As she heeds the warning, twin blades fly past her seamlessly through the still air. The sound continues before it reaches a wall well ahead of her. A small light comes into view as a small group of adventurers dust themselves off. An elven brute and a dwarven mercenary appear. She stops abruptly to avoid being seen. As the two lift their small lanterns, only darkness can be seen and an odd scribbling upon the fork in the pathway. "Did you hear sum'in?" Startled by the sudden silence, the two notice the patterns upon the floor. "Looks like some sort of ancient calligraphy. Could be some paintings?" "Or just random scramblings on an old floor. C'mon, let's keep movin'." The two hear a small group of footsteps in the distance. "Wait! Don't move! Did ya hear it?!" "Sure it wasn't yer knees?" The two laugh and continue walking. They do not see her standing against the charred walls as she watches them walk towards the clanking sounds. "Hold on. There were three paths?!" "Hey! Are we going this way or no?" The other adventurer points towards the dimly lit corridor. The one with the small militia. "Ok. Yes. This way." Unsure of his decision, the adventurer continues along the path. She wants to warn them of the inscriptions but has trouble speaking and don't want to alarm them further. The odd language, to her, tells of an impending doom if several steps are not done in succession. It denotes several ways to do it but also warns of too many wrong attempts. It confuses her a bit but definitely seems important to know. "I was thinking, old friend, when we get back to the village we could get some new armor." "Yeah, we've been outfitted with these old relics for far too long." The two chuckle. "Tell me about it! I swear if i were half YOUR age, I'd be back in Sellen with my—" Shinkkkkt! A curved blade spins and slices through the adventurer as the other ducks and cowers. His friend has been mowed down and the blade continues towards the shallow darkness. The sound reverberates effortlessly as if it made contact with nothing. Horrified, the younger adventurer picks up his lantern and heads back towards the split pathways. This time, though, a large foreboding chamber appears before him. When he touches the door, it is hot to the touch. A misstep, perhaps. Shaken by its appearance, the would be explorer realizes its mistake. "Those words! What did they mean?!" She listens on as the blade makes its way past her and continues onward. It clangs and ricochets off the curving halls as it boomerangs on the opposite side of the corridor. She braces herself and lies down flat on the ground as it whizzes by her once more. Aware that something has gone tragically wrong, she frantically taps the ground with a large pebble found nearby. The adventurer can hear the faint tapping and runs towards the exit. Flailing and crying about, the hallway descends towards an old chute that leads towards the crew of fallen men standing by for combat. Stumbling along the path is the frightened one, as he rolls towards the feet of the damned. Upon the thud, the pack of warriors band together in their defensive stance and prepare to attack."What the—no, no wait! Please! I'm F-" A sharp blow penetrates his torso as he feels the blade pierce the cheaply-made armor. "Gwarrk!" Blood finds its way through the still gaping mouth and freshly-made wound. He backs up a bit and attempts to unsheathe his small blade. His armor is met with more blows as he succumbs to his mounting injuries. This cave offers no help nor any mercy to those who find it. Only the wisest are encouraged to explore it. She knows that all too well but was unable to aid the foolish pair. As she nears another opening, the faint sounds of a oasis can be heard beyond a great barrier. The crest interacts with the magic as she draws near it. She stretches out her hand as the magic barrier fades away. She pushes the large stone door and can see the many patrons. Some stop and stare but notice no one walk through the opened barrier. She proceeds through the crowd and notices odd heat signatures amongst the crowd. These seem to have significant power over magical items and bearers of crests or fallen magic. In the distance to her right is an old sage with an interesting hat. The hat flips and spins as those who pass by interact with him. Many merchants with magical trinkets try to gain his attention but it lies elsewhere. His is aimed towards the closing door to his far left side. "A millennia greeting to you, old friend! Won't you gaze upon my wares?! Something for every occasion! You cannot go wrong! This one heat is a bit wonky but it's believed to make you 3300 years younger! Heard it has a bit of a kick but you look strong enough to manage!" The wizard gazes beyond his financial suitor and grasps his hat. "C'mon, Tre'I'el? We've no time to dawdle!" The hat spins and jumps into a small cloud of dust and squeezes into his worn leather satchel. "We've someone to greet. The time of Rea's son had come!" A new memory awaits...
Bristling in the distance stands in ancient being. Upon his neck, lies the crown of humanity. His staff bears the soul of the enchanted ones. His mouth is that of glass. And with one gaze, a new path begins. Such a path leads its way across the Cosmos to a different plane of existence. The plane is known as Prominus. A world that is the gateway to the existence of humanistics. A strong people of noble hearts, and wantonly desires. they reside amongst the planes of Aegis. The epicenter of the Prominus world that legislates justice and chaos. However, such power promotes a wamefou of corruption and disdain. "Forward men! We've only began the hunt! The wretched beast trolling J'nir stands before you!" The brazen fools surround the hunted. A mighty foe known as The Jorum. Its name was given due to the large bowl-like head it holds. It has four large crests that act as both a magical barrier and as a chained scythe weapon known as the Wringer. The four crests snap together to be used like a curved sword and when separated, they rotate around the Decan. When utilized, the effect mimics a stadia: an inability to coordinate one's muscles. It has four massive hands. Two of which are used to hold enchanted items. The others twiddle with energy-based weaponry. The only known way to best it is to attack it head on. A fools' errand indeed. "Steady yourselves, men!" His eyes are engaged. The scraggy old man raises his right hand as if to signal the assault. "On my ready!" The beast moves towards the convoy defiantly. It gazes at the leader of the group and begins to raise its hands. Power surges through its broad body and amplifies its power. As the captain lowers his hand, a head rolls towards the crew of men. One soldier stricken down before the word to charge. The ground is dressed like a fine crimoisy. The newly deceased flinches but a moment as it settles into its final resting place. The men are scared but ready as some gasp at the display before them. The fearless leader looks on and gives his order: "CHARGE!!!" The men engage the enemy as a swell of energy encircles the fierce foe. Their bodies are propelled into the nearby trees as the ground violently upends them. "Right flank. March! Attack the lower hands! Left flank! Gain position! Engage the shield and use debuffs to weaken its crests!" As the orders rang out, a loud gong-like sound reverberated from its upper crests. They acted as defensive barriers that forced the small army to sway as the ground gave way to their advances. "Fight! Men! There's no glory in defeat! Fight!!!" The men attack within their orders but the fight is in vain. The men are badly overmatched and are beginning to wear down. Several hours later, the band of rogue fighters start to regroup and retreat towards higher ground. "Positions!!! Mount a counteroffensive against its shield and strike at the heart of the crests!" The campaign continues until the posse is depleted to its last mages and warriors.