“Anaius Vasilios Silcharion. You have been registered as a possible asset. Grombard Shrag has requested a new pulser be sent to him to further his experiments. A Follower Golem will take you to Lab 5-Q."
Grombard Shrag? Anaius has never heard the name in his life, not that he expected to be familiar with many of the Nuits that dwelled here in the Citadel, nor did he think the name would give much in the way of a hint as to his potential new instructor’s nature. His train of thought was interrupted by the appearance of a diminutive golem from behind the large one that had just spoken. Peculiarly shaped, the small construct resembled a mouse or other small rodent and it too spoke, though in a manner that would swiftly become very agitating were it to continue with its repeated demands of, “Follow, follow.” Inhaling slowly through his nostrils, the corner of his lip quirking briefly upwards in a faint flicker of amusement at his current situation, the man in blue followed in the wake of his minute guide, his traveller’s chest in tow.
The first area that they arrived in, a scarce few moment’s walk from the TAR golem, was not altogether what he had expected; A graveyard. Or something very similar to one, at least, with its tombstones and graves, and the eerie shroud of fog that cloaked the area..Ah, and the ghosts. This did not mark the first time in his life Anaius had encountered an otherworldly entity, but this was most definitely setting a precedent for the sheer amount of spirits in one place. He had halted for a moment due to his initial surprise but he didn’t exactly feel that staying still in the Courtyard would be the wisest of courses to take, not to mention his little guide was getting impatient and irritating again. The smooth skin of his brow creased and he frowned at the golem, tightening his grip on his chest and proceeding onwards, lip turned downwards in displeasure at the contraption.
His irritation with his metallic companion was short lived, however, as the faint whispering and muttering of the spectral inhabitants of the area grew to louder moans and muted cries of distress. With the increased volume came an apparent increase in aggressive behaviour, or curiosity, though Silcharion was not inclined to dismiss the grasping fingers that clutched at his clothes and hair as spurred by simple curiosity. The frown deepened into a scowl, his brows drawing down to knit together as he attempted to swipe the ethereal appendages away, only for them to be driven back by some unseen power. Glancing about for any immediate potential source of such an effect, his gaze was met by nothing but more fog and tombs. Dusting off his sleeves and shoulders with a hint of irritation, Anaius dismissed the thought and decided instead to focus on what might lay ahead for him as he walked.
From the Courtyard he was led to to the left, passing through another set of doors to find himself in a location that he couldn’t quite decide was an improvement over the courtyard or not. Judging from the many cells that comprised most of the area, and the inhabitants located within them, he made the logical leap to assuming that he was, in fact, in a dungeon. Splendid. He sincerely hoped that this was not his final destination, for as eager as he was to learn and further his studies in the magical arts, he was not entirely keen on doing so by withering away in a locked cell. Glancing sidelong at the mouse golem, he was relieved to find that it continued onwards without breaking pace, a practice he mimicked as he strode further into the dungeons, doing his very best to ignore the pathetic and haunting cries and warning from the denizens of the dark place. The few hands that sought to grope towards him he kicked away out of disgusts, his lip curling up at their repeated warnings for him to turn away and flee. Flee, him, Anaius Vasilios Silcharion? I think not. I will not suffer the same fate as you poor wretches. , or at the very least he would do his utmost to avoid ending up in the same situation.
Shrugging off their pleading, Anaius continued on his way, taking note of the large Akalak that was contained within one of the multitude of cells, the once impressive specimen crumpled in a corner in such a state it was difficult to tell if he was alive or dead. Anaius felt little sympathy for the prisoner, and even if he did he imagined there was little he could do to aid him at the moment. As it was, he chose to not waste his time by applying his Auristics skill to see if he truly was alive or not, and simply followed the golem. On and on they went, the stones of the dungeon slowly giving way to natural rock, where the area must have been carved from the very bones of the island itself. Where was he being taken? Did they keep the research area for Magecrafting down here, in case something went amiss? Or was this a test to see if he had the resolve to stay once he had seen the fate that awaited those too weak of mind and of will to not fall? He chose to favour that conclusion, shutting out the small but ever growing voice of doubt that whispered to him of a trap, of being lead into the spider’s web as willing as any fly. Perhaps he would end up as one of those poor wretches after all...
Thankfully, before that dour voice could get any stronger, the guide halted before an iron door that was covered in mold, informing him that his destination had been reached. Eyeing the rather unwelcoming portal dubiously, Anaius did not bother to hesitate before he pushed open the door and entered; He had, after all, come this far while knowing what he might be getting into. Little point in turning back down and discovering he had a cowardly streak to him.
The sight that greeted him was...Not what he had been expecting, to put it lightly. He had conjured images of a grand laboratory filled with rare reagents and wonders of the Magecrafting art, not..This. The closest thing he could liken it to was some peculiar infirmary, with its sterility, the lack of colour and the carts with sheets laid atop them. Not to mention the three of said carts that were occupied. Even someone so filled to the brim with confidence that it veritably overflowed, such as Anaius, would be taken aback by such a greeting, and so he was, halting in the doorway as the cacophony of the inhabitants muffled cries screams washed over him. Indeed, he was so focused on examining the various people strapped to the carts that it took him a moment to notice that there was someone else in the room, standing above the patient that wept like a child, with an air of intense focus about him.
Anaius took the chance to silently draw upon his Djed and focus upon the standing individual’s Aura, using his Auristics skill to attempt to discern something, anything about the man. |
|
