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Post by Vanitypirate on Dec 22, 2017 10:03:54 GMT -8
Garden:
The walls of the shute-like tunnel rushed by as Libourg flew down, and his angry shouts would echo disorientingly about his head, bouncing off the tunnel walls.
Faster, faster, until the crusader hit open air, the ground giving way under him.
He would soar through the air of a chamber too wide to see its dimensions in the dark, before landing in a soft, squishy, pinkish mass of mush. It smelled foul, but it seemed to cushion him well enough; he would find himself waist-deep in the pink mass.
Pleasantly, blooms of flowers grew off of its surface; they smelled sweet.
Tunnel:
Iver, Sicherlein, and Nasuada would find the tunnel precariously steep and slick as they traversed downwards. The long grooves were caked with ash that gave way underfoot, and the smoke made it impossible to see more than a meter or so forward-- and to breathe. It would almost feel choking to the group.
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Post by relentless on Dec 22, 2017 10:19:19 GMT -8
Whirling, winding, clambering and clattering would Libourg rattle down the Tunnel with utter horror. His ears rang and mind set ablaze with his own cracking voice, the lethal intensity of his booming soldier voice making his hearing somewhat numb.
As his metallic plated armour collided with the sludge, Libourg panicked and hunched forward as he fell. If it weren't for the vast amount of sludge breaking his fall, he might've gotten some under his sling, or in his helmet. He violently recoiled from the sludge, a panicked whimper of fear being brought out as he struggled to regain his senses. His mace would be brought up, and would splatter into the sludge as if he encountered an enemy, so to speak. An untidy patch of sludge impacted against his chestplate after he brought his mace down on the substance, its abhorrent smell released as he struck the surface and breaking the veil.
"B-Bastards!"
Libourg gawked as he retched behind his helmet, a dry heave, though it lasted shortly as his eyes focused on the room in front of him. Pink sludge with deciphering flowers.
"Great. Fuckers put me in a shithole 'paradise'."
Libourg seethed under his breath as he cautiously rotated, flanged mace raised and ready for striking anything that would dare come near him, pink goop dripping off several of the flanges, unblinking eyes darting across the room, along with a very tense grip shown on his mace as portrayed by the stiffness of his wrist.
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Post by Unter on Dec 22, 2017 11:52:52 GMT -8
Iver stopped smiling. As reality kicked in, the joke seemed puny now.
"Wait here ? I wouldn't want to stay alone in this shithole, and being pushed in this hell by someone I thought my friend should be... shocking. I'll join him, and try to calm him. Try not to taunt him too much, we don't need to pecker ourselves like squirrels while we wander in those shit tunnels."
On these wises saying, he threaded carefully to find Libourg. He dare not to shout, but he still talked loudly. After all, if Libourg's fall didn't rouse every blighter in the corner of town, a loud voice won't.
"Hoi, Libourg ! You're all right ? Do you see any danger?3
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Dec 22, 2017 12:29:23 GMT -8
/Sicherlein/
"Less bodies, less draw, dear Dwarf." She intoned her advice, as she slid down the ashy decline and more rose into a light step on and out into the muck of these blackish bowels. She eyed the flowers warily, and slowed; making a pointed effort to avoid them, as she saw their pinkish hue, the sweet scent... Like rot, she could only imagine.
She'd seen, smelled, similar flowers before... unfortunately, she couldn't remember if they were toxic. Part of her figured that, if they were, she would probably know a lot more about them.
Sicherlein rose her gaze to Iver, then spied out Libourg, making her way towards him.
"Hallo dear Ritter!" She declared, none too loudly, a rasped whisper as she warily reaffirmed the hankerchief about her mouth;
"Are you OK?" She asked, redundantly, with a touch more jubilancy than one might intend.
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Dec 22, 2017 13:11:50 GMT -8
Nasuada didn't bother to reply, she was more focused ahead of her, trying hard to keep herself focused and breathing despite the choking atmosphere. Iver landed ahead of her and Sicherlien was already walking and talking if what she heard was anything to go by. The moment Nasuada saw there was no more tunnel however, she let herself release the magic and the spell that would follow.
A tentacle, shadowy in appearance but surprisingly quite stable given current conditions rose up and grabbed Nasuada as she entered the tunnel. It was not forceful as it did so, and was gentle despite what one would believe would come from a giant tentacle. It would slowly disappear back into the ground, which would calmly lower Nasuada to the floor because of it. The limb, like a shadow, disappeared fully and Nasuada, having summoned it in the first place merely looked around the room as the torches illuminated the area slowly but surely.
It had been a while since she used a tentacle in that fashion and gave herself a small pat on the back for still having the hang of it. She breathed better now that they were in an open room, only letting out a small cough to announce herself that she had made it down to the others, and to clear her throat of smoke and ash that had inevitably seeped in.
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Post by relentless on Dec 22, 2017 15:50:53 GMT -8
Libourg would appear to rotate constantly as if he were a robot, his legs moving in a constant 360 pivot as she analysed the room. Though he would stop completely, back flexing and neck rotating to relax his neck as he heard the collective announcement of his group behind him.
'Are you alright?' 'Are you ok?'
Rather sarcastically would he turn on foot, and stare at them blankly for a moment, before he rose his hand to make a hand gesture, hesitating from confusion before he displayed open palm that remained close to his chest, shaking it from left to right as he shook his head from left to right.
"D-do I look alright?"
Libourg stuttered deliberately, looking around in the shithole he was in, before glaring at Sicherlein with potent venom.
"Oh no I'm absolutely FINE. I haven't been this-fucking-fine in fucking-years! You know I'm fairly certain this is what I fucking well needed in my life.-"
He gave a pause in his sarcastic rant as he looked toward the group, very bitterly as his mace dropped to his side with a sudden clench upon the grip.
"To be left wondering who I should trust more? The pigs? Or the pigs?"
Libourg snapped, passing his glare around each and every one of them, though he fixated on Sicherlein last.
"Oh go on, please make another cocksure remark whilst we're stood here IN THE SEWERS, covered in whatev-whatever shit this is!"
Libourg growled as brought his hand to backhand the pink sludge in his stressed tantrum, sighing violently as he looked around yet again, mace raised as if expecting the entire pigman horde to come gallivanting around.
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Post by rumsztyk on Dec 22, 2017 17:34:03 GMT -8
Ibrahim exit the downwards tunnel last. Immediately upon landing, he took out his precious trinket - the skull with a candle on top. With a swift hand motion, he sparked a flame atop said candle.
If he saw Nasuada casually use her powers for descent, he did not comment on that. Silently, he let the knight unleash his justified rage. In the flickering candlelight he was like a statue, staring down Sicherlein in silent judgement.
Once he found a gap in Libourg's outburst, he cleared his throat audibly and asked a singular, calm question.
"Are you injured?"
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Post by Vanitypirate on Dec 22, 2017 17:41:43 GMT -8
Garden:
The floor was completely saturated in the pink goop, spanning as far as the torch light could reach. Those with a less violent ending to their descent down the tunnel would find that their boots only sunk into the paste, but Libourg was, literally, waist-deep in the sludge.
The air smelled horrifying, like rotting meat; from the white specks of bone and strands of hair that dotted the landscape, one could deduce that this pink paste, in fact, was some mash of flesh all piled into one meaty carpet.
But the red roses sprouting out from the meat-floor smelled alluringly sweet.
The group may find that they were presently, and gradually, sinking into the floor. This simple fact might be more alarming for Libourg, who was already quite deep in the matter.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Dec 22, 2017 18:40:23 GMT -8
/Sicherlein/
Her brow furrowed, and her lips formed a tight line that was all utterly imperceivable behind both mask and plate, though the severity of both shown through in her stricter tone.
She stepped slower, feeling the ginger sucking upon her boots, and eyed the roses;
"Don't hit the flowers, dummkopf!" She warned, flourishing her blade into her belt loosely, out of its sheath so she might draw it once she got Libourg up and out.
"And stop squirming... Take my hand, here." She pressed, crouching and holding her hand out, jerking her head over her shoulder to implore him to follow.
"I'm sorry, mein Kamerade... Once we get out of here, I will make it up to you." she assured sweetly, taking some more measured steps towards him.
Sicherlein crouched lower and planted the torch into the gunk, and prepared to pull Libourg out with both hands.
"Move slowly, try and... And try not to fight the sucking. Easy, soft motions, ja?"
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Post by relentless on Dec 22, 2017 19:02:17 GMT -8
"Ah yes, make it up to me by throwing me into a pit full of bone walkers next time."
Libourg drawled on sarcastically as he reluctantly complied, planting his mace beside her torch like a flag, before reaching up with his hand toward hers and gripping it tight enough so he had a firm grip to hopefully pull himself out.
"All a bunch of bullshit this is..."
Libourg spat bitterly, as he nodded quick toward Sicherlein to signal he was ready to be pulled out, trying to keep somewhat still as he held on.
"Well Ibrahim! My arm is in a sling and I'm stuck halfway in this disgusting pink shit. I'm grand!"
Libourg snarled on with venomous sarcasm dripping from his lips like a waterfall, grunting on occasion as he tried to keep his body somewhat stable in the sinking pink stuff.
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Dec 22, 2017 20:18:37 GMT -8
Nasuada stared down into the sludge, noting how slowly she was sinking, and looked around at the flowers. It seemed a common trap, fill an area or room with a liquid or something one can easily sink through, then lay little traps like those in plants with sweet aroma's to catch bugs. Clever given one of the only entrances is a steep tunnel to make one be like Libourg and be sunk deep.
But the flowers sprouting up....it reminded her of something specific but she could remember what it was, the only thing she did remember was not to keep touching them. The thought persisted in her head and all it did was make her more worried the longer they stayed. She started moving, but only in place, making sure not to be sucked too deeply into the liquid. Meanwhile she would try to find a different exit, something high up like the tunnel, only way cultist's could've gotten in without stepping in the sludge.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Dec 22, 2017 21:32:31 GMT -8
/Sicherlein/
With a huff and grunt, and abit of tactile leverage; she managed to ease Libourg out of the pinkish sludge that she gladly imagined to be some sort of off-hued bog, instead of any... Gore.
Though the occasional hint of something more than slop would sometimes send her stomach into a whirl.
What utter madness caused this? Questions echoed in her head as she heard the last pop of Libourg's leg slip free of the gore.
"I-I'm sorry, but... eh... I think we would be better blessed if we were in bullshit right now, no?" She chuckled nervously, as she let go of Libourg and patted the man's chest with a content nod.
"It was a joke, but... I'm sure you would have led a valiant charge to the same end, don't you think?" She hummed and looked about, then down to the flowers.
"Eh... Here--" Sicherlein plucked up the blossomed torch and held it up to Libourg, stooping to lightly tug at the flowers embedded in the sludge.
"--Take ze torch, I'm going to try and... identify these blooms."
\\
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Post by Unter on Dec 23, 2017 2:20:52 GMT -8
Iver looked at the sludge, and the weird flowers coming out of it. He didn't wonder what the pink stuff was, he didn't want to vomit. In fact, the more he avoided looking at it, the better he felt. Instead, he studied his surrounding. Libourg rambling did start to get annoying, but it was understandable.
"I'm pretty sure with all that heavy armor and strong arms, you would have fallen in this pile of shit anyway. Now, where the fuck are we ? Is this the Warrens the woman back there was talking about ? It's bloody disgusting."
He just noticed that he was sinking in the pink stuff. Panic was starting to emerge, he was tinier than the other.
"Bloody hell ! Do you see where we can put our faen feets ? That's wonderful, I don't want to die this way."
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Post by relentless on Dec 23, 2017 9:46:32 GMT -8
Libourg spat her replies to the side as he crawled himself out, groaning out of displeasure as he shook his head as licks of that awful smell lingered through his visor. Eventually he would straighten up, spreading his weight across the pink mass so he wouldn't sink as fast, though he was still sinking marginally quicker than the others. Libourgs head turned toward Iver, a rough, impatient exhale of air passing out of his nose as he looked at the man with a flat look.
"Yes... I assume it is. Looks like it anyway, where would of those Carrion worms come from anyway?"
Libourg drawled on rhetorically as he took a good, and proper look around the area, turning his head around before Sicherlein requested him to pick up the torch. He looked between the torch, and his mace, and he paused for a moment before reaching down and plucking his mace from the pink mass, and moving away from Sicherlein.
"Hands are full."
Libourg announced to the group, looking toward Iver and Nasuada as he moved toward the wall, and once he reached it, he leaned against it with his shoulder.
"If this is the warrens, there's bound to be a tunnel of piss and shit. Perhaps someone... lighter, should take a look around?"
Libourg suggested, helm looking down toward Iver, looking down at him with a flat, bored gaze, his mace flicking toward the torch.
"Wonder who could even handle such a luxurious honor."
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Post by Unter on Dec 23, 2017 10:46:07 GMT -8
Iver was more than happy to get out of this sludge.
"Fine, I'll do it. Help me." He put his arm up, waiting for Libourg to pick him up like a child.
But then he reconsidered, Libourg was covered to the waist in the pink shit, and he shrugged off almost immediatly.
"Wait, I've a better idea." He waded out of the "pond" and started climbing out of this shithole.
He needed to find a better way, and avoid losing his head for this objective.
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