Key Quest Hush
Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
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#29

Sam flinched and stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the loud noise from up ahead; a sharp pair of raps, not a natural noise. There was definitely something sentient before them. Whether it would be their earlier companions or not he wasn't sure. But whatever it was, they still had to move towards it; there was little other choice.

He turned back to Remi and held out an arm in front of the other man. He had forgotten that others could not see in the dark as he could, that part of his Ascended nature having become like breathing in the last few years.

"Hold on-onto me. I can see." He said as explanation, knowing it would reveal him as an Ascended (something he tried to avoid when possible) but seeing no other way around explaining why he was touching Remi. "I'll guide you." Once again he was in a leadership position that he was vastly uncomfortable with, but they had to move forward so they didn't get stuck.


Samuel
Another little nothing-ever-after, Nothing more

Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
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#30
remi
The higher I climb the farther I fall when I do
Remi too heard the sound head, though he didn't halt as abruptly as Sam had. As a result the alchemist collided with the ascended in a way that made Remi flinch and recoil. Without sight the relative warmth of the bookmaker's body and his sudden presence felt overwhelmingly large and oppressive in the tunnel, which again without sight, Remi's mind had made to feel quite small. "Sorry I did not—" see you there, but of course that was obvious.

Feeling Sam's outstretched arm, Remi hesitated for a moment. Even without the societal worries of the land he'd just come from, Remi's trust had very recently been shattered and even down here where his very life might depend on it, some of that jadedness felt sharp and difficult to avoid. Swallowing, Remi reached out, his dexterous fingers finding Sam's arm, and then sliding down towards his hand. It wasn't necessarily an intimate gesture, not down here with things crumbling around them and strange sounds ahead, but still it was more contact than the alchemist's fragile mind would have necessarily wanted.

But it wasn't as though he had much choice.

"Alright." Remi whispered in response, his fingers pulsing gently against Sam's own to punctuate his meaning.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.


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#31

Amalia's fighting stance was valiant, but as her healer companion had correctly deducted, a staff against stone was no competition. One of the gargoyles that leapt at her would find a staff shattering hard against it, and it was stopped in its tracks somewhat. The other, however, succeeded in landing hard upon her back, stony claws sinking deep into her shoulder and attempting to drag her down, down, down.

In that moment, however, it was physically shoved off her by some forcefield - though it would take a decent chunk of her with it, unfortunately. Shrieking its protest, the gargoyle and its companions - now scenting blood - threw themselves at Archebold's forcefield, but the trio in the water were safe... reasonably so.

Archebold's decision to move forward was a good one, and it worked to their benefit as he led them back down the watery corridor. A right turn at the end of said corridor brought them out of the black water and back onto solid stone; providing Desmond still had the lantern to hand, he might notice that, as the ripples from their footsteps disappeared, the gargoyles began to quieten down again. Very strange.

Remi, guided by Samuel, would join them within moments, reuniting the group. Hooray!

Just in time for the wall behind them to... speak.

It looked solid enough, but the keen eyed among them would see a few stones arranged here and there into an enormous face.

"Prove your worth," it invited in a gravelly tone. "Strength lies in more than one's power to fight. One voice must speak, and one only."

Pausing for but a moment, it continued:

"I never speak unless I am spoken to.
Many have heard me, but none have seen me.
What am I?
"




The group has reached the final part of the Key Quest - congratulations! <3

As you can tell, this part of the quest comes in the form of a riddle. Please select ONE character amongst you to answer. ONLY that character is required to respond. However, should you answer wrongly, there will be consequences.

You have 48 hours.

(It is strongly suggested that you speak amongst yourselves before selecting someone to post. :3 For fairness, please try not to Google the answer.)
HUSH
silence is the most powerful scream
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
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#32
A M A L I A


No! Amalia wants to shout in response to Desmond, but all that comes out is "Naaargh!" as stone talons tear into her tender shoulder. The pain is blinding, sharp and jagged and crushing and awful. She tries to reach back for her assailant, stumbling and falling into the water, her cries drowned and muffled as the gargoyles drag her down. Water fills her lungs; she coughs, but this only makes the situation worse, and before she knows it the pain in her left shoulder is paired nicely with a pain in her lungs. Is this drowning? the girl wonders, and the thought seems to echo through her head, persistent and prolonged. Mort, mother, have you come for me?

Just as suddenly the pressure is gone, and Amalia breaks the surface, life returning as easily as it left. She gasps, inhaling deeply and greedily, air never having tasted so sweet. Above her towers the Ascended, and though his generosity is unexpected, it is not unwelcome. "Thank Vi," she murmurs through a burning throat. "And thank you, Ascended."

Perhaps the greatest relief, there is still light; the girl blinks through pain and tears, her wet hair plastered to her face and neck, bloodstains dying her grey coat red, and smiles up at Desmond, posing a question stupid in its simplicity: "Did you grab my boots?" Likely he did not, and she will have to go back for them- but in this moment Archebold is pressing on, and the girl has bigger problems than barren feet. She follows, stumbling, her shattered staff a makeshift walking stick, her left arm cradled against her chest. With every step pain blooms in her shoulder, but the stubborn girl presses on, her lips drawn in a line.

It is not long before they are met with noise, and relief swells in the girl's breast at the sign of Samuel and Remi, who, unlike them, appear relatively unscathed. A half-smiled grimace passes over her filthy face, but it is quickly replaced with a frown as from behind them there comes a sound. Prove? Have they not proven themselves already? Has she not given blood and tears, life and health, to prove herself in this venture? Her dark eyes bloodshot and hard, Amalia stares at the wall. Pain screams a symphony through her body, but the girl ignores it, her jaw set, her heart racing. She glances at her companions, but in her heart she knows - she will be the one to speak, she has earned the right to do this, to finish it, to answer the query with blazing confidence, passion and anger and curiosity and hope lighting an inferno in her heart.

"Echo," the girl speaks into the darkness, her own voice reverberating softly through the Underground. "It's an echo." She exhales sharply, pain stabbing once more at her back, and takes a step forward toward the wall. If she has doomed them, well... at least she will be first in the line of fire.





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#33


Echo, she said.

And echo it was.

And echo it did.

The wall all but crumbled as the reverberations from Amalia 's voice lapped against it, the thrum of her word shaking it loose from its foundations. In fact the humming was a palpable sound for the group as the structure before them collapsed, revealling a hidden room beyond.

The air here was stale yet alive with vibrations, and the lantern would not be needed; veins of blue and gold peeped through grooves carved into the floor, the walls, the ceiling, welcoming them in with a warm glow.

At the centre of the room a raised platform boasted a beautiful obsidian statue - the figure of a girl, young and virginal, her hands clasped in prayer.

Only, as they entered the girl would emerge from the statue, flickering and translucent, like a ghost. The humming intensified, colouring her through with gold and grey, her hair a billowing halo about her head. She opened eyes the colour of static and graced them with a benevolent smile.

"My children, you are come," she murmured without moving her lips - her words, soft and sweet, would whisper into their minds like a wish.

"I am the Voice, and I am found. You have my gratitude." Her eyes flickered over Archebold and Samuel and she rallied further.

Bright ones, you must be exhausted! Replenish yourselves." Her clasped hands parted to offer her wrists to the Ascended, and as she did so they seemed to become more solid, more corporeal.

"And you who spoke the key to my freedom." She levelled her gaze at Amalia. "Would you become bright too?"

Her lips parted to a joyful grin; the veins of light in the room seemed to pulse and rush out, deep, deep through the underground and beyond.



Congratulations, gang. You have successfully completed this Key Quest and you will all receive credit! You are very much encouraged to leave a wrap-up post.

Samuel and Archebold - should you choose to approach the Voice and feed, you will find your reanimating fluid replenished in full.

Amalia - the Voice has offered you an opportunity to Ascend! Should you choose to accept, you shall become an Ascended.

Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
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#34

Sam was still working out just how their path had wound them up back with the group when Amalia had answered the riddle; he had instantly dismissed himself from that task, knowing that he was not bold enough to be the speaker for any group.

So when the wall disappeared before them and unspeakable beauty appeared, he was shocked. Stepping backwards and looking around, he tried to gauge the reactions of his fellow cave-adventurers. He had never heard of 'the voice', had no idea who she was...and she immediately revealed him to the rest of the group as an Ascended. If he still had blood, he would have flushed red.

"I-I. Um." Sam looked across at Archebold. He had no doubt that the other man would drink. It was something he hated to do, especially in front of others, but it felt rude to refuse, Awkwardly, slowly, he moved forward and after a nervous smile and nod up at the girl, bent his head to push his fangs into her wrist.

As uncomfortable as the whole situation made him, there was little comparison to the feeling of being refilled with fluids, the replenishment like a sigh of relief throughout his whole body. He stepped back after he had had his fill, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and whispering a thanks to The Voice before stepping behind the rest of the group. As soon as he was able to, he left quickly and quietly, hoping to sneak off in the dark and possibly not be remembered.


Samuel
Another little nothing-ever-after, Nothing more

Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
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#35
remi
The higher I climb the farther I fall when I do
Gently trailing behind Sam, Remi sighed with relief as Amalia's light slowly came into view. Still he did not release the Ascended's hand. Perhaps it was because it felt good to feel like he was with someone in all of this madness, or perhaps it was simply because it seemed as though the red-haired man might appreciate the calming gesture.

However a simple hand-hold could not prepare Remi for what it was he was about to see.

Gasping at the veins of colour and light, Remi shied away slightly from the rumbling, glancing quickly to see whether or not the trio they'd been separated from had been harmed. Swallowing hard Remi watched with silent amazement and a healthy dose of fear as the spire-looking protrusion emerged, and from within it the young woman.

Glancing toward Sam as the being offered her body to him, Remi raised the arm that linked the two together and softly let go of the man's hand. If he noticed he didn't give any indication however, moving forwards to drink from the being. "The Voice?" Remi repeated, his tone questioning. It didn't so much sound like a name but .. a title?

With a start Remi watched as the light seemed to increase before bleeding outwards through the veins, almost as if being carried somewhere. Unlike Sam who had hastily departed, Remi would need the aid of either Archebold's eyes or Amalia's lamp to exit. Either way, he'd wait for one—or all three of them—to make their exit and would follow suit.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Desmond Sariel
Healer

Age: 34 | Height: 6’ | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship:
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#36

Thankfully, they made it through. Archebold had helped them with his anti-magic barrier, likely saving Amalia’s life, but not before a gargoyle had sank its claws into her shoulder. It wasn’t a life threatening injury, so Desmond didn’t need to attend to it immediately, but he made a note of the supplies he would need to treat her. "Thank you, sir," he said quietly to the man.

However, his words were cut off by the wall speaking, giving them a riddle. Desmond was far from an expert in riddles, so he was thankful when Amalia stepped forward to answer. She answered correctly and something happened.

The young healer waited towards the back of the group, nervous at what was to come, but he found a beautiful, ghostly woman introducing herself as ‘the Voice.’ As far as creepy and enigmatic went, this was ranking pretty high on Desmond’s list, despite how benevolent she may have seemed.

After the Voice addressed Amalia, and if the girl chose to remain an Accepted, Desmond would whisper to her with a gentle smile. ”After we get out of here, come to my house so I can treat your shoulder.” If she decided to become an Ascended, he would remain quiet, simply glancing at Remi and Samuel for a moment. This was definitely not what he had expected, having left his house that evening.

desmond
Talk to the Moon, Heal the Soul

Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#37
A M A L I A


Would you like to become bright, too?

All the pain, all the fear, for... this? Shocked, in pain, Amalia nearly stumbles back, her dark eyes wide in surprise. She had not known what to expect, when answering the stone face's riddle, but she had hoped, had yearned, for something meaningful, something beautiful and bright, an answer to the questions that thrum constant in her heart. Instead they are met by a figure, a god, who offers life to the Ascended and the curse of it to her.

"No!" The word rings out through the empty hall, sharp and vehement, an unquestionable denial. To become Ascended, locked away in darkness and unable to face the sun! Amalia can think of nothing worse; she shudders at the very idea, her head shaking earnestly as in sharp rejection of the proposition

Barefoot, bloody, she backs away, preparing to leave should the deity ask for nothing more.  Gratefully she looks to Desmond, hand outstretched to retrieve her precious light. She needs to get her boots, and then have her shoulder seen to. And then, perhaps, forget this night, strange and wondrous as it has been.





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