[Closed] Depths Of Madness

Gior's galdori temple city and also most populated. Home of the ruling Gioran family as well as the center of Gioran education with both the Temple and the University in the same location.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 76
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 2
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: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Mon Jan 14, 2019 6:26 am

5th Ophus, 2718
"And so you see, Mister Siordanti, our people have been trying to gain access to the Deep ever since. Of course, there are components you can still reach. The first tier, where we found Javekan Inaute’s writings of the final days of Animark Giore, that is easy enough with a simple torch and warm weather gear. As you progress though, you need to draw air from the surface and the heat of fire and furs is not enough. The lack of air seems to cause our torches too die, and our Physical magic is unable to produce a source of light that can be maintained whilst drawing air for breathing. We have had some casters get further, echo casting or casting in chorus, but it is draining and most times, they do not come back.” Athrym glanced between Norwyn and Nauleth with a frown.

“This means you will encounter bodies on your journey down, Most Esteemed Siortanti’s.” The statuesque woman that walked beside them said in a curiously deep voice, her quartz skin almost the same color as the white rock tunnel they walked though, long straight hair flowing like a fall of fresh snow. Her rose colored eyes looked directly ahead, and she towered over the tallest of the trio by at least a foot. The young diplomat turned her gaze to the woman and bowed deeply.

“We will try to pay them all the honor of Imaan we possibly can whilst down there, Ethseeda Lomenak.” She said in Estuan, lifting her chin to continue to follow the procession down into the recesses of Qrieth, towards the entrance of the Deep. In tow, they had assistants to carry any instruments and equipment required, as well as a guide for the First Tier. A young priestess, no more than eleven, walked beside them in her fine white and silver robes. Her skin shimmered with quartz dust and her pale pink eyes were warm and wise beyond her years. With a stark obviousness, her lack of field hung in the air, the passive no more concerned than any of the other Giorans with them. She looked over at the Anaxi brothers and smiled, taller than Athrym by about half an inch.

“I bless you for journey, for if no return.” Turning her eyes on the Ambassador, awkward with her poor Estuan, the girl spoke more freely in Gioran.

Ey verahay anaxas worships te Goddess Alioe. Ey see ensure Nauleth dy Norwyn eate zeeute abandoned bede teeyeth euaghze deity.I understand Anaxas worships the Goddess Alioe. I can ensure Nauleth and Norwyn are not abandoned by their own deity. The blonde tilted her head to the girl.

Thank deuee, Illustrious Peak.Thank you, Illustrious Peak. She said respectfully, looking over the two men with a nod. It was hard for them, no doubt, being in the presence of passives treated so. But now was especially not the time to display their personal feelings about the girl, as either side of the party walked two men at least seven foot tall and half as wide. They wore their white locks in ceremonial braids, and carried a white ash spear and shield. They did not smile, or talk, only walked.

As they moved deeper through the mountain, the air would feel a little more stale, as though it was sitting heavy in the caverns. Light was given by the scones on the walls, and the ground was unpolished even by the feet of hundreds. There was a sort of superstitious fear of the Deep, one grounded in myth and truths. People really had died there, the body of Animark Giore and her most faithful followers was rumoured to be entombed below along with treasures both tangible and wrought of history and knowledge. Of course, there were other rumours too. Whispers that other things lurked in the blackest of dark, things that were twisted with time and the Betrayer Kaelm.

Of course, no one truly knew if these could be true or not, but mothers threatened their children with stories to keep them in check and older folk repeated the stories on cold winter nights to pass the time.

“Mister Siordanti’s, Ambassador Bruthgrave. I must stress the…kaeeke….no the…danger of this expedition.” A thin lanky man with spectacles and bright blue eyes said as he slowed to step in time with them from ahead of the group. He was older, in his fifties, with a tight topknot of aged white hair and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. His grasp of Estuan was better than the priestess, but not as good as the Da Huanes, and he rolled his hand as he thought of the word required.

“If you loose…uh…light. If you loose light below, the darkness is the ugliest…no…the…uh…the most absolute darkness you will know. You will not be able to see—hand see? You will not be able to see hand.” He waved his own closely in front of his face, frowning as the words failed him. Lomenak raised an eyebrow and spoke for him.

“If the light dies, you will not be able to see your own hand before your face. It will be a darkness you cannot describe. You must ensure you remain tied to each other, and keep a guide rope to lead you back to the entrance. If you are lost in the Deep, we will not come for you.” The Da Huane delegate said bluntly, her rose gaze turning downwards at Athrym.

“Not for any of you, Ambassador Bruthgrave.” The younger woman tilted her head in acknowledgement, turning her face to Naul and Nor once the woman was facing the front again.

"How do you both feel? Are you well rested, have you eaten? Is there anything else at all you need before we begin?" Her excitement was suppressed by the need to keep face for her Matriarch, but her field jittered ever so slightly, tinged with just a touch of trepidation.

word count: 1036

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Nauleth Siordanti
Posts: 108
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
Topics: 15
Location: Qiereth, Gior
Race: Galdor
: Magus in the Making
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Writer: Muse

Tue Jan 15, 2019 11:11 pm

5th of Ophus, 2718
To say that the eldest Siordanti was nervous would have been an exaggeration, but to say that he was excited would have been an equal understatement. He felt the tingle of fear at the ends of his nerves, especially along his damaged left side, even though his field was all but humming with electric anticipation.

He'd just learned how to use climbing gear yesterday and had taken copious notes, tucked into a notebook in his thick wool coat, one of three notebooks he'd shoved into pockets. His backpack was heavy with gear he wasn't sure he would need and equipment from his various experiments he was hoping would have some use, not to mention food and water and other necessities for the unknown. He was a professor, a researcher, an academic, not at all an athlete or a warrior, despite his love for biking and hiking and running. He was a sorcerer and never had any aspirations otherwise, feeling the chill of that understanding beneath the layers of warm clothing he wore. This much of a trek down into some dark hole in the mountains of Gior was far more of a physical stretch of his abilities than a magical one, as far as Nauleth was concerned.

Athrym was talking, translating, explaining as their expedition party traveled through the carved halls of Qrieth, "Tell me again how your people became separated from the lower tiers of the Deep? Was it a natural phenomenon—an earthquake or a cave in—or was it purposeful destruction?"

He was aware of the clan infighting between Gioran ruling families, the current family in power one that had held their position for centuries now,

"—bodies. Oh, for clocks'sake."

The ginger professor sighed, pushing away the squeamishness that writhed through his insides at the thought of finding pale, long-dead idiots in the darkness below, "This—uh—this is just a scouting mission. Need I remind everyone to stay calm? We won't be down there more than thirty hours to make some initial assessments and plan out the first phase of an actual exploration, so I don't think we need to worry about dying."

The sparkling, albino child with them spoke, hardly older than a first form, and Naul was uncomfortably aware that the acolyte of Imaan was very passive. He just couldn't be ersed to be too bothered, not this time and possibly not ever. This wasn't his Kingdom. It wasn't his decision because he had no power here, and so he held his tongue over bringing up his long list of intellectual arguments about the religious or scientific validity of passive equality. He was only a bit ruffled because bringing a potentially explosive innocent life into a completely incalculable situation was clearly not a clocking blessing from whichever Circle god you chose to ask for favor from as far as he was concerned.

"Ey see verahay deuee, deuee kayzeuagh.I can understand you, you know. Just because we're far from Anaxas doesn't mean we're far from my homeland's Patroness—so long as we are within reach of the mona, we're never out of reach of any of the Circle gods. Time passes in every Kingdom, and so I know that Alioe is with us." Nauleth was very aware that he'd just spoken those words to someone whose voice wasn't heard by the mona and yet had been made a servant to the Eternal Child, but his emphasis was on his rather quietly kept faith made known for perhaps one of the first times in his life.

This moment seemed poignant enough to require conviction of more than just the secular kind, after all.

"I have a plan for making sure we keep track of our progress, and I do not intend on losing light. I've taken a bit of a queue from your luminescent lifeforms here under the mountain, with a little help from my brother and Miss Bruthgrave." Choosing to ignore the persistence about danger, which the eldest Siordanti believed to be more superstition than fact, more mythology than truth, he paused to reach into one of the outer pockets of his backpack and pull out handful of long, sharp nails around which were tied strips of fabric, most of the thin ribbons pale blue but a few of them orange and green, each of them infused with magically-altered lichen so that it could be used to mark things, the fabric meant to glow softly in complete darkness,

"I'd prefer to be the judge of what's actually immeasurable instead of relying on hearsay. It's terrible science. It's also a shame to lose valuable academics in the shallowest reach of some legendary, sacred hole instead of taking a moment to rescue them, don't you think? I didn't sign up for a lack of international concern when I agreed to bring my research to your Kingdom." Nauleth wasn't purposefully attempting to be culturally insulting so much as simply being his own overly analytical self, aware that probably for a heartbeat, he sounded like his clocking erseehole of a father, inadvertently channeling the Siordanti lineage to chastise those who'd given him permission to even be here for Lomenak's declaration that no one would come for them if they disappeared for longer than was expected in the dark. It seemed like a poor way to treat anyone, really, especially those who seemed actually brave enough to put to rest all of the myths and actually provide some factual information.

He'd listened carefully to the somewhat superstitious warnings, attempting to hear between the words and really try to grasp what was actually waiting for them in the Deep below, "Again, this is just preliminary research. There won't be any reason for such dire predictions."

Fingers listless over the buttons of his coat, the tall Anaxi who was made to feel quite small in the shadow of statuesque guards and the other Gioran officials present save for the child and his fiancé,

"I don't think there's much more preparing we can do—Norwyn? I don't think either of our educations were meant for this sort of thing." Naul offered his brother a wan sort of smile, the hint of apology in his tone. He had dragged the younger Siordanti from the comforts of home hardly a handful of days after graduation with a promise of excitement and mystery, rightfully downplaying the dangers that the officials who'd accompanied them this far into the depths of the mountain did not sugar coat at all.

His gold-rimmed gaze slipped to Athrym, wanting to tell her to stay behind but quite aware that such an admonishment would have been as firmly refused as his request for her to sit down all those weeks ago on Brunnhold's campus,

"Do seerstones not work below?"
This isn't Brunnhold anymore, ersehat, and you're not going home.
word count: 1229
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