It was quiet now. Overcast skies dimmed the verdant greenery of the forests of Brisshal, colors desaturated due to the gray lighting. It had only stopped raining an hour ago, and raindrops still clung to the million pine needles within the forest. The slightest shake caused a cataclysmic chain event, one drop sliding off and colliding with many others, until the arboreal shelter shook off the rain that it originally held in. The dampness in the air held an earthy scent, and slowly, as minutes stretched into hours, the forest critters resumed their regular duties, foraging and stalking. Rain was nothing but a small distraction, after all. Though the chill was a deterrent to leaving their dens and nest, life went on, and food didn’t fall from the heavens. With the flora sated once more, the fauna emerged, basic instincts driving them towards old trails. There was one within that dense, damp forest that did not follow any trail though. Shedding the leather rain cloak, Cain Darlite let out a sigh, a helpless smile on his face. Fortune never was with him when it came to the weather, after all, and though he had originally relished the idea of dancing in the rain, now the experience was a little bit too common. A hand pulled the wet strands out of his face, while dark eyes scanned his surroundings. Part of him realized that maybe he was lost, but another part of him was certain that it didn’t matter whether or not he was lost. He was, after all, chasing a rumor of bones with strange inscriptions within it. It may not be a smart idea to do this alone, but it wasn’t like this was a proper adventure yet. Surrechis’s hearsay was formed of the words of others, with no substantial proof, and though this was somewhat fun by itself…Cain also doubted that most others would find mucking around in a forest as entertaining. Of course, not many others were aware of the other rumors that circulated around the forest of Brisshal. The gold dust rumor had died out by now, and the kobolds that were reported have been summarily dealt with, but with the bones, and with that Faerin performer’s own thoughts on the matter…well, the tall adventurer was definitely going to take a look at that, wasn’t he? A malignant evil that orchestrated the attack and the gold rush. An ancient spirit that reduced beings of flesh to mere bones. A dark cult carving cryptic symbols on the bones of their sacrifices, praying for the manifestations of their cruel indulgences. Another excited shiver arced up Cain’s spine, and he pressed on. “Bones bones bones~” A soft, musical chanting left his lips as he stomped through the shrubbery, the canopy overhead growing thicker and thicker. The ambience had dimmed, and the silence, warded off only by that continuous chant, pressed down on him oppressively. A haunting atmosphere now, as he neared the area of the caves that he wanted to explore. Before, Cain and his party didn’t have a chance to truly go delving into the depths of cave system found within Brisshal, but now, he wasn’t burdened by the duties of the quest. Now, he could dive fully, and explore what he had ignored. “Alright,” Cain said, slapping himself on both cheeks, “Let’s go.”
Ya know, it was moments like this that made Nikolai wish that he had made Zirn a hydromancer instead of a naturomancer. The man walked through the forest of Brisshal, the same place that he had met up with his friend just a few days before. This place had been so peaceful and pleasant then, and now? Now absolutely everything was soaked with rain water. This would have been bad enough were it not for the fact that he was wearing nowhere near enough to make up for the weather. "Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha" An almost dramatic pause "HACHOO!" The sound echoed through the trees, causing a few of the smaller creatures to scurry away from the loud, dramatic sound that they didn't understand. Zirn idly wiped at his nose with a handkerchief that he had picked up in the last town. He could have spent this money on a shirt, he realized but no, he had thought that the cloak was enough. As he sneezed aggressively for the second time in as many minutes, he began to regret that he hadn't simply thought of wiping his nose on his sleeve and getting something warm to wrap himself up in. Maybe he should just move back to the town and log off until the "Common Cold" debuff ran itself out in a day or so. It certainly wouldn't be a bad idea, if he got some more hours in at work he could probably start saving up for a car. It was getting to be annoying taking the bus everywhere. But instead of doing the logical thing and logging off, he carried on through the cold and the rain and the mud that was oozing up through his sandals and turning his toes a very nasty shade of black. He carried on, even as he cringed at the sudden awareness that he could feel the mud underneath his toenails. Or, his avatar's toenails which were at this moment his toenails... It was a weird metaphysical thing to think about, and so he actively chose not to. Embarrassingly enough, the rain actually meant that today was one of the better days to do this. Being a new player and all, Zirn was completely lacking in any sort of decent equipment that would allow him to stand out on his own. He wasn't able to use magic tools currently, not until he unlocked his fourth specialization, but that didn't mean he couldn't set up the rest of his equipment. He had heard as of late that there was an entire colony of Kobolds that had been wiped out. If this was obeying typical MMO rules, then that probably meant that there was an entire treasure-trove of base-level equipment that more experienced players would pass over but that would be a god-send for someone who was trying to establish himself. Sure, it was technically grave-robbing, and it was possible that he wasn't the only one who had had this idea, but.... Shut up. Finally arriving at the front of the cave, Zirn peered into the darkness before him. There was nobody else around, right? This was embarrassing enough to have to do without having to get caught grave-robbing, he didn't want to get any unnecessary flack for doing what he needed to do to survive without getting himself into a tonne of debt. Not seeing anyone, he struck a torch he kept in his backpack, illuminating a small area of light. Time to go investigating, he supposed. "HACHOO!"
Drip drop tick tock. Whether due to the weather or simply the geology of the place, water drops fell from the low ceiling of the cave in one second increments, telling time for those that listened. Thick cobwebs and dried, fleshless husks were all that remained of the giant spiders that once roamed near the entrance of this eerie place. They had left sometime after that Kobold cult had been slain, perhaps due to the lack of easy prey, and now, it was simply a chore, slogging through this mess of webs. Unwilling to dirty his flag by swiping those things away, Cain had taken to carefully searing the gossamer obstructions with his arcane spells instead. A small, pulsating orb remained on his hand at all times, the arcane ball eradicating grime and cobwebs like a super-powered Magic Eraser, while that curious ‘bones bones bones’ chant continued to slip out of his mouth. With an ethereal light as his only guide, the Muse continued on, his song echoing ominously through the abandoned tunnel. The chill down below was greater than it was above. Shrugging on his damp cloak once more, Cain trudged forwards, steadfast in his path. His free hand remained on his temple the entire time, while his dark eyes shone with a violet light. Investigation Mode. One of the options he learned to appreciate when they were hunting for that Player Killer. Details emerged from the darkness, that artificial UI breaking the immersion of travelling alone down a pitch black tunnel, but serving to fill in the gaps where his senses couldn’t. Coal. 5.257 inches in width. 2.956 inches in length. Husk. Faerin adult. 4’8 ft in height. 19 days and 5 hours old. Kobold Pickaxe. Broken shaft. Scrap iron construction. Poor. No bones at all. Did the Kobolds honestly only start preparing for the ritual after the Gold Rush was finished? Cain’s eyes narrowed. There was something else, maybe, within this abyssal blackness. Dark secrets overlooked in the jubilation of a victorious encounter. Horrid deeds unspoken once the last beastman was slain. Or perhaps there was nothing at all, and he really was just chasing the ghost of a rumor? With a sigh, the cloaking individual pressed his back against a wall, using that arcane orb to light up a burnt out sconce. Though it wasn’t a flame, the arcane energy gave off an intense enough heat on its own to light up the torch once more. A warmer flame now burned in the darkness, and Cain dispersed his own magical light. Before he could remove it and continue on with his journey, however, a strange cry echoed through the halls, reverberating from all walls. Immediately, he turned, but at such a distance, torchlight was insufficient for elucidating the identity of what lurked behind him. But it didn’t matter. He was alone, perhaps, but Cain was no gentle soul, no weakling that’d shrink and hide in the face of danger. He had hunted down serial killers and slain building-sized trolls before! “WHO GOES THERE?!” The muse roared, his voice pitched as deep as possible to maximize the echolocation effect within the cave system. “NAME YOURSELF, TRESPASSER!” Arcane veins flowed through his body, energy swelling in this virtual, yet too realistic, form. Now, would he greet them with a song or a shot?”
The inside of the cave was dark and damp. The illumination of the torchlight gave some salvation from the cold and the wet, warming Zirn's bones more than he would like to admit, but even so he was able to see how miserable this place would have been to live in were it not for that little scrap of light that he was clinging to like a rock in a storm. The very cieling seemed to drip with water, although whether it was because it was sinking through the ground and emptying out the other end or whether it was because there was something wrong with the geology of this place, he didn't know. Truthfully, it mattered little. Being far nearer the entrance to the cave than the other male, he had yet to experience the more disgusting parts of the cave system. There was a bit of clutter around here, worthless items that not only gave him nothing but couldn't even be sold for anything in the local townships. There were no signs of giant beasts out here, the most signs of life coming from the now long-dead Kobolds. He was a little disappointed at first, but he knew that if he just kept going further and further in, he was inevitably going to find something. Or, at the very least, proof that someone else had already cleared out the system and that this was ultimately futile. Whichever one he got, it would tell him what his next step should be: either looting the place or going home respectively. However, that was when a voice came out of the darkness, echoing off of the cave walls and reverberating in a rather unpleasant way. "Who goes there! Name yourself, tresspasser." The voice was either that of an NPC, or it was a fellow player who seemed a little too into the roleplay of it all. Not that that was a problem, particularly. He too liked to play around with such things, but there was a time and a place for all this, ya know? This guy seemed like the polar opposite of that gangly blonde guy he had met the other day, someone who was able to extricate himself from the particulars of playing the part and someone who might as well be a stage actor. Heading silently towards the source of the voice, flickering torchlight the main sign that there was something coming down the corridor since he wasn't going to expose himself until he knew what he was doing with, he finally turned around the corner and looked at the other man face-to-face. The moment that he saw him, Zirn pulled up his menu. This was some PC guy, a man who was far more eccentric and over the top than he was. Zirn stood before him, wearing a blue fir-rimmed cloak and some basic cloth equipment, but the other guy was wearing.... Wait, was that a fedora? Putting a hand up in the universal sign of surrender, not particularly wanting to get into some PvP right now, especially not with his underleveled character, he gave the other boy what he wanted. "Calm yourself, Aaron Burr. Don't go shooting your load prematurely." His voice was sarcastic and a dry attempt at wit as he stood before him, allowing him to evaluate his character sheet the same way he had the other man. "I'm Zirnistra Al-Sirrush, a player just like you, albeit a newbie comparatively. I just heard that someone killed the Mobs that should have guarded the loot in this area and hadn't been back to explore its depths yet. Considering the whole, ya know, newbie thing I thought I could find myself something that wasn't... well, this." He said, gesturing at the rest of his current equipment. Not a single magical item or real piece of armour, nothing but starter goods. "Which is the same reason, I'm gonna guess, why you're here. And why you're still wearing that." The hand that was held up in surrender pointed to the man's hat. "I mean, all props to ya for the cosplay, but this is fantasy, not the Wild West. What'cha going around looking like the Sundance Kid for if it ain't starter stuff?"
With the cave system as wet as it was, even the most careful steps couldn’t prevent a small bit of sound escaping, soles against puddles causing splashes and ripples. With that attempt at stealth alone, Cain prepared his own spells, ready to vaporize the stealthy individual the moment they popped up. What was it? A monster? A player killer? Or perhaps a cultist? Wild ideas popped up in his head, but ultimately, reality was far less interesting. Instead of any of those things popping up, there was a blue-haired fur-wearer instead, themed in a Celtic fashion. With red eyes and an angular face, such a wild design could really only be expected out of another player, especially after making such telling motions to bring up the UI Menu. With no symbol showing that he was a Player Killer from the Convicted Saviors, and an eloquence that ruined, rather than bolstered one’s immersion within Terrasphere, Cain found no reason to banish him into the shadow realm. The rainbow light emanating from his palm dispersed, and he laughed. “Apologies for my brutish announcement,” the midnight-haired man said, “But I thought you were a ratman or some other foul fiend lurking within the darkness, what with your subterfuge through the caves. Clearly you are nothing as foul as that, however, merely an opportunist who saw a chance and yet was not aware of the darker rumors that have circulated within the forest and these caves.” Continuing on with his own grandiose roleplaying despite the cynical exasperation of this Zirnistra Al-Sirrush, a curious name that was most likely going to be incorrectly pronounced in the future, Cain removed his hat and bowed. “Allow me to introduce myself, Man of Blue. I am Cain Darlite, Flagbeaerer of Miracles, Slayer of the Adecus Troll, Double-Blessed of Idna and Iedi, and, in this particular case, the one who had participated in the purging of the devil-dogs that inhabited this area. Though my clothing may be unfit for combat, does it not make sense, for a wandering muse to wear clothing befitting of his appearance? The clothes make the man, and while a warrior may dress in crude steel and a mage may dress in bathrobes, a Muse requires a more…expressive dress code.” A pause. It was a bit fun, but it was also a bit excessive now. Cain’s smile became a little gentler, as he mentally took a step back. “If it’s the glint of gold that you’re searching for, Magi Zirnistra Al-Sirroosh, however, I regret to inform you that these tunnels hold no such thing. It is not for gold, after all, that one plunges into the depths of the netherworld.” The dripping of water stopped, an uncomforting silence filling the space between the two. There was no longer a timepiece now, only the light of a flame that wavered.
