage of spores.

 

[Haze-]

LOCATION— Amaric Temple (5th Floor)
DATE— Early Summer
TIME— 1100

⚜ Leonel Blackmane ⚜​

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

TAGS ERode Sir Les Paul November Witch Carolyn

As the ward of the Black Lion, in the manor’s dojo, he was hardwired to always face the enemy head on, to look them in the eye and cut them down with respect. To break their fighting spirit with the sheer intensity of his claw, the weight it carried and what it represented. Taught a great pretense of a warrior’s honor, by lowlife mercs, worse of all. Preachy, pseudo-spiritual nonsense, folderols larded with a lot of symbolic flair and rose-tinted words of encouraging aimed at the young cubs caged in that hellish dojo. This, of course, he couldn’t blame them for, it was just another trick of illusion from his father— in the beginning days where they had to maintain proper appearances, not appear as a gang of bloodthirsty mercenaries in front of any prospect contractors.

On the roadside, noblemen are more likely to trust an honorable knight than a greedy, cruel bastard that just so happens to be good with a sword. As a man of cloth and iron himself, it was almost laughable how little faith he’d ever put into the knight’s code of honor throughout the years.

Still, those few seconds he stood caught in the pollen made him regret ever keeping an ear sharp on his training back then. These mossmen fought like rats; more mercenary than him, in a way —“F—uck…”— He gasped, wanted to choke out a string of curses, but he was already feeling his throat start to close up. Leonel’s face contorted, wincing with barely restrained agony as one knee buckled and a hand flew up, hovered shaking at his face as if it wanted to scratch his eye out. But he pushed through the pain, coughing out and rolling backwards and vaulting away from the encroaching cloud.

He had a good master back at the dojo. No, not the Lion Knight that’d beat him witless with a wooden sword, but the sense of defeat that came right after the beating. Laying there with a swollen lip, bruised face, mulling over the patterns of every swing he’d caught between the ribs just then— failure was his lifelong teacher.

Right now, it was likely shaking his head in disapproval at such a pitiful display from Leonel, telling him that he’d gone soft, forgotten his training. And, frankly, he could wholeheartedly agree. He wouldn't have taken that obvious countering stance if he were an attentive student in the first place.

His feet skidded along the ground, bumping against the vines along the floor. He sunk his claw into the floor, brought himself to a stop— just in time for the first arrow to come breaking through the pollen cloud. He snapped his clawed arm in front of him, holding the shield up high, hiding under its shadow. The first two arrows tapped on the shield like rain pattering against a rooftop, the third one he caught with his claw, hooked an index around it to snap it like a twig. The bulwark stars flickered, dimmed, but he managed to regain his focus.

He clicked his tongue.

“Do not take one step closer!”— He shouted a warning, rubbing a hand at that searing pain singing inside his throat — “The light cannot protect you from those spores. You’ll blackout before you even get close enough to get a good hit in.”

Ayn and Heleni were welcome to try and test their limits, of course. Who was he, a sad old drunk, to stop two eager youths from playing stupid games? The one who could stop them, however, was their assigned leader, the doll still standing right in front of him. Leonel spat at the ground, rose to his feet and started taking slow, steady steps away from the giant cloud beginning to lap towards them.

Leo cleared his throat to get Symphony’s attention. Eyes still red-rimmed and watery, voice still hoarse — “It’s useless, we can’t get through that.”— As irritating as it was to admit it, they’d reached a stalemate. Hell, he hadn’t even managed to impale the giant manflower bud with his sword like he intended to.

He took a step back for every inch of space the cloud took from the room, holding his shield up and busying himself with throwing firebolts at the core. They wouldn’t do much, he knew. They were running out of options — “Best we can do is set it on fire and retreat, let the flames do the work for us. The problem is making sure that thing burns. It’s your call either way.”
For a beat of silence, not too long, his eyes flicked over to the orichalcum doll over the shield— stayed on her as he racked his brain for ideas — “You don’t have lungs, do you?” — He asked, bluntly. He wouldn’t outright say what he had in mind out loud, but he would plant the blueprints of the idea in her head.

As stupid of a plan as it was.

Spoiler: spells casted

Cantrips -
.| Firebolt x2