Completed [Nyka] Dominion, or the tragedy of the commons [Ialari]

[Tarot]

Mid-winter, 510 AV (grandfathered)

It had been a long march.

Leaving Sahova and smuggling the renegade Nuit Shalla wa'Nagat out of the Citadel had turned out easier than expected, partly due to the measure of trust Ialari had gained in Sahova and partly because of Shalla's careful preparations. The undead woman was clearly resourceful, and delving into her personal files had revealed many suspicions that she may be a spy-mage, but never conclusive proof to the conjectures. Unlike many of her kind, she was eager to see the outside world, and made a useful traveling companion for the Isur. At the very least, she never burdened Ialari with her needs, as she had none. Every now and them she would check her body for signs of rotting, and once she admitted that it would likely not be usable by the next spring, but there was still plenty of time.

In Zeltiva, they'd first inquired about hitching a ride on a ship to Nyka, but they had no luck. Apparently, Nyka was not considered a profitable trade route by the Zeltivan merchants; a largely self-sufficient city, they imported little and used their own ships for most of the export, charging heavy taxes on foreign traders. There was only one ship from Zeltiva making the route each season, and they'd barely missed it. The prospect of waiting a full season in Zeltiva only to undertake a lengthy journey at sea forced the two women to make preparations for the land-based route, as Shalla suspected they'd have to.

They stocked up on supplies and set out on the spectacular, if dangerous, Kabrin Road connecting Zeltiva to Syliras. Their horses were very nervous around Shalla until they got used to being mounted by dead meat. Thankfully, the journey was rather uneventful, and Ialari even had time to collect some leaves and herbs for her poisons along the way. Shalla herself had a talent for just knowing when people were close by; the Isur could only surmise it was either magic or some sixth sense you can't help but acquire after centuries of poking your nose where you shouldn't. Thanks to their combined efforts, any potentially dangerous encounter was prevented or neutralized without serious consequences.

Shalla was not a talkative companion around the campfire, but while she was very tight-lipped about her past, she did reveal more details about Amir Berliotz and the golden fleece of Ialari's quest, "Dominion". Apparently, Amir had been one of the Seven Robes, an informal group consisting of the best wizards in Alahea. Under weaker rulers, it was them and the Court Mage (always one of them) controlling the state from the shadows. With a few exceptions, most of them were power-hungry, ruthless wizards who cared nothing for the people. Yes, with a few exception. But Amir Berliotz was not one of them. Back in the day, he had his private army and was sorrounded by sychophants willing to do anything to please him. And to him, it was never enough. Like others in the Seven Robes, he'd developed mental ailments from tampering with magic too powerful to be contained. As his Morphing talent was unrivaled in his time, he got the idea of splitting his soul so that he could theoretically live forever and be everywhere at once. And thus began his obsession with "Dominion".

Dominion (Na-Daeq in the ancient tongue, or "the breaker of boundaries") was a missing link between Mizahar and the Ukalas. According to legend, the last god of magic - whose name was lost in the mists of time - had gifted it to mortals soon after they stepped into this world. It was a short-sighted decision. Men made such a mess with this discipline - treating the Ukalas as their private junkyards like they did the Void - that the other gods purged such knowledge from the world within a few decades. The old god of magic was also destroyed, probably because of the major faux pas he or she had made, and there hadn't been a new one ever since. Of course, there was no telling if the legend was true, but apparently Berliotz had been able to use Dominion, or at least a form of it. Berliotz's story lacked a happy ending, though. Wizards rarely met with fortunate destinies. He had destroyed himself - a fitting end to such an ambitious bastard, and perhaps a warning to Ialari.

Finally, after several weeks of riding through Sylira, the walls of Nyka stood far off in the distance. They were a peculiar rosy color, as were all the buildings in the city as all the stone was extracted from the same quarry. Nykan architecture was spartan and almost simplistic, but it was not without some artistry in its use of proportions and negative space. The city wasn't as large as Syliras, but then again no city was. Figures clad in thick brown cloth robes patrolled the walls with their hands joined and their heads bowed as if in prayer, but their weapons were both large and in plain sight. The lands around Nyka had been claimed from a large swamp, and were now intensively cultivated. Wheat was the prevalent crop, and it seemed to grow healthy and luscious despite the time of year and the cool climate.

Four monks, dressed in their brown robes, stopped Ialari and Shalla in front of the city gates. While their clothes may indicate them as religious men, their faces were anything but. With scars running down their faces, noses that had been broken once too many times, and the occasional missing tooth, these brutes would have looked fine in the middle of a tavern brawl. A sword was embroidered on their robes, and they carried helbards and an assortment of knives and daggers. One of them even wore spiked knuckles on his right hand. Notably, there was no queue to enter or exit the city.

"Halt!" one of the monks called out. "Well, well, well, we've got an Isur and an undead here. If you're looking for a city that will take anyone in, Syliras is that way." He pointed a big burly finger in their direction. "Us, we do things differently in here. Better. What you looking for?"

[Ialari Pythone]

Although the time spent at sea was slight, Ialari couldn't help but silently curse every moment spent on the water. A creature of the highest mountains, she was never able to feel at ease in an element so far removed from her home. So when Ialari and her unliving companion were forced to take the land route for the majority of their journey, she saw it as a blessing from Izurdin for her perseverance and continued grasp on patience. The added benefit of being able to gather a few ingredients for her various experiments in poisons was nothing short of being therapeutic. During her time in Sahova, Ialari observed a number of different nuit and noted their individual stages of decay. A thought had occurred to her that she may be able to craft a poison that could bring about such symptoms in the target. If she could create a poison that would rapidly wither the health of a target; effectively speeding up the aging process even on a small portion of the body such as a hand or even an arm or a leg, she would increase the overall effectiveness of her studies a hundred fold. She already had an ample supply of undead material from the remains of Rawass she gathered before leaving the citadel. She could pull from them the withering properties however she would need something to help carry those effects throughout the target body rapidly. There were many plants capable of this; their own poisonous effects, though minor, were already known and when mixed with properly prepared undead remains, could potentially bring the desired effects Ialari was looking for. With that in mind, she gathered as many leaves, herbs and roots that she could along the way that possessed fast acting poisons both minor and moderate in strength.

When she wasn't occupying herself with poisons, Ialari pondered the stories Shalla shared about Amir Berliotz. He was an ambitious fellow to be sure. While Ialari did not miss the possible comparisons between Berliotz and herself, she justified, mainly to herself, her own ambitions as being focused solely on the betterment of her people. In her own mind, the Isur, while a strong and proud race, were the victims of human folly. She viewed the humans as being the cause of the Valterrian. In their greed and lack of humility, they had angered the gods and brought about the great divine war. The Isur suffered the wrath of the gods and their very existence was shattered. While still prosperous, they were but shadows of the past; continued victims of human greed and perceived superiority. She would see the humans suffer a thousand Valterrians.

Shalla was indeed a decent traveling companion. She only said what was necessary and while Ialari did feel a tinge of loneliness for not having one of her own kind near her, she was relieved to not have to worry about the needs of a living partner. She only had to gather food for herself and during the weeks of travel, she saw and felt an increase in her overall physical health. The exercise combined with a wider variety of food did wonders for her body as well as her mind and overall mood. Shalla would notice a change, if she even cared, in her travel companion. Ialari was less standoffish, not quite as cold and generally a bit more open. She didn't needlessly press Shalla for information and asked questions that were more to the point than ones guided by anger and emotion.

The whole matter of horses was also something new to Ialari. While she had seen them before in the trading post she often frequented back home, she never had the opportunity to spend much time with one much less ride one. When they left Sahova, Ialari relied on Shalla's resources, both physical and magical, to acquire the various things they needed for their long journey. When it came to horses, she insisted on getting ones that required little training to handle. Those they ended up with, while comparatively inexpensive, were trained well enough not to require experienced riders. This was more than a relief to Ialari. She tried to get as much basic information on how to saddle the horse as possible which wasn't all that difficult. However when it came to actually mounting one, she fell off more than a handful of times before finally getting a feel for it. A couple weeks after, she still bore the scabbed over gashes from a rather nasty fall against an all too sharp stone.

When their journey eventually brought them to the walls of Nyka and the city gates, it became painfully clear to Ialari that she didn't know exactly what to expect from the city or its inhabitants. The robed figures who approached her put her on guard immediately. When she realized they didn't look like the religious figures their robes may otherwise indicate, she had to bite her tongue and swallow her inherent hatred for humans in order to confront them. Their words though indicated that they had experience at least with identifying a nuit and an isur; a mixed and potentially troublesome occurrence.

At being questioned about her purpose for coming to Nyka, Ialari had but a brief moment to come up with an answer. She noted the monks and their robes. If they looked somewhat religious, perhaps they were somewhat religious as well. They were allowed authority enough to grant or deny entry into the city which meant they might have other privileges as well; perhaps even privileged access to places others would not have. She glanced over to Shalla and then back to the monks before saying the first thing that came to her mind and hoped they would not question much further. "My name is Ialari Pythone, this is my servant." She motioned to Shalla, indicating her to be the servant. "I come to Nyka in search of enlightenment... Along with their religious appearance, she also noted their battered, battle-worn features before quickly adding, ..and a chance to prove my strength." She figured if they knew enough to recognize an isur, they would understand the potential for strength in mind, body and soul which she also hoped that they held in conviction as well as their own appearance. For added effect, she cracked the knuckles of her metallic fist by flexing her fingers in unison; the sound was a light mix of grinding stone and twisting metal. Ialari realized from the look of the monks that she may have to back up her words with action.

[Tarot]

One of the monks gave an amused smirk at Ialari's answer, and when she cracked her knuckles it looked like he was just about ready to take her on, meaty fists clenched and shifting into a fighting stance. It only lasted a short instant, though; the man burst into a deep, throaty laughter, soon joined by his companion. "Good to hear that, Ialari Pythone," the man stroked his rough, uneven beard, "there's plenty of both to be found inside. Just stay out of trouble if you can, or give it a good beating if you can't. Hope you brought your own food or are willing to starve, though - food is a blessing and we don't share our blessings with strangers."

"My mistress and I have come fully prepared for what awaits us, monk," Shalla interjected. The man's gaze shifted to the Nuit and he frowned. "You don't happen to be from the mage-island to the South, do you, bag of bones?" His gaze turned suspicious. "Last time we let one of them wizards in, people ended up dying, you know. He killed a monk of Laat in cold blood for being asked to surrender a few magical trinkets of his."

"Did he?" Shalla simply said, her expression never changing. That did sound like Master Farke all right.

The monk suddenly laughed once again. "It was great! We tied the body, put whore makeup on its face, hoisted it up a pole and carried it all the way to the edges of Laat's quarter. And we sung and taunted them real good, 'even a dead man can make you his bitch!' Man, what a night that was - especially when the bastards came down on us hard to get the body back." The monk grinned and pulled up his unkempt hair, revealing a small metal plaque on the back of his head, placed through some brutally direct form of surgery. "A memento from that night. Alright, ladies, you can haul your asses in, but don't get into things you have no chance of surviving, understood? On your way, now." As far as they were concerned, the conversation was over.

The monks stepped aside, still chuckling as they reminisced on the past. A gesture from one of them and the portcullis slowly opened up for Ialari and her companion. This was Nyka, brutal and unforgiving but also strangely mystical beyond its years. Beyond the gates were narrow cobblestone alleys that could not be truthfully called streets and simple houses that all looked alike. It was not the easiest place for anyone but a native to navigate. It seemed like the city was segregated into themed quarters. It did not take them long to realize they were in the quarter of arts and crafts, under the authority of Xannos of the Tempered Anvil. The atmosphere was, if nothing else, somewhat familiar to Ialari, with stalls and workshops and artisans plying their trades both in the open and behind closed doors. The noise of hammers and saws and other tools echoed throughout the quarter, and the hammer also served as the quarter's symbol, rendered upon flags and banners hanging from walls and windows all over the area. The monks seen here carried warhammers instead of other weapons, therefore showing their allegiance to the demi-goddess and daughter of Semele.

The natives wore bright-colored clothes that made a stark contrast to the monk's spartan brown robes. They tended to keep their distance from the foreigners; some even made strange gestures at them as they passed by. The most frequent sign reminded Ialari of a square made with their thumbs and index fingers. If Ialari's gaze lingered on a shop for too long, someone would often point at some sign on the wall indicating that they didn't do business with foreigners. Shops that actually accepted strangers as customers were few and far between.

"We need to find one of the bridges between the quarters," Shalla broke the silence, "from there we should be able to..."

But the Nuit's voice faded into silence even though her lips were still moving. The crowd around the two of them seemed to walk in slow motion. It was a completely new experience for Ialari - reality grinding to a halt around her. The light looked brighter, the air felt warmer and electrical, charged with power. For a moment, the sky was purple instead of blue, with a blood red sun shining with a pulse that resembled a heartbeat. And the glorious Isur male was standing beside her, his body too perfect to describe. Power radiated from his form to the point it deformed the objects behind him like an Eyktoli mirage.

"The time has come for you to right an ancient wrong, my child. Do not fail me."

As quickly as it had come, the vision pulled back from the Isur. Everyone was walking normally around her, and Shalla tilted her head in curiosity as she realized Ialari was looking a bit spaced out. Definitely not Ialari's standard expression. "Are you still with me?"

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari had seen a lot in her long journey from Sultros to Sahova; things that had changed her in many ways and not all of them good. Even so, the way the monks spoke and acted disgusted her in new ways though she kept her reaction to herself. Though there was something of a tense moment, she relaxed a bit when it apparently passed; her fists loosened and her body felt a bit lighter. Upon being allowed entry into the city, Ialari couldn't help but feel a slight wave of comfort wash over her as familiar sights and sounds greeted her. While the rather harsh responses to foreigners was offsetting, she couldn't help but smile at the echoes of home. The sounds of hammers striking metal, music from voice and instrument alike caused Ialari to almost forget that she was in filthy den of humans.

She turned to Shalla as the nuit mentioned finding one of the bridges between quarters. As she did, the odd feeling that overcame her was not unlike that experienced by ingesting a number of different poisons possessing extreme psychedelic effects. She turned her head from Shalla as another presence made itself known. The visage next to her caused Ialari to almost lose her footing. Time standing still, she refused to blink as she looked in awe at the image of isur perfection. An extreme few isur had ever claimed the honor of seeing, much less being addressed by their creator in person yet what she was experiencing could only be that. His words rang in her ears and echoed through her mind.

Just as she struggled to accept what she was seeing and hearing, it was gone. Ialari's surroundings returned to normal, her vision cleared and she realized her footing was solid. Shalla was still there, an odd look on her face, her voice questioning.

Ialari blinked and quickly looked around. Everything was as it was but moments before her strange experience. A being born to religion and faith, she refused to accept that what happened was anything short of a miracle. Responding to Shalla, Ialari's voice was uncertain at first but gained determination almost instantly. "I...we need to find a place to rest for a moment first. I am not feeling right. I can't explain it now or here but there is something very wrong about this place." Ialari's face went from looking drugged to looking like she had just seen a ghost. She began looking around for someplace a little more secluded and quiet while leaning in closer to Shalla and whispering in the nuit's ear, "From what you know of this place, do you...do you know of anything really bad happening? Something so wrong that...that a god might take interest in fixing?" She had nobody else to ask. Her god just appeared to her, something that happened maybe once in a lifetime for most isur and the only person she could talk to about it wasn't even alive and even if it was, wasn't even isur. Shalla was however a library of knowledge and was perhaps the only being of non-divine origins who could enlighten her on what "ancient wrong" could have been committed. If she could get nothing from Shalla, Ialari would have to take more drastic measures and attempt communion with her lord; something she had never done directly with the explicit intent of hearing her lords words.

Ialari was not herself, not by any sense at the moment. Such a thing, to a person who was used to listening to others, would be more than clear to Shalla. Especially considering what she would have learned about Ialari during their journey from Sahova.

[Tarot]

Secluded places weren't that hard to come by in Nyka; it had little in the way of streets, at least compared to places like Syliras and Zeltiva, and most traffic trickled through relatively narrow alleyways. Finding one that didn't contain a soul took them but one chime and a couple corners.

Shalla looked curious, perhaps. Or maybe that was just a figment of the Isur's imagination as the Nuit's facial muscles were rarely exercised if not for the immediate mechanics of speech. She took in Ialari's state of relative agitation and pondered the question for a few seconds before attempting to answer. "I take it you had some sort of vision, yes? That is hardly uncommon around here. Most people receive one at some point while they're here. I have read it's called the Lance. Some people just hear whispers, others get full divine manifestations. This place is recorded as having some of the highest rates of divine apparitions in the world."

The Nuit did not sound jealous of Ialari's experience. Truth be told, she was perfectly content with her head being left alone by whatever forces held sway in this city. "The place itself is pretty much made of bad. The crevice we're going into, the Aperture, connects it to the ruins of ancient Nykalia… a city that was destroyed in one day, eight millennia before the Valterrian. Some say there's even older stuff down there. Although, if you're interested in my opinion, you should stay focused on what we're trying to do. A vision happens for a reason. If you weren't told more, it could mean that you're already on the right track. Or so one would hope."

The undead woman peeked around the corner, spying on her surroundings, and continued. "This place is more dangerous than it looks. I bet it's even worse at night, but our road to greatness starts here, no? If the gods have truly upped the ante then we are going to need every ounce of our skills. And focus." She said it in a mildly chastising tone, black tongue flicking over her lips.

[Ialari Pythone]

As soon as the pair found one of the rare, quiet, withdrawn places in town, Ialari took a breath and brought her thoughts more in order. When Shalla spoke of the "Lance" and how divine visions were not all that uncommon, it did not quiet Ialari's concern. If anything, her overall agitation began to grow as did her confusion and curiosity. If Nyka was important enough to the gods that they would send visions and occasionally manifest in some substantial form, then the possibility of finding something or somethings great below the city was approaching more than even an isur's concrete patience could contain. Speaking her thoughts quietly aloud, Ialari muttered, "I wonder what makes this place such a conduit for divine communication...what is so important..?"

As much as Ialari hated to admit it, Shalla made a good point about the message Izurdin had sent. He had not given her any actual direction to follow; only that there was an ancient wrong that needed to be righted. With no other guidance given, it was logical to assume that she was already on the right path. If she were to discover secrets once possessed by ancient beings, gods and who knows what else, the potential was more than she could come to terms with at that moment. Focus however was without a doubt a necessity despite the miraculous, once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Following another deep breath, Ialari gave Shalla a nod. "Alright. Izurdin has a plan for me and as far as we know, that plan involves our current mission or is somehow related to it. I'ill take his words as a blessing. Perhaps we should take a look at that Aperture and at the very least get a better idea of what we are talking about here." While her words spoke of focus and determination, Ialari couldn't help but continue to ponder the words of her god. What ancient wrong was he speaking of? How would she know what to look for?

[Tarot]

"Good idea," the undead woman nodded. It was at times like this that the unique condition of the Nuit stood out for what it was. Even Ialari, the poisonous schemer, could not hide the signs of nervousness and excitement building up inside her. A Nuit, on the other hand, was a sealed box, and whatever they felt, they could keep to themselves. Their bodies would never betray their emotion, for they just wore bodies, they weren't their bodies. The living often loved to hate that which they could not understand; it was unsurprising that the Nuit suffered the prejudice of most.

Shalla motioned for Ialari to follow. "I believe I spotted a bridge earlier, just as you were having your vision. If Master Farke's report is to be believed, the bridges are the only allowed entry points to the Aperture." Nyka had been built on both sides of the crevice that ran like a narrow canyon throughout its length, roughly from North to South but with several bends along the way, much like a river. Twelve bridges connected the two halves, with all bridges connecting two different quarters of the city. It did not take long for Ialari to see what Shalla had seen. The rows of buildings thinned out, leaving room for what would have been a pretty normal stone bridge in a fluvial city - except there was no river.

Indeed, the final row of buildings pretty much ended sharply against the precipice. While the crevice was not very wide, it appeared to be pretty deep. With sunset approaching, only the most superficial section was still decently lit, but Ialari could easily calculate that this far up in Northern Sylira, Syna would never rise high enough to cast light on the bottom of the pit, not even at midday on the summer solstice. The place they needed to go was never touched by warm light.

"Looks like we found our passageway," Shalla said, pointing at the very middle of the bridge. There, what appeared to be a long rope ladder was rolled up and secured to the stone. Once unrolled, it would hopefully reach down to the bottom of the pit. Two monks were guarding either side of the bridge. Curiously, and unlike what might be expected of guards, the pairs of men were facing each other across the bridge and showing their backs to the rest of the city. The expressions on their faces suggested that the monks found their colleagues on the other side a much more real threat than anything that might sneak up on them from their own quarter - the flag of which was on display near the monks. The hammer on Ialari's side of the bridge, a sword on the other.

The undead stepped aside. Better let the Isur take care of the negotiations here. Shalla wasn't as strong as Master Farke and as such a living person's charisma may be needed.

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari followed Shalla and stayed close while listening. The numerous bridges that connected the two halves of the city seemed to Ialari to be a bit of an overkill. Humans were always trying to outdo everyone and everything around them by building bigger. Architecturally speaking, Ialari was far from impressed. Perhaps it was the closeness she was feeling with her deity or maybe a bit of genuine homesickness that brought memories of home to the isur. Her clan citadel, Pitrius, was the smallest of the five citadels yet the dark wonders beneath it overshadowed everything else. The Silver Tower, Chasm of Echoes, The River Veras; their dark splendor blanketed Ialari as she struggled to keep herself focused on the present.

Shalla's voice slithered its way into Ialari's mind and bolstered her focus. "...bridge, entrance to aperture...let's go." The strange feelings, memories and thoughts that she had not experienced since leaving home. Indeed the city was having some rather strange effects on her yet she silently vowed not to let them consume her.

Ialari followed Shalla as they made their way to the final row of buildings ending against the precipice. Darkness was all that greeted those viewing from above. While Ialari's vision could extend into the darkness much farther than simple humans, it too was halted by the sheer depth of the aperture. Glancing out onto the bridge, Ialari followed Shalla's motions to the rolled up ladder guarded by two monks. The path was obvious, the method of entry, more chance, or faith, than anything else. Taking a deep breath, wiping her brow out of instinct more than need, Ialari stepped out on the bridge and walked toward the monks.

As she approached, she envisioned the motions of the serpent, smooth, slow, seductive and mirrored them. Putting one's target off guard was always a good first step. She would approach silently, hidden from sight due to the target's attention directed elsewhere. If she were noticed, she would smoothly slide her way into their graces with her nonthreatening, alluring posture. If needed, a crushed throat and forcibly removed tongue would eliminate any trouble although Ialari preferred a less violent approach. She hoped that if it came to it, words, even if poisoned, would be just as effective.

[Tarot]

One of the monks turned his head as the duo approached, soon joined by his companion. Not walking fast enough for someone just wishing to cross the bridge, they surmised. Their interest in the deep pit that run underneath the city gave them away for what they were. "Let me guess," the monk on the left chuckled, "we've got more Aperture tourists on our hands." The one on the right nodded so sharply it almost looked like a headbutt. Both carried heavy hammers on their belts, in keeping with the theme of their quarter. They had a heavy frame, and sported various scars, much like their colleagues at the gates. On the other side of the bridge, the two monks from the other quarter watched attentively as things unfolded.

"Well," said the first monk, gazing at the setting sun, "you have come at the right time, if nothing else. First Cast at dawn, Second Cast at dusk. Ten chimes each. If you miss your ride you gotta wait till the next Cast."

The second monk grinned, revealing yellowed teeth with a heavy underbite. "The last foreigner went down about five days ago and hasn't come back since. Bet he's long dead by now. Not to insult or anything, but you sure you really want to go, ladies?" And it was clear by his crooked grin that he meant to insult for sure. Regardless, the men did not object to their wish. It seemed that descending into the Aperture was a basic right around these parts. As long as you followed the rules, they wouldn't have a problem with it.

As soon as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, the monks moved towards the center of the bridge. Their counterparts from the other quarter did the same, and the four of them found themselves lined up against the stone parapet of the bridge. It really looked like a ritual of sorts, a meeting of rival forces participating in something greater than their daily squabbles. A monk from the hammer quarter and one from the sword quarter untied the rope ladder simultaneously while their companions watched their backs from aggression.

And down it went, like a coiled snake springing forth. It was long, very long. It must be very treacherous to climb up and down on windy days; thankfully this one was not. The monk turned his head to address the Isur. "We wait five chimes for anyone coming back. Then you can go." And wait they did, one eye on the Aperture and one on each other. After the five chimes, the monks pulled on the ladder three times. "No-one's climbing up. Help yourselves."

The monks stepped back and motioned for the two women to step upon the parapet and start climbing down the rope ladder, into the darkness. Then again, Ialari had an edge in such an environment. "Well, what are the orders then? Who goes first? Or are you going alone after all?" asked Shalla, still icy but regarding the rope ladder like she would an old enemy. It sounded fine in theory, like many things did. The practice had the smell of falling into the abyss and ending up smeared on the bottom.

[Ialari Pythone]

When the monk mentioned, Aperture tourists, Ialari simply nodded. If that is what they wanted to believe, then she would allow them to believe it. She noted what was said about how to get back from the depths. It was uncertain as to what would happen once they descended into the darkness but the idea of there being a way out was at least somewhat comforting. Resisting the urge to vomit in her mouth at the sight of the monk's distasteful appearance, Ialari steadied herself to respond to him.

"Those of strength descend, those without stones remain above. As for the pathetic insect who has not returned, chances are they deserved whatever happened." Assuming the wretch was intelligent enough to understand the reference, Ialari smiled innocently following her own retort. Her patience with the ignorant humans was waning.

Watching as the monks unfurled the rope ladder, Ialari held tight to the vision she had received from Izurdin. What she was doing was in-line with her lord's wishes. The thought alone sent shivers of pride throughout her body. When the chimes were sounded an nobody ascended, Ialari hid a grand smile. The more dangerous it was, the greater the act of returning was.

Ialari turned I Shalla, "I'll go first, of course." Ialari said matter-of-factly as if there were never a question. "Just make sure you stay close in case I have to catch you when you fall." Ialari smiled widely. She was genuinely not trying to be mean as she knew that the nuit did not make a habit of engaging in such physical activities. The bridge, Aperature, and even the foul monks reminded her of Sultros. Though dangerous and unknown, there was still a familiar feeling to what they were doing. Whether it was subconscious memories of home or the feeling that she was doing what she was meant to do, Ialari was awash with confidence and certainty. They would succeed, she knew it.