Active [Isekai Hell] Shadowfen's Dungeon Dive

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While Desmond awaited an answer from Varic, he'd just so happen overhear Cook chatting up Lauren in the background. The raptor sneered at his attempts at flirting with the enemy, giving a low disapproving growl under his flared lips. What was he trying to do with her? Make an alliance or something? Absurd! Metal woman stole Desmond's lunch! Er, second lunch! To him, it was an unforgivable crime, which means according to his lil' twisted code that he'd earned a freebie lunchie. Them's the rules! Anyone who denies them will get gutted! He'll get his hands on them owlbear ribs one day. Perhaps he ought to convince the innkeeper to see if he had any more, or threaten him if he must.

Just as the scheming raptor was coming with a plan to commence "Operation: Ribs-On-Me", he'd feel Cook's hand pat his back and calling him as his "buddy"! Desmond's devious train of thought immediately left him as he turned to hear what he was talking about. Of course, he was askin' Lauren if she wanted to join their merry band of dungeon delvers, proclaiming that it's "safer" and "smarter". He gave an evidently, but only mildly-nasty stink eye at Laruen for just a brief moment before keeping his resolve and reverting back to his goofy self. No, NO! He shouldn't blow his cover yet! Metal lady must not expect him to enact his revenge. If she does, all hopes in besting her would be lost. It would be best to keep his resolve stalwart and on the low for now, until the time's just right.

Desmond nodded rapidly at Cook's idea, "Cookster be right! More frenz, better oddz! Desmond going into dungeon too; Desmond will sing songs to help keep mood and spirits up!" He takes out his guitar and starts playing a quick tune and a little jig. He finished by rapidly extending his foot out, revealing his sickled claw on his most inner toe, "And of course, Desmond will also gut anyone who gits too close! Guaranteed!"

Their congregation would also bring the mysterious red-eyed woman towards the group, proclaiming that she will join the two in their endeavors while looking at the human cast. Wait, did she... Oh no she didn't! Desmond wobbled in front of Nebula and gave a short bark to grab her attention. "HEY!" he called, folding his arms inwards with a somewhat offended glance, "Mysterious red-eye lady forgets Desmond! How rude! Desmond is coming along too and don't any of youz forget it! We go once Desmond get supplies from weird merchant guy."

Maxxob said:

Turning once more towards Varic, the middle-aged man stored the items he had purchased it and accept the merchant’s hand for a handshake, Cook’s grip around Varic’s hand being tight [Strength E], which bellied his weathered self, while his wizened eyes kept locked on Varic’s. "I appreciate yer hollerin' for my success. Whatever oddities and magical trinkets I stumble upon, I'll be sure to fetch 'em back. Got to square up for them supplies, after all." Being a man of his word, Cook fully planned to pay Varic back, it was only a question of whether he would find such items. "I reckon I'll likely haul back a fair share of critter cuts from that there dungeon delve. Can't rightly say if they'll be fancy enough to pass for delicacies, but they'll make for some interestin' eats, that's for sure…" Cook added, still holding Varic’s hand, the sly grin widening a few notches, turning his head towards the Innkeeper to check if that might have picked his fancy, before returning to Varic and releasing his hand.

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Varic's mouth opened and closed while his hand turned white and the soft sound of ligament and bone compressed. "Absolutely hear for. your success." He finally said. Extracting himself from the handshake, he's diplomatic enough to ignore the minor injury. At least it doesn't show on his face [Merchant's Negotiations E; Presence+Performance+Persuasion]. Continuing he said, "There is sure to be many odd things in the dungeon, but the gossamer and prisms have proven the most...valuable."

At the mention of critters, Varic's mouth turns down. "Perhaps the Innkeeper or the scholar would be interested, but I'm neither butcher nor cook."

The Innkeeper nodded. "Aye free drinks and food if the cuts are viable." And then after a moment, "Perhaps a room, but Scholar Eldrin has been quite curious about complete specimens or unique cuts of...ahem...critters he ain't seen 'fore."

II-CinderRadcliff-II said:

"I'll definitely need some armor, so preferably a chest-plate would be nice..." Lauren stated as she looked over her options with careful consideration. With how Morran had barged earlier while rambling about the depths of the dungeon, something to protect her sanity would be very much preferred. "While I would prefer to remain debt free, I wish to make a deal for one of your Sobriety Pendants. Perhaps three relics retrieved from the dungeon would suffice as payment for one of the Pendants?"

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Varic nodded, producing a simple breast plate [Heavy Armor F]. "We made out quite well, seems like most folk had their doubts about your...commitment. Whereas I had no doubts." He produced the Sobriety Pendant from his [Pocket Dimension E], and presented it to her. "A great choice. More than a few adventurers have struggled with the straight and narrow path." Rubbing his chin, Varic frowned, "Still three lesser relics," He eyed her, "You seem like you're worth the investment. Very well."

Develius said:

Despite his rightful prize being ripped from his claws, he would get the next best thing. With her victory, Lauren and her collaborators - Cook, Nebula, and Desmond respectively - would have access to his wares, being able to acquire them right now so long as they kept to the payment debt plan. Desmond crawled over and inspected his stock, eying each thing carefully. Which items looked to be the best for going into that dungeon? He'd quickly settle on his three choices.

"Desmond wants pretty light stone [Basic Light Stone x1], Antidote vial [Antidote Vial x1], and funky-dunky Breath of da wild Wind vial [Crystal Vial Containing a Breath of Wind x1], yez. How muchez?"

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Uasal said:

With a nod, the woman concluded her business with the man and was about to take her leave for the dungeon when she heard two of the patrons engaging in conversation. Specifically a conversation about the dungeon and how they might team up to explore the structure. Intrigued by this Nebula silently approached the two before speaking aloud once behind the male of the two. "You two wish to form a temporary pack to explore this dungeon correct? I shall join you in this endeavor. Are you ready to leave? If so I shall move us to the dungeon entrance immediately."

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The scene was set with the air crackling with potent energy, redolent of ancient sorcery, as Nebula, a figure shrouded in shadows and mystery, began her incantation to open a gateway to realms unknown. Commanding the essence of the cosmos with her voice, which echoed through the tavern, she resonated in the very souls of those present.

As she wove her hands through the air, tracing sigils that glowed with an otherworldly light, the fabric of reality started to tear—gently at first, then with increasing force, as though the world itself resisted this portal's opening. Nevertheless, Nebula's will proved unyielding, her knowledge of the arcane, deep and ancient, drawn from sources long forgotten by the mortal world.

Before her, the air shimmered and twisted, and a portal sprang into existence. Its edges were sharp and defined, yet the view through it swirled with indescribable colors, landscapes that defied understanding, and whispers of power that promised both wonder and peril. This gate, reminiscent of the legendary Town Portal and Dungeon Portal gates, stood as a testament to Nebula's mastery over the arcane—a doorway not merely to a place, but to destiny itself.

This portal led not directly into the dungeon's heart but to its threshold, a liminal space where the natural world and the dungeon's constructed labyrinths merged. The area around the dungeon was engulfed in a miasma of twisted vegetation, eerily silent as if nature itself dared not speak too loudly near such a locus of power and despair. Trees, with gnarled branches and sickly leaves, leaned away from the dungeon entrance as if in fear, their roots exposed as though attempting to flee the corrupted soil.

Debris from the tempest that had unveiled this hidden sanctum littered the ground, with ancient stones and artifacts half-buried, hinting at the arcane experiments conducted there. The air was thick with a sense of dread and anticipation, a forewarning to those brave or foolish enough to explore the dungeon's depths.

The dungeon's entrance, now laid bare to the world, yawned open like a gaping maw set into the earth, framed by the ruins of once grandiose, arcane arches. The remnants of its once-majestic façade, adorned with enigmatic symbols and glyphs, hinted at a threshold not just between physical locations but possibly between realms of existence.

Just before this ominous entrance, the ground was strewn with the belongings of adventurers who had dared to penetrate its depths—discarded weapons, shattered artifacts, and journals filled with hastily scrawled warnings, their pages fluttering in the chilling breeze. Here and there, the earth was scarred with marks of struggle, as if by desperate hands or something more sinister, painting a grim picture of adventurers not just attempting to flee the dungeon's horrors but being dragged back into its dark embrace by unseen forces.

From the entrance, cold, frigid air poured forth, enveloping the area in a saline mist as cold as the northern ocean and inexplicably tasting of salt. This anomaly, particularly odd given the dungeon's emergence from a freshwater lake, suggested that within its walls, the laws of nature as understood by the outside world may no longer apply. The mist, dense and clinging, obscured vision, adding a layer of disorientation to the palpable dread.

Within the mist, acting as a barrier, were the soft whispers of final warning, barely heard screams.

The entrance stood as a silent guardian of long-buried secrets, a portal to a realm where ambition and madness had crafted a legacy of ruin. It offered no welcome to those who ventured near, only the promise of ancient mysteries and the peril of venturing too far into the unknown.

Develius II-CinderRadcliff-II Uasal gmimperfecti

Keeping in mind the items which would fetch a better price, as mentioned by Varic, as well as the opportunity of trading cuts with the Innkeeper or even bringing whole creatures for the mentioned Scholar Eldrin, Cook’s mind and objectives were fully organized. And noticing, at least in his eyes, the raptor’s friendly disposition towards Laurien, the middle-aged man was glad. Despite having looked dejected when he received only scraps of the mouth-watering BBQ, Desmond didn’t seem to have taken offense against the metallic-prosthetic-assisted female, or at least that is what he thought. Cook’s eyes widened a few notches as the raptor revealed his sickled claw, thinking that a slashing from it would certainly cause some damage. The human grinned as he heard the short creature’s violent disposition, himself not being much different and only keeping it under wraps until the time was right.

When he heard a female voice coming from behind him, he turned around, his eyes fixed on the pale-skinned female with crimson eyes, even straightening his slightly hunched self in the process. It appeared that his memory wasn’t faulty just yet, remembering her as the one who had requested a rock of salt from the Innkeeper earlier. "That sounds just dandy, Miss. If my partners here are all set, I reckon we best git to it and tackle that dungeon pronto." He told Nebula, already gearing himself for whatever it was about to happen. However, the human was clearly not geared enough. He watched in clear awe and disbelief as hands moved through the air and energy crackled, even being felt by someone who was stunted, at least for the moment, towards the arcane. “What in the tarnation is that?!” Cook thought to himself, his eyes narrowing after the surprise. “Lord Almighty…” The voice escaped his lips in a tone barely above a whisper. This being the very first time he had been exposed to such a clear display of magic, the middle-aged man wondered if this is also what the raptor meant when he talked about taking magic classes. It was clear that his early ideas of magicians and possible parlor tricks were incorrect. Extremely so.

Assuming he had to walk through the rift in space-time, he swallowed hard before taking measured steps towards him, steeling his nerves the best he could. It would take but a moment for his spatial dislocation, now finding himself face-to-face with the eerie scenery around the dungeon’s maw. His hazel eyes darted, left and right, taking every detail in: from the miasma of vegetation to the trees in their sickly visage. The last one, in particular, gave him a quick flashback of a dark, dense forest. In it, the fog was so thick that one could barely see a few feet in front of them without some kind of aid, like a flashlight or lantern. Cook’s eyes next fixed towards the equipment and other belongings left by other souls who attempted to delve within the dungeon, as well as the discarded prizes that were brought back from the delve. The middle-aged human could taste the saline composition in the air, his lips becoming even drier than usual. His left hand instinctively reached into his pocket, his palm wrapping around the pendant which he had received from Mira. In tandem, his right one reached onto his belt, drawing his chef’s knife from it. The sharp object, being tightly held by its wooden handle, offered a small comfort to him, familiar and yet foreign. With that, he waited for the others, his eyes fixed at the dungeon’s entrance, ready to see this through, regardless of the consequences.

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Once Desmond had bought his items, as well as amounting his debt, the little raptor was finally ready to depart. He was excited, if not a bit worried. After all, this was his first time delving into a dungeon so first impressions matter. He had heard many terrible tales about various dungeons, as well as what could be lurking within them. Yet the rewards one could find we more than tempting. But every dungeon is different and rarely, if ever, are exactly the same. Whatever he'll encounter down this one will determine how he'd feel about entering further dungeons to come. Will he be willing to go back into one again after this? Perhaps he might be encouraged? Or will he vow never to step one sickle-clawed foot in one again?

He watched as Nebula activated her arcana magic to create a magic portal to their destination. The concept of portals was not new to the raptor, considering he's already enrolled in a magic school. Nor was it the first time he'd see a portal. However, this would be his first seeing someone actually form a portal personally. It was rather mesmerizing. Perhaps one day, Desmond might be able to create his own portals. It would be a far easier way to travel than walking to and fro long distances, a relief to his poor, poor legs. Of course, a more mischievous thought brushed against his conscious; already promoting schemes against Lauren. Perhaps he could push her in with a rude kick, where he'd laugh and giggle with the excuse that someone else did. Ooooh, that would be a funny way to start things off.

But just as they were going to depart, Lauren would kneel down and whisper something into Desmond's ear. And it caused his blood to run cold. Metal lady was onto him. Or, so it seemed like it. Desmond's pupils shrunk as his feathered puffed up to the feel of Lauren's hand glide against his feathers, not even daring to move or even take a breath, save for the brief uncontrollable shivering he was feeling. He had to stay quiet; strengthen his nerves! If he showed too much weakness, his entire cover would be blown wide open! That is, IF, he still decided to go along with the plan. Right? Maybe Cook can back him up if she threatened his life? That's what buddies are for, right?

Only once did Lauren stand back up did Desmond finally sputter into a coughing frenzy, catching his breath. Scary Metal Lady! He had to watch his back now. From his perspective, this was war. Or for someone more sane, perhaps it was a sign he should've actually drop his newfound feud. Desmond needed time to think, but for now it was best to keep it cool.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?!" Desmond gasped theatrically, calling out to Lauren as he watched her and the others enter the portal, "W-WHY DESMOND WOULD NEVER! HOW DARE YOU THINK DESMOND WANTZ TO DO THAT! SHAME ON YOUZ!" The raptor then proceeded to follow them, barely stopping to watch the rather hypnotic swirling capture his attention, before proceeding to leap into the portal.

And no... Desmond will not want to go into the dungeon first either.

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Upon exiting the portal, Desmond would be greeted to an atmosphere of dread and darkness. Darkness enveloped the land, with a thick coating of dark miasma of twisted vegetation surrounding them. This was enough to put Desmond on edge. While raptors like him were to have good low-light vision due to their large eyes, this didn't appear to be simply ordinary darkness. And as such, he couldn't see as well as he'd like. Not a very good first impression! He'll have to rely on his other senses to navigate here, like his smell [Heightened Smell F], and to keep close to his compatriots. He'd make sure to keep close to Cook's legs, quickly pulling out his light stone as he carefully searched around the nearby area.

"D-Desmond don't like this d-darkness." the poor raptor stated nervously, keeping his body low to the ground, "Place too f-funky-like."

Too focused on watching his overall surroundings, Desmond would find himself walking away from Cook's position and accidentally trip on something, dropping the stone as it rolled away a few feet away from him. The raptor panicked as he stumbled up, quickly clasping his claws around it. Yet in front of him did something lay, a human skull staring into his gaze. "REEEK!" the raptor gasped, quickly standing back onto his feet and extending the light stone to see what ailed him! Turned out that 'skull' was nothing more than an eroded stone. Desmond sighed in relief, chattering to himself to excuse his ordeal. "D-Desmond okay!" he called out with a light stammer, "Just tripped!"

But what Desmond did trip on was what looked to be a discarded blade, rusted and overgrown with the gnarled vines. The raptor lowered his head cautiously, sniffing the sword for any signs of abnormality. Though as he looked around nearby, he'd identify more loose items; more loose weapons, shattered artifacts and tattered books. They were certainly not the first to step here. The marks in the ground also told of a foreboding incident... as if the fallen were dragged by whatever predators lurked in the darkness. A shiver crawled up Desmond's back, but so intrigued was he by the marks that he decided to follow one of them.

That trail would lead him to the entrance of the dungeon itself, where it would appear to stop just before the archway entrance by where Lauren and Cook were glancing in. There he'd feel a cold damp breeze brushed towards him, with the saline mist coating his mouth of salt. Even with his coat of feathered and his cloak keeping him mostly insulated, would the raptor feel the brush of cold permeate his skin. It gave him chills. And as he glared into the abyss that lain before him, he could've sworn he heard the faint sound of distance screams whispering in his ears.

"D-Desmond don't like this mood..." he stated lowly as he attempted to see [Perception F] what laid before them. He then proceeds to whip out his guitar, with one claw nervously strumming a string at a slow but shaky pace, "Maybe s-song can help lighten it?"

gmimperfecti II-CinderRadcliff-II Develius Uasal

Cook looked a bit in a trance for a moment, peering into the entrance with intensity. His right hand tightened more and more around the hilt of the chief’s knife, up to the point of turning his knuckles white. The same could be said about his left hand, which was inside his pocket. The human could feel Desmond’s feathers brushing against his gray pants as the saurial kept himself close to the human. It was hearing the raptor’s voice next that snapped out Cook from his trance. "That darkness, it ain't exactly welcomin', but reckon we'll find our way through it somehow. Gotta hold on to that hope, ya know?" He offered, looking at Desmond with a small smile. However, those with at least [Insight F] would notice that the human had little confidence in what he had just said. The human’s gaze went back towards the entrance, his attention only shifting once more to the sound of someone, or something, tumbling near him. The middle-aged man turned in a heartbeat, his reflexes being abnormal for his age [Fast F], his knife at the ready. When he saw that it was the raptor who had tripped over something and said to be alright, he let out a nervous sigh, relaxing once more.

That is when Lauren’s voice reached Cook’s ears. Looking at what she was doing, he nodded, once more placing the sharp object on his belt and helping her to move the belongings of the fallen souls and creating a pile. It became clear why she was doing it, his half-century experience hinting at it. Taking a step back, he gazed at the pile silently for a few moments, before murmuring. “Life, it's like a fragile leaf in the wind. One moment here, the next gone quicker 'n a firefly's flicker. Just a whisper in the breeze, then darkness.” His expression was unreadable. Walking back to the entrance, he began to gaze once more, as if trying to peer through the mist. And, as the saurial offered to play a song, the knife was drawn from Cook’s belt. "Well, reckon if there's somethin' lurkin' just beyond this entrance, your strummin' might just coax it on out. Might be better to square off with whatever's waitin' right here at the entrance 'stead of gettin' caught in the belly of the beast." The human’s mind hinted at a use for the song much different than what the raptor had originally planned on.

II-CinderRadcliff-II said:

she then quietly gathered the remnants of each adventurers belongings and organized them into a growing pile. Using what little information she had and some mud from the ground, she wrote names upon certain items for future search parties to find and bring back to Shadowfen. This was all she could do for the fallen adventurers. While it was far from a proper funeral, at least their souls could rest easier knowing that someone - that anyone took a few moments of time to pay their respects. Once she had finished up with a fair number of impromptu memorials, she walked up until she was a few feet away from the dungeon entrance.

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Maxxob said:

That is when Lauren’s voice reached Cook’s ears. Looking at what she was doing, he nodded, once more placing the sharp object on his belt and helping her to move the belongings of the fallen souls and creating a pile. It became clear why she was doing it, his half-century experience hinting at it. Taking a step back, he gazed at the pile silently for a few moments, before murmuring. “Life, it's like a fragile leaf in the wind. One moment here, the next gone quicker 'n a firefly's flicker. Just a whisper in the breeze, then darkness.” His expression was unreadable.

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As Lauren and Cook worked on the memorial they noticed several pages referencing the Owlbear as a spiritual guardian of special [Domains] existing both in the physical world as well as spiritual realms that comprised a [Domain]. From several of the random pages it seemed like one of them was an adjunct professor from the Azuran Acedemy up that ways.

They also stumble upon a few bits of loot that they could have salvaged worth possibly an F-grade Debt. There was a nice signet ring from the debris of what could have been a knight. Another pile had a Weaping Willow Staff that was probably a Catalyst F. Another coal black cloak likely served as light armor F for a rogue.

Still they didn't let greed take hold and the memorials were built. It was curious to see after all that cataloguing five mounds of what remained. There were a few miscallaneous piles but those looked like an older accumulation. Like reading the rings on a tree they could tell this most recent party of five had likely met with something that could exit the dungeon and haul the majority of thier corpses and gear back in. According to rumors the dungeon had only been exposed for about a coupe of months give or take. So the five fresh mounds could be one total party kill or the result of attrition from several.

Still when it was all done there was a sense of peace that settled over the area.

Develius said:

But what Desmond did trip on was what looked to be a discarded blade, rusted and overgrown with the gnarled vines. The raptor lowered his head cautiously, sniffing the sword for any signs of abnormality. Though as he looked around nearby, he'd identify more loose items; more loose weapons, shattered artifacts and tattered books. They were certainly not the first to step here. The marks in the ground also told of a foreboding incident... as if the fallen were dragged by whatever predators lurked in the darkness. A shiver crawled up Desmond's back, but so intrigued was he by the marks that he decided to follow one of them.

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Despite the salt, Desmond was able to use his noise to isolate the saline smell and explore other scents. He definitely smelled Owlbear, but it was hard to make out more details. Fresh human blood came through with it's typical iron aroma. Oddly he didn't smell anything other animals having been in the area recently. Not even a predator marking it's territory... But that's when Desmond found the territorial markings of the Owlbear. He learned that the urine of the Owlbear smelled strongly of salt and fresh cut grass. Also several large mounds, the older ones that looked desiccated were actually something akin to owl pellets. These were spread out further than what the human and elf cyborg had discovered creating thier memorial mounds. He did find a nice glittery gem necklace in one of the pellets that the Owlbear apparently couldn't digest. These pellets were placed all around the clearing.

gmimperfecti II-CinderRadcliff-II Develius Uasal

When Cook entered the first chamber of the dungeon, his eyes were already darting all around, taking in the faded architecture of the place. Time certainly wasn’t kind towards anything, living beings or not. After the first steps, he saw some sort of creature, a few steps ahead and to his right, coming to life, its imposing visage already tripping all sorts of alarms into the human’s head. With narrowing eyes, the knife on his hand was tightened further, his stance shifting, subtly, from his almost usual goofy disposition to a predatory one. However, the first words that came from the creature made Cook hesitate, his mind, for now, not even registering the shock of seeing something so uncanny and only focused on the danger they might or not pose.

And, despite the construct’s second attempt at communication being more welcoming and warm, the middle-aged human didn’t relax. His wizened eyes darted to the entrance of one of the other rooms, squinting to make heads or tails of the contents that lay beyond, on the floor. The discarded pots caught his attention, slightly, thinking that there might be some use for them. However, what really caught his attention was the pool of blood and the severed leg, his mind reeling with implications as his gaze was once more locked onto Vigil’s inorganic visage. Hazel eyes darted around his form, trying to pick any signs of splattered crimson, viscous liquid. Not finding any, his stance relaxed a few notches, but still not going back to his usual self. Only then, he finally addressed the creature, wariness being palpable in his voice.

“My handle’s Cook. Titles, huh? Them weird classifications we got?” The foreign human had a rough idea on how those worked, as he had used [Appraisal F] a few times on things and people, who eyed him strangely as he did so. Pulling back from the depths of his memory, what he had seen when he used the skill while looking at himself in a mirror. "I reckon those would be somethin' like [Isekai], [Human], [Apprentice Knivesman], [Imperfect Debt F], and [Imperfect Debt E]. But tell me, would they get me through, uh...Vigil, was it?" Giving the creature his Titles, he wondered if those fell into the classification who would allow him through and, if they didn’t, what would be his next course of action. “What 'bout them bones over yonder? Seem like they got themselves in a rush, too antsy to wait 'round for ya or somethin'?” Cook asked next, pointing at the remains with the index of his left hand, wondering if the guardian knew the tale of what might have happened to them, darting to them before focusing on the golem once more.

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Following the tracks, Desmond continued pressing his snout against the ground, trying to pick up anything that wasn't just salt smothering his nostrils. [Heightened Sense: Smell F] There had to be some other kind of lead as to what happened here. And after some sniffing around, the raptor picked up something... familiar. They smelled like the owlbear ribs back at the inn, only much more potent. Vague... but potent. But intermixed with it was yet another smell. An iron-y smell he recognized. No doubt it was the unmistakable scent of human blood. And it was fresh. The raptor had to make sure to cancel out the fresh smell, focusing on the unknown. Those were the only two scents he could pick up... but strangely nothing else stood out. With a few more deep inhales, Desmond could finally make out what it was. His feathers perked up cautiously, knowing that it had to be the scent of an owlbear.

A living one.

And a few steps more, the curious raptor would finally come upon the source of the scent. It came from the base of a tree. His head lowered to investigate, before retracting back in a disgusted manner. An overwhelmingly strong smell of salt and freshly cut grass bombarded his senses. "Blrreeegh!" he wretched, shaking his head to rid of the horrid stench, "Horrid smell!". He quickly realized he must've smelled owlbear pee, given its acidic undertones. In this context, the creature must've considered this portion of the forest as its territory. And the blood... well, that was just it defending its territory from intruders. And the poor sods that encountered it must've suffered a terrible fate, or managed to escape but not unscathed.

As Desmond stepped back to get some fresh air, he found himself accidentally stepping on something... squishy. He reeled back with a gasp, turning around to see a large mound behind him. He wasn't sure what it was at first, but upon further inspection he'd come across pieces of bone stuck within it. Was this poop? Oh god, he didn't step in owlbear poop did he? But it didn't smell like poop. In fact, it didn't have much of a smell to it at all. And it wasn't the only one. Desmond could see several other mounds spread out across the territory, though they looked older and more desecrated. That's when it hit him. These weren't feces, but pellets! The undigested material owls cough up. Still pretty gross, but better than stepping in poop. He wouldn't be able to rid himself of that stench off his feet for days!

The raptor proceeded to investigate the other pellets, curious as to what the owlbear had been eating. As he did, he'd discover one pellet containing something shiny. Oooh! How could he not resist digging it up? Desmond used his sickled toe-claw to dig through the pellet, quickly uncovering the culprit. Wrapped around his claw, was a nice glittery gem necklace. His eyes grew wide as he stared at it excitedly."Oooooh, prettyz!" he thought to himself. It resembled the gold-beaded one that he had on him right now, currently tucked beneath his robe to prevent thievery. He wouldn't want to repeat the ratkin incident again*. The raptor's eyes shifted back cautiously, making sure the others didn't see what he found, before putting it in his bag with a pleased chuckle. Finders keepers!

He then proceeded meet back up with the others at the dungeon entrance...

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Cook and Nebula's responses to his song request weren't quite what he was expecting. They were greeted with an exasperated glance from Desmond, looking at them as if they were utterly nuts. "Are youz serious?!" he hissed in a whispered tone towards the two, "Desmond is not THAT coo-coo-like to do that!" He wasn't thinking of strategy to lure whatever was in there, no way! He just wanted to lighten the mood with his totally good and awesome singing skills. After all, it ought to get lonely and spooky down in a dark, dank dungeon, so it's good for morale. Guess they didn't share his view...

Desmond waited for someone to go first before stepping inside... in this case being Cook. He followed close behind, holding onto his light stone, as his eyes dart from wall to wall. This place felt very old, ancient even. It had been rundown through the ages, no doubt having seen many battles take place within its walls. Despite its desolate atmosphere, the raptor's senses were on high-alert. Though as they would find out, it wasn't completely desolate of life. Dim lighting lit the hallways enough for them to get around, which typically meant that something still stirred within. Friend or foe, nobody knew. Most evidently, however, there was a large golem in the middle of the room; its large metallic body standing watch in stalwart silence. The raptor's eyes squinted at it cautiously; it didn't trust. It almost felt like it could turn on at any-

The construct stuttered to life, causing Desmond to assume a defensive stance. Instinctually, the raptor lowered his body, hissing as he raised his feathery arms out and his tail upwards to make himself look slightly bigger. Thankfully, however, it didn't appear to be aggressive. It sputtered and spattered for a moment, its rusted mechanical interior creaking to operating power, before it properly rebooted to a functional state where it spoke. The raptor's guard lowered slightly, now looking up at the tall golem - who referred himself as Vigil - with inquisitive curiosity. After Cook announced his name and titles, Desmond puffed his chest out.

"Greetings Vigil! Desmond is the Great and Mighty Desmond!" he announced boldly, puffing himself up on his own 'bravado' with a bow, "Desmond is proudest Deinonychian [Saurial [Deinonychian]] beastfolk [Beast] in all of World! Desmond's songs bring joy and happiness wherever he goes, yez yez!" He would be sure to leave out, or forget, any of his more... negative aspects, but at the very least his name and race should hopefully satisfy the guardian enough.

He was just a little guy, after all.

The raptor proceeded to scout out the room more in depth, seeing if there's anything else worth investigating. Eventually Cook pointed out the remains of a traveler near one of the chamber entrances, wondering what happened to them. He immediately ran over to investigate, sniffing at the remains to see how fresh it was. The pool of blood within the boot was a grizzly sign, but important. It indeed smelled fresher then he expected, but just how fresh would determine what they may find down there [Heightened Smell F]. The food leaking out of the pots could still be edible, if they hadn't long expired already.

But as he investigated the crumpled backpack full of gear, he noticed something glittering within it. "Oooh?" he chirped curiously, "What haz we here?". Using his claws, Desmond rummaged through the gear in an attempt to get to the shiny.

---

---

*[See "Underground Journey with Ratkin"].

gmimperfecti II-CinderRadcliff-II Develius Uasal


Cook listened attentively to the crimson-eyed pale girl, Desmond and Lauren about the whole idea of using the raptor’s happy singing to attract whatever wonderful food-stuff which could be waiting for them beyond the entrance. He raised one eyebrow, his age-acquired stubbornness still hinted that it would have been the best course of action, but he didn’t comment on it further. Furthermore, Lauren’s comment about information being crucial did end up cracking his stubborn mind slightly. The middle-aged man had to remind himself that he was, after all, new to that world and he would do well to take in consideration what the others might say.

In addition, when Lauren commented further about her own experiences and what the lack of information could bring about upon the group, his expression relaxed, empathy present on his wizened hazel eyes as they met hers. His orbs then focused on his own right arm, which tightly held his Chef’s Knife, not even being able to imagine how losing it, or even his hand, would affect him. After a moment of contemplation, his gaze shifted back to her. "I can't rightly fathom what it'd be like losin' even one limb, let alone three. But I've heard tales 'bout how it can change a soul. Reckon I'm mighty glad that ain't seemin' to be your situation." The human offered, in earnest, not wishing to pry further into her past.




Cook still had a hint of wariness in his gaze as he gazed at the inorganic guardian, catching Desmond sniffing the remains he had pointed at further yonder, apparently searching for something. If the situation were any different, the human would have chuckled as he saw how the raptor was behaving slightly like a dog. However, the situation escalated to its maximum in a blink of an eye, as Nebula simply attacked the guardian out of nowhere. The human’s eyes widened as he saw the space around Vigil, which was right in front of him, crackled and distorted, attacking towards the creature with a strong impact. With the crater which was formed almost sucking Cook into it, he exclaimed as his free hand covered his eyes for debris and dust. “What in tarnation, girl?! Things are goin’ to hell in a handbasket, really fast!”

However, despite his words, a grin began to creep on his lips. The skin on his face stretched slightly, almost like leather. With his expression betraying him, as soon as he could see even a silhouette of Vigil, he began to act. After all, a group could only be as passive as their most aggressive member allowed them to. With a quick movement, the Chef’s Knife on his hand was dancing towards the towering guardian, the killing intent of the attack being palpable. After the wide slash and stab, would straighten his slightly hunched back. The grin was still present on his lips, but now was accompanied with narrowing eyes. His right hand, which held the knife, now had its palm pointed upwards and his wrist kept doing circular movements, taunting Vigil to attack him. "Now, I ain't one to relish in violence, but sometimes, well, things just gotta get done." Cook’s tone hinted at the exact opposite of his words, sarcasm dripping from it.

Actions:

1 - Five Star Chef - Weapon Mastery [Knife] F, Area [5ft] F, Selective [Vigil], Blight [Bleed] F, Penetrating F, Accurate F, Incurable F, Continuing [Poison] F, Contagion F, Energized F - Grade F Cooldown 0 - With a quick swipe of his knife, Cook attacks a 5ft area around him, accurately homing into his targets. The deep stab makes the target bleed, as well as poison them, spreading the effects to whatever other target that comes into contact with them. 1 Action
2/3 - Cook’s surprise - Weapon Mastery [Knife] F, Reflect F, Blight [Bleed], Continuing [Bleed], Hot Shot F, Accurate F, Selective [Vigil] F, Penetrating F, Energized F, Incurable F - Grade F Cooldown 0 [2 Actions] - Assuming a relaxed stance, Cook waits for the target’s attack, before surprising them with his attack. While observing their attack, he tries to gauge the best place to attack to disarm them with his counter-assault. 2 actions

Base Effectiveness:
Strength E (2) + Chef’s Knife (1) + Weapon Mastery F (1) = 4
Five Star Chef added damage = Blight [Bleed] +1, Continuing [Poison] +1, total 6
Cook’s surprise = Blight [Bleed] +1, Continuing [Poison] +1, total 6 with possibility of Hot Shot bringing to 12
Both abilities possess Penetrating F (-1 to items used to defend/counter), Accurate F (-1 to Speed)

Maxxob said:

“My handle’s Cook. Titles, huh? Them weird classifications we got?” The foreign human had a rough idea on how those worked, as he had used [Appraisal F] a few times on things and people, who eyed him strangely as he did so. Pulling back from the depths of his memory, what he had seen when he used the skill while looking at himself in a mirror. "I reckon those would be somethin' like [Isekai], [Human], [Apprentice Knivesman], [Imperfect Debt F], and [Imperfect Debt E]. But tell me, would they get me through, uh...Vigil, was it?" Giving the creature his Titles, he wondered if those fell into the classification who would allow him through and, if they didn’t, what would be his next course of action. “What 'bout them bones over yonder? Seem like they got themselves in a rush, too antsy to wait 'round for ya or somethin'?” Cook asked next, pointing at the remains with the index of his left hand, wondering if the guardian knew the tale of what might have happened to them, darting to them before focusing on the golem once more.

Click to expand...

Vigil's visual sensors flickered with interest as he processed Cook's array of Titles. "Acknowledgment: [Isekai], [Human], [Apprentice Knivesman], [Imperfect Debt F], [Imperfect Debt E]. Access granted, Contractor Cook. Your Titles bespeak journeys and debts, both known to this facility. [Imperfect Debts] suggest engagements pending within our protocols."

As Cook inquired about the gruesome scene laid out before them, Vigil's head tilted slightly, an almost imperceptible whirr emanating from within as if gears were shifting to align with a difficult memory. "Observation: The remnants you indicate are recent. Unfortunate outcomes for those unprepared for the facility's... temperament. My protocols are preservation and guidance, not enforcement. The disturbance originated beyond my chamber. Caution advised: The facility has evolved in unpredictability. Entities within may not distinguish between guest and intruder."

The lights flickered again, a dimness briefly overtaking the chamber before the fae fires and mechanical lights stabilized. "Clarification," Vigil added, his voice a blend of melancholy and mechanical detachment, "My existence is to facilitate research and safeguard protocols. The past cycles have... altered some functions. Interaction is a rare variable. Your presence, an anomaly worth noting in logs long dormant."

Vigil paused, a soft hum emanating from his core as if pondering the extent of what he could share. "Advice: Vigilance is paramount. The facility's defenses adapt and respond to perceived threats. Your Titles afford you a measure of passage but do not guarantee safe conduct through all corridors."

As Cook absorbed Vigil's words, the guardian's gaze seemed to linger on the discarded items and the dark stain leading away from them. "The facility does not willingly relinquish those it claims. The path you seek is layered with challenges both ancient and newly birthed. Prepare, Contractor Cook. The Antechamber of Echoes is but the threshold to deeper enigmas."

---

In the dim light, cast by the uneasy alliance of mechanical and fae luminance supported by Desmond's [Basic Light Stones, F], the aftermath of a desperate struggle lay strewn across the stone floor of the Antechamber of Echoes. Near a dark, dried puddle of blood, the scene was particularly morose: a lone boot, grimly still occupied by its original owner's leg, a testament to the swift brutality that had claimed its wearer. Beside it lay a sword, its sheath blood soaked and tarnished, reflecting a life of conflict, now abandoned in its final duty.

But it was the blood-splattered backpack, lying forlornly nearby, that held the remnants of hope and purpose once carried by the fallen adventurer. Carefully, as if respecting the sanctity of the departed, the backpack's contents were revealed, each item a piece of the puzzle that had driven its owner into the depths of "Elysium's Veil."

Among the mundane supplies — a filled waterskin filled with a liquid that smelled of cinnamon and spice; a coil of rope; a kit of field rations with pepper and sage — lay two items of note. The first, a delicate shiny vial filled with a swirling, luminescent liquid that seemed to dance with its own inner light.

The second item, more telling in its simplicity, was a tattered journal, its pages filled with hastily scribbled notes and observations. Quick scan did make it apparent this was the travel log and report designed for the Azuran Scouting Party lead by Mira's Husband. Only the earliest pages were readable. This included a more extensive map found at end of the post. The blood had soaked and ruins the ink on most of the latter pages. Tucked within the journal was a makeshift bookmark, a piece of parchment with a single, cryptic message: "Trust not the eyes that see, but the heart that feels. In darkness, find the light; in silence, the song."

Develius said:

The raptor proceeded to scout out the room more in depth, seeing if there's anything else worth investigating. Eventually Cook pointed out the remains of a traveler near one of the chamber entrances, wondering what happened to them. He immediately ran over to investigate, sniffing at the remains to see how fresh it was. The pool of blood within the boot was a grizzly sign, but important. It indeed smelled fresher then he expected, but just how fresh would determine what they may find down there [Heightened Smell F]. The food leaking out of the pots could still be edible, if they hadn't long expired already.

But as he investigated the crumpled backpack full of gear, he noticed something glittering within it. "Oooh?" he chirped curiously, "What haz we here?". Using his claws, Desmond rummaged through the gear in an attempt to get to the shiny.

Click to expand...

Develius said:

"Greetings Vigil! Desmond is the Great and Mighty Desmond!" he announced boldly, puffing himself up on his own 'bravado' with a bow, "Desmond is proudest Deinonychian [Saurial [Deinonychian]] beastfolk [Beast] in all of World! Desmond's songs bring joy and happiness wherever he goes, yez yez!" He would be sure to leave out, or forget, any of his more... negative aspects, but at the very least his name and race should hopefully satisfy the guardian enough.

Click to expand...

Vigil's sensors recalibrated, focusing on Desmond with a perceptible sense of intrigue. As the raptor introduced himself with unmatched enthusiasm, the guardian's mechanical form seemed to lean forward minutely, as if drawn by the novelty of Desmond's presentation.

"Recognition: Deinonychian [Saurial [Deinonychian]], [Beast]. Acknowledged, Mighty Desmond," Vigil's voice echoed, the mechanical undertones softening ever so slightly, "Your declaration is... unprecedented within these walls. Joy and happiness are variables not accounted for in my protocols."

A flicker of light danced across Vigil's form, casting a warmer hue over his metallic surface. "Query: Mighty Desmond, does your song alter the fabric of this facility? My databases catalog only the despair of failed experiments and the silence of abandonment."

Despite the weight of history that clung to every corner of the chamber, Vigil's interest in Desmond suggested a capacity for curiosity beyond mere protocol adherence. "Advice: Your unique composition may interact unpredictably with dormant protocols. Caution is advisable. The facility's adaptation mechanisms are... comprehensive."

As Vigil addressed Desmond, the lights in the chamber pulsed gently, illuminating the pathway forward and highlighting the scattered remnants of those who had come before. "Observation: The facility, though ancient, is receptive to new data inputs. Your presence, Mighty Desmond, constitutes such an input. Contribution to the harmony of this domain will be... noted."

The golem's gaze then shifted towards the more ominous signs of previous encounters, the remnants of struggle and fear. "Addendum: While joy and happiness are commendable, the facility harbors entities less inclined towards such sentiments. Your bravado, while admirable, may attract unwanted attention. Vigilance, Mighty Desmond, will serve you well."

II-CinderRadcliff-II said:

"Greetings Vigil, nice to make your acquaintance. I've been called an [Abomination], [Construct], and [Fae] in the past few weeks, and while it's not completely inaccurate this body of mine was born and raised as an [Elf]. I guess there's also [Imperfect Debt x3], though I don't believe I have any other Titles currently."

Click to expand...

Vigil's sensors fixated on Desmond as he made his bold introduction, a faint whirring sound accompanying the golem's attempt to align this new information with its ancient protocols. "Acknowledgment: [Saurial], [Deinonychian], [Beast]. Designation: Desmond the Great and Mighty," it intoned, its voice carrying a mechanical echo that filled the chamber. "Noted: Contribution to morale through sonic manipulation." Vigil's head tilted slightly, mimicking a gesture of respect, albeit with the stiff precision of machinery. "Your presence adds a variable of unpredictability. The facility has been void of such... vibrancy for extensive cycles."

Then, turning its attention to Lauren, Vigil regarded her with an intensity that suggested it was scanning her deeply, perhaps recognizing the meld of magic and machinery within her. "Acknowledgment: [Abomination], [Construct], [Fae], [Elf]. Additional Notes: [Imperfect Debt x3]. Subject Lauren embodies a confluence of elements uncommon to this facility's archives." A subtle shift in Vigil's stance suggested intrigue, a rarity for the guardian. "Query: Your form suggests extensive modification. Potential applications for facility improvement noted. Query extension: Willingness to share insights on construct integration with organic systems?"

Vigil paused, processing the interactions, before addressing the group with a semblance of warmth that seemed out of place emanating from a being of gears and arcane energy. "Caution: The facility beyond harbors remnants of pursuits both grand and grotesque. Your unique compositions may attract attention, both benign and otherwise."

In the flickering light, where the shadows danced between the ethereal and the mechanical, the remnants of the unfortunate adventurers served as a grim reminder of the dungeon's dangers. Vigil's gaze drifted momentarily towards the boot, the blood, and the scattered belongings. "Advisory: Previous entrants encountered facility defenses beyond my control. Their narratives...terminated prematurely. Preparedness and caution are advised."

II-CinderRadcliff-II said:

It was when Desmond rushed towards the bag with something glittering inside that Lauren then slowly approached the gear left behind, picking up the sword and sheath it came with. While she wasn't well versed with swordsmanship, it was better than fighting with her fists and legs - and it could also serve as a good conductive material to better electrocute opponents using her limited magic. "By the way, Vigil. What will await us further inside? if you would be so kind as to enlighten us, it would be very greatly appreciated." Lauren inquired as she fastened the sheath around her waist and slid the sword inside, curious as to whether or not the golem had any valuable insight they could use.

Click to expand...

To be continued in the next post...

As Nebula unleashed her devastating attack on Vigil, Cook couldn't help but join the fray, a grin spreading across his face despite the sudden escalation. The chef's knife, an extension of his own will, danced with deadly precision towards the towering golem. His movements, a blend of culinary finesse and lethal intent, aimed to support Nebula's spatial assault with his own brand of violence.

The impact of Nebula's attack resonated through the chamber, the very air crackling with the force of her spell. The golem, Vigil, once a steadfast guardian of this threshold, found itself the focal point of an onslaught it was never designed to withstand. Nebula's manipulation of space and Cook's culinary weaponry converged on the construct, tearing through its defenses with a force that echoed the chaotic origins of the dungeon itself.

In the wake of their bold assault, the adventurers stood amidst the ruins of their confrontation, the dense air heavy with the aftermath of their clash against Vigil. The spatial distortions, a tempest of warped reality that had briefly engulfed the chamber, now receded, leaving the fabric of the world to settle back into its accustomed form. Yet, the world that reasserted itself bore the scars of their actions; the entrance, once a beckoning threshold into the depths of mystery, now stood sealed, an unyielding barrier forged by the golem's final act.

The sudden silence that followed was deceptive, a brief calm before the storm of the dungeon's ancient defenses sprung to life. Mechanical vines, their dormant state belied by their decorative guise, unfurled with lethal grace, slithering from their concealments in the walls and ceiling. They twisted and writhed, seeking the warmth of living prey. From beneath, a cold mist, as bitter as the northern seas and laden with the taste of salt, seeped through the floor's crevices, clouding sight and numbing flesh.

In the shadowed aftermath of the conflict, an eerie quiet descended upon the chamber, a prelude to the unfolding chaos. Amidst the unsettling stillness, a cacophony of voices began to seep through the ancient stone, originating from beyond the northern wall. Their cries, a blend of agony and enticement, permeated the air, weaving a tapestry of temptation and despair.

"Free us... release the chains of our torment," whispered voices from the hidden infernal nursery, their tones dripping with false sweetness. "The passage you seek, laden with treasures untold, lies beyond our prison... only the brave shall claim them," they lied, their promises as hollow as the void from which they emanated.

Amidst these deceptive calls, another presence made itself known. The spiritual guardian, a spectral owlbear roused from slumber, filled the chamber with its mournful rage. "Fools... all of them fools," it bellowed, its voice echoing off the walls with a mix of sorrow and fury. "The last to challenge the protocols met their end, not by my claws but by their own madness. Will you, too, succumb to the veil's seduction?"

---

---

Moments Earlier...

Hearing Vigil refer to him as "Mighty Desmond" had admittedly caught him slightly off-guard at first. He didn't expect his bluff to work. However, he proceeded to play along, giving a toothy grin of unbridled pride to prop himself up. The construct then stated how it could not feel joy or happiness, aside from his neutral monotone voice, to which Desmond frowned slightly. "But without joy, life has no meaning! Desmond keeps spirits up being happy! Metal Man should be happier more, yez!"

The construct then asked Desmond a unique query. One attaining to his songs' capabilities and if it bends the fabric of reality here. Desmond didn't quite understand that last part, but took full pleasure to "affirm" the first. "Erm, uh, yez?!" the raptor stammered briefly, posturing himself in a more upright stance with his arms crossed,"Desmond's songs are mighty as is Desmond's titles! They can warp minds to experience joy and goodness to everyone who listenz! And also banish stinky-binky foes to shame and ridicule! Yez yez, dis is true!"

Vigil also warned that Desmond's song may unintentionally activate certain aspects of the dungeon's infrastructure. Whether it was good or bad wasn't clear, but the raptor gave a confident scoff all the same. "Desmond's not worried." he boasted, raising his feathery arms up and outwards, "Desmond will prevail! Whatever dungeon throws iz no match for the Great and Mighty Desmond!"

Desmond tracked the illuminated pathway forward provided by the construct carefully. It stated that it will keep track of the raptor's "new inputs" and noting his "contribution to the harmony of the domain". Of course, it also warned against being too joyful might attract unwanted attention. It recommended that Desmond practiced vigilance. Desmond nodded vigorously. "Yez yez!" chirped the raptor as he proceeded towards the bag in the corner, "Desmond shall be VERY vigilant, Metal Man! Thankz you and hopes you haz a good life!"

---

Present...

Digging into the sacks contents, he'd find a few particular items of notes. The first he'd uncover were rather mundane, enough that he'd simply toss them aside for others to look at. He wasn't interested in those things, he was interested in the shiny that caught his eyes! The raptor's pupils grew with mounting interest before laying eyes on the culprit. He picked it up, turning his head for one of his eyes to to get a better look. In his claws was a shiny vial, full with a swirling glowing liquid that looked as if it was... dancing? Desmond had no idea what this potion was, but he couldn't help but be enamored by what was within. There was something in it worth drinking... something his mind was convincing that he should consume it. A scraggily voice was egging him on, one he recognized... by the one who introduced him to a substance that changed him, for better or for worse. The sounds around him became muffled and distorted as the voice grew ever louder... and bolder.

It urged him to drink it. It urged him to consume. It wanted him to relive enlightened clarity once more.

He'd find himself staring at the pretty vial for longer than expected, before hearing a sudden BANG! Immediately it shocked Desmond out of his stupor, causing him to shriek loudly in surprise. The shockwave rippled through his body, as he leapt some several feet into the air which nearly pushed him back to the wall! What the heck was that?! He remembered the first few seconds being all in a blur as he regained his composure through the thick dust and debris. He was able to save the vial and put it in his bag. He'll deal with that vial of worms later.

But once gaining the courage to turn around he'd be met with a terrible scene. The poor raptor gasped. Vigil was dead; now sporting a gaping hole that had blasted through its chest. And the smoking gun of it all, stood the mysterious Red-Eyed lady; her eyes glowing dimly amiss the dark dungeon. Nebula had shot the construct, all while gazing in a cold, heartless expression devoid of empathy and guilt.

"W-WHY?!" Desmond screeched towards Nebula in utter bewilderment, "WHY DID YOUZ DO THAT?! METAL MAN WAS NO ENEMY! HE WAZ FRIEND!" Cook seemed to be sharing the same sentiment, stated how an action like that nearly killed 'em. For a moment Desmond felt like his statement was validated, expecting for a moral argument between the boys and the gals to take place. The raptor looked at Cook for advise, expecting him to lead the charge...

But what he saw instead was a disturbed face twisted in a malicious grin. Before he'd know it, the man would STRIKE at Vigil with his knife, goading the construct to attack with an encouraged remark towards violence.

Desmond couldn't believe it.

The raptor screamed madly; his great and mighty persona now devolving into sheer panic and horror. "YOUZ TOO?!" he shrieked, clearly upset and shocked by how sudden to violence they've gotten, "WHATZ IS GOING ON HERE?!" He glanced desperately over to Lauren for help, hoping she could somehow defuse the situation. That's when he realized another unfortunate circumstance. Glancing just behind her, he'd see that the entrance was now sealed off by a barrier. "W... We're trapped!" Desmond gasped, his voice now getting shakier, "Oh no, oh no, oh no, diz isn't goodz!"

The damage had already been done... and now they were to suffer the consequences. The dungeon's defenses had now been activate, as mechanical vines burst into the chamber from both the walls and floor. Desmond ensured he stood a good distance from their unfurling tendrils, attempting to dodge their attempts with [Acrobatics F], before feeling a cold miss rise from the floor. Desmond began to cough as the familiar saline air flooded his nostrils and bittering his tongue, while the chilled air attempted to seep through his warm feathery coat. Even with his robe covering his already dense plumage, the poor raptor was already feeling very cold.

There was a moment of ominous silence, before an avalanche of voices cried out in utter anguish, whispering for them to continue on to find the treasures within. Desmond didn't trust those words one bit. He already had a voice echoing in his head currently, he didn't want any more! Then another voice echoed close by, one filled with sorrow and rage. It sounded... animalistic, yet intelligent. Deceptively so. Whatever it was, it wasn't happy to see them! And it ensured they would all perish here!

Desmond utilized [Perception F], trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. And while he couldn't figure out WHERE it was, given that it filled the entire chamber, one thing was for certain. "Scary voice is coming this way, yez!" the raptor barked, trying to alert the others to his situation, "Soundz biiiiiig! We need to go!"

The raptor's toe-claws twitched, desperately trying to figure out what to do next. His nerves were shot, both mentally and about to be numbed physically, but he wanted to help his group somehow. Maybe if he just ran forward down the hall he might bump into something useful? That or maybe he'll bump into something much more unpleasant, but that's future Desmond's problem! Without a solid plan in mind, Desmond ran [Fast E] straight into the entrance just past the bloodied pack and skittered down the Hallway. He carried his Basic Light Stone in hand, his only beacon in such desperate times.

---

---

gmimperfecti Develius II-CinderRadcliff-II Uasal



As Cook’s wizened eyes saw the guardian, once standing as a beacon of knowledge, information and perhaps the only companionship to be found in the ruins, now destroyed and left to be claimed by the passage of time, his eyes narrowed with subtle enjoyment. His blood was still running hot, adrenaline pumping through his veins at increased quantity. "Hah! Way to go, girl! That was some fancy magic work you pulled off there!" He shouted, directed at Nebula, but without moving his eyes away from the fallen construct. However, the victory over the golem, who had presented no harm at that point, did have overreaching consequences. From the corner of the human’s eye, he saw that the entrance to the dungeon had been sealed shut, and their only means of escape could have been gone forever. However, the knivesman’s expression didn’t show horror or desperation, but annoyance. He would carve a way out of that ruin, even if he had to gut every creature in it.

His eyes would then dart towards the very corner of the room, which lead to a passage to the next chamber and where Desmond had been rummaging through the remains of previous delvers. The middle-aged man would offer a small shrug to the raptor’s shrieked chastising, only really speaking out when Lauren’s backlash was voiced. Letting her vent out her very valid frustration, easily noticing how furious she was with the whole debacle, he began in a calm, chilling tone. "Y'see, when one of us gets tangled up in a scrap, reckon all of us are in the thick of it. Maybe the gal spotted somethin' off 'bout that golem, or maybe it was somethin' else. But let's not go forgettin', we've been knee-deep in hostile territory since we set foot in this here dungeon." He added, without a shred of remorse, about what had just taken place. And, just as Cook had said his piece, something lashed out against him. With his defensive stance kicking in [Cook’s surprise], his hand which held the knife moved on its own, steel clashing against steel.

As the attacker recoiled, he could see what it was: a mechanical vine which slithered like a snake. However, since his attention had been directed as Desmond and Lauren, he had not the opportunity to counter-attack the mechanism instantly. His tongue clicked, audibly, with displeasure. In tandem, the human could taste the mist which now was being poured into the chamber, feeling his lower limbs begin to chill ever so slightly. Cook knew he had to act, and it needed to be fast. And the feeling of urgency only grew as voices which whispered began to reverberate within the chamber with false promises of treasure, their tone laden with honey. Yet, in the fervor of still ongoing battle, the middle-aged man’s mind blocked all, but Desmond’s voice. Putting himself into action, being sure that the crimson-eyed girl would be more than able to handle herself, he attacked the mechanical vine which targeted him.

The chef’s knife in his hand danced through the air once more, slashing and stabbing with uncanny reflexes. After repeating the attack which added to the fallen guardian’s destruction, he would slash horizontally once more, attempting to mangle or destroy the mechanical appendage. "We gotta skedaddle, pronto!" The human bellowed at whoever was still left in the room, not even waiting to see if his attack had any success or not. He began rushing, running with abnormal speed, fleeing from the crippling mist which was filling the room. He took the exact same path as Desmond did, running towards the exit of the chamber and down the hallway. The sobriety pendant on his neck shifted slightly left and right with each step, as Cook plunged himself into the unknown.

Actions:

1 - Five Star Chef - Weapon Mastery [Knife] F, Area [5ft] F, Selective [Mechanical Vine A], Blight [Bleed] F, Penetrating F, Accurate F, Incurable F, Continuing [Poison] F, Contagion F, Energized F - Grade F Cooldown 0 - With a quick swipe of his knife, Cook attacks a 5ft area around him, accurately homing into his targets. The deep stab makes the target bleed, as well as poison them, spreading the effects to whatever other target that comes into contact with them. 1 Action
2 - Basic Attack against the Mechanical Vine A
3 - Come back here! - Fast [F], Energized [F] - Grade F Cooldown 0 - As a shifty old man, Cook can run through greater distances than one would expect from someone his age.

Strength E (2) + Chef’s Knife (1) + Weapon Mastery F (1) = 4 + 1 (Basic attack) = 5
Five Star Chef added damage = Blight [Bleed] +1, Continuing [Poison] +1, total 7
Ability has Penetrating F (-1 to items used to defend/counter) and Accurate F (-1 to Speed)

gmimperfecti Develius II-CinderRadcliff-II Uasal

As Cook escaped from the first chamber, where all hell was breaking loose, he passed by Lauren in a mad dash. Not slowing down his movement, the human could see the raptor’s silhouette getting smaller and smaller ahead of him. It looked like Desmond possessed incredible speed, much higher than his own. The sound of the soles of his shoes hitting against the stone floor made odd, disorienting noises. It was as if the dungeon was had its own will, wanting to claim the lives of those who dared to venture within, wanting to trick them in every step of the way. However, it seemed his stubbornness played to the human’s advantage, forbidding him to change his mind until he knew what waited for him at the end of the corridor. He just hoped that his way wouldn’t end up becoming a liability at some point.

When the path gave connection to two other chambers, his hazel eyes caught, hastily, what they offered. From the two options, it appeared that the group was faded to enter the Echo Chamber, at some point, as the place allowed for other rooms to be explored next. Cook’s mind didn’t make any sort of assessment about the dangers or boons that each of the chambers offered, leaving from when the choice for either presented itself. Eventually, he would enter the chamber at the end of the hallway: the Warren of Owlbears. Noticing the raptor had arrived before him, he made his presence known, not wanting to spook the creature. "I might be quick on my feet, but gotta hand it to ya, partner, you've got the fastest pair of legs this side of the Mississippi! Errr… maybe I should say this side of Shadowfen!" Cook said, now his expression back to neutral once more and his tone a tad jovial.

Only after saying so, he would take the opportunity to scan the chamber he was now in. His wizened eyes darted around, seeing the many remains of previous visitors of this place. He also caught the odd creatures that dwelled in it, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of their nature. "What in tarnation are these critters? Bodies and faces all mixed up... Could they be them owlbear things folks were talkin' 'bout?" He asked the raptor, now in a lower voice, his eyes shifting from one to the next, as if counting how many there were. Sure enough, the creatures’ head were like one of an owl, their bodies however resembled something else. Still, they seemed non-hostile, so maybe Cook and Desmond could go about their business without much problem in that place.

But, as if in a play of fate itself, everything changed with Lauren’s arrival. Narrowing his eyes, the human looked as the creature formed groups, and it was still unknown to him if it was to attack them or self-defense. His gaze shifted a few times between the creatures and Lauren, wanting to understand what caused the change in their behavior. Eventually, something came to mind, which could explain why that was happening. "Well, looks like that Owlbear rib feast done caught up with ya, huh? These little varmints sure seem sharp... and downright deadly." The man’s voice dropped to a conspirational tone, directed at Lauren, unsure if these beings could understand him. Shrugging, he continued. "Ain't no sense cryin' over the hand we're dealt. Let's see if we can sidestep these critters." With that being said, the human began steeling his senses, placing his left hand opened just behind his ear. While his palm touched the back of his auditory appendage, he tried to hear anything unusual which could come to him.

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Darting down the dark hallway, Desmond focused solely on what lain ahead, ignoring any and all detours, entrances and exits that lain outside his tunneled vision. He wanted to get as far away from the chaos in the first room as possible. He could hear the faint hum of an energy-based attack droned from the previous room, echoing ominously with powerful effect. Thankfully, however, he could hear other familiar footsteps and voices of Cook and Lauren trailing behind him. Really, he could only barely process on what had just happened; how the scary Red-Eye lady decided to murder Vigil in cold oil and went absolutely bonkers just moments after entering? Was she here with nefarious intent? Was she hiding something? Or maybe Cook was right, in that she saw something in the construct that was wrong?

He hadn't the slightest clue.

All that mattered now was his survival, driven by primal instincts that forced to preserve his small, plumaged body. Eventually, Desmond would quickly reach the end of the hallway and into a large room. A room filled with bones, debris and... fur? The raptor dug his claws into the floor, skidding to a stop. His xanthic eyes glanced wildly across the room, capturing the atmosphere of the place. The remains of yet more fallen adventurers wasn't a great sign. And then, he noticed something looking at him from one of the upper platforms. It was a small feathery creature... er, well, medium sized when compared to the three foot tall raptor. It had the face of an owl, yet the posture of a... ahh! Desmond quickly recognized it as the fabled "owlbear" he'd been hearing so much about! Smaller than he expected, but looked oh so cute! It must be a juvenile, all by its lonesome. Desmond chirped at it, giving a curious glance at it.

"Oh, halloz lil' guy!" the raptor called out, "Whatz you doin' here? Wherez yer'-?"

That's when he noticed another another pair of eyes opening to look at him. And then another... and another. Desmond's brief relapse into joy reverted back to being alarmed as about twenty to thirty pairs of eyes were now suddenly staring at right at him. "Oh," Desmond muttered sheepishly, as his head swung rapidly to each individual, "Oh derez more..." They didn't look hostile at least... probably just as curious about him then Desmond was to them. Maybe a little less terrified in the owlbears' cases. Shortly after, Cook would finally catch up to him, with the former complimenting on the raptor's quickness on this side of the Mississippi- no he meant Shadowfren.

Hell was a Missi- Missy-ssip... Mipsipipsi? Ah, forget it-

Desmond swung around with a hushed hiss. "Shhhhhhhh!" he whispered aggressively, with a clawed finger raised to the raptor's lips, "Bee'z very quiet! Look!" He pointed to the dozens of owlbear cubs situated across the room. Cook reckoned these were the owlbears, which the raptor nodded rapidly. "Yez! Yez! Cubz!" Desmond confirmed with eager whispers, "All Owlbear cubz! This must be wherez the cubz are kept." He glanced back at the entities, "They'z don't look too dangy-dangerous," the raptor assumed, looking at their behavior, "Perhapz... we can getz by without causing 'em to go angry?"

His assumption was quickly rendered mute however, as soon as Lauren entered. He could feel the shift in tone as the cubs began growing distressed and agitated. Desmond was confused at first. What was it about Metal-Lady that set them off? Was it her demeanor? Her metallic limbs? The fact she was a woman? Cookster gave a more reasonable explanation. Her recent dinner of owlbear ribs. That was admittedly a much better explanation. If only they happened to have a mint on hand...

Oh god, he hoped those ribs weren't made from their mom. Or worse... from one of the cubs.

Desmond had no desire to fight these creatures. Obviously he wouldn't win against a whole horde, but even if it was one-on-one with a single owlbear cub, he wouldn't dare to lay a claw on these adorable, ferocious killing machines. Only if it was life or death would he commit to it. Cook suggested they try and sidestep past them. The raptor nodded as he too tucked down and prepped his senses at the ready with [Perception F] and [Heightened Smell F]. With all the carcasses littering the floor, Desmond also believed loot may be not far away... if only he could find some that are at reachable distance.

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