Delving Deeper [Private]

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Figures gathered in ordered columns as a small force of warriors stood facing the bleak wall within their training hall. Deep beneath the earth, below the towering spires of Dar Havark Fortress, the call had been made by their impressive Lord. Hundreds dwelled beneath the catacombs, honing their skills in both warfare and arts, and it was time for the next step to be taken. Lord Dra’Aran was seeking to build an elite force of warriors and for that he needed experts and masters whom could further help establish a powerful core. In terms of dark arts, Avanthar himself was enough.

There was a tension in the very air they breathed, the damp tunnels radiating an unusually coolness that seemingly seeped into their hearts and souls. Before them was the gaping maw that breathed upon them a black sinister air. What stood before them was the entrance to Terra, the lair of Kyoko, Mistress of Dar Havark. In terms of power, it was their Lord whom was the stronger, yet Kyoko herself had her own dangers and strengths. She herself had lingered long before Avanthar had arrived to the Centripax, her allies and servants were as abundant, if not greater than the Lord of Shadow himself.

Avanthar stepped into the hall, followed by the sleek form of Lyss as she moved in step and purpose with her Lord. With a smug on her face, she absently slipped the veil over her face as she regarded the others before him. A band of ten warriors had been gathered as escorts to accompany their Lord into the depths, far below Terra, into Herozzal itself. There were ancient tunnels and mines there, intricate and complex, that could lead him down into its depths. Saying nothing more, the ten warriors of mixed races moved into formation, two lines of five together and evenly spread out in pairs.

Keen eyes sensed motion from the entrance of Terra as one Ratta came forward, dirty, yet showing an unusual strength in build. One of the many miners of Kyoko, he would act as the guide into the unknown. Silence followed as he indicated for the critter to lead… and with that the band delved… deep in the darkness. Few of the Brotherhood ever ventured into Terra, though a steady stream of supplies of metals and minerals constantly moved through the connecting tunnel. As they walked further into the tunnel, torches brought light as flames gifted life to the shadows, the ground well worn by constant traffic.

The sounds of constant hammering grew gradually as other sounds of movement. Turning around one corner, they were met with a vast underground mine. Hundreds upon hundreds of miners worked diligently, overseen by men and others. There were no lashing with whips or roaring orders. All knew where to go, what to do, as if some unseen force was playing over their minds. As the masked Avanthar gathered all that he could, he smirked as he saw the familiar statues upon the walls… golems…

Indicating for them to move, they moved through cavern after cavern, the constant sound of chipping beginning to irritate the knight. Entering into clara as his mind shifted into a state of calm, he sought to block out such noises as they descended into an offshoot tunnel, less used by the accumulated dust, and billowing an unusual cold that even touched Dra’Aran. The guide stopped… indicating that the old tunnel was the way to go… and with that the band moved… deep… deep into the shadows… into the depths of eternal darkness…

[Desmodus]

The din of Avanthar's laborers hammering wealth out of the reluctant stone grew less jarring as the warlord slipped into clara; once he had entered this soothing meditative state, what had been a cacophony seemed to grow less disorderly, more harmonious, a fugue of a hundred metal voices playing in stretto with their own echoes that rebounded from the cavern walls. Arcanically prepared, Dra'Aran approached the mouth of the abandoned tunnel indicated by his ratta guide. Trusting fully in their abilities, and especially those of their leader, his party followed.

The tunnel's mouth was not level with the cavern floor, but rather hovered about three feet up the wall. This tunnel had not been dug from out of this cave, but rather into it from elsewhere. Untold patterns ago the vysstichi of Herozzal had penetrated the secrets of these underground chambers from beneath, and had discovered and worked these mines for awhile. Nobody in Avanthar's party, including the ratta guide, knew why the vysstichi had abandoned their mining operations in this place well before the mineral wealth here had been exhausted. None in the party knew whether the reasons for that mysterious abandonment would become relevant to their current expedition. The dark tunnel mouth before them offered no answers, no memories, only obscurity and oblivion.

The same vysstichi who had dug the tunnel had improvised a ramp, conglomerated together of rubble from the tunnel's excavation, made solid and smooth by both masonry and magic so that mining carts could be pushed up it from the caves. The eras had not left the ramp untouched; it had grown rough and cracked, and parts of it crumbled in an ankle-threatening way as Avanthar and his party ascended it. One of the party fell victim to the loose footing, and would require some minor healing to be able to continue and keep up with the others; already, even while still in Darksoul's domain, the strange passageway was showing itself to be perilous to those who dared traverse it.

The entrance to the tunnel was fairly large: a rough semi-circle cut horizontally, some six meters in diameter, and perhaps three-and-a-half high. Not far inside the tunnel's mouth was an even wider and taller chamber. The purpose of this large room was not immediately clear, but would soon be once the party had moved on to its far side. There was little of interest in this chamber.

At the far end of this room, which was perhaps twenty meters across, the passage through the rock again narrowed to a tunnel, now only about four meters wide. The tunnel walls and ceiling had been cut roughly but skillfully, and were reinforced at regular intervals by vaulting arches of elegantly dressed stone. These had stood up largely intact, though there were some signs that hundreds of patterns of holding up countless tons of rock were starting to take their toll.

There were narrow, raised walkways along either wall, just wide enough for one human sized person to walk normally on it. Down the middle of the tunnel ran a long groove, in which a long metal rail was laid: it was a mine-car track, made of elven steel that, though fatigued and/or worn beyond safe usability, showed only the slightest traces of rust. Still in Clara, Avanthar could make out the remnants of some ancient enchantment upon the track; even as the metal itself had been fatigued, so too was the arcanic weave mostly unravelled. Bits of it clung yet all along the length of the track, but its integrity had been compromised.

The walkways and track continued as far as Avanthar or any of his party could see downward. There was as yet no sign of traps, nor of movement.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Keen eyes of cat like blue narrowed as he judged the hovering entrance. Avanthar was unlike other necromancers and dread lords before him in the sense that the Dracolord felt responsible for the lives of his followers. In a sense they were brothers and sisters of a common cause, and those that resided within Dar Havark would not so easily fall. They were far more useful alive than dead. Knowing that the Vysticchi of Herozzal had long ago uncovered the secrets of the Underworld, what he saw was a relic of a past age where different magic was at work. The Arch-Knight had been there when the Aetherfracture had occurred… but the lore of ancient dragons and other mystical beasts working the arts at whim were common knowledge.

Whatever was the case, the tunnel had been abandoned long ago, and even Kyoko with her long stay within the great caverns of Centripax had not sought to truly delve into its secrets. She had no need. There was a need however for Avanthar, for if he could establish a secure connection from Herozzal to Dar Havark and even to the surface world, a wide range of possibilities would lay open for him. It was very much possible for Avanthar to make both Herozzal and Dar Havark the most powerful city within the Centripax…

Stepping up tentatively upon the ramp as torches were lit, all others made it safely up save for one. Finding it rather useless to curse fate or the gods, Dra’Aran weaved forth an easy spell as he tapped into every one of their life force, including himself, where each member would relinquish a small minute portion of their health to heal their brothers. It was an easy application of Drain life, though the intricate web would ensure minimal pain and energy would be lost. All needed to be relatively fit and healthy for the journey.

Moving forward into the depths in formation, Avanthar keeping his sense clear and attune as he withdrew his monstrous sword, its blade of shadow and death brimming with unholy energies as they moved cautiously and in silence. One member of their party had been given the task of marking their path as a last resort. Who knew what lurked within the darkness. Moving from one passage to another, the differing sizes odd and the decaying supports spoke volumes of its past… there was ancient magic here… yet much had dissipated…

‘Eltarik’

Calling forth his personal specter, the horrible visage of a tormented elf materialized in its eerie glow. With a nod it disappeared once more as he was sent, using its superior senses and vision to pierce the darkness and act as a second guide, seeing what mundane eyes could not see. Fearing little as he let darkness envelop the knight, Dra’Aran appeared like a moving shadow under the lack of light. For the moment what would worry them more were dangerous tunnels and traps… any dangerous creatures would no doubt lurk deeper in the cavern.

[Desmodus]

Draining only enough life from the ten other members of the party to heal an ankle sprain, albeit a rather nasty one, Avanthar's spell produced no more than a bit of passing fatigue in himself and his travelling companions, as if their master had just had them do fifty push-ups. The injured warrior's eyes widened slightly as he felt the strained muscles mend themselves with the extra bit of energy being supplied them; familiar though he was with Darksoul's necromantic powers, this was the first time he had experienced them first-hand. It was not often that one was glad to be at the receiving end of Avanthar's arcanic attentions. Smiling gratefully as he tried his weight on his much-improved ankle, the warrior indicated that he was ready to move on with a crisp: "That's better now, M'lord! Thank you, Sir!".

Electing to enlist the aid of less vitally vulnerable allies, the Lord of Dar Havark called up his specter from the planes of Death to scout ahead for his expedition. Attuned by the arcanic bond he shared with this shade, Avanthar could learn much of what lay ahead in the ancient tunnel without peril to the life or limb of himself or his warriors.

The tunnel continued generally southwards and downwards for some way, a mile and more, with no discernible hazards: no traps, pits, or monsters waiting to accost Avanthar's party appeared to Eltarik as it drifted down the dark shaft; in fact, there was no interruption or change in the tunnel's course, nor in its shape and construction, for some distance. At long last, nearly a mile and a half from where its master had dispatched it, the specter encountered something of interest: across the tunnel's mouth there hung a loose net of chains. Perhaps a score of stout iron chains hung vertically from the vaulted ceiling; they were connected horizontally by about ten heavy chains of lead. The "net" was not very finely-meshed; a creature about the size of a Cether or a human child could squeeze through the large squares- or at least would have been able to squeeze through, were it not for the nasty strands of barbed wire interwoven among the links along the lengths of the chains. The wire hung diagonally across the gaps in the mesh in many places, studded with barbs nearly a full inch long. Some dark, greasy substance appeared to be smeared across these barbs; lacking a keen sense of smell, the specter could not indicate to Avanthar what that substance might actually be. The warlord and his living cohorts would have to check that out for themselves.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Time would ease their pains, the minor wound and small portion of life was in truth very little compared to what Avanthar’s victims suffered. Offering no more words, he would regenerate him and his follower’s energies once such an opportunity arose. As Eltarik coursed through the twisting tunnels with unnatural speeds, fleeting like the crafty spirit it was, the band continued to move at their own pace while the knight was sent images and sensations of what lay ahead. Ofcourse the dangers here would be trivial… unless his arcana was heavily stunted, but even if such an occasion arose Nemesis was more than a match for most.

With cold chilling steps Avanthar moved silently, his steps made with precision and ease as they neared the odd tunnel’s mouth, its great chains and barbed wire strands was something of an oddity. Judging from the looks of things, they were some deterrent or at least a form of capture for some mysterious creature. Knowing that there was a lack of men moving through these tunnels, Avanthar judged it the only case. Stopping a safe distance away, Eltarik’s description of some black substance was not lost on the shadow knight.

‘A trap?’

Glancing at the others momentarily as he held out his blade of shadow, Dra’Ara maintained his clarity as he weaved strands of death, drawing forth the spirits to his call as his titanic Vis was used to fuel the spell. Using the dead spirits as he enforced them with his dreaded power, a swirling mix of contained specters howled and screamed as they moved with greater speed. Slowly the tempest picked up as all around felt the motion of this little whirlwind.

Holding his hand up as he hurled it with startling speed and power, this orb of specters was simply used to activate any potential traps, its insubstantial form would be unaffected by whatever substance it was. Caution was needed as Avanthar readied to activate a protective wall of shadows if needed… but for the moment he tested such waters as such.

For an Archmage that could rip apart the province, Dra’Aran was showing remarkable patience and control, his Vis not even dinted at such miniscule displays of dark magic.

[Desmodus]

Drawn to the Archmage's powerful Vis by their hunger for the living, shades from the Planes of Death swirled into view, managing somehow to blacken further the already profound darkness of the ancient transport shaft. Whatever their original intentions and desires may have been, however, the specters soon found themselves trapped and bent to Avanthar's will; not even howling in protest, they hurtled down the tunnel to execute their new master's will, activating traps as they went.

There were at least two more such chain-drops, seperated by intervals of more than a thousand paces from one another. These were designed primarily to obstruct the tunnel, rather than slay trespassers, although they would have posed quite a hazard to those near them when they dropped. The tunnel had once been liberally salted with more traps, of a wide variety, but these had either already been sprung by hapless explorers, or had deteriorated to non-functionality over the patterns. Why the chain-drops in particular had only deployed now was a mystery.

The specters reported back to Avanthar that the mine-car tunnel ended several miles further on, emptying into a large cavern chamber that was partly flooded. They were unable to explore beyond that point, for something had prevented them. Some powerful warding enchantment, apparently, prevented anything undead from entering or exiting that chamber.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Hurtling spirits coursed through the tunnels as the Archmage unleashed his minor creation upon the waning traps of the old Vysticchi tunnels. With the darkness proving a comforting blanket to the Necromancer, he watched and heard the sounds of thudding as traps were activated left and right. Silently the group watched as their Lord cleared their path, knowing that they now stood behind one of the greatest archmages in the empire. Their cause was not as dark as one may think, for Avanthar was a fine leader… at least he was far more hospitable than any tyrannical Jorelite.

Narrowing his eyes, Avanthar motioned for them to continue as the orb of spirits continued to bring the chains crashing down. Indicating for them to be wary of the chains and the black inky substance that was coated, poison could kill as well as any blade or dagger. Still, time had taken its toll and no doubt much of the perilous traps had long ago been unraveled. Yet if traps were still activated, then it was quite possible that new ones had been set… or that someone had returned to maintain them once more.

The coolness of the deep underworld touched them all as shadows licked at their ends. Moving along the ancient mine car tunnel, the spirits returned indicating that there was something warding their advance. This was certainly enough for Avanthar to question what lay beyond, for any enchantment of the former age had long ago died when the Aetherfracture had occurred… it must be either something new… or something far more ancient and vastly powerful than one would first think.

Avanthar knew that there was only one way to find out as they continued to the large cavern chamber. Clasping his great sword of shadow and death, the Archmage sent his senses out to the enchantment, pondering on its nature and use and whether or not it would severely hamper Avanthar’s own casting. Was there something here seeking to bar them of further advance? Or was there something else within these ancient tunnels that the Vysticchi were wary of?

[Desmodus]

The chains stretched from wall to wall, filling the width of the tunnel. Short of cutting them down, the only way around these hindrances was down in the central groove where the mine-car track lay. With only about two feet between the poison-barbed bottom of the chains and the track, Avanthar and his followers would have to crawl carefully under each of three chain-drops to proceed, unless the Archmage contrived some way to lift them to provide him with more headroom. If he decided to take the crawling route, he and his party would emerge with their arms, legs, and chests covered in rock-dust, but otherwise unharmed. Perhaps that was because Jalat was watching over them -or rather, perhaps it was because He was not...

Not long after negotiating the third chain-drop, Avanthar arrived at the entranceway his specters had been unable to pass. Was this a new enchantment, or one that had somehow survived the Aetherfracture? The answer turned out to be a bit of both.

Across the floor at the end of the tunnel, just before it widened out into the cavern beyond, Avanthar could see a symbol carved in the rock: it consisted of a hexagonal outline, inside which lay six sword-shaped rays radiating point-out from the center of the figure. In the figure were glyphs of some sort that Avanthar could not readily identify, although they struck him as familiar somehow. The symbol had clearly been graven into the stone floor some time ago, for its edges showed hints of wear from patterns of (living) creatures treading across it. The outline of the figure, however, had been recently retraced with some sort of vivid red pigment.

As the Archmage entered Clara to extend his perception into the Astral planes, he could see that the retraced figure held a strong, and relatively intact arcanic weave, in marked contrast to the scattered fragments of mana that clung haphazardly to other objects he had passed in the tunnel, including the long steel track. He could also see the outline of fissures that crazed their way across the rock floor in which the ward lay embedded; these had been closed up magically, presumably by some elementalist, but Avanthar could still make out their outlines from the faint trace of the magic that had worked their mending.

The ward did not interfere with Avanthar's movement nor with that of any of the living members of his party. It also did not hinder his necromancy per se; as far as the Lord of Dar Havark could make out, its effects were limited to undead creatures themselves.

Beyond the glyph, the tunnel yawned into a chamber with a high ceiling hung with ghastly white stalactites. The floor of the chamber was uneven, sloping generally downward away from Avanthar's party. About halfway into the chamber, perhaps some forty to fifty feet, that floor seemed suddenly to plunge into the depths of a bowl-shaped pit, its bottom studded with stalagmites that mirrored the stalactites dangling above them. Indeed, "mirrored" was exactly what they did, for the abyss that seemed to yawn in the middle of the cave was none other than a reflection of the roof that soared above, flawless in the preternaturally smooth water that covered much of the cavern floor. How deep that water actually was was nearly impossible to tell at the moment, for its surface revealed only that which hovered above it, and nothing of what lay beneath.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

In a place of eternal shadow, the entire world was his to manipulate. As they moved to the last set of chains, Dra’Aran twisted the shadows to his whim the black substance rose from the earth and slowly made its course along the great chains, covering the poison with its chilling essence. Controlling the shadows, the entire web of chains held by the constraints of darkness, he moved them, forming additional headspace so that they could pass with greater ease. Indicating for the others to move first, Dra’Aran held the shadows with relative ease, coating the floor with an extra layer of cold shadow as he moved through with ease before finally letting his spell seep back.

Time seemed to flow different as they made past the last chain drop before stopping at the end of the tunnel. Sensing more than seeing the barrier that halted his spirits from further advancing, Dra’Aran dismissed them as they were sent to return to whence they came. Whilst his followers said nothing as they watched their Lord investigate the runes carefully, they found it somewhat reassuring that he was taking as many precautions as possible. Letting one gloved finger pass along its design it was… different.

The sword shaped rays, the glyphs, were certainly not Vysticchi in design or else the knight would have recognized it by now. It was an old rune that had only just been recently reactivated considering the recoloring. Altering his perceptions, the knight could clearly detect the arcanic weave running along its lines, the taste that it had been forged by an Elementalist of some power. Oddly enough it did not interfere with his movements, yet his inability to muster the dead could very well prove a problem. Still he rather moved with stealth rather than alert whatever still lurked here that an individual of some power had descended.

‘Becareful… we are not alone…’

Standing up and dusting imaginary specks of dust, their rather uneventful journey was still in its early stages. He judged that things would not prove so easy once they traveled deeper into its depths, and that his followers too would be tested. Gripping Nemesis as they traveled into a gigantic chamber with piercing stalactites, this was an oddity of ancient caves. The floor dropped down into what appeared to be a deathly still lake, its depth immeasurable as its crystal clear reflection seemed almost frozen.

‘The waters will be cold… and with our armor and weapons the trek will be difficult…’

Most likely there was something else hidden beneath its clear visage, there was certainly no doubt. Smirking at the memories of being suck beneath by some octopus creature underneath Alleria Prime, Avanthar judged there was something far bigger here. Glancing around for some possible way to cross, the lack of light meant that he could use the shadows once more to open up a possible path.

There were two ways to go about this. Avanthar closed his eyes and turned towards the waters, detecting any possible life force that could possible poise as a threat, thus opening the possibility of swimming across. Secondly he turned to the shadows and perceived them in a twilight world of shade. Was there even an exit from this place? Were the shadows hiding a possible path for them to walk along? So far there had been little hints on what lay beyond, more importantly how long their journey would take was a far more important question… yet their return to Dar Havark would be instantaneous once Dra’Aran knew the exact location of Herozzal…

OOC: Sorry about boring post… I’m very tired and drained~

[Desmodus]

There were indeed living things in the water, but they appeared to be no more than the tiniest of creatures with the tiniest of Vis. Nor were they particularly numerous, nor particularly active. They were probably simply fish, about the size of a river-trout or salmon. Detecting their auras also provided Avanthar with at least one important piece of information: the water before him was at least a few feet deep in some places.

Penetrating the layers of darkness about him with his closed eyes, the Lord of Dar Havark did indeed perceive an exit on the opposite side of the cavern - across the water- a few up from the floor in the far wall. Another suspect ramp of cobbled-together rock, like the one they had initially clambered up to enter these caverns, led up to it, and to whatever lay beyond. He also could see a route: indeed it was so obvious as to be almost suspect: the rail they had followed thus far continued into and through the cavern, disappearing into the water and re-emerging on the opposite side. The route marked by the track went along a slightly raised, relatively level ridge of stone that lay inches beneath the water's surface. It was not very wide, though, and was flanked by steep walls that waited to drop the unwary explorer into the deeper water, onto the crotch-threatening stalactites below.

The cavern about the expedition remained eerily still, as if going out of its way to contradict their leader's warning that they were not alone.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Things were not right. Born in warfare and prone to battle, the Arch knight knew that things were never as they appeared to be. There were simply too many signs that made Avanthar on edge, from the faint scent of magic, the great chains and then the rune that barred undead. Judging that these tunnels and caverns had been relatively untouched, Avanthar remembered quite clearly in some nameless tone that the depths of Telath held creatures and things long unseen, some forgotten and many dangerous.

Sinking his senses into the darkness as he perceived all that he could, the water was relatively shallow in some places, there lacked any major currents and life forces, and a clear exit lay before him upon the opposite end, the rail acting as a guide for Avanthar and his band. With a titanic reservoir of Vis, Dra’Aran’s manipulations of shadow were trivial compared to what Dra’Aran had unleashed within Zerdargia.

Manipulating the shadows once more as he infused his black taint into its dark essence, he made the inky substance trail across the rails quickly before joining them, seeking to create a safe and clear path for them to walk across. Acting slowly though, there was a chance he’d alert other things… activating perhaps some ancient magic.

Was Avanthar simply thinking too much? Perhaps… yet caution was a must in this world of darkness and danger….

[Desmodus]

An inky tendril of preternatural darkness snaked out from Avanthar's arcanic weave, intertwining itself with the ancient metal rails as it extended across the water that covered the floor of the cavern. If the process activated any ancient magic, there was no sign of it. The traces and fragments of pre-fracture arcana remained mere traces and fragments; nothing flared up to threaten Darksoul or his followers. They now had but to take the brief walk across to water to face the next phase of their journey. The way across the pool of still water was now as secure as anything could be in this place. Perhaps only the voyage that souls took across the Umblat was more secure and certain of issue.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Without word Dra’Aran moved with a warrior’s stride, an aura of confidence mingled with death radiated off his being as he led his company of dark hearts. No longer chaotic like he once was with the Lord Jorel, Avanthar was an anti-hero of sorts, a dark man with his own agendas and own goals, having shrugged himself away from many of his duties. As long as he killed to satisfy Death, then it was enough, how he would go about it was his own choice. That, and the fact that he had score to settle with certain Jorelites meant that he was a neutral play of sorts, battling against both the light and the dark.

The fact that his power and influence was far reaching meant that Dra’Aran could not be ignored for much longer. Stepping lightly upon the bridge of shadow as wisps of chilled air rose from its touch, he and the others could feel the inky cold of the shadows. For Avanthar it was a minor irritation for one whom had learnt arts within the plane of shadow itself. The others however felt the sensation to be rather alien.

An eerie silence penetrated the cavern, the water rippling slightly from their movement as they made their way across in a sedate state. With sword ready, Dra’Aran’s control upon his simple conjuration of shadow was trivial, the knight taking his first step upon the other side without even a hint of some trap. How much longer they would take to reach the depths was still unknown, yet the bothersome hindrances were irritating him. Certainly there would be long negotiations with the Houses once he was safely within Herozzal…

Thinking upon the matter, it was questionable just who was in power now among the Houses. Would Avanthar work with all the Houses? Or seek to align himself with the First House and further fortify its strength and build a strong alliance? Well… that would come later…

[Desmodus]

The hovering, almost unreal image of the cavern ceiling beneath the warlord's feet shimmered and faded as he and his party walked across the water along the safe route Avanthar's arts had secured for them. The strange little creatures living in that water did not trouble the delvers, preferring to wander about in the dark pond in pursuit of their prosaic goals of food, avoidance of danger, and procreation.

Once on the other side, Avanthar and his followers were again able to follow the mine-car track that continued into a tunnel beyond the chamber. That tunnel did not continue much further, nor did it contain any hazards for the explorers, until the very end. For the tracks stopped abruptly at the edge of a gaping, square-shaped hole about twenty feet on a side.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

One bothersome hindrance with another, yet adventuring into unknown depths were not always filled with excitement and fighting. Sensing the cold darkness envelop the shadow knight as the group traveled safely across the great lake, time passed ever so slowly. Sensing the unease of some of his followers, the silent Dark Lord was thankful that they were well trained to adjust within confines of the caves. Well trained, they were very much like the military, following strict orders when needed, yet having left enough instinct to survive and adapt to changing conditions.

Reaching till the very end, Dra’Aran was greeted by a gaping hole cut into a perfect square with each side twenty feet. Kneeling down as his blue eyes trailed across the shape and the ending rail, it was one of the men, an especially brutish man named Braxus whom pieced the silence, muttering a muffled curse that was quickly silenced by one piercing gaze by the Dracolord.

‘This is not a natural thing…’ remarked another, a sly looking man that glanced warily at all sides, somewhat uneasy at the things they had seen. It was obvious that these caverns had not been disturbed by Vysticchi presence… the lingering magic and the odd sightings here and there was ample proof.

Without saying further Avanthar entered clara and shifted his senses as if it was his second nature. Saying nothing as he twisted the shadows before him, extending his senses as if they were a part, Dra’Aran gauged the depth of the hole… and whether or not further passage was to either go down or ahead…