Fantasy Hunter's Moon: Ascendancy [IC] [CLOSED]

[Infab]

As the group made their preparations, Rebecca finished up her dealings with the dead. One of the Konstantinovs spoke up as she turned to the vampiric assassins. Of course, it was Zehra. She had managed to survive the battle, though with now rapidly healing wounds in different places across her face and limbs. It seemed ghouls tried to gang up on her, and she had to fight her way through them by hand.

"We will depart now, as we have done what we've promised. I hope your future battles deeper into the castle are easier than the one that just occurred." she stated, giving the Saint a nod, before looking to the others. "I wish you all good health, and safe travels. Perhaps I will see you again... hopefully long after this war has ended, in more peaceful times."

"Hopefully." responded Rebecca, with her own nod. "Selamün aleyküm."

Zehra was surprised by Rebecca speaking her native language, then smiled before looking back to her fellow Konstantinovs and motioning them to head for the exit. They did as instructed, giving each of them a nod or wave as they passed. Soon enough, the Konstantinovs had all vanished, leaving through the large opening they had blown in the entrance with dynamite. Rebecca then turned back to the rest of the group.

"Let's get moving. Keep an eye out for any surprises. They may have laid traps further in to deter us." she stated, locating her shield and reequipping it. Riberta, who had now chugged down half of a punch bowl's worth of blood, was on the move as well, following after Rebecca alongside Cassandra. The group gathered together, with Jakob exchanging a few words with his companions before following after as well.

The inner halls and rooms of the old dwarven fortress were as massive and grand as the outside had been. This was a true castle, in every way. But instead of going up and outwards, however, it went inwards and down. Deep into the ground, creating dark tunnels and a labyrinth of corridors. They had to rely on Rebecca for the time being, using her Saintly powers to locate and feel their way towards the artifacts. It was clear that there were others down in these tunnels, as the group could hear the sounds of yelling and detonations as they descended further into the depths.

Soon, they would find themselves exiting out onto a landing in a massive cave. Lava flowed beneath them in large rivers, granting ambient light to the entire room. "I've heard of places like this before." said Rebecca, before Riberta spoke up.

"Dwarven forges. Using the world's primal methods of heat and pressure to create truly remarkable objects and items." said the hybrid. "I've been here...twice, I think? Both times had me chunking an idiot over the edge into the magma below... Thankfully, both times I can say that the man actually deserved that kind of death."

 

[Breadman]

Continuing forwards into the heart of the fortress without backup was going to make things harder, but Constantine figured it was inevitable given how many of their number fell to the swarm of enemies before. As they went further and further, the heat began to rise and make him feel discomfort. Pretty soon the source of the heat was made apparent from the flow of lava beneath them. The ambient lighting created by the rivers of molten rock reminded him of those industrialized corners of the Abyss filled with forges bellowing smoke and creating the instruments of war that now tear that realm apart. Not the most comforting memories.

"Looks like a big drop." He looked down to the lava bellow "Do you think their brain got fried before they made a splash?"

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Aleister assisted the group as directed before they moved on, saying prayers and mending a few wounds. While he remained proficient in the latter, he could not say the same for the former. There was a deep irony to it, he knew. He had been proclaimed an Archbishop, the head of an entire splinter church up in Nocturne, and yet in his ears his own prayers always rang hollow. Each word tasted too bitter, too foreign. Once he could recite entire prayerbooks with the heat of a blast-furnace... now he was lucky to stand up against the draft of a lone candle upon a winter night. Whether it was faith he had lost, or something else, he was not certain. Everywhere he turned his soul he could taste naught but the ash of misery. Perhaps he was merely smothered in it, darkened in soot like a chimney sweep. A poor form for a priest.

Downwards they went as if they traveled to the very Abyss itself. Aleister was not certain of his feelings on the others with the group, though he found this little surprising given he knew them not. The Living Saint too, even, a beacon and a paragon, though he simply lacked the delicacy of faith to keep him grounded; though the more he considered it, perhaps he was simply too grounded, buried in the filthy soil like another gravemarker. At the very least, some of the words from the likes of Camille had, in an odd way, rekindled the warmth that once burned within him.

"A charming locale," Aleister remarked dryly as they entered the large cavern, strewn with the harsh flow of molten magma, hot enough to discomfort him even from afar. "With all this rock above, a shame we can't collapse it all. Bring the world entire down upon those who dwell here."

 

[joshuadim]

"Would be a shame to destroy all of this." Azathor remarked to Aleister, "Marvels in constructions lost to the chaotic forces of destruction would be a damned shame if I say so myself." Aathor had remained silent thus far as the group pushed deeper into the abandoned dwarven settlement, finding himself enamored by the amount of craftsmanship that had been once been used to indicate a greatly industrious people. To now be in the hands of such vile enemies was itself a crime that they were here to rectify now. The heat didn't disturb him as much as he thought it would, though he did feel himself tugging at the collar of his armor as he tried to get some ventilation in to no avail.

"Though, it wouldn't hurt to have a few holes or vents here or there... guess the dwarves were used to all the heat and never felt it like we do." the demon prince then mused, "I wonder how our uninvited guests here are dealing with it on their end?"

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou kept his senses high, keeping an eye on everyone's vitals as well as on any sudden auras appearing, as they made their trek through the interior of the fortress. As with Azathor, he was similarly enamored by the preserved structure within, and nodded in support of his retort to Aleister. The heat of the forge reminded him of his past encounters with lava, including his most recent run-in back in the Abyss within the volcano on Zalmakul's Isle. Unlike the others, he didn't seem to visibly discomforted by it.

"We can only hope they are not handling it well," the hermit responded.

 

[K0mori]

Once the party had entered the dwarven forge and felt the heat of the magma below, Sebastian grunted in annoyance and began to unbutton his greatcoat, pausing a moment until the wet and bloody garment was off of his body. He flung it to the side so that it was draped over a carved stone ornament, allowing the moisture to drip or evaporate out of it while the group proceeded. His undershirt, being a much lighter shade instead of the olive drab of his coat, more readily displayed the numerous holes and tears it had suffered during the fighting, and blood of unknown origins.

"I'll get it when we come back," he muttered to no one in particular, as he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his undershirt, allowing himself to breathe more easily. Listening to the discussion between Azathor and Aleister, he rolled his eyes. "Whatever the dwarves did down here in their time is of no use to us. If it was better than anything we can make nowadays, then the dwarves would still be around, wouldn't they?"

His words carried the tone of an increasingly ill temper. He had turned down Constantine's offer of a cigarette moments earlier without an explanation - perhaps he didn't want to relax or lose the flame that was sustaining him.