There wasn't enough time to entomb Fourteen in one of the numerous chambers, unfortunately- though he had been unwilling to give up the ideals he'd clung to until the last breath, he had been a worthy adversary and as such, would have deserved a better final resting place than the hall's floor. But dragging him to one of those other chambers and locking his corpse away would likely only serve to make the situation even more precarious than it was. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Perendi nodded at Féria's self-assessment and even managed a short, harsh bark of a laugh at her rather dry-seeming almost-pun.
"That he is, very much- but it's damn good that he finally figured that magic out!" She agreed, clambering back to her feet as well,
"I'm fine," She stated with a careless shrug; it would take more than a laceration, heavy bruising and a few cracked bones to do her in, after all- and once they were out of the catacombs, she'd stop long enough to at least wrap the worst of her injuries.
"It'll definitely be useful," Perendi agreed; crossing back to Fourteen's corpse and wrenching the buckler out of his hand, sliding the straps over her right shoulder. A quick glance was given to his longsword as well; though she couldn't tell whether or not it was ensorcelled as well, but it looked like a well-used, elegant blade, though nothing that wouldn't have been obtainable from any very skilled blacksmith. It didn't seem to her that he had been carrying anything else of use, either; which wasn't too surprising.
"I don't think we do, either; the more we wait, the further away he could be moving, as well."Awe shone on her face when the map on the floor lit up with eerie green light; Féria's magic projecting not only the circles, but a clear path as well. Coming to stand closer to the image of Le'raana, she made a thoughtful sound in the back of her throat; though the path and specific mountain that Féria had revealed were unknown to the mercenary, the mountain range itself was very familiar- she'd traveled through the Draconi Forest and into the easternmost foothills of those mountains a while back; thankfully, it didn't look like their current destination was anywhere near the Night Mother's territory.
"The Terrins. I haven't been very far into them, but as long as we avoid the eastern hills, we'll be fine." Well, that was what she assumed, at any rate.
Perhaps if they found whatever Nechyon was after before he was able to reach the destination, they'd have an advantage; after all, it didn't seem likely that a powerful -if arrogant- magic-user would be venturing into the mountains to look for plants or rocks; even if there might have been gems to mine. Leaving the catacombs sounded like an extremely good plan before they ended up face-to-face with a threat that they might possibly have been unable to handle. The silence that fell between them as they vacated the base was paradoxically easy and uncertain; much like the expressions of the reliefs as they finally made their way out of the stunning subterranean hell.
There wasn't enough time to entomb Fourteen in one of the numerous chambers, unfortunately- though he had been unwilling to give up the ideals he'd clung to until the last breath, he had been a worthy adversary and as such, would have deserved a better final resting place than the hall's floor. But dragging him to one of those other chambers and locking his corpse away would likely only serve to make the situation even more precarious than it was. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Perendi nodded at Féria's self-assessment and even managed a short, harsh bark of a laugh at her rather dry-seeming almost-pun. "That he is, very much- but it's damn good that he finally figured that magic out!" She agreed, clambering back to her feet as well, "I'm fine," She stated with a careless shrug; it would take more than a laceration, heavy bruising and a few cracked bones to do her in, after all- and once they were out of the catacombs, she'd stop long enough to at least wrap the worst of her injuries.
"It'll definitely be useful," Perendi agreed; crossing back to Fourteen's corpse and wrenching the buckler out of his hand, sliding the straps over her right shoulder. A quick glance was given to his longsword as well; though she couldn't tell whether or not it was ensorcelled as well, but it looked like a well-used, elegant blade, though nothing that wouldn't have been obtainable from any very skilled blacksmith. It didn't seem to her that he had been carrying anything else of use, either; which wasn't too surprising. "I don't think we do, either; the more we wait, the further away he could be moving, as well."
Awe shone on her face when the map on the floor lit up with eerie green light; Féria's magic projecting not only the circles, but a clear path as well. Coming to stand closer to the image of Le'raana, she made a thoughtful sound in the back of her throat; though the path and specific mountain that Féria had revealed were unknown to the mercenary, the mountain range itself was very familiar- she'd traveled through the Draconi Forest and into the easternmost foothills of those mountains a while back; thankfully, it didn't look like their current destination was anywhere near the Night Mother's territory. "The Terrins. I haven't been very far into them, but as long as we avoid the eastern hills, we'll be fine." Well, that was what she assumed, at any rate.
Perhaps if they found whatever Nechyon was after before he was able to reach the destination, they'd have an advantage; after all, it didn't seem likely that a powerful -if arrogant- magic-user would be venturing into the mountains to look for plants or rocks; even if there might have been gems to mine. Leaving the catacombs sounded like an extremely good plan before they ended up face-to-face with a threat that they might possibly have been unable to handle. The silence that fell between them as they vacated the base was paradoxically easy and uncertain; much like the expressions of the reliefs as they finally made their way out of the stunning subterranean hell.
The trek back to Zantaric had been largely calm; the thunderstorm had passed a few hours ago and the midday sun shone brightly on the jungle's verdant flora. Though the sense of urgency and unease remained heavy in the air and it seemed as though no matter how quickly they walked, Perendi and Feria were both slowed by and drowning in time. That peculiar sense of things not being quite right remained as a steady undercurrent; a force that drove the unlikely companions to only stop briefly in Zantaric proper. Just long enough to fill their water and liquor-skins, pick up necessary provisions for the journey and stop at the tavern to see if Perendi's company had arrived yet or not.
It would seem as though fate had not favored the pair at first; for most people claimed that they had not seen a group of four traveling through the town. Of course, with Zantaric being Zantaric, a queen could have wandered naked through their streets and no one would have ever claimed to notice her, including the hypothetical slaver that would have captured her. However, at last, the bartender had relented and admitted that a group that fit the mercenary's description had been seen heading to catch a ship, bitching and griping about their horrible luck.------
"Fuck me, how much longer are we waitin'?" A soft, lyrical voice demanded; the words at odds with the voice itself.
"If you ask that one more time, Dinae, I'll tear your gods-damned tongue out of your mouth!" Came the harsh, clipped reply.
"You're bein' an ass, Hein! B'sides, She'd have your chamberpot-suckin' head if you tried anythin' like that!" The first speaker, Dinae, challenged.
"Is this the way you act when she's not around? I didn't know I was supposed to mind bird-brained, shit-nosed little children!" A third voice spoke up; low-pitched and velvety, yet simply
oozing irritation.
The trio stood a few feet from each other, bickering and moaning about being bored, not understanding how it could take another fifteen minutes for the ship to be ready and how many bones the next person was going to break, if the others didn't shut their mouths and be patient. A fourth individual stood further away than the nitpickers, sighing and trying to ignore the other three. That fourth individual stood a bit taller, blue robes rustling softly against the ground and moving further from the ragtag group, noticing two women walking in their direction: a grey-skinned, one-eyed warrior that was immediately recognizable and an auburn-haired, green-eyed lady in elegant robes. The other three would be informed about her return soon enough.
Perendi and the dark-skinned, champagne-blonde, blue-robed elf talked at length for a few moments; the ashen warrior explaining most of the details about what had happened, while letting Féria fill the other mage, Tvastri, in as well. Once the situation had been explained, the small group agreed that they'd accompany Féria and their leader to the Terrin Mountains; they'd been trying to meet back up with her anyway, but until now, had been unsuccessful. Finally, they had been able to pay for passage and board the vessel; heading for the continent of Adela.
The ship had docked in Ketra; allowing the peculiar band to find food and lodging in one of the city's numerous inns for the night. The pale, blue-eyed, bald swordswoman named Dinae and the chain-scythe wielding, golden-eyed Eladrin called Hein were sent to finish the last-minute preparations for tomorrow morning's excursion. A petite, pale, violet-eyed and extensively tattooed elven assassin who called herself Seloua would attempt to converse with Féria and try convince her to play cards while Perendi and Tvastri departed upstairs, toward the rooms that had been procured for the night.
------
"You should have realized by now that I don't really like magic," Perendi signed clumsily with her left hand as she sat on Tvastri's bed, watching the mage warily; like the other three, he was a relatively new recruit- after disbanding the Hounds a while back, she had decided to start over, with a new band of subordinates. Hopefully they would be the last new company she founded, until she was finally able to purchase an island. Because she'd only known the mage for the past few months, she was still fairly uncertain about how much trust she was going to put in him; even if he had proven to be rather useful on more than one occasion.
"I know. You should be thankful that I can even do anything like this. I'm not a cleric," The mage muttered distractedly.
"I'm not going to end up with a second fucking head, am I?"[/b] Those slow, fumbling, one-handed gestures were accompanied by a somewhat teasing smirk.
"Of course not. It's too late to reattach your old hand, so this is going to hurt."
With that, Tvastri began chanting in an ancient, slimy-sounding arcane tongue; gutteral, harsh and snarling, filled with long pauses during which the silence seemed to ooze and slither; followed by festering, feathery, singsong intonations. A low thrumming sound seemed to fill the room; a noise that was more felt than precisely heard, as barely-visible, golden threads shimmered in the air, growing thicker and darkening substantially, seemingly tarnishing, as they came to rest on Perendi's right arm; burrowing into her flesh as they began meticulously reviving dead nerves, piecing together tattered muscle and bone, knitting destroyed ligaments, tendons, muscle and veins back together again. A scream tore itself free of Perendi's throat, her frame trembling, one foot tapping out a staccato rhythm as those quickly-blackening threads dove ever-deeper; the tainted stench of her curse filling the room as dead skin was peeled away, swiftly replaced by raw, new skin that quickly darkened and thickened: from the elbow down, the new limb was a dull off-black; a subdued shade that contrasted sharply against her pale grey coloration.
------
The following morning, they set off into the Terrin Mountains, following Féria's trail. Though they'd ended up beset every now and again by bandits and orcs; minor skirmishes that had been more irritating than anything else, they had found their destination by mid-day, when the sun was reaching its zenith.