It had been approximately four months since Noira had arrived in RhyDin, pushed through a one-way portal by her embattled comrades with no clear way back. In that time she had taken on a number of freelance dungeoneering contracts as well as working for herself doing the same, risking life and limb against the creatures that inhabited the deep and ruined places in and around RhyDin for treasure, the majority of which she was not spending — until now.

The site was an earthen cave three miles north of RhyDin's city walls, almost completely overgrown and lined with loose stones and rubble. Underneath it all was a tunnel lined with smooth stone, much of it carved with the same ancient Atrean runes Noira had seen on the other side of this portal, but only a few stone slabs and columns had been exposed so far. There was a small stone cottage nearby, with a small clearing already hacked out of the thick brush for space for workers' tents (for those who wished to sleep near the site), a well, and a shed filled with various hand tools and materials including stone bricks, sand and cement for mortar, rope and pulleys, and timber and nails.

The blacksmith Noira had hired as her foreman, Petar, would be presiding over the workers more than she would, but still the elfess made it out to the site frequently to check on progress, inspecting artifacts and runes as they were exposed.

More often, though, when she visited, she simply stood in place, stretching her hand up into the air and staring into empty space for minutes at a time, running her fingers through an unseen current...

((Related to this playable; any posts you want to make related to this story can go here if you like, though they don't have to if you'd rather not. Thanks!))

Petar lazily looked over a few documents that where strewn about the simple travelers desk that was set up in the canvas tent, form leaning back some on the simple cot that complained under his weight. He scanned over the figures with barely retained interest; invoices, salary ledgers, equipment maintenance logs, requisitions, and his personal favorite: complaint forms.

"Who in tha 'ells came up wi' this stupid thing." He gave the small stack of forms in his hand a derisive glare as he skimmed over a few of the more legible complaints.

I ned more den a two our lunch 4 doing stuff. And ur policy on moving dirt all the way out of the cave is 2 strict and damanding. Do you know...

Are you aware there isn't any running bathrooms on this work site" Do you know how unsanitary that is" And on top of that your having us dig in dirt!" Do you know how many different species of bacteria live in just a square inch of dirt!" Why I...

My name is Bertholt Ethanson and I represent the firm of Seagram's, Bartles & Jaymes. Are you aware that your dig site is not currently being managed under a trade union' We here at the S.B. & J firm would like to remedy this for your convenience and peace of mind...

He pushed the corners of the complaint forms into the top of his lamp letting the meager flame lick up and onto the parchment. He watched as the flame spread and devour the forms, his thoughts wandering as the flames sprightly danced up the parchment. A flapping of the canvas door would bring his mind back to the present, azures noting the flames licking about his gloved fingers illiciting him to toss the last remnants into a nearby wash basin. "Enter."

The canvas flap was pushed open letting in a tall, wiry framed man. The man peered over crooked nose at the smoldering ash that floated in the wash basin. "Busy sir?"

He snorted lazily. "Jus' takin' care o' some complaints..."

The man scratched mildly at graying stubble that covered dogged features. "Not very keen on them?"

"Wha' kinda nitwits ma'e complaints o'er a bloo'y temp dig job' From estimates twill barely ta'e a month ta complete e'en wi' the fools so far foun' ta work."

"Nitwits willing to work for 4 silver an hour I would wager." The man sniffed lightly, a gesture of one uncomfortable with being asked so many questions that were obviously not meant to be answered.

Petar waved off the man's answer with a dismissive gesture. "Righ', righ', ye ge' what ye pay for an' 'pparently I ain' paying fer much in tha way o' intelligence or sense. Sae why be ye here Hubbert?"

"The men have found something while digging sir."

He sighed lazily as Hubbert was already loosing his attention, a random ledger picked up for inspection as he fell into autonomous repeat. "Artifac's in tha' ches' by the cottage. 'Ave tha' one who claims find'n i' write thar name or draw thar pictograph on tha ledger nexta tha chest fer recompense."

"It is a bone that has been carved upon sir. A thigh bone to be precise." The man sniffled nervously again. "Looks to be human."

Petar gave the man an incredulous look from above the edge of the ledger. "An'?"

"It has some of the men spooked sir. Think skeletons will rise up because we are disturbing there tomb."

"Oh fer Taj sake!" He tossed the ledger down atop of the desk once more as he leaned back. "Tis not a tomb, tis a cave lead'n ta some extra dimensional portal thingamajig."

"I know....and they know I believe....but then, mayhaps they are skeletal warriors buried to protect this gate thing from being dug up" It is not all together impossible that this cave was collapsed for good reason!"

Azures eyed the sub-foreman who was visibly squirming where he stood. Ah....you were the one who made the discovery and it has you spooked. The older smith let out a weary sigh as he brought a hand up to pinch between the bridge of nose. "Hubbert, tha's stupid."

"Sir!"

He held up a hand to silence the other mans protests. "If those were guardian bones they'd 'ave activated by now an' gon' on a killing spree. The fact tha' they 'aven't yet means either they jus' bae carved bones which is a stron' possibility given our employer, or they were once guardian skeletons bu' 'ave long lost thar spark o' murderin' things. Pas' tha' we 'ave arms an' shields ta protect one self if'n anythin' o tha' sorts were to crop up."

The man gawked at the apparently new news. "There are weapons here sir?"

"Aye, I ain' daft. Tis a bloo'y portal which means mage folk which generally means traps an sorts. Thar bae crates o' shields an' spears 'moung the supplies, I jus' ain' keen on sharin' such knowledge as either they bae like ta vanish fer some gits profit or onea these gits'll injure 'emselves wi' them an' I ain' paying fer injuries from stupidity."

The mans shoulders relaxed some into their natural slouch. "I....I see. Well, if you say it is fine..."

"Yes, yes, tis fin'. Jus' drop tha' bone off in tha relics ches' an' le' the others know wha' I said."

"Yes sir." The man turned to leave.

"Oh....an' give e'eryone an extra ration o' ale this eve jus' ta calm nerves aye."

The man bobbed his head. "Yes sir....thank you sir." Hubbert began to push out of the tent, form pausing a moment as if he was going to say something else but the glare at the back of his balding head worked to push him along his way.

Petar watched as the canvas flap fell close, a moment left to pass before he let out another weary sigh. "Bloo'y 'ells, tis jus' been a week an' already this job bae prov'n ta be a pain in mae rump." He scratched lazily at his beard as he glanced back at the desk, one last complaint form which had escaped it's brethren's fate peaked out from behind one of the ledgers. He pulled the lone form out, azures reading over the contents with mild masochistic curiosity.

I don't really have a complaint per say but do you think you could convince the elfess to perhaps wear something a little more nude when she comes to wave her hands about at the cave again? There be a lot of sausage at this job site if you catch my drift but...

He crumpled up the form and feed it to his lantern with dour contempt. "Bloo'y idjits....definan'ly nee' ta fin' some better 'elp..."

The older smith lazily scratched at this corn colored beard as he looked over a few invoices" or where part of his beard should have been at least. A mild scowl crossed over those time worn features as he poked at the divots in the well kept facial hair, the slightly acrid smell of burning fur still prominent.

It was a particularly insightful decision to demand to see proof of the idiot's talents outside of the cave before paying the four extra silver per hour of a specialty worker. Had he gone ahead and let the fellow practice in the cave it would likely have cost them a weeks worth of work and a bit of morale as they would have had to dig through dirt muddied by pasted remains.

Of course if he was being really insightful he would have been standing well behind the tree line" perhaps even putting the cabin between him and the test area. Guess this is what he got for trusting a N.P.C. to show off their skill with blasting powder....or lack thereof. The test was simple: split one of the midsized rocks that had been leveraged and dragged out of the cave to prove that he could do so in a controlled manner. What he got instead was a blast of burning powder to the face, a burnt divot in the earth, and an explosion propelled rock that leveled two tents and a dozen trees before coming to rest fully intact in a nearby stream' and a stern talking to from some hermit that didn't appreciate the racket.

"Nex" tim' someone says they've go' a grea" means o' "elpin" ou" witha dig I'm crouch"n behind "em durin" tha demostration?"

With an annoyed snort he tossed the invoices back upon the desk as he lurched upright from the cot. Burly form stretched lazily in the confines of the tent before shuffling to the portable wash basin and small mirror next to his desk. From a small leather pack beneath the cot he would produce a simple scrape blade, small chunk of soap, and a wash cloth to shave the damaged beard and resculpt it into something decent look. A bit of lathering, scraping, rinsing, and repeating later and his beard had been reduced back to a simple mustache and goatee combination. Azures stared at the face staring back from the mirror; the new look giving him a more youthful complexion' a look he touted a lifetime ago. He scoffed at the image in the mirror, a look given to the scrape blade in consideration of just removing all the hair but remembrances of his reasons for not being clean shaven nudged at the base of his conscious. The mild flapping of the canvas door would drag his attention away from the mirror as he wiped away any remaining lather "Enter."

The one known as Hubbert pushed in meekly, an apologetic nod offered. "Sorry for the intrusion sir."

Petar waved off the supplication as he wrapped up the shaving tools in the cloth. "Stop tha", ye tweren't to know tha' Sparrow was jus" blow"n smoke outta "is arse "bout known how ta dae blastin". We all go' smoked fer i", an' now tis time to move on."

The man slouched a touch more, a hand moved to slick back what hair remained on his pate, a noticeable less amount now after the little experiment. "Yes sir." Petar tucked away the shaving supplies back into his pack before straightening, azures casting a sidelong look at the man. "Is thar someth"n ye needed or were you jus" come"n ta apologize "gain?"

The man sniffled some, feet shuffling a little. "Ah, yes" I mean, yes, there was more. I mean a reason I came. You remember that bone what was found last week?"

He worked hard not to roll his eyes as the man broached the subject once again. It was dead and done in his mind" well, after he had a few axes brought up to the dig site. It wasn't until he had calmed down about the complaint forms that he could really consider the implications of what the man was spooked about and that paranoid part of his mind came to the conclusion that spears were terrible weapons against undead. Not that he really believed that the remains could be some sort of guardians, but that didn't mean it could hurt to have some weapons on hand better suited to attack things without so much flesh for a spear to pierce" Occam's razor and Murphy's law and all. "Aye?"

The man sniffed again. "We found the rest of skeleton."

Petar leveled a stare at the man. "Did i' demand ye return i's leg?"

"Pardon?"

He breathed in and exhaled slowly to help keep his tone level. "Did tha' skeleton attack anyone."

The man scratched at his hooked nose as he sniffled. "Er" no, not that I know of."

The smith sighed lazily as he closed those azures in annoyance, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to deal with this. Military folk you just had to order them to continue and if you were a good enough leader that was all it took to set the soldiers to task. This lot were lazy, cagey, and kind of daft which meant that he had to console and keep the peace at every step. "Well if"n they ain" try"n ta grab at ye then stuff "em in the box fer Noira an' lock it. She bae a mage, she can deal wi' "em"

Hubbert wrung his boney hands nervously. "Er, about that sir?"

Those azures slid open lazily to level a gaze back at the man from over his fingers. "Don' tell me tha' idjits been hecklin" "er. I swear I'll string up Pierce twice o"er an' stuff 'im full o' "complaint forms" the bloo"y letch!"

"Er no, it's not that! Well, there has been some of that' but no, I mean the last time I saw her the mistress did not look all too well. Looked like she was going to pass out when looking at that creepy pillar what?s been unearthed."

A thick brow quirked "Mistress?"

"Well" she is an elven mage"but that's not the point Petar. She looked right deathly and bade me pass on that she won't be doing much inspecting from now on. Said she will be sending a scholar in her steed."

Petar let his hand drop from his face as he turned back to mindlessly straighten out the mess of documents on his little desk. The man certainly liked his formalities" he himself had threatened grievous harm from his foot to the sub-foreman's derriere for using such honorifics with him but the most he'd been able to do was bring them down to a simple 'sir." Of course he probably shouldn't expect so much from a former navel steward. He shook his head as obviously his thoughts were wandering tangential from the issue at hand. "Hmm. And?"

The man flung his hands open in a surprisingly emotive motion. "Aren't you worried sir! This place is wicked! An ill air hangs about that even affects a stolid mage as Miss Sibreth, what manner of curse do you think it will lay upon those not so versed in dealing with hexes!?"

He felt a twitch in his eye as he snapped back at the man. "Oh fer wha"e"er gods ye sake grow a spine Hubbert! Of course I" feels off here, tis a bloo"y portal, ye know, a thin" that renders holes in reality....kinda potent magical forces converge "ere. An' tha bones jus' bae tha': bones. Tha bloo'y remains o' some poor sod wot died 'ere ages 'go....no' some bloo'y curse bringer or guardian or wha'e'er rot yer paranoid lil' mind can dredge up!"

He released his fists which had clenched, the fingers flexed to work out that tingling pain as a few deep breaths were taken before he hazarded a glance to the man. Hubbart stared at the older smith in shock bordering on outrage, his chinless jaw slacked dumbfounded by his biting words. I may have gone to far" Petar took one last deep breath letting it ease out slowly in a sigh as he adjust the mildly crushed papers in his hand before setting them on the desk calmly, form turning to face the sub-foreman. "Loo' Hubbert' I'm sorry. Tis been a vera lon' month not "elp'd "aving ta dig up some forsaken cave tha gives e"en mae the heeby jeebies. Bu" tha's all i" is: a cave. Thar bae no cursedness "ere that'll drag us ta our graves an' e'en if thar is we will jus' knock i' on i's arse. An" as fer "Mistress" Noira she's like jus" bein" affected from all tha' concentrated magicks tha bae swirlin" "bouts this place. Ye shoul" know as well as I "ow sensitive mage fol's bae ta such influences."

Hubbert had recovered slightly, indignity still raw on those bony features but he composed himself with impressive speed. "I don't agree with your assessment, sir....but I trust your sincerity no matter how blunt it may be. It's just.....very different from anything I've encountered before."

The older smith lazily reached into that satchel that was always on his person, a silver flask removed and uncapped. He took a lazy swig of the potent alcohol within before offering to the other gentleman who took it with aplomb. "Well, trust'n mae sincerity still makes ye daft....bu' thank ye fer your continued support. An' I know i' bae outta yer depths....bae outta a lot o' our depths bu' tis still for a worthy cause. But anyway, Noira was look'n ill las' ye saw?"

Another greedy swig was taken, his face contorting some at the strength of the liquid fire before he returned the flask. "Yes....she looked clammy, disoriented....almost pyretic. I thought she may have recovered but she was calling you by 'Mendel' before she left. It was all quiet worrisome."

The older smith raised a brow slightly at the mention of the name. Did I share that name with her" I really must stop drinking so much when around her....too sharp that one. He snorted lazily as he took another swig of liquor from that flask before recapping it and tucking it away. "I see....when nex' I see 'er I shall press her 'bouts her health. T'will bae o' poor buisness if'n the one payin' wages an' for whom this entire project bae doin' for where tae keel o'er from some ailment."

Hubbert sniffed lightly. "A touch cold don't you think?"

Petar waved off the accusing question. "I ain' paid ta bae kind....jus' ta ge' a worthy job done. Now go an' ge' tha men work'n....faster'n we finish this sooner we can bae outta this place. From wha' I read t'will bae eleven pillars in total ta dig up sae tha' puts us a' near half finished in tha' task. If'n possible le's split tha' workers inta three shifts: Day, Even'n, an' Night see'n as tha' conditions in the cave don' change much depend'n on the time o' day anyway."

The man began to wring his hands nervously again. "But working during the witching hours is madness. You'd not find men willing to..."

"Premium o' six silvers pay fer tha' shift an' I will lead i' personally....oh, an' tell Sparrow tha' 'e bae work'n tha' shift whether'n he wants tae or not. Blighter wanted m're coin an' by tha gods he'll earn it."

The sub-foreman's bony hand twisted more as he protested. "But....I know your large and likely a capable sorts but what makes you any more suited to dealing with the evils that may spring up at night here than any one of us!?"

Petar turned lazily away from the man as he began to organize his desk once more. "M're than ye coul' e'er imagine..." The words were barely audible as he spoke them more for himself than in answer to the others protests. He'd tap a few parchments against the desk top before clearing his throat to address the man proper. "I bae capable, nae go spread tha' word. Mae an' Sparrow will work tha' shift ourselves if'n thar ain' any other 'elp an' ye can le' 'im know tha' if'n tha' tis the case I'll pay 'im eight coin fer tha trouble."

"But..."

"Yer dismissed Hubbert." His tone was crisp giving the words weight and authority he rarely ever used nowadays. A silence filled the tent for a brief moment before it was broken with the rustling from the canvas door.

"Yes Mister Alistan, I will distribute the news right away." The words oozed contempt as the canvas flapped again a little more forcefully as the man left. Petar let the thick atmosphere subside before releasing a weary sigh, the ledgers in hand dropped unceremoniously back upon the desk. He gave a sidelong glance at the reflection in the mirror, another scowl crossing those stern features at the sight of the face that looked back. It was a face he was not keen on seeing again despite the time that had passed. "Time heals all ails hmm....wha' a bloo'y crock."

He crossed around to the opposite side of the desk now, form sitting back upon the cot before he'd swing his legs up to lie down. If he was going to be pulling night duty he probably aught start getting some rest. He gave one last look up towards the mirror, noting the cloth with lather and remnants of beard on it.

"Think I'll wake up Sparrow wi' tha res' o' tha' powder...? A mild nod to himself as his consciousness began to drift lulled by mischievous plotting.

Once they were well out of earshot and sight, Noira took a knee on a convenient landing and unpacked her armor. She changed quickly, securing a chainmail haubergeon worn under her tunic, platemail gauntlets and plated boots and leggings in only a few minutes. Training with the infantry meant making oneself combat-ready at a moment's notice. "There isn't much information available on what the Atreans used to guard places like this....but based on what I've encountered in other sites in the past, I'd say undead guardians are likely, or a bound elemental spirit. Or maybe the workers just fell in a hole. We can always hope, right?" she added to Serine with a grim smile.

Serine scanned the area ahead as Noira readied herself. "Yes, quite," she replied, smiling slightly as she continued looking forward. She clenched her fists briefly at her sides, and upon opening them a faint shimmer sheathed her body for a moment before disappearing. She greatly preferred her shields to physical armor, in keeping with her general preference toward magic. It sure made packing for trips like this a snap, sometimes literally. She was sure to take note of Noira's information regarding what they'd likely face, if they did face anything. Undead meant she'd have to use raw energy to attack, and for her, that involved getting close - not her favorite place to be, but she'd make it work if she had to. If this tunnel did have hostile guardians in place, those workers would be far worse off than she. "I am ready when you are."

"I'm ready," Noira replied, giving the straps on her gauntlets a final tug, flexing her fingers with a creak of leather. The side tunnel was almost all the way down to the portal chamber, a large almost spherical room with eleven runic pillars and a raised dais still in the process of being unearthed. The closer they came to the portal chamber, the more energy they could feel: magic that bled across the planes and permeated the air until it was almost suffocating, and remnants of great surges of power to activate the portal in the past that left hot spots and cold spots in the air like massive metaphysical scars.

Equipment, earth and rubble still lined the entrance to the side tunnel, with a rounded entrance covered completely in runes. It was almost pitch black. "I haven't had a chance to fully translate these," Noira whispered, "but I believe the ashes of Atrean warriors who died here long ago are stored somewhere down here....I'm going to cast as little light as I think we can get by with, and hopefully we won't draw any unwanted attention....okay?"

Serine nodded in agreement, still scanning the area. She was used to the darkness of caves and ruins. She tried to take in as much of the surroundings as she could, careful not to allow her curiosity to jeopardize their safety in any way. If their purpose had not been so urgent she could easily lose hours in a place like this. No sense thinking about that now, though. "Let's hope the spirits in those ashes are still resting," she whispered. "The sooner we can find those workers, the better their chances. The last thing we need is the delay of putting all those spirits back to rest." She took a position behind and to the right of Noira, and would keep it as best as the environment would allow.

Noira cast an orb of dim green light from her fingertips that split into three parts. One floated up to the ceiling, revealing what appeared to be a succession of names and dates carved into the rock....A second flitted out ahead of them to reveal what was ahead of them — so far, it appeared this tunnel went down a long ways, with alcoves off to either side ahead of them....And the third stayed near their feet, helping them with the treacherous terrain of loose earth and rubble on the stairs.

The air was freezing cold, unusually so even for being this deep underground. Noira felt the goosebumps forming on her arms and suppressed a shiver as she proceeded towards the first alcove, where she heard shuffling and muffled whispering. The elfess paused, raised a finger to Serine, and then motioned her on quietly.

Once they were gone, Noira said to Serine, "They mentioned a moving shadow, which is a kind of Atrean guardian. They specialize in gravity magic, but whatever environment they're bound to....they take on elements of it. This guardian protects the dead, hence its chill....They're like golems, in a way," she added. "Somewhere in here should be a sigil that created it and keeps it bound to this place. If we can break the sigil, the guardian should disappear." She heard what sounded like a frosty breath, a low moan of cold air, and frowned at the depths of the tunnel. "...and if I had to guess, the sigil is somewhere behind it."

Serine's lips expressed slight worry without her realizing; she couldn't recall having fought anything like that before, and this particular learning process could be dangerous. Any worry she might be feeling didn't make it into her words, however. "Do you know what weaknesses it might have, perhaps, or what sort of sigil we'll be looking for?" she asked, never one to hesitate when it came to deferring to someone that was probably more knowledgeable. Pride never answered important questions, nor offered extra safety.

"Right now the sigil will probably look like ice," Noira said, "based on what we're feeling....Raw magicka can temporarily disrupt the guardian, but it will always form again and continue to attack until the sigil itself is changed. If we make a break for it — " Her mage lights caught a glint of iron down the tunnel. "Duck!" Noira said, as a shadowy mass loomed towards them and a sword went spiraling through the air.

Serine quickly ducked without thinking. She'd learned to listen when a companion said that. The large number of weapons strewn about the alcove suddenly looked more threatening. As the blade sailed above them, Serine threw a quick blast of fire toward the shadow; she was too far to use raw magical energy, and she was merely hoping for the best by hoping the shadow itself had icy qualities to it. She'd have to devote some free time later into projecting pure energy at range, but this was definitely not the time to experiment.

The shadows scattered, though Noira could already hear them hissing and coalescing again somewhere behind them. "Run, and keep your eyes open for that sigil!" Noira said. Every step she took it seemed a new orb of light shot out from her hands, sticking in every alcove she cast into until after they passed, illuminating row after row of urns and ceremonial weapons — many of which were already beginning to rattle. Nothing appeared to be inscribed so far.

Loose stones broke away under her feet, and Noira tumbled as she ducked a helmet and other objects zinged down the tunnel at them from behind. She caught herself with gauntleted fingers dragging on the stone walls, pushed upright and kept moving.

Serine hurried after Noira, projecting an additional shield in front of her to deflect the objects being thrown her way. It would keep her safe for now, but it was definitely not a long term solution " they needed to find that sigil. She tried to keep close to Noira to block for her, but she was not as good a runner. It was a sort of mixed blessing when Noira stumbled momentarily, since it meant she could get out front briefly. Being ahead, she took the opportunity to throw more bolts of fire ahead of them, trying to keep the path clear more than cause the guardian any real harm.

It was a good thing, too.

The guardian attempted to coalesce ahead of them, another looming shadow growing up from the floor, momentarily blotting out Noira's scattered lights before a firebolt dispersed it.

As Noira counted down, Serine's flame jet ceased, and she turned toward the guardian and began to concentrate. Flame wreathed her hands and moved up her arms, stopping at her shoulders as Noira reached three. She threw her arms straight out from her shoulders and an equally wide burst of flame emanated from her, slamming into the guardian and sliding around its form. She was careful not to use an explosive attack, as it would undoubtedly have hurt both of them as well as the guardian in this confined space. Even this much was risky. Such a blast used a great deal of her power; she was not drained, but it would be a moment before she could do something like that again. She formed a shimmering purple blade in one hand. She preferred a whip for its reach, but she'd be as likely to hit a wall in here. She didn't prefer melee at all but she felt she needed to conserve and regain her energy for now.

The guardian roared in anguish, shadows dispersing at the burst of powerful flames from Serine. A massive two-handed blade rattled away from its place on the urn-lined shelves as it coalesced once more, this time arms and legs, a torso and a head taking shape as it sliced the air threateningly with whistling strikes as it advanced. It was almost within reach when Noira took her swing. Holding the hammer with both hands the elfess lifted it up over her head and, screaming with the effort, brought it slamming down into the sigil, shattering its already fractured center into thousands of pieces. The guardian vanished in an instant, its blade clattering to the stone floor in front of them.

As Serine raised her magical blade to parry the incoming blow, the guardian vanished. She watched the blade hit the floor before turning sharply, looking for more threats. When she saw the sigil had been destroyed, she relaxed a little but still kept her guard. She continued looking around for a moment before she spoke. "That takes care of that, I suppose..." She tossed her blade aside and it shimmered out of existence within inches of her fingertips. "Are you hurt?"

"A little bruised and scraped, but nothing terrible," Noira said, grinning in spite of it as she steadied herself with deep breaths. It had been an exhausting fight. She let the hammer fall down and summoned what remained of her energy to illuminate as much of this chamber as possible. The guardian's unique energy was gone from this room, and the chill began to recede, replaced by the steady hum of power from the portal. "I don't know what we're going to tell the workers happened down here....but if you have any believable lies ready, I'm all ears," she managed with a breathless laugh.

Serine laughed gently in return. "Perhaps they were afraid, and seeing things in the shadows. That's not entirely inaccurate. They don't necessarily need to know that the things were real." She bit her lip. She wasn't good at the coverup part back when she was active. She was much better at the 'fix it and disappear into the night' approach.

"That should do for part of it....and as for the mess..." Noira raised her eyebrows. "It's not a lie to say that we dispelled the magic here....and by the cruel gods, did we ever face backlash."

They were back on track.

The excavation had taken longer than Noira had planned. Between multiple assassination attempts by the hands of her Empire's realm-hopping rivals, a Nexus event that had sent her foreman on a mad quest for answers and nearly struck her blind, and a guardian spirit that had nearly skewered her and her friend Serine on the pointy end of a dozen ceremonial weapons....it was a miracle the excavation had even survived this long.

But now her would-be assassins seemed to be running scared, thanks in part to a hired gun named Riggs, and Petar found the workers to finish the dig by the end of the week.

Noira returned to meditating on the power of the portal chamber, kneeling on the raised dais in the center of the room with her eyes shut and her hands stretched up to the heavens, as if in reverent prayer, while the remaining work proceeded around her. She could feel the Legion's mages casting and scrying on the other side of the portal, working through a strengthening connection she had only recently determined the cause of....In two weeks time, the moons of RhyDin and Halcyr would be in phase, and then, then she could return home.

They were through the worst of it, after all.

* * *

"Atrio is dead. He was cut and shot, left in his own camp for his subordinates to find."

"She's hunting us. Do you think it was her" Or her mongrel friend?"

"I do not think it was either, but regardless, we are exposed. The Watch pays ever closer attention to our movements, six of our brethren in bonds already. We should not have tipped our hand so soon."

"Then we will do as you first said. We wait for the ritual....she will have no way out....It is settled, then."

"May the dawn guide our path."

Those azure eyes watched the lively jubilation's with mild interest as the workers drank and carried on in the small port tavern. It had taken longer than he had hoped and certainly had more problems then he anticipated, but the project was done. The portal had been fully excavated back to what remained of the original walls of the chamber; the pathway to the room shored up with lumber braces while on his order sturdier stone and iron pillars were erected in the portal chamber proper, far enough away from the pillars and walls so as not to hinder scholarly scrutiny. He was rather pleased with the results of the dig having only left detailing and beautification work behind as he was fair certain this lot were not of delicate enough persuasion to handle such. And now, of course, like any decent command he ended the mission with a party, a nice and easy way to engender warm feelings for the job done so if ever he needed to call on this lot again, all the gods forbid, they would have a positive recollection. Of course with the amount of cajoling, cursing, and threatening he did to get to this point maybe he was better off just hoping not to wake up dead with a knife in his back.

A lazy draw was taken from that bottle of cheap liquor as he stretched long legs out before him to cross at the ankles, a dismissive hand wave offered at the men's requests for him to join them in bawdy song. Despite having achieved a good goal together he felt it necessary to keep the men at arms length....if not just because of a few issues with personal hygiene. Of course, his less than enthused spirits was also not helped by the fact that for all intents and purposes he was still on the job though in a vastly different capacity. It had been his intention to let the elfkin know of the jobs completion with a simple letter that still sat in his satchel:

Noira,

The job is done, my company and I have cleared the portal and reinforced the ceiling. If you have any further need of me feel free to contact me. And remember, do not turn into a bad witch or I will have to pike you.

Petar

In his past he would likely have been smacked for writing so blunt of words to a woman....but by his reckoning he had endured and survived long enough to warrant some roughness around the edges. Though now he'd never even had the chance to deliver such before the elfess had tracked him down and requested his continued involvement. She had requested his presence and perhaps a few paid able bodied folks to watch over the proceedings as she opened the portal....a 'precaution' in her words. Of course what he read from this was: there is like to be trouble and those without the ability to handle such need not apply. And so while the rest of the men were drinking away all the coin they had earned he was left with a troubled feeling and the job of considering whom he might want to hire from this motley bunch for some 'precautionary' security. To this end he settled in to nursing that drink as his mind focused on the task at hand, free hand fiddling with an engraved ring to give off the impression that he was busy and not to be disturbed. A mild knock on the wood of the table would bring his attention back to the world around him, azures turning to the gaunt features of the sub-foreman that smiled at him warily. "We did it sir."

He offered a dismissive wave to the encouraging words as another draw of liquor was taken. "Ye'mean dragged ta completion kick'n an' scream'n."

The man shrugged as he took an uninvited seat warranting a glower from the smith who had hoped to maintain his misanthropy longer. "Perhaps, but that doesn't change the fact that we did get it done. It has been a strange journey though."

The smith snorted derisively as he took a swig of liquor. "Nae stranger than tha company kept while doin' i'." Hubbert chuckled lightly at the jab as he took a draw of mead from that tankard he carried. "True enough. So, if I may be bold what do you plan on doing now that this job is done sir" "

Petar quirked a brow at the man. "Ye be bold....now tha' twill bae tha day..."

Gaunt features contorted into what Petar could only assume was a glower; obviously the dissolution of command hierarchy apparently doing wonders for the mans disposition....or perhaps it was just the sixth tankard of mead filling him with new found confidence. Either way Petar simply snorted at the mans indignation. "Still wor' ta bae done on mae end, twill finish tha' 'efore return'n ta mae trade."

Jade colored eyes widened in mild surprise as he looked over at the smith. "More work" I thought you'd completed everything right down to the bookwork..."

He gave the man a sidelong stare before taking another swig of liquor. "Hmm, aye dig'n is done. Bae another reques' from the dagger ear."

Hubbert cringed lightly at the smiths disregard for cultural sensitivity. "From Mistress Sibreth' Seems you are quite taken with helping her." The man tried to make it sound more suggestive but that sidelong glance took on a caustically hard quality. A few gulps of mead were taken as the sub-foreman sniffled uncomfortably. "Er, um, well, what did the miss request of you?"

Those azures continued to bear down on the other man for a moment longer before he snorted at the mans impudence. "Security....dur'n tha open'n o' tha portal."

"Oh, I see..." The man considered this for a moment, a drink taken before he'd hazard to probe the topic. "Is she expecting trouble?"

The smith shrugged lazily as he took a swig of liquor. "Don' know. Our exchange was brief...but..."

The balding man quirked a thin brow. "But?"

Azures turned to the man studying those gaunt features for a bit before he'd wave off the concern with his free hand. "But noth'n....tis jus' a precaution I'm sure....ye know 'ow soldier'n types can bae wi' thar paranoias an' sorts."

"Oh..." The man fiddled slightly with his drink, the furrows of his brow working as he quietly thought over this. Petar sighed inwardly as he took a swig of liquor, azures turning back to the gifted ring he toyed with as his mind drifted back to the task at hand.

"Well, I'd be glad to help if it's for Mistress Sibreth!" Those azures snapped back to the beaming features of the sub-foreman....a conscious thought needed to keep the dumbfounded look off those aged features.

"Are ye daft!" A thought. "Aye....aye ye are....but this bae an entirely differ'n sorts o' such!"

That bright expression tarnished slightly at the smith's incredulous response. "No....I am not daft. I was a naval steward for ten years I'll have you know."

"Aboard a merchan' ship....an' ye quit after yer one an' only pirate board'n."

The man sniffed indignantly. "I was just tired of life on the seas."

"Righ'....no." Petar finished off his drink setting the empty vessel down on the table with a thump for emphasis.

Those gaunt features fell into dismay....the alcohol obviously making the man more emotive than usual. "No!" But why not' I'm..."

Petar leveled a flat gaze on the man as he interrupted his drunken protests."Yer a bloo'y coward Hubbert tha' starts winging a' the slightest provocation."

"A...a coward!" I admit, I may be shaken easily but to call me a coward! That is taking such too far!"

A gloved hand came to pinch at the bridge of that heavy brow as he contemplated going down the extensive list of spooks, scares, and idiocy he'd had to deal with from Hubbert during the dig. With effort he pushed back the vicious little voice that chanted for him to let the man have what for as he took a deep breath. "Loo' Hubbert, I don' nee' yer 'elp on this. I've alrea'y 'nough 'elp as is an' this is a low budget sort o' job."

"Oh, but I can do it for free! As you once told me Mistress Sibreth's cause is a good one and I as a honorable and non-coward feel obligated to see it through." The man thumped a bony hand against his chest in emphasis though the pose only reminded the smith of a chicken.

"Loo', I appreciate yer dedication an' concern bu' honestly....tis okay. Jus' go an' spen' time wi' yer family...." The smith paused as he listened to that vicious, a bit of will used not to let a smile pull on his lips. "Speak'n of have ye le' yer misses know tha' ye bae done wi' this job?"

Those gaunt features visibly paled. "Err..."

"Pro'ly aught dae so....from wha' I 'member o' yer ma'am she woul' nae ta'e kin'ly ta ye gallivant'n 'bout after yer work bae done an' swear'n ta protect some younger woman fer nae payment'..."

The defiant look utterly melted from the mans features at this point as he cast a sullen look to the smith. "You wouldn't!"

Petar shrugged as he feigned innocence badly soliciting a further scowl from the other. Manipulation wasn't Petar's strong suit....if only because he only know one real way to be manipulative. The two sat in silence as Hubbert finished the remainder of his mead with much less enthusiasm before he'd brooch upon a new topic. "So....is that ring a present from Mistress Sibreth?"

"Hmm?" Petar followed the man's droopy eyed gaze to the ring he still aimlessly toyed with. "Wha' makes ye thin' twas from the knife ear?"

Another cringe at the derogatory term but he'd push on. "The symbols on it looks very much like those in the cave and on some of her notes I've seen."

The smith quirked a bushy brow, a bit of surprise pushing through those stern features causing the man to puff his chest in hurt pride. "I was a steward for ten years sir....I am quiet literate and observant of such things."

A mild chuckle escaped Petar. "Aye....true, if'n ye weren' I'd ne'er 'ave approached ye fer tha' dig job in tha firs' place." Those thin lips of the sub-foreman peeled upwards at the rare compliment.

"Aye....twas an' engagemen' ring. She said she'd fallen fer mae mature an' rugged charm bu' I 'ad ta turn the poor lass down as she jus' wasn' will'n ta breed mae enough brood....I wanted a 'alf dozen a' leas' bu' she said 'ooh noo tha twould droop mae perky ears!'" And just as quickly that smile withered.

"Your a horrible person Petar." Hubbert sniffed disgustedly at the smith as he stood up from his seat. "Good'eve." Without another look he stormed away from the table headed for the bar.

"Bloo'y 'ells, if'n I'd known tha's all i' woulda taken ta ge' 'im ta leave I would'ave started almost every one o' mae conversation with him by saying somethin' crude..." He muttered lazily as azures watched the man leave, a mildly relived sigh escaping as he tucked the ring away into his satchel. With a grown he followed suit pushing himself up and out of his seat before mindlessly extending his farewells to the other men. A turn of his heel and he was headed for the door, his expression sinking back into that pensive glower as he stepped out into the night.

What trouble have you gotten yourself involved with' The question rang unanswered in the back of his mind as his thoughts turned to the immediate fools errand at hand.

Golden locks of that lush mane whipped about chiseled features as azure eyes stared down the maelstrom of raw arcane power that surged forth from the maniacally laughing mage. Shadows danced about the walls of the unholy cavern as legions of undead skeletons pushed out from portals summoned to either side of the mage. To the far side of the cave a larger portal belched out lumbering, rank, unnatural beasts that baaed viciously and lurched with savage intent. And at the center of the chamber stood the focus of the calamity, the elvish maiden motionless as her hands orchestrated the vortex of eldrich forces that slowly coalesced into a portal, her short pleated skirt dancing dangerously short of modesty in the magical gales.

White teeth shown in that mad, malevolent grin as the mage stared mocking at the smith. "I shall crush you, your minions, and the dagger eared one and claim this portal for my own desires and there isn't anything you can do about."

A slight smirk pulled on thin lips as the smith sneered at the mans threats. "Is that so' I believe me and my boot would beg to differ..."

The confidence drained some from the mage as the mountain of a man drew his blades, a ponderous pace taken up as he bore down on the magic user, a wolfish grin of his own spreading across regal features.

"Stay back!" Pervert the First Summoner of Idjitopoland warned as a shaking hand rose against the approaching smith. "I'm warning you....my demons and undead will lay waste to you!"

Those azures continued to bare down on the mage as he continued at that glacial stride. "Hey, Mr. Pop....think you can entertain the pets while I punish the owner?"

The mage of the small defense group gave the man a wide eyed look of shock which he quickly recovered from, a hesitant nod given as he readied his own blasphemous arts. "I think I can manage..."

"Alright, then the rest of you protect Noira....I'll deal with Pervert here..." The other two sellswords nodded as they fell back leaving behind a lone sniveling figure that quaked in his own waste.

"What should I do Petar?" The hooked nosed man winged as his knees rattled.

"Take the rear Hubbert..." Those cool azures slide to the man, the sheer confidence of the smith soothing the balding mans nerves. "Protect Noira at all cost....I've faith you can do this friend."

"I w-will not fail you sir!" The man exclaimed almost grovelling as he ran towards the far side of the cavern, his foot falls splatting with each step...

* * * * *

Petar hazarded a lazy glance over the end of his bottle to the sub-foreman who had turned beet red, his thin form quivering."Som'thin' tha matter Hubbert?"

The man slammed down his tankard as he exploded at the smith. "'Something the matter"!' You are blatantly lying about everything that happened!"

"Is he" Sounds really plausible to me!" The other men broke into riotous laughter at Sparrow's jibe warranting him a sour glare from the sub-foreman as well.

Petar took another lazy draw of liquor from his bottle as he leaned back. "I ain' lying....I'm takin' creative initiative ta 'mprove the quality o' tha story..."

"That is lying! Your making yourself out to be some grand hero!"

He shrugged lazily. "Arn' I" Las' I check'd ye weren' the one stab'n wizards an' cutt'n yer way through walls o' undead skeletons ta save all our arses....ye were dressed in cookery an' skulking in the back of the cavern."

The indignation only grew on those gaunt features. "Cookery! That armor has served me very well for many years! It is a family heirloom of considerable quality!"

"Tha' armor bae a pot belly stove wi' a few lids lashed ta i' an' a cauldron fer a helmet."

"Says the smith who doesn't make armor!" The man snipped back with venom in his tone.

"Wha' does tha' 'ave ta do with anyth'n" Ye don' 'ave ta make armor ta know tha' what ye were wear'n weren't no true suit o' plate....'ells yer flauds had griddle ridges!"

"Y...you..." The man grit his teeth as those gaunt features contorted in rage fueled by the laughter of the peanut gallery. With a sharp motion he threw down the rest of his liquid courage before slamming the empty vessel down onto the table. "I'll tell you all how it really happened!"

* * * * *

The morning light danced brilliantly between the leaves set to motion by the chilly breeze that blew that late November morn. The sun had hardly set off on its daily journey when the company of adventurers descended upon that arcane ruin. Camille, the trusty pinto mare, ferried me forth through the morning mists to our rendezvous. Despite placation of the potential dangers I had opted to wear my full plate regalia that had been hand crafted and passed down through the generations, the interlocking iron plates sitting firm upon the frame glistening from the morning dew that settled.

Prim and prompt the noble Lady Sibreth had already made the rendezvous dressed sharply in her native armor and cloth which accentuated that air of quiet strength that hung about her. Ever studious, the elven maiden tirelessly pursued her notes on the portal to ensure the success of the summoning.

A ways off from the dignified mage the sullen smith slouched lazy against a tree garbed in that typical commons cloth, his expression dower as he wallowed in his sodden drunkenness...

* * * * * *

Petar took a lazy swig of liquor as the long pause drew his attention to the storyteller, a look of smug vindication worn taught on those gaunt features. Despite the fact that the man's attitude annoyed him he found no real fault in the description as it was very likely he was at least well toasted by that time of the morning simply to dull the headache he would inevitably get from willingly standing next to a tear in the fabric of reality. With a simple shrug of broad shoulders he would deflate the shine of victory from that face, a motion with his bottle for the man to continue only stomping out the remaining embers of pride.

* * * * * * *

A warm smile grew on the lady Sibreth's noble features as I approached, her studies momentarily forgotten in the presence of cordial company. "Good morning Mister Reinhardt. I am sorry to have called you out here so early."

A gentle smile was exchanged in return as that horse was dismounted and hitched to the nearby cabin."Please M'lady Sibreth, you may call me Hubbert, and I am humbled to serve." With a snap of heels that armored form bent in a formal bow bringing a mild blanch to the elven woman's creamy visage.

"Do naw bae such a bootlicker Hubbert." The smith slurred as he offered a crude scowl, ungainly form teetering under the influence of the spirits he imbibed.

The contemptuous tone was easily dismissed as that bow was extended warmly to the smith as well. "A good morning to you as well Mister Alistan."

The man simply scoffed before finishing the remainder of his inevitably cheap liquor, the bottle nonchalantly thrown with abandon into the woodlands as another was produced. "Whats sae good aboot it?"

A patient and knowing smile settled upon wise features as I straightened to scan over the surroundings. "Are you and I the only two guarding Mistress Sibreth' From what I remember you had hired a few more swords."

The smith simply waved off the astute observation, his hefty girth wobbling some with the motion. "Don't you fret now, we've Gustavo and Jared from the dig coming and Noira has invited some mage sorts that apparently doesnay know the meaning of prompt."

Both Noira and the gentleman cringed at the disrespectful tone the smith used in reference to mages. Ever the peacekeeper though Hubbert moved to distract the drunkards attention rather than leaving the man to move into one of his tiresome prejudiced tirades. "I see....are we truly expecting so much trouble as to require another great mage?"

"Not...really..." Noira's expression remained proud as ever but the keen man picked up on the slightest hesitation that tainted that melodic tin. "Aurthor is more coming to ensure the success of the binding....he has been of tremendous help in formulating and creating the spell that will stabilize and bind the gate once it is open."

Hubbert nodded sagely in firm understanding. Out of scholarly interest he was about to ask for more information about the spell when the drunkard exploded from his stupor. "Ye should always expect trouble! There is trouble in every shadow and you should fear and be prejudiced against it all! And hate, ya gotta..."

* * * * *

Petar snorted derisively at the drivel escaping the man's mouth bringing the storyteller to a halt, a touch of excitement touching those gaunt features. "Yes" Something wrong?"

"Aye thar bae someth'n wrong..." He took a swig of liquor as azures watched that excitement build in the mans features. "Ye played the pointy eared lass off as some refined lady when in actuality she was near titter'n 'bout the cleverness o' tha magic like a bloo'y debutante just asked fer 'er firs' dance!"

That excitement faltered as the smith completely failed to take his insulting bait, but outrage would soon replace that dejection. "Sh..she was not! She had a very scholarly interest in her craft, something you could learn from."

He waved off the man's objection with a lazy gesture. "Oh, li'e ye' I swear ye'd 'ave 'bout started snore'n if'n I 'adn't elbowed ye..."

"I..I was not!" That outrage only grew. "And you elbowed me when you made some crude suggestions of me having impure thoughts about the Lady Sibreth!"

A hearty chortle escaped the smith. "Oh righ', I forgot 'bout that...now tha' was hilarious."

A wash of crimson colored the mans visage as anger and embarrassment bubbled within. "I.I..It was nothing o..o..of the sort! I will have you know that I am a virt..."

Those azures rolled."Virtuous, noble, pure as driven snow, an' 'bouts as boring. Righ', righ'." He waved off the trembling mans fury with a simple sweep of his hand. "Anyway, as I was say'n....thar I was..."

Hubbert blinked. "H..hey! Don't try to change the subject!"

"I wasn', I was continu'n lett'n the lads know what happened." The smith didn't even bother trying to preface the blatant lie with a look of innocence....he knew all to well that such expressions were well beyond his normal range.

"What?" That rage smudged over with confusion. "But I was telling the story!"

The smith eyed the man warily. "Ye were flapp'n yer gums sure but 'twasn't a story ye were tell'n."

"I was starting from the beginning! Some people like exposition and grounding!"

"Ye mean tha borin' parts."

"Only dullards find stories without senseless violence and hyperbole to be boring!"

"Oi, the 'hole point of a story is..."

"Please, please, no lovers spat before the children ye two!" A new round of laughter followed the galling words as Jared stood from his seat grinning wide. "I'll tell you how it went my boys, right as rain I will. So there we were right, me and Gustavo choppin' away at skeletal warriors while the mage fellow was toss'n out bolts of magic 'BAM' 'BAM' 'BAM' like at the big creatures and the misses was chanting and glow'n and crap in the center....oh, and Hubbert was pissing and cowering. Anyway, Petar went and charged through the bony bastards like a madman to stab the poor sap summoner all 'SHTICK' before chopping his way to the portals and giving them a 'WHABAM' kinda chop killing them too. Then there was wind and more glowing and Gustavo got himself sliced right good and suddenly strange folks started poppin' outta that creepy central bit and it was just bloody brilliant!"

Despite the drunken gaiety of the other workers a weary sigh escaped Petar as he eyed the man. "Wha' in tha 'ells was that?"

"Your absolutely terrible at telling stories!" That azure gaze shifted to the incredulous look that hung on the gaunt features of the sub-foreman who beat him to the inevitable point.

Jared offered a lopsided smirk as he jeered. "What are you going on about old man' Jealous of my grasp of concisivness?"

"Concise?" Hubbert straightened in his indignation, a firm stance taken as he berated the fellow workman. "It was a hardly even a blurb! One doesn't even begin to grasp what was going on and you absolutely fail to paint the story in the mind of the listener rather throwing it at them like gruel!"

The mercenary shrugged. "Hey, granted it wasn' as learned like or of fancy speak as yours or Petar's but it got the job done in it's own right."

"Got the job done" I think you've done more to alienate your audience your audience than..."

Petar swirled that bottle lazily as he took a drink, his attention wandering as the two men began to bicker to the entertainment of the peanut gallery. Those thoughts turned inward as his free hand toyed with that toroidal lump of scribed upon tungsten, the gift and it's meaning weighing heavily upon his mind. Despite the success and the achievement of his goal, whatever that may have been, a soar pit still rolled about restless in his mind. The portal had proved to be much more two directional than he had anticipated thanks in no small part to Arth"....Arrow"....Archimedes"....Mr. Pop. This wasn't something that would normally bother him (or not as much as it was at least) but the words of the summoner; fueled by nationalism, pretentiousness, and fear as it was; still painted a picture of the dagger ears homeland that didn't sit well with him. It sounded to be a land ruled with ambition....and the smith had had quite the experience with political ambitious sorts in his life to know the dangers such could prove. The overly practiced political response from the knight captain didn't help to ease his concerns either on this point nor the fact that a small company of military sorts was sent through the gate as soon as it was opened. A mild sigh escaped him as he tried to push the thoughts away. This wasn't something to concern himself over, he was but a simple blacksmith now....in no way was this any of this his concern. Azures eyed that ring in his free hand, the corner of his lips pulling down into that typical frown as he already knew his answer to that.

A loud thunk and a burst of laughter would drag his mind back to the present moment, azures lifting to the show before him once more as he tucked that ring away. Hubbert's wiry frame shook mildly as he stood there, that empty tankard planted firmly upon the table. "You all are a bunch of uncivil cretins!" He turned on a heel, storming off for the bar as the other men mocked his retreat. The smith felt a little sorry for the man at the amount of grief he got....but only a little as it was typically of his own actions that got him said grief.

"Oi, Petar, so you stabbed the mage, stabbed the skeletons, stabbed the portals even....so then what happened!?" Sparrow called out to the approving jeers of the others. The smith sighed lazily as he took another swig of his liquor, that dower expression leaving his aged features as he leaned forward.

"Oh, well then. Thar I was look'n li'e a righ' oiled god o' war when the knight captain tha' 'ad traveled through the portal came upta mae, 'er 'eavy bossom heaving wi' barely constrained relief....an' barely contained by 'er breastplate mind ye...?

And so the night of tales wore on.