Legend of Ransera

---

₪ As all things with Siorey, it began with an enticement of knowledge,

Posters were put up all across the Tower of Lore, calling for individuals willing to delve into the Warrens to acquire new knowledge on a rare material. Whether it was in response to these posters or for another reason mages ranging from red, black, and the white order found themselves at the forward campsite near the entrance to the Warrens.

There standing among other professors was a woman many recognized, she was a professor and impressive summoner herself. Vercathia Mervelt, a woman of poise and remarkable brilliance in the fields of Summoning, Kinetics, and Runeforging. It was midday by the time that she came to speak to them. She held the appearance young woman with a stoic expression that insinuated that anyone who fell under her gaze was beneath her.

"Your attention please!" she called to everyone, grabbing the mages that gathered attention immediately with her commanding tone. "It's time you were briefed on the situation, as I am aware the posters were vague with details. You all came here with the notion of making your mark in the magical world and putting your face at the forefront of those who are watching within the Tower. Be you of the white, red, or black order, you all came with one common goal in mind. That goal is the discovery of new knowledge."

Her eyes began to scan the crowd as she descended upon them, continuing in her explanation. "Today you will embark on a journey that will test you as a mage and person, and you will have to use all you have learned up till now to achieve your goal. That goal is to find Deamithium and anything that is related to the rare stone." she concluded coming to the edge of the forward camp. The group erupted in whispers and murmurs as she soaked in the surprise and excitement.

After she allowed them to stew in those emotions she continued on, pointing out into the vast underbelly of the Warrens. "Somewhere within here is a place that houses these rare and interesting stones. According to an old text, Deamithium sleeps where spirits & demons come to play. That is the only clue we have at our disposal, it is up to your best judgment to figure out what it means and discover the truth." Turning she held a polite smile on her face, but the look in her eyes were that of someone who was gauging those she looked at.

"Ask yourself this, how are dragonshards formed, where do they come from?" she added as she moved back to the podium she began at. "You all will be split into pairs of two and set off in different directions. You have four days to acquire your findings, after which members of the Dead Legion will come and retrieve you. The first pair to return with something concrete and noteworthy will be rewarded for their efforts."

With those last few sentences, Vercathia and the professors with her began assigning the pairs, each pair being given a large satchel with enough provisions to last the length of the expedition. White with red, black with white, red with black, each pair more interesting than the next. It was when she fell on Siorey that her subtle smile turned more apparent. But it was no smile that warranted feelings of happiness, no this was a grin of pure amusement and arrogance as she pointed to his partner. Siorey couldnt help but feel as though the woman was setting him up to fail.

The girl he was partnered with was a red mage. Of the other two orders he was at least glad she wasnt a white robe, as Siorey often found them to be annoying in their methods and too morally narrow. Slinging his satchel over his shoulder he made his way over to the woman. "Siorey, Siorey Val'Maranthy. It would appear we have been paired together, miss?" he introduced, extending a hand out to try and be polite.

His eyes shifted as he could see other circle mages whispering among themselves. He could hear one pair as they weren't trying to hide their words from his ears. Well isn't she lucky, being paired with the Prodigy. he snickered, his partner chiming in with a laugh as well. Yeah she won't have to do much but coast and let him do all the work for her. he added, the pair noticing Siorey had heard them and walking off.

"Let's do our best out there, I dont plan to allow these idiots to think they are smart enough to show me up." he said with a wink and small smirk. Once all the pairs were formed they were blindfolded and taken to their starting point. It felt like hours had passed as their facial coverings were removed and the two would find themselves near a lake. ₪

---

"Common Speech"
"Mythrasi Speech"
"Inner Thoughts"

The Warrens bring back bad memories for her. No matter how long she stays away, the sensations never get duller. Each breath donates a decay of city waste, mildew, and cave growth. The scents of her childhood, of scrabbling through trash-piles and fighting for workhouse contracts. The stone underfoot reminds her of the games she used to play with the other sewer-rats, games of startling brutality played with a desperate fanaticism born from the loser's perpetual desire for petty victories. Even the sounds ring in her mind - the way the echoes warp the voices, and footfalls rap on the stone beneath.

She is angry, and uncomfortable, and lost in her own reverie. Inwardly she roils, outwardly she is still. A statue carved from marble and draped in carmine, she is motionless and unfocused through Mervelt's speech. Only the satchel dropped in her hands snaps her back to the world-as-it-is. Only the touch of the professor and the read-out name pulls her from the world-as-it-was.

Hands shake. No smile is exchanged. Petra is as emotionless as the grave. Only her chartreuse eyes flicker, glancing over Siorey with the hawkish and predatory curiosity of an owl in the night. Head to toe and back up to the head. She is thorough in her examination, and only ends it when her firm handshake drops back to her side.

"Petra Cormorant. Pleased to meet you." As if she is reading from a script, with a banality to her voice that teeters on the edge of seeming facetious. Her utter lack of humor likely tips the scales the other way.

"It seems I'm very lucky to be your partner. I've heard your reputation - I hope we both live up to expectations."

She shoulders her pack, and waits for Siorey to move.

He seems like the leaderly type - and what self-respecting tall, dark, and handsome man wouldn't prefer the van?

As she waits, a third joins their little clique. Six and a half feet of twisted, warped, dull-grey metal, bent in the form of a man by a blind craftsman and given life by the hellfire which chased his mosaic of skin with ever-warm brass. He stands behind Petra, bathing her in his shadow, right up to her emerald eyes.

Neither seem to have any more to say. The memories of her formative massacre are hardly the sorts that would drag Petra from her laconic impassivity.

But, maybe this man will change my mood for the better. Stranger things have happened, especially down here.

---

₪ Looking around he could see he didnt recognize the location, the sound of the lake behind him filling his ears. He didnt know what exactly to expect going into this expedition but he knew it would be dangerous. The real danger of death loomed very heavily in the air in this place, the warrens never giving him a feeling of comfort, only dread.

Seeing that he would have to handle this endeavor on his own, he decided to call on the aid of an eldritch spirit. With a deep breath, he sat on the floor, his stuff resting next to him as he submitted himself into his summoning space. He was almost certain he wouldn't be able to do this alone, even with Petra's help. He would be doing this without Dhasali's help so he had to do this on his own.

With eyes glowing in amethyst, gold, & black, it didnt take too much time for him to find himself afloat with the large expanse of water under the blinding bright moon. It was still, and quiet. Unsettlingly calm to an extent, and he wasn't sure what to truly expect. The peace of the waters, however, shifted as a vortex of black & purple water engulfed him. Siorey felt like the air from his very lungs was being electrified which was making it hard to breathe at first.

He had to calm himself, he didnt want to show just how desperate or panicked he was given the situation. As he looked around, he saw the silhouette of a creature lurking outside of the vortex. "I beseech you, please lend me your strength. This is as much as I can offer you in terms of aether. I need your help in finding something. I ask you to aid me."

There was no response to his plea, but the creature broke the barrier of the vortex and began to swim around Siorey. For moments the two shared silence until it spoke, the words echoing within the young noble's mind. "Nearly all mortals can stand adversity, but if you want to test their character, give them power." it hissed, speaking words that confused Siorey at first. The two settled on eye contact and it bore into Siorey's very soul, soon after giving a glare as if it was a smile.

"If you don't trust me then that's fine, but let me prove to you my worth. Bind to me, and I will assure you won't regret it." he offered. Floating around him the creature clasped its tentacles around the aether drench hands of Siorey. The measure of a mortal soul is what they do with the power given from a higher being. it whispered into his head, and with it, the vortex consuming him whole.

Opening his eyes the name of his new friend escaped his lips, as he stood to his feet. "Ja'akuna Me" he whispered, feeling the clasp of tentacles gripping his shoulder, as the cycloptic creature hovered behind him glaring at Petra. Siorey's eyes were glowing amethyst, gold, & black as he finished sealing the concordant with the eldritch being.

Looking at Petra, he stood and dusted himself off, looking to the west. "They really put us out in the middle of nowhere." he hissed, looking to Ja'akuna Me, looking it in its eye. "Lead us to the place where spirits and demons play." he instructed, the spirit letting out what could only be attributed to a laugh as it blinked its eyes between both figures.

"Knock on the devil's door and he surely will answer. it mused, almost teasingly as it floated past him heading further into the warrens. Saddling up his gear he followed behind his spirit. "Come on we will let this one lead us in the right direction." For the moment, it was silent between the two, but SIorey felt t would be best to see what kind of mage she was, especially as a red.

He hadn't truly interacted with Red Robes, but he could tolerate them more than the overly generous white robes. "So tell me Petra, what do you hope to achieve as a circle mage?" he hoped the idle conversation would help him get to know her better, to see if he could trust her. ₪

---

"Common Speech"
"Mythrasi Speech"
"Inner Thoughts"

It's always interesting to see another summoner work. There is so much ritual in Siorey's process. The kneel, the exhalation, the peace of mind. They are so alien to Petra. Seeing his eyes glow is a wonder, without question. The colors of space time, perhaps, burning out of his soul. Petra has to admire his tenacity, and his skill. There's real talent here, a true connection to a part of the cosmos that she has always shunned.

And for good reason. The Inferno might shun the laws of mankind, but at least it has them. What can the outer darkness offer that demons cannot?

She scolds herself for being petulant. There are many ways to skin a cat, and even she can see that there is method to the madness. A warped and broken method, lost in the swirl of incohate ritual, but still a method.

It bears fruit, and the monster crawls out from a sliver in the world. Yesod vibrates, his steel body humming like a struck tuning fork.

"Calm, Yesod. Calm. No need to be territorial. Soon it will be gone, and we will be away." She does not touch the demon. She has no soothing in her voice. In her tone is the sneer of cold command; it is the effortless mastery of a woman who has no choice but to dictate.

She follows Siorey. She thinks of her new musician friend, a tune springing to mind.

Mark my footsteps my good page, tread thou in them boldly
thou wilt find the winter's rage, chills the blood less coldly.

That almost has her on the verge of a half-smile. A startling increase in her mood. Siorey snaps her out of it. Back to quiet, and reserved, passivity. Only the politesse that is required of her, nothing more.

I am a trader in blood, and souls. Giving more emotion than is required is just bad business, after all.

"I expect my reasons are the same as most. The Circle gives me authority and protection. Under its aegis I can practice my craft, and study the knowledge the Circle has jealously guarded." Petra shrugs, as if further explanation is not necessary. That she does continue could be a good or bad sign.

"I was born in the Middens. Magic gives me the power I need to never return. Perhaps it will give me the power I need to save all the others from such poverty." Petra watches water drip down a stalactite. It glimmers for a moment in the light of her lantern, and then falls with a dulcet splash onto the floor far below.

"Or perhaps not. The Circle has given me the tools to control my life, and the lives around me. That's what I hope to continue to achieve." She sees another drop, and this time reaches out a hand to catch it. Ice-cold water on her pale hand. She lets it roll off to the floor after a moment's contemplation.

"What about you? Have you inherited the Black Robe's dreams of magical superiority?"

"A surprisingly placid answer for a Black Robe," Petra remarks, marking Siorey's footsteps and taking three for his two. The travails of being short are endless, but she is well used to them. With Yesod behind her, she follows him into the inky abyss of the Warrens. A lantern glows in her hands. She keeps it ever-burning, and watches the shadows dance along the walls. So high in the Warrens, there is little danger of finding anything truly apocalyptic, but Petra still watches the shadows move and creep. Her books gave her names for them. Parlourdark. Terpsifulgian. Skitterblack. She wonders which this is. Alas, her studies never progressed far enough in the categories to be able to label them properly.

"The Black Masters I spoke to considered magic the only power in the world - to which all others must bow. Even self-determination must kneel before magic." Petra steps over a jagged rock, and Yesod crushes it underfoot - heavy metal on stone, the scraping is infernal.

"I look forward to seeing your reconciliation, as you ascend."

The pair enter a wider cave, in whose center a deep and clear pool sits. Fed by aquifers, the water is clear and crisp and inviting. Petra knows better than to trust it. Scuff marks on the ground suggest an antique struggle. Perhaps she is imagining movement in its depths. Perhaps it is very much real.

"I am a Demonologist. A binder of demons. Our disciplines are similar, but where your monsters are unknown and eldrich, mine are... clean." An odd choice of word. It makes Yesod vibrate with a musical thrum. "Rational. I bind them, and trade my power and possessions for their obedience. Yesod is my Aidolon. A Demon of the Tree. He is bought and paid for."

Yesod vibrates again, as Petra takes Siorey's hand and is taken up the ledge. She is light as a feather, but her grip is as tight as iron.

"Deamithium is a means to an end. I'd rather not share further."

Petra makes no preparations for the second level. Yesod is behind her, and moves closer. It stands right behind her, its arms half-wrapped around her, protective, watchful, on-guard. It is her protection, it is all she needs. She nods, and continues. Yesod haunts her steps, never straying far.

"We're making good progress. I hope we continue. I would hate to have to hurt another magus for the stone."

Her tone is reluctant. It is far, far from unwilling. She is prepared to do what she has to do for the rock, evidently. A good sign for the partnership, if perhaps a bad one for her character.

Perhaps she would elaborate further. She never gets the chance. The pair have continued down into the gusty tunnel, and the breeze muffled the noise of the predator which notices them until nearly too late.

The dark shrouds it. The cracks in the high ceiling hide it. The stalactites give it handholds. Petra cannot make out its full body, but she sees the vines which whip forward, cracking as their tips shatter sound.

She doesn't even have time to gasp. The vines snap forward from above and in front, and Yesod's arms raise. Two planes of shimmering force appear, and block the two incoming vines. They bounce off the planes of force with a resounding, struck-bell ring, and seem to split with the reflected force. Wounded, but far from broken.

A caustic, searing acid drips to the floor after the impact. It splashes on the planes of force, and spatters the ground. It sears rock, and bubbles with the sort of potency that would burn straight through flesh.

Petra stands her ground. Yesod will protect her. She tells her that over, and over, and over again, as she tells herself not to run from the death she envisions at the hands of this unseen assailant.

As she frets, another salvo of vines snap out of the darkness. This time, they crack with deadly, caustic intent right at Siorey's neck.

Petra, free of most of the assault by the watchful protection of Yesod, watches the sparks dance. It is a special sort of beauty, to see constellations of fire be broadcasted into the darkness. Siorey's whip ignites little nebulae of orange light, and as they fade into the darkness, Petra sees the shapes within the gloom.

The tentacles keep coming. Acid drips to her feet, but whatever the caustic chemical is, it has no effect on Petra's shields, thank God. However, it keeps them occupied.

She sees it, thanks to Siorey. The predator is hungry, and pulls itself forward, giving up some of its concealment for a little more reach, a few more inches towards its prey. Its core body is a heavy, tuberous mass, looking like a fused bundle of bark and growth perhaps the size of Petra. It is heavy, and lashing, and though it is losing vines it has so many, many more.

Siorey's whip cracks, and hits the thing in what might be an eye. Petra can't tell. She can feel the distraction, though - the break in the onslaught.

"Yesod."

The command is enough. The monster vibrates. The panels of force move forward, quicker than one would expect. The first touches the monster along the ceiling, sliding beneath it. The vines cling, but Petra pulls it down. She drags at it, and uses the other pane to cut the vines which try and keep it in its nook in the wall.

She is half-successful. The thing is dragged into the light, and as it wrestles with Petra, it has little chance of doing anything else, at least for a few moments.

Vines ready themselves. Unprotected, she will be their target, and she will have no recourse but to burn.

"Siorey!" She screams into the darkness - this is the chance. She prays this stranger takes it.