✅ MOONFIEND | Episode 1: Soth

[Kettle]

​

Teleportation, as our heroes discovered, is one of the most uncomfortable methods of travel. First, there's the breathless sensation of a rubber band yanking their body through a pinhole in reality, then the nausea of being shoved inside-out and crumpled and stretched, then the jarring snap of the limbs and head and spine returning to a more-or-less normal shape, spat out of the space-between and regurgitated onto a cold, uneven floor of translucent blue stone. It would take a moment for their spinning vision and churning stomach to settle.

There was no way of knowing whether the suns were in the sky: they were underground, in the silence of a massive, city-sized cavern filled with ancient remains of a civilization long-perished. Many-windowed dwellings climbed the cavern walls, stacked like drums into the infinite darkness above. Broken pillars fenced the immediate perimeter, each carved in glyphs that shifted and morphed in the stone. The only light glowed in the torches that burned and crackled at each third pillar, and in a sliver of blue light that reached through a narrow doorway that stretched high before them.

Our heroes stood upon a raised platform of translucent gemstone, laced with bronze circling symbols of celestial, ancient origin. The walls were magnificent, towering displays of artwork and architecture, snaking sculptural reliefs, and gold-etched paintings whose precise forms were difficult to make out in the dim cavern light. One may spot a scene of violence. Another may see the fanged jaws of a serpent. Another may see the fanned leaves of a tree with its roots in the soil and the dead.

The blue glow from the long, narrow doorway cast a lone person in silhouette. She stood with her back to the doorway, blocking access in sightless silence.

She stood far taller than most humans, thin and pale as an Esh'lahier, her dark hair swept haphazardly into a bun atop her head. she was draped in black and gold-- a robe, an armored belt, woven tassels --with a long, thin sword ready at her side. Bright tattoos shifted on her skin and changed color with every breath. Her face was marred by old battles. She had no pupils in her white eyes.

Each step and shout of our heroes echoed forever in the depths of the cavern, but the woman did not move nor speak.

Our heroes would arrive one at a time. Until they were all present, recovered, and prepared to listen, she would wait for them in watchful silence.

Spoiler: Welcome and Instructions!

OOC Thread

Please only post here after you've been officially teleported to the Red Moth. Your first post will be in the Prologue.

Characters arrive one at a time: whoever posts before you is there when you arrive. Be sure to acknowledge other PCs around you! The NPC will remain stoic and silent until the next mod post; in the meantime, characters are highly encouraged to talk to and interact with each other. There is no posting order and no restriction on frequency: have a conversation, get to know each other, post as much as you like. PCs who only interact with the NPC will be met with a vacant blind stare. Please don't simply wait for the NPC to respond.

Once all characters are present, or after 10 days have passed (whichever comes first) I'll post again and the story will continue. Characters who fail to appear before the next mod post can drop in later, but the other PCs will be responsible for filling them in on what they missed.

 

[Usira]

When the nightmarish transit was finally over, Dominus sank to one knee and was noisily sick... though he did so crouched in the shadows, with a fold of his flowing robes held up before him to shield his face, so no one could see his undignified display of mortal weakness.

Then, slowly, he rose and looked about. To the strange ruins. The towering artworks. And then, inescapably, to the woman. A living woman, apparently powerful enough to have drawn him here against his will. Bit by bit, the Necromancer's breath became uneven, quickly devolving into ragged, animalistic gasps. His heart hammered in his chest. Sweat slicked his forehead beneath his bone mask. His army was gone. He was alone and lost and confused and, most of all, just desperately, maddeningly alone... among the living! The worst kind of alone, where someone else was there. Someone not under his control.

Except... he was not alone, no. Because he had one last, faithful servant with him. And so the Necromancer steadied himself, idly stroking the undead cat still cradled in his arms. And then, very carefully, he set the feline skeleton on the floor and invested it with as much of his unholy power as he could.

"Empower Undead."

Each of those words dropped from his lips like stones, as deep and sepulchural as though they had been uttered by some unspeakable dark spirit the very bottom of the deepest, dankest subterranean crypt. And the undead cat squared itself and arched its back as the spell took hold, its eyes coming ablaze with twin pinpricks of sickly green light in their dark sockets, and every part of the beast bristling with malevolent, life-draining energies. The creature hissed, then yowled, its voice quickly rising to a menacing scream. Yes, Dominus Deathblight still had an army with him... even if it was just an army of one.

"Who," Dominus ground out, "dares?"

And so anyone else appearing in the hall would find themselves arriving on the scene of a one-sided standoff.

 

[Slimeworm (Luca)]

Head spinning in confusion, Slimeworm was utterly unable to tell what had happened. Perhaps some sudden sickness, or a blow on the head from an unseen attacker was what had made it seem as if the words on the page were swallowing him up. Being the victim of a magic event was also possible, but until his head cleared and his vision returned he would be unable to ascertain which it was, and in the meantime, doubled over in sickness on the ground, he was unable to tell which of the three (or more) options it was, or take an appropriate response.

In the meantime, he was vulnerable. He struggled against the feeling of sickness, attempting to straighten his body, open his eyes, grasp at the dagger in his belt. Would he even have the strength to use it?

And then, bit by bit, his vision returned, everything at first foggy, then shapes emerging around him in clearer outline. He slowly rose, noting with relief that there was no one immediately next to him, then gazing around at the strange place.

So it had been some sort of magic.

And there were two figures, the woman, whether enemy or potential ally, or neither, dominating the scene, and a figure, probably human, probably male, judging by the unkempt beard which was the only part of his face visible underneath the hood and half-mask.

More striking than either of the two was the living cat-skeleton, hissing, screaming, yowling.

Slimeworm took a step back. The last thing anyone should want should be to seem like a threat to an angry cat.

Friends to each other, allies to each other, enemies negotiating, or about to battle---and in that case who would win? He had been dropped into the middle of something, and whatever that something was, he needed to be on the winning side.

But excess friendliness towards one party might anger the enemy, and there was no telling which side would win. Probably the one with the cat.

Slimeworm chewed the inside of his cheek, then turned towards the party which was closest to the cat but not being attacked by it---that would probably be the cat's owner (or owned, rather--cats do not have owners).

"Did you bring me here? Is there something you want from me?"

 

[Usira]

And then there was another. Dominus turned his hooded head, careful to keep the unknown woman in his peripheral vision as he glanced the newcomer's way. His eyes met the other man's gaze with the sort of look one might expect upon calling oneself to the attention of a skull-masked Necromancer who didn't much care for the living. The cat, meanwhile, kept its malevolent gaze trained on the woman.

What did Dominus see when he looked on the man called Slimeworm? Not an immediate threat. No obvious signs of magic at the ready, nor even a weapon drawn. And this person didn't seem to have any better grasp on the situation than Dominus himself did.

"No," he ground out. "Her."

And he jerked his head back towards the woman... who was just standing there, unmoving and seemingly inert. The cat crouched and lashed its tail wildly, ready to spring, but the Necromancer slowly straightened from his hunched and menacing pose. One hand came up to stroke at his beard.

"She neither moves, nor speaks."

Did she even live? The Necromancer was beginning to wonder.

 

[Slimeworm (Luca)]

Slimeworm considered two possibilities: either this man had already been here, knew what was happening, was already engaged in a face-off with the woman, and had watched her summon-for reasons still unknown-Slimeworm, or else he had also been brought here through the same means and, despite the exterior air of knowledge, was just as confused on the inside as Slimeworm.

If the latter, this person had, rather rashly, chosen to immediately take on an air of challenge and invite conflict. Which meant either he was very rash, or very confident.

The only visible exit was blocked by this woman.

One could, perhaps, hide in the depths of this place, if things turned ugly. But who knew what lay there, or how long one would have to hide?

Some childish part of Slimeworm's mind told him that the place might be fun to explore, but he brushed such foolishness aside. Dying was not fun. And all things considered, the best way of avoiding that was probably to stay put until some change in the situation suggested an alternate course of action. And, perhaps, to cultivate what might be the beginnings of an alliance.

People love talking about their pets.

Slimeworm gestured towards the cat. "That animal, tell me about it."

 

[Usira]

As it turned out, one did not simply ask Dominus Deathblight about his cat.

"POINTLESS!" Dominus bellowed.

He wheeled on the newcomer in sudden fury, as if he had just been asked to divulge one of his deepest secrets. Which, in a way, he had been. Dominus despised mortal weakness, most of all in himself, and there was no greater weakness than sentiment. The stranger before him had in no way earned the right to hear the (admittedly short) tale of how a much younger Dominus had once adopted a stray cat, and later missed the animal when it died.

"Who are you?" the Necromancer growled.

His attention was focused on Slimeworm, now. Already, though, the anger was beginning to fade. The woman said nothing. Did nothing. So Dominus considered the newcomer instead. If he could figure out why the other man had appeared here, he might learn what this all was about.

The undead cat kept its attention trained on the woman. Just in case.

 

[Slimeworm (Luca)]

Slimeworm, half unconsciously and instinctively, began backing up. He had miscalculated. Death, the one thing he sought to escape, the one thing the fear of which practically guided his whole life and every decision, seemed nearer, judging from this stranger's wrath.

He could flee into ruins of the cavern, hide like some small animal, escape being killed by this man.

But then what? Starvation? A slow death from thirst? Perhaps there might be a trickle of water from an underground stream, but realistically, how long could one live in such a place? Or perhaps it would not really be for so long; one might merely need to wait out the resolution of the conflict between these persons who had already been facing off with each other before Slimeworm's arrival.

A conflict that he had interrupted and---no, he was thinking foolishly. The other man's attention was undeniably turned towards him now, and not towards the woman. He probably wouldn't make it five paces into the ruins.

Slimeworm clutched at the dagger attached to the belt on his waist, not truly wanting to use it--he didn't trust his own skill-but fearing there might be no choice.

 

[Skegg]

As the teleportation concluded, Skegg found himself dumped unceremoniously onto the ground at the center of the circle with a loud grunt of indignation. As he landed and rolled a minute, trying to sit up only to find his equilibrium askew, he let himself wait there a moment as he absorbed what just happened as his hand reflexively moved to the haft of the greataxe strapped to his back as he assessed possible threats.

“What…in the name of Orod’s hairy asshole was that?” he grumbled very loudly, even as he felt his stomach starting to settle and his gaze slowly sweep around the chamber to take in everything; not just the woman, standing and observing silently, but the other two already arrived Chosen. The chamber was sweeping in its majesty, grandiose and beautiful and terrible all at the same time. Meanwhile the half-orc proceeded to let out a string of curses in orcish that quite probably would make a sailor blush if they knew the gutteral language. Luckily he did not lose his last meal to the queasiness, probably thanks in no small part to the fact that he hadn’t eaten since the morning, which his rumbling tummy reminded him of as he slowly stood, testing his balance and ability to keep his stomach soundly in agreement with his wishes. As his gaze centered on the two present aside from the silent guardian who was clearly the most knowledgeable present since she was standing in the doorway looking–or perhaps not, since she looked like she might lack the ability of sight–at them all unwaveringly, and seemed disinclined to talk to them about it for the moment, he took mental stock of them.

Two pinkskins, both slightly aged if he was guessing correctly, stood present. One looked like he’d just stepped from some play or operatic musical about tragedy and self-pity, the other screamed street urchin all grown up. Neither looked very physically imposing, though he knew from his time with the Ardent Avengers that such a thing meant nothing. He’d met a dwarf about half his size that had effortlessly laid him out during training and assessment, and seen a frail elf do magic that he knew would have torn him asunder were he on the other side of it during one of the troupe’s conflicts. The one with the mask screamed cultist magic user, and the urchin screamed untrustworthy thief—he’d lost more coins than he cared to remember a few eras back until he learned that a lot of kids on the streets of cities that looked just like him were cutpurses in disguise.

Then there was the third. The only other non-human in the room. Not a pinkskin. No, this one was a whiteskin. He’d only met one or two of her kind before, finding her appearance there rather novel all things considered, approaching her as she guarded the exit. By far the most interesting of the three, she was also the only other one aside from him to openly bear a weapon greater than a simple dagger. Her white skin acted as a canvas for her tattoos that shifted and shimmered various colors, and as he stepped up to her he tilted his head to the side. Watching the display for a moment before his gaze moved up to look into her seemingly sightless eyes.

”Why are we here?” his deep rumbling bass asked in a surprisingly even tone, not threatening nor challenging, simply inquisitive. His hand had fallen away from his axe haft, though his other hand still hung close to the small of his back where he kept Ashen. When no response came he turned to face the other two present.

”Clueless victims of books like myself, I presume?” His tone did not bear challenge nor contempt despite both of them seeming…less than honorable. Instead it was wry amusement. Even if one or the other could harm him, he did not seem to view either as an eminent threat. Truth was he wasn’t sure if either of them knew what was going on or not, and even if they chose to answer his question in the affirmative, that did not mean they were not lying, at least not until further evidence to the contrary presented itself.

Of course, then there was the cat. But Skegg didn’t care one whit about the damnedable furball.

 

[Usira]

The living. How entirely disgusting they were. Always eating. Breathing. Excreting.

If they were just going to stand there, not answering his questions, why couldn't they at least be dead?

After a moment of not getting the introduction he had demanded, Dominus simply turned away from the other man. He had no real concept that he had frightened the stranger, and that that's why he had gone silent. It was just another mystery of this place as far as he was concerned. The only sign he gave that he was even aware of Slimeworm's continued existence was that, as with the woman, he always seemed to be watching him from the corner of his eye.

A few moments later his gaze shifted to include the newcomer in it, too. An orc. Not that Dominus cared.

"The book."

Those words, spoken in his usual low growl, would serve as his answer to the orc's question, such as it was.

Dominus folded his arms into his sleeves, and wished he were somewhere nicer. Like a graveyard.

 

[Slimeworm (Luca)]

The moment Slimeworm had grabbed his weapon he had regretted it. Grabbing it clearly sent the message that he was a threat, and if the situation turned violent, he wasn't sure he would win. While he had studied fighting techniques, he hadn't really put them into practice, preferring to talk his way out of a situation. Or to run.

But to his surprise, the other man did not respond to this gesture, and seemed, rather, to turn his attention back to the mysterious woman.

So he wasn't moved by a threat, but he did react if you said the wrong thing.

"Or perhaps," a little voice whispered in Slimeworm's head "he didn't respond to your threat because he knows he will win, even if you try to take him by surprise." And a chill went down Slimeworm's spine at the thought.

The tension was broken by the arrival of another. An imposing figure, every inch seeming to be pure muscle, probably part orc, who appeared out of thin air. There was an axe on his back, no doubt he could do a lot of damage with that. He was dropped onto the ground, as if by an invisible hand, and took a minute before unsteadily rising to his feet.

Well this changed things. Slimeworm wondered if any others were about to appear in the same way. And this new person, and the one who had been there before Slimewom confirmed verbally that they'd all arrived in the same manner.

'Nothing ventured nothing gained,' Slimeworm muttered to himself as he mulled over the right words to say. Then he turned towards the new person, but with words intended also for the ears of the other.

"There are three of us now. I see no reason why we should consider ourselves stuck here. We can simply walk past that figure. And if she tries anything, well I'm sure a strong handsome brave man like yourself could handle it in his sleep."

Of course, he planned on keeping this new person firmly between himself and the woman. If things came to blows, it might be easy to slip out unnoticed while the others busied themselves with tearing each other to pieces.

 

[Skegg]

The half-blood turned to each in turn, first to the Minimalist of the Opera, inclining his head in appreciation at having his question answered, albeit just shy of Orcish grunts. On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Hunchback of Vers tried to verbally maneuver him into a favorable position. When both had spoken their pieces, such as they were, Skegg sighed and shook his head slowly. This was already not a good start. One in sore need of a designated brooding area, and the other a job as a used carriage salesman. The verdant warrior ran a hand through his long, well-maintained raven hair as he took a slow breath in mild frustration before exhaling. He could at times be prone to the emotional whims of his people, but he tried to make sure it rarely got the better of him...though frustration and anger were ones that usually flared to life disturbingly easy in him. As he assessed the rat-like pinkskin who had decidedly ignored his question, he realized no one--himself included--had been courteous enough to participate in introductions. He decided to try and get everyone started on the right foot.

"First off, I do not consider myself stuck. I consider myself waiting to see what the feth our hosts--such as they are--have in mind for us. Second, while I know some fighting, one of the first lessons you learn is that there's always someone better or stronger than you, and the way she stands tells me that picking a fight with her would be a bad idea. Second, you're better off being direct with your words rather than trying to honey them. I like direct better than flattery. And third, lets at least know what to call each other to simplify things. I am Skegg. You two are...?" He hoped they would fill in the blanks, and while doing something sounded better than waiting, he had far too many bruises given to him by a particularly skilled Dwarven Sergeant that reminded him how precious little he knew where combat was concerned. Sure, he could fight okay. Better than the average citizen. But there were many warriors he did not hold a candle to--not yet at least--and the way the swordswoman carried herself made such a disparity clear. However, the shifty, nervous, overly complementary pinkskin had a valid point. Remaining still earned them all very little. However, the mercenary was also curious to know who else might be coming through via book-portal. Instead he moved to stand at the dais where they had each (presumably) arrived. He gazed at it, remembering the magic that had brought him here, and had a flash through his brain as his eyes fluttered at the surprisingly vivid memory.

---

"Now remember," her gentle mezzo-soprano voice lilted with her adorable accent, words soft and encouraging as she leaned in next to him, his eyes closed as he tried to focus on what was in front of him...but struggling very hard as he felt her breath on his neck, her own proximity due to her excitement at helping him learn the basics of her craft. "Just take a long, slow, deep breath...in and out...feel the grand weave of the world around you...if you seek it out, you'll find it, surely. One such as yourself, and my own self...we all have the ability. You just need to connect with the sensation on a deeper level..." One of her long blonde hairs ticked the nape of his neck as she watched, trying to guide him with her sweet words of encouragement. "You can do this, Tusk." He'd always thought of the nickname as an insult or as derogatory, he just never cared enough to correct anyone. From her it sounded like a sweet nickname. He didn't care much at all when anyone else said it. But when she did...

He focused on his sensations of what was around him, the feel of her breath, the errant hair dancing across his green skin, the sound of her delicately soft tones...and...

"There," he intoned, swallowing the thick lump in his throat at feeling her skin hovering so close to his, "I felt it...." and he had. He had sensed the arcane energy as it drifted about, unable to describe the sensation of the ability to feel the arcane energies as they mucked about on the material plane, almost like a thick blanket or fog that glowed, but had to be felt instead of seen. He could never explain to her that he'd only been able to sense the magic's presence because he was hyperaware of her. She had earnestly congratulated him and her smile in that moment had been downright radiant.

---

The memories that suffused him in that moment caused his hand to gently reach out towards the teleportation site just as he had that brightening, trying to reach out and sense the arcane contamination such a powerful linked magic--especially used repeatedly--might leave behind. If he could sense it, perhaps he could pull free one of Molly's trinkets and capture it. She had given him a few more simple versions of traps she used, capable of containing a wide variety of essences, but only in weak amounts. He'd never actually attempted this before, but if he succeeded, then that would be something exciting indeed. With some trapped essence he could begin his own experiments. Momentarily forgetting the others present, he focused instead on trying to sense and possibly capture the essence present here, if any. He had precious little better to do anyway.

 

[Usira]

Dominus stared at the orc. At Skegg. This one was quite articulate, for an orc, given his species' barbaric reputation.

To judge from his little speech, Skegg plainly thought himself quite clever. And perhaps he was. For an orc. Even though he had somehow failed at counting to four. Dominus's lips twisted in a pained grimace at "first, second, second, third." Ultimately, however, Skegg's misnumbered points stood.

"Dom."

That was the Necromancer's answer when Skegg prompted them to offer their names. With a thumb jerked toward his own chest, even, lest his meaning not be taken. Why not "Dominus Deathblight?" Because Dominus had been raised in an Adjurator clan. He had been told from a young age that names had power. "Dom" was a mask, but it would do. And it was close enough to his true name to be easy to remember.

"She's waiting, too. I want to know what for."

And that would serve as his answer to the one who had wanted to leave now. There had to be some meaning to their presence here. To the mute woman. To all of it. Maybe they could just walk out of here. But then Dominus would never know why he had been summoned to begin with.

So he resigned himself to be trapped here, for now, in the company of a man and an orc who both loved the sound of their own voices. At least the latter had gone quiet for the moment. Skegg was apparently entering into some kind of reverie or epileptic fit.

Dominus cared not which. Oh, for the silence of the dead.

 

[Slimeworm (Luca)]

"My name is L----I go by Slimeworm," Slimeworm said.

Not Luca. Luca was dead.

 

[Kettle]

So far:

Dominus arrived and empowered his skeletal cat with glowing green eyes. The dead feline screeched and faced the stoic blind woman with tiny ferocity. Slimeworm arrived, wary and hesitant, and Dominus faced him with guarded threat. Slimeworm made the grave error of asking about the undead cat, which threw Dominus into a rage interrupted only by Skegg's ungraceful arrival. Skegg, hungrily, mentioned a book. Dominus, too, mentioned a book. Slimeworm did not mention a book but did mention letting Skegg fight the mysterious woman while he and Dominus made their escape. Skegg declined the heroic sacrifice and introduced himself. Dominus, too, spoke his name. (Sort of.) Slimeworm stumbled over his own name but managed a moniker. Skegg, silent, tried his hand at Spellbreaking. Everyone who was not present was still busy staring at books they couldn't read. They would arrive in their time.

And so:

Skegg focused. The half-orc tried, with all of his concentration, to sense the residual essences that must always cling to what remained of spells and castings. He reached for that soft sensation of arcane energy, of which he expected blossoms and billows in this place of glowing doorways and magic portals.

Instead, he found a noxious decaying residue on Dominus' cat. And on Dominus himself. And a few drabbles of festering essence spattered on the floor in the shape of kitty pawprints. Should Skegg possess an entropic essence-trap, he could, theoretically, endeavor to approach Dominus' personal space and risk the ire of the green-eyed hellcat in order to scrape a bit of necromancy for himself.

The rest of the greater cavern, it seemed, was a clean-room when it came to invasive essence. Besides that which Dominus had introduced, nothing here was out of place. No other spells had been cast here in quite some time.

Slimeworm, meanwhile, seemed to be edging closer to the glowing door, yet not close enough to attract the attention of its stoic guardian. Until:

A tiny clatter of dice clacked on the stone floor.

They had seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Neither Skegg nor Dominus would have noticed a spell cast nor a movement by their gracious host, but a pair of bone dice rolled between them and clamored to a stop: seven and seven.

"The Fated Ones of legend, I presume. You three will have to do." The woman's voice was dangerous as silk. Her posture shifted, and she canted her head to listen to each of her visitors in turn. "My name is Soth. You're in the holding arena of the Red Moth's vault. There is no way out. I have a simple job for you. Complete it and you can go home within the hour. Do well and I'll offer each of you a priceless artifact for your trouble."

She stretched out her arm, and one of her tattoos shifted and manifested into a long skittering serpentlike creature that seemed fused with hundreds of mushroom caps like ripples along its back. It crawled to her hand and wrapped around her wrist, its yellow eyes piercing at Slimeworm.

"The Temple of Linshassiss has resurfaced in the Sshir'ssat. Inside it is a perfectly round stone. Ruru will take you to the heart of the temple. You will touch the stone, link to one another and then to Ruru, who will bring you back here together with the stone. Upon your return I will reward you and send you back to the time and place where you came from."

She held out her arm and Ruru the mushroom-dragon poised over her fingers, waiting for the first person to step forward and allow it to crawl to their arm, as if this decision were commonplace, easy, and not at all suspicious or dangerous.

Spoiler: Comments and instructions!

Anyone who has not dropped in at this point may do so after this post. When your character arrives, they will have missed Soth's monologue entirely: you arrive after the events of the posts above you, during the current state of events.

Characters are free to accept, refuse, fight, walk away, ask questions, etc. There is no posting order and no post limit. I will jump in as needed for Soth's responses, but the next plot-continuation post will be 10 days from this post.

 

[Skegg]

The half-orc found the lack of arcane energy odd all things considered. He had no desire to bother with either the cat or the caster, but considering their method of arrival of the lack of any arcane contamination at all seemed odd. The energies that he sensed did confirm his suspicions about Dom.

As for the other human, the fact that anyone at all would ever care to go by a name like Slimeworm told him everything he needed to know about that creature as well. A brooding caster and a sneaky slimeball. He should’ve guessed.

When Soth spoke, Skegg considered her words. Her wishes seemed plain, and she seemed direct. He could understand that, assuming she was telling the truth. However, given the fact that he had been brought to this place against his will and the manner in which it was done, he had very little choice but to understand if nothing else that they were likely more powerful than he.

The promise of power did appeal to him however, and the way in which to achieved it sounded incredibly simple. After a moment of consideration decided to step forward. He was not super picky as to how he achieved that power, he never had been.

He reached out his arm offering it to the strange creature, not bothering to look at the other two present. Odds are they would want to see what happened before they took a chance anyway, but he was confident in his own strength, at least to an extent.

And so he observed the little creature and waited, expecting that the other two would likely do the same from their respective positions.

 

[Usira]

"My name is L----I go by Slimeworm," Slimeworm said.

The Necromancer said nothing. Of course. He did furrow his brow slightly, though, to hear that the name Slimeworm being self-applied.

"Bones..."

Dominus knelt over the pair of bone dice that had been thrown in his general direction. A slight smile formed on his face beneath the mask. A small touch of power to Animate those bones, and he'd just watch entranced as he had them roll themselves several times in a row. Dominus wanted those bones. So Dominus was taking those bones. He would just slip them into one of the little black pouches at his belt.

As for the rest of it...

"What legend?"

The Necromancer rose, brushing the dust from his robes as he did. "Fated One of Legend?" Dominus had his doubts. Only once had he ever been chosen. By the old man, the Necromancer, the one he had called master. But even that had been nothing more than pragmatism, and the result of a fortunate coincidence.

"What artifact?"

"Priceless" meant remarkably little to a man who lived in a crypt and stole what he needed from travelers. The bones, though. Those amused him. Something to hold on to, even if it turned out the woman Soth promised much and... he suspected... delivered nothing.

"What stone?"

A stone that she wanted. Why? And why couldn't she get it herself? And why should she trust them, or they her?

Dominus didn't ask. Or rather, he did, because the questions he had asked meant all of those things, together.

The Necromancer folded his arms into his sleeves. The bone cat was grooming itself now. Waiting. As cats will.

 

[Slimeworm (Luca)]

"The Fated Ones of Legend, I presume."

Slimeworm snorted. She'd gotten THAT one wrong. Whatever this woman was, omniscience was not one of her strong traits.

If she was wrong about that, she could be wrong about everything else.

Sure, she had summoned them there. But that didn't mean much. Slimeworm had seen many times how foolish magic users could be---and how full of themselves too---mistaking flashy tricks for brains.

Or suppose he was wrong, and the temple thing were true, even in that case, why was she sending the three of them? The whole thing sounded simple enough. Let a magic snake transport you, grab a rock, get transported back, get transported again to where you came from. But if it were so easy, why wasn't she the one going there?

There had to be something she wasn't telling them. Some secret danger at the destination. Or maybe the whole thing was a trap, like the book had been.

One thing was clear; this woman was a liar, and not to be trusted.

Which might also mean she was lying about the no-way-out.

Slimeworm took off running towards the doorway behind the woman.

 

[Kettle]

He reached out his arm offering it to the strange creature, not bothering to look at the other two present. Odds are they would want to see what happened before they took a chance anyway, but he was confident in his own strength, at least to an extent.

Ruru took a corkscrew turn around Soth's arm, and it paused to twitch its nose at Skegg's outstretched fingers. A moment of consideration passed, then like flowing water the dragon snaked across the gap and slipped round and round Skegg's arm before settling across his shoulders. Its little claws pattered delicately; the mushrooms scraped with a slightly squishy sensation. From its perch, Ruru raised its little dragon head and watched the others with attentive disinterest, as if it entirely expected to witness a gruesome death at any moment.

Skegg, immediately, was its favorite.

A small touch of power to Animate those bones, and he'd just watch entranced as he had them roll themselves several times in a row. Dominus wanted those bones. So Dominus was taking those bones. He would just slip them into one of the little black pouches at his belt.

Ruru witnessed the theft and wriggled a long forked tongue in Dominus' direction. Unrelated to the dragon's accusation, the bone dice in Dominus' pouch clicked quietly and rattled with a little jostle of the bag. Occasionally, at random intervals both short and long, the dice would have another go at escape and would settle unsuccessfully.

The moment Dominus next opened his pouch-- whenever that might be --the dice conspired to make a break for it.

"What legend?" "What artifact?" "What stone?"

Slimeworm took off running towards the doorway behind the woman.

The tattooed woman had taken a posture and a raise of her head as if she were about to respond to Dominus' succinct line of questioning, but she was interrupted by the mad jailbreak dash of Slimeworm toward the bright blue-lit doorway.

What happened next seemed almost slow-motion. Soth stood very straight, her sightless eyes set on the darkened distance ahead, her half-lidded expression only slightly exasperated and waiting. She didn't have to wait long.

Slimeworm would find his trajectory clear of all obstacle. There was nothing but firm footing between himself and the bright doorway of freedom! His quick footsteps echoed like a drum of defiance while he passed behind Soth's back and dashed for the glowing door. As he closed the distance, he could see through the viscous blue to the other side: there were vaulted ceilings and glass cases and iron doors, each protecting a curious item on display, though it was difficult to make them out because Slimeworm was more focused now on survival than on the shapes of curious curios. He was almost to the door! He could almost reach out and touch--!

BZZZZAP!

An instant flash of crackled blue lightning jolted in the space between Slimeworm and the force-fielded doorway. Slimeworm, however, had not been electrocuted: instead, he immediately felt himself frozen in place. Like a statue, his feet seemed heavy as lead and would not move no matter how hard he tried. His hands and arms were in exactly the position they were in when the lightning struck, and he could not move them at all. Only his eyes and his jaw and his tongue continued to obey his command to move, which meant he could look ahead and into his peripheral and he could hear and speak, but that was all.

Soth did not turn around. In fact, she ignored the Slimeworm-statue and drew a calm breath as if nothing at all had happened.

"There is a legend," she recited placidly, "that tells of a great and ancient power divided and sealed into five stone eggs, scattered and hidden among the planes. When the House of Risthal rises, the five become one, the Fated Ones awaken, and the power-before-the-gods awaits its new master."

She turned her head ever so slightly, listening for any sounds from Slimeworm while she continued to carefully face Skegg and Dominus. "The Fated Ones were marked at birth. only they can touch the Moon Stone without madness. Only they can trigger the portal in the books. And only they can follow Ruru between the planes."

Ruru raised its head with a wriggling slurp of its thin tongue.

"Return here with the Moon Stone and choose among the artifacts of the Red Moth's vault." She stepped aside so Dominus and Skegg could see, but Slimeworm was completely in the way of their view of the colossal museum that lay on the other side of the blue-glowing door. "We are a network of treasure hunters. Everything of legend that was ever lost, lies within that vault."

She raised her chin with a bored cant of her head. "Are we in agreement?"

 

[Usira]

They thought that they would leave him? That Dominus Deathblight would allow them to reject him?

Never. Never by bones. The Necromancer tied his little pouch tighter. Then removed it from his belt and held it clenched in his fist. He kept it clasped tight to his chest as he folded his arms into his sleeves. They thought to escape? They'd never see the brightening.

Slimeworm tried to run. That turned out to be ill-advised. Another point for the orc, then. Wise orc.

Soth told her story. Gave Dominus all the answers that he had asked for. Was she to be believed? It ultimately didn't matter. Here was an opportunity.

"Master."

Dominus had only ever called one person that. No one else had earned the right. But now he said the word as if he meant it, and smiled, and bowed in Soth's direction. Yes, he would serve. He would play the game. In return for the reward he had taken already.

"Choose?" he echoed. "I chose already. The bones."

A good deal. A fair deal. Paid in advance. Could there be something better in that collection? No. There was nothing better than bones.

...Better bones? Bones with more power. A thought worth thinking, perhaps. But perhaps not. Bones that wished to leave him? No, they must be his.

In any case, Dominus... and Dominus's cat... moved to stand by Skegg. Close enough, he supposed, to follow Ruru between planes. Not close enough to touch, however. Was that truly necessary? If needs must, he would step closer. If needs must.

Briefly he looked to Slimeworm.

"Join us."

It wasn't a request. It was advice. Offered only because Slimeworm was the only other living human whose name he knew.

Was Soth human? Was she living? Dominus thought not. And not.

The living were seldom so still as she could be.

 

[Slimeworm (Luca)]

Well that had turned out terribly, just like everything else today.

Frozen in place, Slimeworm attempted to see what he could, and was disappointed to see that the chamber on the other side of the door not only was not freedom itself, but had no obvious further exit. Though of course, that didn't mean there wasn't one. Not that it mattered, given that he was like this.

So the woman held more power than he had realized, and it wouldn't be good to anger her.

But following her request was surely a terrible idea too. Only the Fated Ones could touch the stone without madness?

Casting about in his mind for a solution, for the first time in as long as he could remember, the thought came to him that maybe, maybe just this once, the most advantageous thing might actually be to....to tell the truth. Yes, if he did that, maybe he would be sent back without the risk and foolishness of a madness-causing stone---

(the question of whether non-Fated One could follow the serpent there in the first place having slipped past him)

But before he could open his mouth to tell the woman that the book that had transported him here wasn't really his, that it had belonged to someone else who had dropped it, and who, therefore, was the real person supposed to open it and to be transported here, and that if she were to let him go back he could no doubt help her find that person---

before he could say that, Dom spoke. "Join us."

And Slimeworm considered it.

Then he spoke. "Noble Lady, I am afraid that in my excitement to see the wonders of this marvelous place, I may have comported myself in an unseemly way. For that, I apologize. Be that as it may, no one is more eager than myself to follow your offer, though I have a bad knee which may make it difficult for me to be part of carrying the stone. Nonetheless I accept."

Of course, his change of mind brought about by Dom's words was because he had realized the survival advantages of temporary allies. It wasn't because he was starting to feel some sort of companionship towards the others who had also been brought here in such a strange manner. No, he told himself, this was the more self-interested option.

He would just have to find a way to avoid touching the rock.

Waiting for release, he scanned what he could see of the room beyond; maybe there really would be something in there worth taking.