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year 5, quarter 3
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A full moon hung silently in the sky causing the tombstones to cast malicious shadows on the cold wet grass. The night was silent; no wind blew as though the air were listening for any signs of life in this land of the dead. The stone gargoyles watched cold and pensively from the belfry of the church as a woman jumped her way over the locked iron gates that barred entry after sundown. She landed hard leaving two deep imprints on the moist topsoil before gazing around before stalking silently towards her destination.
This was probably the strangest thing she had ever been hired to investigate. She had been trying to mind her own business as she waited for a potential client to meet her at the local tavern earlier that day. As she swished down her gin, she began listening in to the loud conversation of the sizable group at the long table in the middle of the room. "I'm telling you when I went to visit Deborah yesterday, she was gone! Her grave had been dug up and there was no sign of her!" One of the women nodded to what the man had said and added, "My sister said much the same thing when she had gone to visit Mom. She reported the disturbance to the authorities but you know them sitting on their fat asses." They all cheered to that and a few additional stories were added. "It's not like we can just sit watch all night or investigate. Some of us got jobs in the morning and what's worse is what should we do if not a simple grave robber?" The all mumbled in agreement. "I can take care of it for ya no matter what it is." Aranea had swung herself around on the bar stool to address the group
At first the group just gave her strange stares. "How can we trust a stranger?" one of them asked and they all began to agree. "Look, I really don't care," she stated before they could raise to much of a fuss, "I was just offering my services." She shrugged before turning back to her drink. Excited whispers began to fly within the group as she loosely listened for them to call to her. Part of the group was vehemently against the idea. What if it were her causing this mischief and distress? The other and larger portion asked of the others if they knew of a better way. Eventually one of the men asked, "So, what 'services'are you offering?"
After displaying her combat prowess against one of the men who questioned her prowess and knocking him flat to the floor, the contract they had forged up was quite simple. Aranea was to go to the graveyard that night and investigate. If she were to find anyone disturbing the graves, she to knock them out and bring them to justice. If a beast or something much worse was doing the crime she was to eliminate it. They hadn't much to offer, but she was touched by some of the stories they shared of their loved ones whose graves were being desecrated night after night although she wouldn't show it and thus she made no fuss at their offer. Gil was gil after all
So here she was. She had been walking to where last night's grave had been plundered. She held her lance tight ready to strike at any movement. The grave appeared much like the accounts she had been told. It was clear that it was a rush job, but she questioned the lack of prints leading away from the grave save for ones she had noticed going to it. Not finding anything of use Aranea decided to scout the place. As she walked she noticed the tombstones grow grander in scale in size. Plain grey stones gave way to ornate designs attached on top. She began walking into the area containing family crypts and large marble mausoleums. Marble cherubs stared at her as looked for any signs of disturbances here.
Passing by one of the mausoleums, Aranea noticed that the entrance was slightly ajar. Her first instinct was to bang it open and charge head on in and confront whatever lie in the darkness but took a step back from that approach. What if it was trap and when she entered she would be sealed inside by whatever was haunting the graves? Thinking quickly, she jumped onto the roof of the crypt across from the one she wanted to watch and perched with the gargoyle. She would just wait awhile and see if anything would happen. Just wait and see.
I guess I'm feeling Kuja lately. Oh, who am I kidding? I always love him.
Why should the world exist without me?
Graveyards were the height of mortal stupidity.
Kuja entered the place with a distasteful eye. He stepped carefully through soft earth and kept his flowing sleeves carefully to himself. The moon hung high that night -- a single half-orb that doused the scene in ethereal silver. Stupid. Kuja glanced at the grave-markers, dull and crumbling. Crude. He sneered at a rat scampering behind tufts of dead grass. There was nothing more pointless than memorializing the dead. Beneath him there were buried nothing more than the rotting husks of human vessels without use. Their souls were gone. Their identities. So why was it that they were so revered? Why was anything about them seen as sacred?
No, to Kuja they were nothing more than disgusting wastes.
The cemetery began with rusting iron hinges and the most base of memorials. The poor, he assumed. Those too common to be properly lavished with wealth they’d never enjoy. As he ventured deeper, the markers grew more elaborate. Statues where there had once been plaques. Embossed columns where there had once been rough etchings. The night was still but for the odd scuttling animal. Still and quiet and protected by taboo. Kuja didn’t bother to glance over his shoulder. He didn’t believe in ghosts because he’d already dealt extensively with the spirits of the dead. In fact, that was why he’d come now.
Soon, Kuja would create life.
It wasn’t anything special and it wasn’t anything new. He’d long studied all of the theories, and artificial life was far more natural to him than any kind of human family structure. But it was different in each world. The resources varied. The atmosphere shifted. And with every variant, Kuja had no choice but to alter his formulas and try again. And again. And again.
That was how he found himself in the city of Provo that late, somber night. It was something of a commercial trade hub -- always busy, always bustling, always base. He’d avoided it for a reason; it reminded him far too much of Lindblum. Still, every setting had its use, and here he’d heard tell of an ancient dark magic still practiced in the shadows. While he’d busied himself setting up a new workshop in the forest at the city’s border, he’d thought to investigate these claims.
Someone here knew the secrets of reanimation. How very useful if the rumors turned out to be true.
He came across a row of marble-cut mausoleums. He’d been told to meet the unholy mage near one of them, but he’d never been told which. His lips pursed as he glanced from one to the next with no visible differences between them. Idiots. Was this some kind of test? He stepped forward with a cautious air, hand raised and sparking with magic. He’d come at midnight just as they’d agreed, but where exactly was the mage? He stopped as something caught his eyes. A shadow. His eyes raked the front of the nearest marble walls and caught something there. A crack. His head tilted in interest as he approached it. Someone had opened the door.
He touched it lightly. There was no magic here. No sorcery to entangle him, but the crevice wasn’t quite wide enough to sidle through and the inside was engulfed in shadow. He ran his finger down the cold marble before glancing behind him for the first time. There was nothing there. Just the wind, the headstones, and an old crow watching him with beady eyes. His lips thinned.
He was not afraid to disturb the dead.
Magic flowed freely from his fingers. He captured the heavy stone slab in blue shockwaves of magic and motioned sharply. The door ground into the surrounding stone like teeth against granite. He nearly winced at the sound, but there was no one there bother. No one with a soul left anyway. So he pulled until the thin crevice had widened into something he could squeeze through.
Why was he so convinced he’d find something here? Nothing could have gotten inside, at least not without magic. His eyes steeled on the doorway. That was why he was here, wasn’t it? Perhaps it wasn’t so impossible…
With a muttered word, Kuja brought flames to his fingertips and stepped quietly towards the darkness.
Aranea was beginning to grow impatient and tired. Nothing stirred in the still night save the caw of a crow or the breeze the waved her hair to and fro. Her eyes drooped every few minutes and she had to snap herself back to attention. She had decided that if no one showed within the next hour she would depart for the night. She would tell some tale of felling a beast to gather her reward and be far gone before anyone could be any the wiser. It wouldn't be the worst thing she had ever done to make a quick buck. And really what was the worst thing that a few missing bodies could cause besides anguish?
That's when she noticed the glowing coming from beneath her. Crouching near the edge of the roof, she saw a figure with hand alight. The sound of the door opening caused her to grimace and grunt as she watched the figure slip into the dead's resting place. Great, this person could use magic and it didn't look it stemmed from magitek either. She sighed at the annoyance. It wasn't like she couldn't keep her own against it if need be but she rather avoid the mess of it all.
Jumping down from the rooftop, Aranea quietly as she could followed the figure inside. The person was casting a flame but it wasn't quite bright enough for her to clearly make out much except that the room itself had higher ceilings than she was expecting. She could feel more than see that the place was littered with cobwebs and dust. She could just make out the walls inscribed with crypts the names of those inside still illegible in the dimness. Leaning up against the wall next to the door, she finally decided to scope out this mystery person.
As the entrance gap had suggested, the person a couple feet in front of her was waifish to say the least. They were a good half foot taller than her with long wavy hair and cape. Aranea could not tell if the person were man or woman, but it didn't matter to her. She would take them on regardless. First she would try to coax some information from them and maybe slap their wrists. She didn't feel like trying to have a full blown fight in this place.
"If you're going to be sneaking about at this time," Aranea started with a sigh crossing her arms as she balanced against the wall spear wedged in her elbow, "you might want to learn how to sneak."She tutted as she waited for the person to realize that they weren't alone. She continued her speech keeping her eye out for any sudden displays of magic hurling her way just in case but looking down at her hands disinterestedly. "Whatever reason it is you're digging up bodies is your business, I guess, but I'm going to need you to stop. Got it?" She wasn't really giving them a choice, but they didn't need to know that just yet.
Of course it'd be younglings. This job as a bodyguard for some magic weirdo was just interesting enough to pique his curiosity.
This was day three of being on the job and absolutely nothing had happened except for his client making excited remarks that he wasn't privy to view due to some magical mumbo jumbo about aetheryte resonances and such. As a simple man, Ganba could absolutely not care less so long as he got paid- sitting in the shadows and waiting for trouble was suiting him just fine sans the sheer boredom of being stagnant.
Now, finally hearing interference and conversation coming from the main level of the mansoleum, disappoint coursed through his body. They sounded young, inexperienced. Knowing his luck, it'd be bed-wetting adventurer types without having been blooded by the World yet.
" Tch..." He couldn't help himself, the sound escaping from his lips and travelling upwards as he began his own ascent to find the unwelcome guests.
The same sound of distaste echoed from further within the crypt to the ears of the two newcomers. The clinking of plate mail rhythmically bounced around the enclosed area, all giving means to showcase the sudden gargantuan man who stepped forward from the shadows. His massive horns nearly scraped the ceiling and the monochromatic theme of both his armor, flesh and scales would easily have anyone err on the side of unease. Ganba stood almost seven feet tall and broad, shining black plate wrapped around his entire body and similarly colored scales covering his face, arms, hands and tail. Couple that with the double bladed spear held just a little too comfortably in hand, it was surprising that alarms and warning lights hadn't suddenly started blaring into existence.
With his attention fully focused on the girl who had spoken aloud, Ganba let out a grunt to bring the attention to himself (as if it wouldn't have already).
" Ain't really your choice though, now is it...kid?" The armored draconian spat, his forked tongue slithering out momentarily with the action before retreating back behind his lips. In the same motion, he casually exposed his neck by tilting his head to the side and slightly back. It was a cocksure gesture, one easily recognizable as goading and indicative of the lack of threat he perceived from the two strangers before him.
" Goin` keep it real simple for you, ain't much fan of repeatin' myself," Pointing back the way they came with his free hand, Ganba made a shooing gesture," Get gone. This isn't a playground and I sure as hell ain't looking to add slaughtering kids to my burdens,"
The Alexandrian herald is a three foot penguin. Kuja's not phased by an odd looking reptile man.
Why should the world exist without me?
The crypt was spacier than he would have imagined and lined with engravings and ornaments that no one had ever been meant to appreciate. The walls were filthy and the air so stale it was almost toxic. Kuja eyed a cobweb-lined sculpture of some kind of angelic figure before the dust overwhelmed him and he coughed into the back of his free hand. This place smelled more of stagnation than Terra and it reeked of death. Still, Kuja had forced himself through worse for the sake of power and he wasn’t about to let something as trivial as a dismal atmosphere stall him. He strengthened his flames and started towards the stone staircase inset into the back of the tomb.
"If you're going to be sneaking about at this time, you might want to learn how to sneak."
Kuja froze at the voice behind him. Female. He’d seen no one outside. Perhaps he should have raised his guard.
"Whatever reason it is you're digging up bodies is your business, I guess, but I'm going to need you to stop. Got it?"
”Digging up bodies?” he echoed. ”I’ve done no such thing.” But of course a necromancer would. And that would lead to outrage. And suspicion now directed squarely at him. Why hadn’t he acted with more discretion?
”I’ve come to meet with a mage who I’ve heard frequents this place. Though I hardly see why.” He turned slowly to face the woman and caught sight of her leaning against the far wall. She was dressed almost entirely in tight-fighting leather with a jagged choker and a bodice so constrictive he wondered how she managed to breathe. From head to toe she was nothing but sharp edges and odd-fitting armor and he wondered for a moment what she thought she was trying to prove. He attempted a smile in her direction which he knew came far too bitter for comfort. ”I’m a sorcerer by trade, and I’ve come to ask of his skills -- if not his methods.” He cast his hand towards a sealed sarcophagus and sneered at it distastefully. ”I’ve nothing to do with the dead.”
The words had barely left his lips before a sound interrupted him, dismissive and strangely human echoing from the stairs beyond their entryway. Kuja tensed and turned in that direction -- the far more immediate threat. Was it one of the mage’s creations or perhaps the mage himself? He raised his hand defensively and waited, glancing only once in the woman’s direction before locking his focus on the darkness beyond those stairs.
A second passed. And then another before he caught the scrape of heavy plate mail.
What erupted from the shadows was more monster than man. A towering figure of bulging muscles and erupting tendons packed together into a vaguely humanoid shape. His jaw was framed in thick, black scales feeding into sleek silver hair and his eyes judged them both in harsh angles. Kuja had never seen anything like the man before him, but could only imagine that he was some kind of foreign species perhaps reptilian in nature. Kuja's fingers sparked with apprehensive magic.
The man gave an almost animal grunt and looked between them. ”Ain't really your choice though, now is it, kid?”
Kuja wondered at first who on earth he was talking to. Kuja hadn’t said anything to prompt the man, and the woman behind him had to be pushing thirty years old. Regardless, he didn’t care to correct him. Somehow, he imagined that provoking the seven-foot alligator man might end poorly.
The man cocked his head abrasively, and something slipped out between his lips barely visible in the dim light. Kuja squinted, trying to get a better look, before blinking in surprise. A forked tongue. Perhaps he was more of a snake man or some kind of heavily armored lizard. An iguana, perhaps.
”Goin` keep it real simple for you, ain't much fan of repeatin' myself.” The man glanced at the door behind them and gestured for them to leave. ”Get gone. This isn't a playground and I sure as hell ain't looking to add slaughtering kids to my burdens.”
”Kids?” The word slipped out before Kuja could think better of it. He touched at his mouth and felt his shoulders shake with his own laughter. How could he help himself? No one had ever called him a child before. After all, he’d never actually been one.
”I assure you I’ve come with good reason.” He lowered his hand as he spoke, turning to face him with an almost pleasant smile. ”If you’re here then this place must be inhabited. I’m a sorcerer, you see, and I’ve come requesting an audience with who I presume to be your master.”
Kuja raised a wrist in emphasis, smirking. ”There’s hardly need for bloodshed, but if you insist on slaughtering, I assure you it won’t end well. Now would you kindly move aside? Or would you prefer a display of my magic?”
Aranea smiled as she realized that she had indeed startled the person. It was always good to have the element of surprise even if she didn't plan to do much with it. She scoffed as the person denied his involvement in the disappearances. As the person turned to continue their deceit, Aranea was finally able to discern who she was talking to. What was it with pretty boys and getting involved in things that didn't concern them? She surveyed the purple hair that looked like it belonged on an exotic chocobo rather than a human as her eyes traveled his body. Besides having to deal with his magic, she felt he looked frail enough that a few good blows would have him snap in two. And just what was he wearing? His flesh all but covered save a codpiece and few measly straps. "A little cold for that don't you think?" she half murmured half projected as an insult.
"That's funny," Aranea replied when the man had finished waxing his unbelievable story about he had nothing to do with the dead, "because besides you and I, I'm pretty sure everything else for a few miles is dead and done." She pushed herself off the wall, spear in hand as she began to circle the room placing herself to where she could see a the set of stairs more clearly as well as have the door in her view. It wouldn't be worth any amount of gil if the man decided to run and trap her inside. "Place seems a bit drab for a casual talk. You guys don't have some like coffeeshop to swap stories? Unless," she let the her saracastic cut hang in the air for a moment as she cocked her head, "you boys are up to something beyond polite conversation."
It reminded her too much of her time helping the Empire. She and her crew raiding about unknown tombs and ruins to capture daemons for their labs to experiment on. It gave her the creeps remembering some of the things that she had seen lurking deep down beyond where the sun would ever touch. She had fought those same dark creatures when the world had gone dark, so whatever guilt she held on to she felt she had made up for it. Still if she could stop something like that from ever happening again...
Before she got too lost in thought, loud banging from the staircase caused her to snap right back to the present moment. She shot the man a glance to see if it was of his doing, but he seemed just as perplexed. She pulled her mask She wasn't happy that she didn't have much jumping room, but if need be she could go hand to hand just fine. A gruff voice called out from the darkness before horns protruded from the staircase's maw as a creature began to make its two legged ascent. What was this thing? She shot the other man a glance that she hoped said she was about to pounce, but before she did the creature spoke again which stayed her hand.
She loudly scoffed as the man beast mentioned that they should leave or face being slaughtered. The self assured nature of the thing was what was beginning to really get under her skin. Aranea had faced bigger more daemonic things than this and here she was still kicking. Before she could retort, the smaller man began to berate the scaly one. She'd give him credit; he had some gumption albeit in a vain manner. Thinking fast as to avoid having to deal with both of these people at the same time in some sort of brawl, she stepped forward from the wall. Staring up at the purple haired man and then up even further at the scaly one "Look, I don't really feel like dirtying my clothes." She began backing herself to the furthest point of the stair's banister away from the monster. "But I've just got the sudden urge to meet this sorcerer as well." Grasping the banister firmly she flipped herself over it and onto the stairwell before beginning to walk into the darkness as though provoking them both to follow. At least in the dark they'd be evenly matched if a fight should break.
Cocky types, not that he could judge but just once Ganba would have liked for someone to at least to pretend to listen to his threats. Damned adventurer-types all seemed to think of themselves as the main characters in a novel or legend. Didn't seem to make a smidgen of difference when they were bleeding out or impaled, glassy eyes staring blankly at Ganba while they sputtered out excuses or denied the inevitable.
The flamboyant one didn't seem to intend harm towards him or his contractor, so (perhaps a bit rudely) Ganba ignored him entirely and focused his eyes on the woman.
She was leaner, lithe in body and with the pronounced musculature along the thighs and waist that suggested stronger lower body focus and use of gaia, itself, as a platform for attacks. Just his luck, of course she was a lancer such as he was.
While lost in the momentary examination and thoughts pertaining this intruder, she squealed out some sort of nonsensical comment about her clothing getting dirty or something and vaulted the barrier to the stairs. This irked Ganba, he'd given her a fair warning and hadn't had the presence of mind to even retort?
Such as it was, then.
With too much of practiced ease, the giant dragoon's right arm casually flicked out in an underhanded toss- a motion that usually resulted in a low speed projectile with a predictable arc. However, unlike the norm- this projectile was the massive pole-arm the Au Ra had been holding lazily, tossed without ceremony or finesse and yet the speed in which it moved was more akin to a loosed bolt from a ballista.
The weapon was not aimed at Kuja or Aranea, instead embedding itself halfway the length of it's head in the stone stairs before Aranea (having just missed her on her left side and leaning diagonal, thus), effectively blocking off her path for no other reason then the sheer size of the weapon and the narrow space of the stairway as it entered the cavernous underground. It wasn't that it was overly crowded, but to bypass the weapon would leave too much of the body exposed and attempting to remove it left little room for maneuverability to successfully enter the narrow space without being attacked.
" So be it, ain't really the type of place to dirty my blade...follow me," He gestured at Aranea before nodding his head at Kuja," You, bleeder- s'long as you keep yourself tame, we ain't got us a problem. Sure the bleeder downstairs would be interested in your kin," a shrug at that and lack of interest typical of the mundane and magically disinclined.
He didn't wait for an answer and didn't seem to fear being attacked from behind as he gave a little half-jump up and over Aranea and let his left hand scrape against the stone wall to control his descent. In this manner, he (less gracefully than Aranea) descended to the stairs and bodily into his own weapon. The resulting crash of his impact fractured part of the stairs and left a web-work of cracks along the walls, the cracks broadening as he easily removed his lance from the stairs before him with a single hand. The warrior's tail was thus shown, long and spiked and swaying listlessly from side to side to betray his calm demeanor and relay his agitation to the other persons.
" Big cavern downstairs, no dead to disturb. Ain't keen on superstition and that crap; ain't keen on being stupid neither," Ganba concluded, giving an explanation as to why he hadn't attacked Aranea upstairs but also giving further explanation that he would, in fact, be attempting to stop her once they reached their destination...
The hulking iguana-man didn’t say a word to him. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all until the woman made her move. She stared them down like an angry mu challenging for dominance before telling them both that she’d rather not dirty her clothes in a fight. Then she edged towards the stairs, gave them both a promise of meeting the necromancer himself, and vaulted over the side. Kuja blinked at the brazen will of it all, but could only wonder what she’d find in the darkness. It certainly hadn’t been the most calculated of moves. In fact, it was absolutely idiotic.
A fact further emphasized when the iguana-man swung his ridiculous spear around and jammed it into the stone in front of her. From the sharp crack it made, Kuja could only imagine that it had been enough to stick it straight it into the stone. Kuja frowned and glanced between them, touching at his lip thoughtfully. ”I wouldn’t, if I were you. The architecture seems quite fragile.” He glanced at the hulking man, but of course they were both too distracted to see reason. One was as reckless as she was arrogant and the other was a hulking monstrosity hardly intelligent enough for conversation. Kuja let out a light sigh as the man relented. It seemed that all of that bravado had been nothing but a bluff.
”Follow me.” His voice was as rough as gravel and nearly as dull. His gaze turned to Kuja with an abrupt tension. ”You, bleeder- s'long as you keep yourself tame, we ain't got us a problem. Sure the bleeder downstairs would be interested in your kin.”
”Bleeder?” Even repeating it, Kuja couldn’t help his own skepticism. He raised an incredulous eyebrow. ”What are you blathering about?”
But the man was already gone. He’d showed just as much regard to Kuja as he’d managed before -- that being none. Kuja’s lips soured into a scowl as public attention left him. The two of them were so simple that he could hardly stand it.
But he had a task before him, and he wouldn’t leave empty-handed if he had any say in it. So Kuja let out a short breath, straightened himself, and started towards the stairs. He rounded them and descended down like a normal person with any sort of manners, sense, or caution. Traits that his unwilling companions apparently lacked.
The stairs were dulled and prone to crumble under stress. The walls carried with them cobwebs and accumulated dust. Kuja lit his hand again as they descended, eyeing their guide cooly as he went. From this angle, Kuja had no choice but to appraise the man’s thick, reptilian tail as it swished irritably from side to side. If their guide had known any amount of tact he would have hidden the thing so it wouldn’t give his intentions away, but then, what did Kuja really expect from a man as crass and bull-headed as this? He very much doubted the man knew what the word “subtlety” even meant.
”Big cavern downstairs, no dead to disturb.” The iguana-man’s grunts echoed back at him. ”Ain't keen on superstition and that crap; ain't keen on being stupid neither.”
”Clearly,” Kuja said with a smirk. If anyone was a paragon of intelligence, it was the seven-foot monster before him. ”There’s nothing dead here? I thought that to be the point of a mausoleum.” At least as far as he understood it. He’d never particularly cared to learn the pointless rituals Gaians performed over corpses. He’d gathered enough to feign sensitivity and that had been all he’d needed.
”And what of it? Clearly none of us here care for superstition or we wouldn’t be traipsing through a tomb in search of a necromancer.” The comment on a “big cavern” intrigued him the most, but he didn’t have time to get into it. What on earth had prompted the man to tell them that?
Did he intend to fight them? Was he leading them on only because he’d lacked the space to use his lance properly above? If so, then Kuja hoped the man wasn’t harboring any delusions of getting the best of him.
As the staircase ended, Kuja found that, indeed, they’d been led to some kind of underground cavern. It had been hollowed out by human hands. The stone was still stacked in precise walls. The ceiling was held in place with arches etched carefully. As Kuja stepped into the open, he caught glimpses of an underground waterway rank with bile and floodwaters. He wrinkled his nose at it before glancing distastefully at the plates mounted on the walls next to macabre tunnels which no doubt held further sarcophagi.
”You said the mage is here?” Kuja’s eyes cast across cavern. He couldn’t imagine setting up a lair here no matter how desperate he might become, but he supposed necromancers might come in a different breed than himself. A breed with dramatically lowered standards. ”I don’t see a thing.”
If she had been even inches closer to the left hand side of the staircase, she would have found herself impaled. Not one to expose her surprise, Aranea turned with gruff huff of breat as she crossed her arms. Obviously this beast wanted something other than her dead as he could have easily disposed of her by this point. "Aim's off," she replied leaning against the wall where seconds ago the lance had sailed past. She shrugged as he suggested that he wouldn't fight in the enclosed space. It was no matter to her if he wasn't looking for a fight. He wasn't her target just a nuisance. She steadied herself as she the guard jump over her to retrieve his lance but still faltered at the vibrations his impact caused.
He mentioned something about a large cavern underneath and about not being stupid. It sounded like a challenge to her. She didn't quite understand what he had meant by there being no dead under the crypt they now stood. Was he implying that they'd all been taken under the thrall of the necromancer? Seemed like a waste of resources to build a cavern under a mausoleum with nothing to show for the effort. She'd find out soon enough as the purple haired one followed the horned one into the depths. "After you," she muttered as they passed her as though she was of little concern. Part of her just wanted to leave and let these two at their silly schemes, but something deep suggested that she didn't like the idea of this magic user gaining any knowledge of this arcane art and so slunk behind them with a leisurely gait.
So much far for a cavern. To her it seemed just a larger albeit higher ceiling roomed with hallways jutting out in five directions from the center platform. Their platform seemed elevated above a river of refuse which caused her nose to turn. She knew Provo wasn't too affluent and this was probably a necessity, but couldn't they keep their sewer system away from their grave site? It didn't matter much as her attention turned back to the man she first encountered who had begun bemoaning the lack of the necromancer's presence. "Were you expecting a welcome banner?" she asked. What was he expecting, for the necromancer to just be twiddling their thumbs as they awaited anyone who would enter their lair?
Her attention focused back on the draconian man who led them down here. Did he now intend to fight her? She glanced up noting that although taller than the entrance room, the ceilings still didn't provide for much of a height advantage for either one of them. Still she held tight her spear just in case he tried to get the jump on her. She thought about coursing her own path down one of the hallways but felt the beast-man would block any path she tried. "Seems cramped," she said implying their limited space and her disinterest in fighting there and the jerking her thumb at her other company, "still this one's right. Where's this guy? I don't feel like traipsing about a catacomb's maze tonight."
" Multiple rooms on each layer down here; three layers total. Sewers lead to more in-depth crypts for fancy folk, crypts lead to catacombs deeper underground..." Ganba explained, giving both of his 'followers' a bland look as if to say, really?," My contractor's usually on the second layer, but be wary of his rotten shamblin` about, not my job to protect you,"
With that, the warrior shuffled off down one of the paths (luckily, a drier one) without waiting to see if they followed.
" The bleeder has an obelisk set up in his main room, ritual circles on the walls. Don't know if they're traps or if he activates them manually. The rotten can't see for shite, but they smell you somehow. Pretty fast too, if they be fresh risen. Don't know why he's doing what he's doing down here, but my contract is pretty straight-forward. Ain't say nothing about stopping kids from meeting him, just stopping anyone from bringing him harm. You mind yourselves, I get paid and you get to keep doing your adventuring," He spat at that last bit, the word adventuring almost coming out like a curse, itself.
It wasn't the least bit conversational, more akin to a lecture or warning- both giving of vital information to answer precursory questions while also renewing the fact that Ganba was not their friend, not in their party and not here to help them.
Almost as if to accentuate his warning of the so-called 'Rotten', a hiss fumbled it's way out of one of the off-the-main path aqueducts, a rapid clacking noise giving the only alarm to a humanoid consisting of rotting flesh (hence, rotten) and soiled garments. The putrid stench the creature gave off suddenly wafted past as it made it's clumsy sprint towards the group, acting as the appetizer to a staunchly repulsive entree.
With a leap, the walking cadaver attacked but was met with an anti-climatic end as Ganba simply backhanded the creature with a massive gauntlet. The creature's skull cracked wetly and expelled it's grisly prize as the main body sailed into the wall and crumpled to a heap at it's base.
" Rotten," Ganba gestured, nonplussed as he continued walking on and leading them deeper into the sewers and towards their charge.
