Hunting Party | Arnulf, Florence, Adeney, and more

[Vanitypirate]

Hunting Party | Arnulf, Florence; Celeste; Alphonse, Adeney; Ariana

The tunnel was precariously steep, and a great mental effort must have gone into keeping oneself from slipping.
At least, for Florence: she found it more difficult than any other study she had pursued.

Usually, studies tended not to be quite so life-threatening. At least, not until they got interesting.

Finally, her bootheel found solid ground, which she was grateful for, and she shifted out of the way for Arnulf to descend safely, as well.

--
Tunnel:
If Arnulf found his way down, there would not be much to see beyond the small circle of light the torch offered. A soft red moss sprawled all across the stone-tile floor, but the wall seemed to be made of raw stone rather than any deliberate masonry.
There were glints of something shiny just beyond the torch's light, but it was difficult to see

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Arnulf/

He sneered and bit his tongue as he kept at his descent; the vile aroma and stonework was starting to get the better of him, and he pulled his pauldron about his nose, casting an envious glance to the Doctor behind him.
"Smells like putrid meat..." He sighed, huffing and squaring his shoulders as he found the descent easy enough to make.

"... Lucky cunt." He grumbled; years of wandering the hillsides and in hunts ranging from long winded hikes to bursts of a sprint, often times a dosage of both, had this descent coming to a close quicker than he'd expected, all things considered.
"Get a dirk or such out, Birdface; c'n smell a fight." He nodded, his own fingers flexing about the grip of the torch, while his other hand moved and held the bollock dagger at his chest.

He kept his eyes peeled for any indications of the hunted girl; hand prints or tufts of hair. It might slow his descent, as he made sure not to let any inch of the tunnel go spared from the torch's light as he proceeded.
\\

[Vanitypirate]

Arnulf:
He might detect a human scent, depending on how keen his sense of smell was-- it was noticeably different from Florence's more acrid odor.
The tunnel unfortunately lacked any streaks or prints, save for some grooves where the rock was carved out.

Florence:
"What does a fight smell like?" Asked Florence curiously, taking a deep breath vainly from the air of her mask.
She smelled nothing, but trusted Arnulf's input, and located a dagger from inside her satchel

Tunnel:
The bits of metal continued to glint in the torchlight, but none lunged out at the party. They were perfectly still.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Arnulf/

"Mmm, salty... damp. Sweat and blood rushing, a sort of... sulphur'y undertone, yeah? Steel too." He grumbled, turning the torch about as he set his attentions to the pieces of metal.

Taking a breath after the pieces of metal seemed to remain un-swooping, he looked down to the moss and hummed; he took a knee and brought the torch low, before inhaling quickly again, and switching the Torch to his other hand; raising it high and away from the moss as he dipped his now free hand down into the moss to try and pull a pinch of it away.

"Y'got any glowy stones? Or shiney bits? I wanna mark our way back."
\\

[Vanitypirate]

Moss:
It had an almost web-like consistency, and as one part was pulled away, it tugged against all other viney strands that connected to it.
The moss had an odor like wine, though it might be more difficult to detect with the overwhelming musk of the Warrens.

Florence:
"I see shiney bits... hm... there."
Florence pointed at the metal that glinted, which now, in the full breadth of the torchlight, was revealed to be a great many of sharps. Swords, knives, shards of glass, and all manner of cutlery in between, in varying degrees of wear and tear, were lodged into small hills of fetid meat and grime.

"And there, and there, and over there."
She wheeled around on her feet, indicating the various shinies all around the room. She paid little attention to the archway that was apparent just two or three yards beyond.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Arnulf/

"Lovely; you got them?" He asked as he took a few sniffs closer to the moss, only just grasping its odour before humming and taking a few licks at the piece and standing up.
He marched on past Florence to inspect the sharp objects plunged into spongey flesh; trying to discern how aged both were with some hesitation.

"I know there's shiney bits in the fucking room; I said I wanted markers..." He spoke softly, though with a grumbling intensity,
"... If you don't got any, just bloody say it. Answer my questions straight, and this will all go smoothly, alright?"

\\

[Vanitypirate]

Moss:
The moss, either due to being on the floor of a filthy dungeon, or its inherent taste, tasted offensively foul.
Licking it would feel regrettable.


Florence:
"One might use these as markers." Florence explained, collecting the sharps in her gloved hands as pleasantly as though she were picking flowers.
Behind her floral-scented mask and thick, doctorly garb, Florence's world was quite comfortable.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Arnulf/

"Mmm, no fuckin shit beakface..." He muttered with a sigh as he glanced over to Florence and then stared at the meat pile,
"... Meat's old, maybe four dawns? No maggots though... Flies... Mmm. Close cellar, makes sense I guess." He thought openly, stroking his jaw before standing up and looking back to Florence incredulously.

"The fuck're you doin..." Arnulf sighed, watching her collect bits and pieces with a shaking head,
"... Just make a marker, try not to hurt yourself." He scoffed and looked to the dark maw of the archway which marked the exit of the room. There was no denying the fear rising in his throat, but he growled and swallowed it down like a tough bit of jerky and stepped forward. A veritable palette of slurrs cursing the Dark as he stepped close to the archway and inspected it, and the stones around it for traps.

"You got some'n to keep your eyes lit, Beakface?"

\\

[Vanitypirate]

Tunnel Chamber:
Florence 'hmm'ed and bent to arrange the sharps on the ground, again, embedding them into the moss. She lay them flat on the ground, as though to leave a trail of metal behind them as they explored.
"Why would I alight my eyes?" The doctor's brow knitted in extreme concern.

"I do not have anything that would create light from my eyes safely. I do not recommend it."

Archway:
It was completely smooth. The stone tiles were cut evenly, but between the tiles grime caked on.
Arnulf would find it bereft of any traps, as well as the ground in the immediate circle of light, which shone off the walls of yet another tunnel, although this one was of (presumably) a more manmade construction.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Arnulf/

He hummed, again, with his present discovery,
"Ahh, well... meant like; something to light your eyes..? Fuck, no... Light up what you see." For a moment, a weakness came into his tone as he struggled to find words before he swallowed hard and trudged onwards into the tunnel, torch with him.

"I meant a torch. Come on, we don't have much time to waste if that room is owned by her kidnappers." He gruffed and started down the more immediate tunnel..

\\

[Vanitypirate]

"I do not have a torch." Florence answered simply, still pleasantly impressing the metal sharps into the ground. Though, when she looked over her shoulder and saw Arnulf departing, she scurried after him, periodically dropping metal along the way like breadcrumbs.

"We should not be in this dungeon for very long. She shall perish if we are not swift."

Hall:
There would be an odd mix of scents down the long hallway, which descended down at a mild slope and twisted and turned. He might detect traces of an acrid odor, like medicine, and another that smelled simply of dirt, blood, and human sweat. A third, fainter, like flowers. All were almost overpowered by the severe stench of the Warrens.

The walls would narrow troublingly, threatening to brush up against the party's shoulders as they continued on.

After some time of walking, the party would come to a fork in the Hall. To the left departed the acrid and sweat-stench, and to the right went the floral scent.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Arnulf/

"Aye, and if we're not careful we'll perish in this pit." He pointed out as he wagged the torch left and right; to emphasize his point and partially to scan the walls as they closed for hairs or markings.

His proceeding would be slow but cautious, his eyes and ears and nose all taking in the almost cringing scents. Admittedly, his nose had forgotten the smell of bowels and guts, though the memories of shoddy gutting came back clear enough and he steeled his stomach as he had before. Though a vicious sneer pulled his features up like a hound.

"Try'n stay quiet too, eh?" He requested, for once, in a hushed but still gruff tone as he twitched his head to one side,
"Sound travels far underground..."

[Vanitypirate]

Tunnel Chamber:
Aside from the two, forking scents, there was not much else the tunnel had to offer.

Florence:
Florence squinted in utmost concentration, even though she was just managing the simple task of keeping up with Arnulf.
"I shall be quiet."
Her tone was only a smidge quieter than normal. Thankfully, the good Crowgazer was not a terribly loud person as it were.

---
Hook Room:
The hall was almost infinitely large, so it seemed in the comparatively miniscule torchlight that encircled the group: Adeney and Alphonse.
It was a rough journey onwards, with both bearing wounds betraying their struggle.

The firelight shined off hooks that hung above like stars. Distant, but vaguely visible. Off some dangled some sort of organic matter, meat, but in the dark it was difficult to see.

Alphonse:
He was tending gingerly to a wound that had since been bandaged, with the gauze stretched out across his belly.
The bleeding had slowed, but the wound was still fiery; it burned.

His eyes were large as he stared up in horror at the ceiling.

"Dios mio..." He let a hand rest on the hilt of his sword as he looked to Adeney. "Do you have another torch, senor? It's... difficult to see."
The growing shadows did little for his morale.

---
:
The room was dark, and the surroundings were damp. It was pitchblack, but what immediately could be felt was rubble, soft tissue, and something moist.

Celeste:
She would awaken to a collection of stinging wounds and a sensation she, as a nurse, would recognize as a fever.
Something weighed upon her, but she would find it light, and easy to push over. The object was soft and wet.

[Outisakanobody]

Celeste laid on the ground, staring up into the dark nothing above her. She felt little motivation to get up or do much of anything. She was feeling very hopeless, being trapped in this horrible place. Why should she struggle, to what end would she do that. Why...why...why...What would be the point.

[Bloodtrailkiller]

/Arnulf/
"Thank you." He more mumbled than anything as he growled and looked down either path before him. He ran his tongue over his teeth before he sneezed quietly into his hand.

With a groan, he stood up and pointed down the path which smelled of flowers and shrugged;
"This way." He explained with a cocked shrug, starting down it at a hasty pace.

"... I didn't know you'd be having me trek through these fucking shit-tubes--" He looked behind him, to Florence with a grin behind the kerchief. It was almost comradic as he offered a small chuckle and shrug of the brows.
"-- That costs extra." He shook his head and looked on down the path.

He held his bow close to himself with the back of his elbow to stop it from tapping against the wall, while he unsheathed and held the bollock dagger at his chest.
\\