Closed Insidious

[Vicissitude]

Winter 90, year 125 of the third age​

Wulfnoð had made it his own personal prerogative to safeguard Bahn'Shei's caverns, his home, from the strange abductions and murders that'd been taking place within as far back as last Summer. Since that first fateful encounter, he'd likely have seen more of those twisted monsters skittering about in the dark, though over time, their behavior would've changed. Their approach became less clumsy, more calculated– the monsters would skitter away at the first sign of a foe that could actually kill them. They were, after all, collectors. Any casualties on their end were considered waste, and for that reason, they started only going after the weak and foolish.

A few times, Wulfnoð would've spotted strange, humanoid silhouettes that appeared to hold sway over the monsters. They'd all be just as twisted as the beasts they commanded with anatomy altogether eldritch; too many or too few body parts, animalian features, and adorning themselves with intricate wounds, scars and torturous 'jewelry.' If they detected his presence, however, they'd look at him with mocking expressions as if daring him to move or simply snap a portal into existence and abscond, closing it behind them. If he or anyone traveling with him had attacked them, they'd be left maimed or obliterated into a pile of viscera– these strange entities were not to be trifled with.

Of late, he'd notice a distinct decrease in these events, as if they were beginning to wrap up their activities on their own. Still, Wulfnoð's vigil remained diligently maintained, waiting for the point at which no more of these things could be found. But on one of these very patrols, he'd come across another of those strange sentient entities as it stalked through the caves. The thing was bipedal, unnaturally tall, with thin, willowy limbs and two additional sets of arms that moved with an elegant, mantis-esque grace. Shrouded in a veil and robes of black cloth, one would not be able to tell its sex, if it had one at all. It had left a portal open in a cavern the size of a room before slinking away and down a hall– likely to get something.

But this left Wulfnoð with an interesting opportunity; he could go through the portal and find out from whence these creatures came if he were quick enough.

꧁══════════• ༺༉ { NPCs } ༉༻•══════════꧂​

Strange Entity​

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[Wulfnod]

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Winter 90, Year 125 of the Third Age​

The constant interaction of these strange creatures followed by them running away when he tried to deal with them alone was incredibly frustrating to say the least. The introduction of the more humanoid specimens confused Wulfnoð greatly, not even attacking any of these specific entities as something in the back of his mind told him not to. Was it his survival instinct? Something told him that attacking this creature would surely spell his end, so whenever he saw them he simply watched them portal away, frustrated by the lack of any headway growing and growing.

This day however, he had seen a much taller, cloaked one of these figures wandering away from where he was, leaving the portal open. Waiting carefully and watching this creature disappear from view fully, Wulfnoð got his goggles onto his face for what he was about to do. Expelling some air behind him and silencing it at the same time, he rapidly accelerated himself to the portal and essentially slammed through it to get to whatever space was on the other side as quickly and as quietly as possible. It was dangerous, since he didn't know how long this creature would be gone, but he did have access to his portal home, and surely that would get him out if he needed it as a last resort.

Once inside the space, Wulfnoð made sure to keep his feet off the ground as a Zephyrii, looking around carefully as he removed his goggles. He wasn't sure where he was at this point, but surely he would figure out soon as he hoped for some kind of adjustment to either an increase or decrease of light, depending on where he ended up.

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[Vicissitude]

Winter 90, year 125 of the third age​

On the other side of the portal was a room– four walls, a ceiling, and a floor all composed of the same smooth stone, slate gray and cool in tone. It was completely empty and might have had an oddly sterile feel to it if not for the fact that the floor was covered in blood with traces of viscera left behind. From the ceiling hung a lightbulb with a Luxiite coil; despite its brightness, one bulb only lit the room dimly due to its size. One would not be amiss to assume that, perhaps, the creatures who called this place home had some degree of night vision, since if they knew how to turn Luxiite into functional lights, they'd be able to create enough to light up a room if they had the desire to.

There were dragmarks in the blood, and they led straight ahead. To where, exactly, Wulfnoð wouldn't be able to guess– the path was blocked when it met the far wall ahead of him. At first glance, it would just look like a wall, but if he stepped closer, he'd see the thin lines indicating that the door was simply built into the wall in a fashion that made it barely distinguishable from the wall itself.

At present, this left him with three options; he could turn and leave, check the bloody viscera for anything of note or value, or simply forge ahead and try to open the door on the other side of the room.

the door If Wulfnoð passes through the door, he'll find on the other side a long, dark hall that splits off in several directions; forward, left and right. Only one maintains the bloody drag marks (left); the others are clean.

꧁══════════• ༺༉ { NPCs } ༉༻•══════════꧂​

None.​

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[Wulfnod]

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Winter 90, Year 125 of the Third Age​

Blood. Its iron-rich scent filled Wulfnoð's nostrils, a scent he was used to on raids more so than anything else. But the viscera about told him someone or something had been either killed or maimed heavily. Using the Luxiite bulb above him, he scanned the viscera for anything different than the usual blood and gore of the space, tracing it to the door as he used a smaller sphere of influence with Zephyr to silence the door, in case it was squeaky or old.

What the fuck... Wulfnoð thought to himself, looking in the three directions after passing through the doorway. If he followed the viscera, he knew that wherever it would lead would surely be bad, and he would need to get out of there quickly. If he went in one of the other two directions, he had no idea what was that way. So, going for the only direction he knew, he grabbed the thin frame of the door and pulled himself down the left pathway, making sure to keep himself in the air so as to not make too much noise. Most of his movement was through grabbing the wall and pulling himself forward, wanting to save most of his reserves for if he needed to portal out of there. Being in this dark space, he was both at home and terrified. The underground of Bahn'Shei was dark where there was no dwellings, and as he often took the paths through the mountain to get to nearby buildings, the claustrophobic atmosphere of the underground didn't bother him. But he was also terrified because he had no idea what to expect, and that expectation of the unknown was one of the most primal fears of any sentient mind living in Antarok.

He had no idea how long this hallway went either, but he just continued following the viscera, keeping his hearing and limited vision out for anything that might be different than whatever the "normal" ambient sound down here was. He didn't even know what here was. Thinking to himself about how he had used his reserves and how certain abilities drained him based on their complexity, he knew he had just enough to give himself an intense speed boost along with opening up a portal to get himself to safety.

Spell Reserves:

Accounting for the usages of Zephyr throughout the posting:

2x Apprentice level Zephyr to both short-range boost his speed and silence his movements
1x Apprentice level Zephyr to silence the door

Current Reserves = 1 - ( 2 x 0.11 ) - 0.11 = 0.67 Aether Reserves Remaining
Current Mageburn: None

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[Vicissitude]

Winter 90, year 125 of the third age​

As Wulfnoð stalked the dark halls, he might hear voices in the distance if he listened closely. As he followed the trail of viscera, they'd get louder– one voice was a deep and velvety though distinctly feminine; some might call it seductive. The other was a sweet, honeyed tenor that range neutral on the gender spectrum. He would, however, have no idea what either were saying as they spoke a language that would sound altogether eldritch to the wayward Fælnir.

Still, those voices were not the only sounds he would hear. In addition, there would also be a writhing, squelching sound of flesh against flesh, flesh against stone. If he continued to follow the viscera, he'd eventually arrive into a large, grand cathedral-style room. The hall from which he walked entered from the top left, akin to a service corridor rather than the grand entryway he might see if he looked toward the front of the room. That, however, would be the absolute least of his concerns.

Straight ahead, at the end of the hall nearest to him, was a writhing black mass– it was nigh the size of an ancient dragon, but looking nothing of the sort. From what he could tell, it was composed of a thick, inky sort of slime not unlike a jelly or a jam. From its 'body' came many Tendrils and other bizarre sort of 'limbs' that writhed without a single coherent thought behind the movements, as if driven only by instinct. From the shadows of the small corridor, Wulfnoð would not be able to see much else of the caliginous thing.

Further, there were two other figures– the owners of the two voices he'd heard prior. If he tried to enter the cathedral at all or they decided to turn in his direction, they'd very likely see him. He likely had a very limited amount of time to make a choice before being detected.

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Mildly NSFW image; exposed female breasts within the spoiler.

: Two Strange Figures

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[Wulfnod]

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Winter 90, Year 125 of the Third Age​

Pressing himself to the cold stone wall as pulled himself to a stop, his breathing was incredibly shallow to make as little noise as possible, lest he be discovered. The incomprehensible whispers of both figures gnawing at the edges of his mind like something was trying to invade his brain. And upon seeing the cathedral hall, he could only stand out of view, mesmerized by what he was as it was a mixture of grotesque due to the viscera and metal scent in the air, as well as grandiose.

Looking down the at the end of the hall, it took a minute for him to figure out what he was seeing. But once he saw it, he recoiled a bit in horror, realizing that it was essentially a MUCH bigger version of the creatures he had encountered in the caves of Bahn'Shei, something so alien and perverse that it begged questions on what twisted mind made these abominations, or what laws of reality allowed them to exist. But, as he had no idea what these two speaking entities were or how dangerous they were, he made sure to keep out of sight.

Deciding to leave that area for now, he began making his way back towards the split in the halls, wanting to explore the remainder of the area. Since he had become accustomed a bit to the natural noises of this space, he made sure to keep an ear out for any noises not a part of the ambient horror. Finding the crossroads again, he decided to go down what would have been the right hallway, continuing to maintain his strange flight in this space so as not to alert anyone or anything to his presence by making any sound. No, this would only end with him alive if he committed to pure stealth, his heart pounding in his chest as he felt like he might experience a heart attack at any moment.

Spell Reserves:

Accounting for the usages of Zephyr throughout the posting:

2x Apprentice level Zephyr to both short-range boost his speed and silence his movements
1x Apprentice level Zephyr to silence the door

Current Reserves = 1 - ( 2 x 0.11 ) - 0.11 = 0.67 Aether Reserves Remaining
Current Mageburn: None

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[Vicissitude]

༺༉❁ Winter 90, year 125 of the third age ❁༉༻

<notes>

As a consummate Mystic, the female bodied figure had detected the presence of a stray soul through her Acclimation…but she chose not to act. At least, for now. Perhaps it was arrogance, but she did not perceive the presence as a threat and, being an inherently playful sort of Cambion (if sadistic), part of her thought it'd be funny to simply let a confused foreign soul wander around the Labyrinth's halls.

As the voices faded into the background during Wulfnoð's retreat, he'd find himself once again enveloped in heavy silence as he headed right. The halls were draped in shadows, but if he were paying careful attention, he'd notice doors embedded in the walls to either side of him at regular intervals, similarly seamless to the one that led to the room he'd initially found himself in. If he attempted to press upon these, however, he would find that they did not open– and eventually, he'd run out of traversable space. The end of the hall also had a similarly unopenable door; perhaps Wulfnoð would find something open down the left hall?

 

[Wulfnod]

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Winter 90, Year 125 of the Third Age​

Wulfnoð had no idea who or what these Cambion entities were, but did make an effort to remain hidden at least physically. But as he floated about, he could feel both an increase in tantric nature from his lowering reserves but also a growing nausea as he neared his limits. Slowly setting his feet to the floor, he ceased his spellcasting and exhaled slowly so as not to be heard, now switching to his standard stealth practices of toe-to-heel steps so as not to make sound. Heading back down the left hallway, he began testing the doors quickly, moving quietly as he exhaled more.

Fuck... where could it be... Wulfnoð thought to himself, continuing test each door that he could. He had been in this place for such a short time, but it felt like forever. And these creatures... both the strange feral creatures he had seen when this first started, and then the intelligent humanoid ones, and now this mass that was blocking any further passage. And those individuals that were speaking... he had no idea what to make of them, but he knew getting captured by any of these creatures would be a death sentence for certain. So, he continued searching the area, aiming to gather as much knowledge as he could until he would have to get away from this space, even if it meant that there may or may not be a chase at the end of it all. Either way though, he needed to make sure that the people of Bahn'Shei would end up being safe regardless of what this all meant, his eyes having been accustomed to the darkness of this area for a moment.

Even with his searching, Wulfnoð kept thinking back to the two humanoid entities, wondering what this was all about. To him, they seemed to be either the masterminds behind all of this, or at least underlings of the grand master of this scheme. But what it was for, he had no idea. The constant surveillance from these entities made him incredibly tense, his jaw working silently as he took careful steps through the viscera so as not to slip and fall in it.

Spell Reserves:

Accounting for the usages of Zephyr throughout the posting:

2x Apprentice level Zephyr to both short-range boost his speed and silence his movements
1x Apprentice level Zephyr to silence the door
1x Expert level Zephyr for Soar (Efficient, 2x Journeyman cost)

Current Reserves = 1 - ( 2 x 0.11 ) - 0.11 - (2 x 0.33) = 0.01 Aether Reserves Remaining
Current Mageburn: None

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[Vicissitude]

༺༉❁ Winter 90, year 125 of the third age ❁༉༻

<notes>

Unbeknownst to Wulfnoð, his heroic heart had led him onto the sticky, gossamer strands of a spider's web– intricate in design and grand in scale.

Whatever mechanisms controlled the doors were nondescript; why the first one he'd encountered opened from simply having pressure applied yet none of these seemed to budge would be beyond him. There was nothing to manipulate either– no handles, no buttons, no knobs nor switches, not even Glyphic inscriptions, visible Alkahest, or obvious Artifice. But perhaps all of that was nested within the material of the door, inaccessible from the outside or by anyone aside from a mage grand enough to manipulate Arcane materials.

As the intrepid explorer turned to retrace his steps down the right hall and venture forth down the left, he would find that most of the doors down this hall behaved much the same as those on the right. They did not budge, nor could he hear any sounds coming from the other side were he to press his ear against them. This should not lead him to assume they were empty, however– even Bahn'Shei's Artificers and their bottlenecked supplies would be able to construct walls with sound nullification, should they get their hands on Fabulite or materials Ensorcelled with such properties. His luck shifted as he reached the end of the hall, though, as the final door had been left open a crack; whoever had last gone through it did not, apparently, bother to make sure it had properly closed.

If he peered into the room, he would immediately note that it was much colder within than outside it. The space was illuminated by a rather bright shard of Luxiumite, though one with limited reach; the center of the room was brightest, while the edges thereof would be considered fairly dim aside from a few supplementary lamps. With a first, cursory sweep of the space, he could assume it was a large, rectangular laboratory with high, vaulted ceilings. The room had a heavy, brutalist feel to it, much like the rest whatever facility it was he now traipsed within. To see it from a more holistic point of view, he'd have to step inside to look around.

If he did enter, he'd notice that the long wall across from him appeared to possess an array of storage spaces composed of the same stony material as the walls and floors– a few large cabinets, a large standing shelf rack, and offset from the left corner was a desk with a chest beneath it, shelf above it and elaborate chair behind it. The storage area was filled with myriad tools and supplies, ranging from surgical implements to a wide variety of alchemical ingredients and specimen containers, most of which were inscribed with the telltale Glyphics of Malediction's brionic vessels.

Embedded in the wall from which he'd entered were several additional doors, a few on both sides of the entryway; enclosed spaces with tall stone doors that concealed their contents. Like every other door he'd encountered thus far, they had no locks, no handles, no apparent way to open them. However, these were easier to spot than the others due to the small, rectangular windows with sliding covers adorning each. Were they cells?

The shorter walls to his left and right were more storage, with the right side having two rows of meat hooks from which a variety of cadavers hung that appeared both human and inhuman, some of which were missing pieces. On the other hand, the left side near the desk had a couple shelves containing a miniature library; scrolls and books written in a few different languages abound, though none of which could Wulfnoð read.

The centerpiece of the room was a forming bench– a large, rotating slab-bed composed of adjustable panels, some of which detached for accessing the spine, complete with additional amenities such as limb clamps, straps, suspension chains, and flesh hooks. Elaborate pieces of furniture like this were commonly used by Maltricians for their various tasks, some benevolent, some not. Encircling the forming bench were a few wheeled carts containing all manner of tools and contraptions And while the precise purpose for many of them might be ambiguous, Wulfnoð could easily assume that they all were meant to modulate the physical body in some way or another.

The two long walls and the leftmost side of the room with the desk were all spotless, maintained meticulously– they were sterile to a degree one would find either incredibly pleasant or deeply unsettling depending on how one felt about existing within medical facilities. The far right wall with its meat hooks and hanging cadavers were less pristine, as some of them still dripped blood into a series of drains on the floor below. And upon the forming bench appeared to be an unfinished endeavor of a sort; the entity thereon was, ostensibly, a corpse, as it held within it no animation nor did it have anything attached to it meant to provide life support. Whether it was a new creation entirely or something being repaired was ambiguous, but the thing was a keratinous mess of human and centipede anatomy.

: cadaver on the bench

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