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year 5, quarter 3
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Lol. Taking inspiration from a previous thread here.
I'm an impatient traveler ready to turn ship.
The Astrals were nowhere to be seen.
Ardyn had spent something like a week at the so-called Metaia Temple. He’d been drawn to it by its promises of ancient knowledge and some remnants of an old religion that no one could really tell him anything about. If he had been displaced through time, he thought, then surely this place of old knowledge and lore would tell him everything that he needed to know.
Only he’d found nothing. No mention of the Glacian, the Chosen King, or the Immortal Usurper (Such a wretched name! He’d taken only what was rightfully his!). There was no talk of eternal night. No mention of noble sacrifice or of the scourge of darkness. There was nothing at all, in fact, of gods, kings, or even the old ways that of Solheim and the war of gods. Indeed, this was a place in which Ardyn had never left his mark, and the gods who he’d so long hated seemed as distant as the furthest stars.
Useless. What was he to do now?
Ardyn glanced out the window and let out a long sigh. He’d stood with his back against the wall for some time -- arms crossed, thoughtfully wasting time. He ran a finger along the window sill and eyed the night beyond it. There weren’t any flood lights here to ward away those which lurked in the dark. There were no ancient sanctuaries glowing with their vicious and bitter light to turn away those too impure for the gods. There was only darkness and shadow along cliffs and rocky precipices. The moon shone down with its silver glow a quarter in width. Would he find satisfaction in shrouding that light and bringing this world to ruin as he had in his own time and place? Would he find peace in a world of his own making if there was nothing to spite in making it?
Pointless. It had been centuries since he’d last known this boredom.
Ardyn pushed off from the wall and started down the hall -- as aimless in his direction as he was in his life. If the Astrals had sought to punish him, he could think of no better method than this. An aimless life with no end. An existence removed from the solaces of hatred and revenge. There had been nothing else for him, no escape, no peace, no respite, but there had at least been purpose and that had been enough for him. But his purpose had been fulfilled. The promise of his release, granted and then taken again by the cruelest of hands. Ardyn tilted his head and watched as the ceiling passed him by in streaks of cobwebs and rust. Without a purpose, there was nothing more than the idle passings of time. Hedonism, perhaps. Distractions. If there was nothing to destroy, then what difference did he make if he continued on or if he simply waited? Would he really mind if he just…?
Ardyn stopped. There was something beyond the doors to his left. They were heavy with iron and wood that felt too new for its frame. Ardyn pressed himself against it and closed his eyes, listening. He heard nothing beyond, but rather felt it in the same way he’d known the actions of daemons just beyond the borders of his own mind. There was something beyond this gate, something dripping with darkness. Ardyn tried for the handle, but it was locked and perhaps bolted in place. He pushed against it fruitlessly before stepping back to eye it, head tilted and eyes bright with interest.
This wasn’t his brand of darkness, but another’s. One foreign to him. How long had it been since he’d sensed corruption that stemmed from another source but himself and the Infernian? Had it ever been so? Ardyn could almost have laughed.
Oh, he had to see this through.
He raised his hand almost carelessly, the darkness there wafted lazily about his fingertips before he thrust it forward with the full force of his own corruption. The impact was deafening -- a solid crunch of folding iron and shattered wood. Ardyn didn’t wince as the refuse showered him. Instead, he just gave a solid chuckle and started forth into the darkness.
There were stairs below him. Stone dulled and cracked with age. He descended into the shadows until his the air turned cold and the distant lights faded to nothing. His eyes adjusted as they always did to the darkness that was far more familiar to him than light and he felt rather than saw his own surroundings. The staircase had led to some kind of subterranean catacombs. The earth was soft beneath his feet where the cobblestone had cracked and the air was fetid with rot centuries in the making. As he stepped forward, that odd darkness he’d sensed grew only stronger. Something was lurking in the shadows. Something corrupted and terribly hostile just out of his reach.
There was a shift, the sound of clacking against stone, and then something launched itself at him with enough force to topple him bodily to the ground. Ardyn made a short noise of surprise as his head cracked against cobblestone and teeth wrenched themselves into his shoulder. Ardyn blinked at the thing on top of him tearing at the flesh of his arm. It felt almost canine in nature, but was shrouded in darkness almost as potent as his own. He touched it and felt his fingers sink past tattered fur into rotten flesh that parted at his touch like pudding. Undead, he thought as the thing scrabbled into his neck and tore loose an artery that oozed black bile. Ardyn laughed despite himself, though it came out strained and guttural against the wave of his own blood. ”Oh, how interesting.”
Ardyn’s hand flared with corruption. For a moment, it lit the scene before him in an eerie, almost ultraviolet light. There was the face of a canine corpse, long rotted with yellowed teeth dripping in black and eyes sunken and gray. There was Ardyn’s power reaching into the wolf’s core in long, flickering tendrils. The corpse shuddered and let out a dreadful whine as it stumbled off of him, glowing with the darkness Ardyn had implanted within it. Ardyn stood slowly, brushing off his coat as he touched distastefully at the blood slipping from his neck. The flow had already slowed, but his collar was drenched in it -- stained once again with the tainted bile of his corruption. His skin felt more gaunt than usual -- his eyes sharper in the darkness as it always was when he was healing. It was all so mundane that he couldn’t help a sigh, but then there was the wolf…
Its shuddering slowed as the hollows in its body filled with black, pulsating bile. Ardyn felt it stronger now -- a pawn of his will and not another’s. Whatever darkness had reanimated it, Ardyn’s was far stronger, yet he wondered where it had come from. Who had bent it to their will and what else might lurk in the dark?
Ardyn wiped corruption from the corner of his eye and started forward into darkness.
SOMETHIN' 'BOUT YOU MAKES ME FEEL LIKE A DANGEROUS WOMAN
There was darkness, an evil most foul, that was permeating from the depths of the temple and she had been tasked to deal with it. Aranea had been wondering for some time now. Days passed into weeks as the dragoon wondered about the country making a name for herself fighting, the dragons her title called for, as well as the other daemons and monsters that stalked both day and night. She had been passing through a lone country road, her grey hair dripping crimson with the blood of her last encounter when a frail looking man approached her.
He was bent over as though another inch of bowing would snap him in half. The only reason Aranea stopped for the wretch was because he tugged at her skirt underneath her armor. At first she twirled, her face vicious but as the mans' feeble voice rose she stayed her sarcastic remark. "Please madam," he began coughing several times before continuing, "we of the Order have been following your progress. We are most pleased," the words once again drowned out by the phlegm and harshness of a man not yet convinced consumption had taken him, "to see your plight against the dragons. But we must beg," a splatter of blood against his robe accompanied these words. Aranea tried to stop the man from speaking again but he continued, "There's an evil. Something ancient. Eternal. Hiding beneath our h..halls or learning. Please the other monks will compensate your time, but I,,, I have my last few breaths drawn delivering this message. Please to Metaia Temple, make haste." With those words the monk took his final breath and collapsed on the country road
It was all over before Aranea had even time to react. A man had died in front of her with a wish so strong that he had given his life for. Normally she would have scoffed at the idea of "evil." People were only as good or evil as their circumstances dictated. But this. The fact she had found herself at war with daemons time and time again. On the side of the road she buried the monk. A makeshift grave marked the sport of one opposed to the dark. One who Aranea would avenge.
Upon her arrival to the temple, Aranea was welcomed in with hushed whispers by the elder monks. It was true. They saw light within her. She scoffed at them all. She wasn't here to make herself a saint. She was just here to check their vaults and when she returned they were to give her a small fortune. Their hastiness in agreeing to her terms startled Aranea. What was down their that they feared so much? With a few prayers and words of wisdom the fell upon the dragoon's ears, she was shuffled into a hallway with a voice stifling as the door closed. "Return with proof of your success against the darkness and receive our reward."
The monks slammed the door to their quarters behind her. So typical of the religious type to hide behind their tomes and let the blood sully the hands of the fighters. Still she needed the money and the monk who had sought her ought gave his life for the cause, so Aranea felt obligated to continue her journey. Not but a few yards away she could feel a cold draft floating from an opening that seemed rent from its bearings by forced unknown. Whatever had rent the doorway from its hinges betrayed a strength that of a mortal human. Aranea pulled down her helm as she began her trek down the stairwell
The scene upon her arrival caused her to pause her arm before she swung into her immediate action.
The specter before her appeared to be Ardyn, High Chancellor of the Niflheim Empire. Still as she inspected further he or it did not appaear human. The ghastly figure appear wounded as though their arm had been torn to shreds.
Perhaps there was a darkness here that she did not count on. There was no way he could be here. Could there? Her mouth soured at the idea of the man. She had not enjoyed his company when she was a Commodore and he the High Chancellor. With the night-tide and the rumor that it was he begetting the daemons that plagued the land, she had even less than admirable feelings for the man. A disgust built within her as she readied her aim. Still, she played it off this shadow, this darkness beneath the temple's idea of causing her confusion. She would not be fooled by such deception. The daemons she had fought so far had been more cunning.
With spear in hand, she used all her weight to cast her spear at the inhuman specter before her.
One moment, Ardyn was sauntering into the catacombs with an almost careless sway of his heels. The next, he’d been skewered from behind by something long and sharp that thrust him bodily into the nearest wall.
A gasp wretched itself from his lips -- half from surprise and half from the gases released with the puncture of his diaphragm. His forehead cracked against the stone wall, heavy with the smell of rotten earth. His palms gripped air, and for a moment, he was wordless as he paused to collect himself. What a monster he must have seemed lurking in the dark.
They had no idea.
Ardyn laughed -- soft, low, and jagged as the motion raked his viscera against the spear. Then he tilted back his head and eyed the ceiling he couldn’t see in this darkness. ”Ah. A valiant effort.” He reached behind and gripped blindly for his skewer. The angle was awkward and difficult to manage, yet still he grabbed where it protruded from his flesh and pulled. The sound it made was sickening. A kind of wet crackling that he was, unfortunately, quite used to. With the angle, it took two pulls before he felt the tip leave him. With its release, he let the rest of the spear clatter uselessly to the ground.
”But effort alone yields little, I’m afraid.”
It was only then that Ardyn turned to face his attacker. In the utter darkness of the catacombs, he couldn’t see anything but the violet glow of his new canine plaything, but he felt her there with the same heightened senses he’d used to navigate the place. It was a woman, of that he was certain, and a heavily armed one at that. He raised a hand and brought his own darkness to his fingertips -- glowing its ethereal, demonic glow. It wasn’t much, but with his sharpened eyesight, it was enough. Before him was a woman in heavy black armor, spiked at the edges and bent into leather. She had a self-assured tilt to her hips and a sharpened jawline tucked beneath a cascade of shoulder-length bangs -- silver.
His eyes lit with recognition. ”Aranea.” He let every syllable drip form his tongue. ”Of all the times to run into an old friend.” He smirked despite himself, wide enough to show teeth that he knew must be stained in bile. He raised a dismissive hand and turned dramatically on his heel, choosing to pace beside her rather than face her head on. What a surprise. And he thought he had a habit of showing up unexpectedly.
”I’ve had plentiful reunions already. Gladiolus. Prompto. And of course poor, unfortunate Ignis. Such a tragic fate he met! But I must say that this is the most surprising of them all.” He stopped and looked up as though to consider the darkness there that led to nothing. He’d met them all, yes, but none had been in any singular state of being. Both Prompto and Iris had forgotten about him entirely. ”Tell me, what is it you remember last?”
He turned on his heel to face her, head tilted in exaggerated interest. ”Won’t you be a dear and humor me?”
Somethin' 'bout you makes me feel like a dangerous Woman
The immediate thud and crash that followed caused her to smirk. It really must have been some ghastly apparition, a dark zombie made into a form she thought familiar. Maybe her mind had just been playing tricks on her in the darkness that seemed to want to consume everything, any speck of light present to her as well. Huffing to herself at a job well done, Aranea made her way down the stairs away from the light the had let her see the object and into the omnipotent darkness to retrieve her spear. Her smirk disappeared as she heard the sounds that followed.
She didn't know what was worse: the arrogant laughter or the sound of a weapon being withdrawn from what sounded like flesh she had never unsheathed her weapon before. Aranea grimaced as the sound of the sickly wet flesh tore further and her spear fell to the ground as though it was nothing more than an inconvenience to whatever she had attacked. As she cautiously drew closer, Aranea could here the thing speaking something directed at her but she wasn't paying to close of attention. Her main goal was to get her spear back into her hands.
That was until it spoke her name. The way he pronounced it, giving every syllable an overdue amount of attention; something she hated, Aranea had to come to terms with the fact that she was in the presence of the darkness bringer and plague render. It was the same Ardyn she had the misfortune of knowing in Eos. It was just her luck that he would have been drawn into this other realm just like she. For now she didn't have the time to think of the hows and whys of it all. As skilled a fist fighter as she was, she was nothing in this hollow expanse of darkness, her spear somewhere, and her only light the very barest exuding from her source of conflict.
"Ardyn." It was her one worded reply to his usual flair for the over dramatic. How often had she dreamed of just breaking his jaw so he couldn't spill his superfluous rhetoric. That was until the darkness descended and his real powers made known by Noctis' crew last they met and the ensuing pour of daemons from Insomnia. Not that she wouldn't love the chance to do so anyway, but she couldn't see her hands hurting an Immortal all that much. It would be satisfying though.
Aranea was trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness as she looked for her spear. Ardyn continued to babble about all their familiars that he met, but Aranea had met them too. It was good to hear that the big guy was here as well after having seen Ignis and Prompto a few weeks prior. She would never tell them that she was relived if prompted, but after the years of fighting the encroaching forces during Noctis' absence she may have taken a fondness for some of them. That lead to more questions than she had time for; as she reached the bottom of the stairs she found herself the fixation of Ardyn's look.
She had seen daemons deteriorate in the heat of battle before but he in this form as far as she could see from the faint light he produced was something else. Aranea placed a fist under her chin that she then tilted her head against. It wasn't like her to give up her cool and she'd be damned is she let this bastard see her lose it. "Enough." she replied curtly when asked how much she remembered. It should be obvious she remembered more than enough after she had blindly thrown her spear at him
Although she tried to maintain eye contact, having to look up and into his festering yellow eyes, she also was searching the ground for any sign of her spear. And there there it was, but it was lying to close a beast, the same blight pouring from it as Ardyn, for her to trust her reflexes to fetch it before the hound might leap. "Didn't take you for the type to keep a lapdog." she sneered crossing her arms and returning her gaze to his own putrid one. The ball was definitely in his court and she would play along if only for time to think a new plan through. She was not going to die at his hands tonight.
If Aranea was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it. In fact, she barely reacted to his presence at all -- as though being accosted by the undead forces of daemons was absolutely nothing to bat an eye at. She hardly spoke a word to him either, though the one word she did say told him everything. ”Enough.” That’s what she remembered, said with an almost brutish disdain. Well then. It seemed they were on something of the same page after all.
In the darkness, he couldn’t quite make out the details of her expression, but he could imagine it well enough. Hard. Arrogant. Brimming with an unrelenting confidence that she wouldn’t let slip even on the cusp of death. He caught her tilting her head and wondered if she was looking for something.
”Didn't take you for the type to keep a lapdog,” she said, and Ardyn could only blink at her own surprising nonchalance. Of all the oddities of their situation -- from the setting to the circumstances to the immortal, daemonic glow leaking from his eyes, she chose to ask about the wolf? And in the tone of one inquiring as to a newly acquired german shepherd at that. Ardyn couldn’t help but laugh.
”Oh, it’s quite the new addition. But one can’t be choosy when faced with dire circumstances. I simply claimed the beast’s leash.”
Ardyn let out a low and lamenting sigh. His had truly been a fall from grace. Not so long ago, he’d claimed a munch more deadly canine under his command -- a three-headed one the size of a four story building. He’d subjugated a god, the ancient kings (Oh, how satisfying that had been! Every second spent defiling their holy tombs had been the most bitter-sweet of delicacies! How his ancient enemies writhed beneath his hand!), and the crystal itself -- but no. Here he was commanding wolves and half-rotten ones at that. Amassing his power took time. Time and patience that he most assuredly had, but it wasn’t without its frustrations all the same. What he wouldn’t give for a daemonic army once more!
”But I think the far more pertinent question…” Ardyn tilted his head and turned his eyes towards her again. ”Is what to do with you.” He let the last word fall like a stone into water -- the ripples of implication echoing across rocky shores. ”I can’t imagine you harbor peaceful intentions. Your nature betrays you, and after such an amicable greeting…” Ardyn chuckled under his breath and gave a short shake of his head.
”Why. I’m starting to feel as though you’re less than happy to see me.”
Somethin' 'bout you makes me feel like a dangerous Woman
That was the problem at hand. What was he planning to do with her. This wasn't a usual situation for her. Usually her actions and battle spoke for her, but now she needed to trade the sharpness of her spear with the sharpness of her wit and tongue. As much as his voice was like a deamon's nails scratching against steel on her nerves, for now maybe her brain could come up with a plan if she just kept him talking
Throwing her hand in the air, she turned from the pus looking stare and sauntered a few steps away. "Funnily enough," she started before turning back to him, "you aren't my target. And with that," she gestured at the beast she had been keeping her eye on, "I'm guessing the monks didn't find me to take care of you." As much as she was trying to stay her tongue, the animosity was leaking out. As she talked she began edgining her way closer to her spear. If she could just grab it, she could retreat back up the stairs if need be. It was better to live to fight another day rather than die a fool.
Aranea had known him as the sleazy slippery slime ball that seemed to be running the Empire from whatever shadow he wallowed in. Even having been his subordinate, every mission he tasked her with made her feel ill for having to do it. She should have known earlier that it was him steering the daemonic activity and research in their ranks. She knew she should be more afraid of him now. How many tales had the Kingsglaive and Noctis' right hand men told of his daemonic influence on the world. She had usually waved those tales off; she would deal with him when the time came. The time was here, and she was coming up short. The frustration of it was causing her to act rashly.
"So, you in league with the big bad here? Or are you just lapping at its heels, picking up the scraps?" On the one hand she was curious. Was she dealing with whatever was dwelling down here's front man. On the other she wanted to wound his pride although his aura of pretentiousness was probably to dense to penetrate. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got bigger fish to fry." With that she had finally circled close enough. She lunged for her spear, doing a somersault as she grasped it in her hand. A head on assault was no use. She had seen what a full brunt attack had done, or well hadn't done, to Ardyn. Her best bet was to run and run she did, into the inky blackness of the hallway only able to see a few feet in front of her at a time. It wasn't the best plan she'd ever come up with, but it's what she had to work with. She'd chastise herself later if she was still alive to do so.
Aranea tried to talk her way around his question, but talking had never been her strong suit. She was a woman of action -- and rash actions at that. While he could do nothing but applaud her general competency, her wit was often something...lesser.
So as she circled around him, suggesting that she would simply leave him be as she’d been sent here on a mission of which he was not the target, Ardyn only tilted his head, wondering as to her end goal. A distraction? Was she stalling for time? He certainly wouldn’t put it past her to have some kind of allies nearby. But then, he wouldn’t have put it past her to shoulder the burden of the task alone either. In the end, she kept him in just enough suspense that he couldn’t help but play her game. He was simply enamored by its rules.
”Oh?” Ardyn glanced at the undead wolf. Odd that she would assume it had nothing to do with him when it dripped with his corruption and obeyed his command. Of course, it hadn’t before, but she could hardly know that. ”And naturally you’ll only do work that pays…” It was simple conversation, not something he actually believed. But her game was an amusing one, after all, and he chose to play it.
"So, you in league with the big bad here?” Aranea went on, ”Or are you just lapping at its heels, picking up the scraps?"
Ardyn chuckled darkly. Leave it to Aranea to face impotence with an insult. ”Neither,” he said. ”I’m here due to nothing but coincidence and curiosity. Is that what you’d like to hear?”
He never learned what she wanted to hear, because at that moment, she chose to bid him farewell on the behest of “bigger fish” as she dove towards the daemonic wolf (still idle -- he hadn’t commanded it to attack), arose with her spear in one hand, and started running down the hall in one fluid motion.
Ardyn blinked after her. Well wasn’t she bold?
”That’s the wrong way,” he tried to chime after her, but to no avail. She was already lost to the darkness. Ardyn gave a long sigh and looked up to consider the ceiling. What was he to do now? If she was already running, he felt almost compelled to give chase -- like a dog after a rabbit -- but it certainly wasn’t very satisfying. If only it were Noctis disappearing into that darkness. If only there were something to be gained from it. If only…
But perhaps there was something. While Aranea hardly interested him in herself, she at least knew of his deeds and his general disposition. If she escaped here alive, then she would likely talk. And seek out those who could aid her. People like Noctis’ friends. And Noctis himself.
Yes, perhaps this woman could be of some use after all, but not if she died here at the hands of the undead.
Aranea had a headstart and would likely move far faster than Ardyn cared to, but the darkness would do her no favors, and Ardyn would not be slowed by the undead. He would catch her eventually...or he wouldn’t. Neither outcome particularly affected him, but he had nothing better to do than to try. So Ardyn glanced at his undead companion and tilted his head almost carelessly. ”Be a dear, won’t you?” he asked though the daemon needed only his unspoken will to act. And it did, charging off into the darkness faster and more agile than Aranea could manage on the best of days. It would act as his guide, lurking in the darkness and following her without attacking. Ardyn reserved that honor for himself.
”Ah, the thrill of the hunt,” Ardyn sighed as he strolled after them. The darkness greeted him and embraced him as a friend.
Somethin' 'bout you makes me feel like a dangerous Woman
It definitely wasn't the best plan she had ever come up with. Only a few yards into her mad dash and she found herself sightless in the darkness which threatened to swallow her whole. Still, she didn't stop running. She swung her spear out in front of her as way to keep herself from slamming face first into a wall and spilling out. If she were to become vulnerable for even a second she might as well give up the fight then and there. After seeing what she just saw there was no physical way she could win that fight.
But tumble she did. For all the good having her spear to keep her from running into a wall did, it didn't prepare her for the floor suddenly giving way. She fell for what felt like a good couple of minutes but in reality was probably more like half a minute. Like a cat though, she had managed to right herself before her body slammed into the cold dirt below her. The debris continued to rattle and settle next to her as she looked up from where the floor had given in.
For anyone else it would have been a death trap, the walls were smooth to her touch with no purchase anywhere indicating that this was meant to keep unwanted guests from continuing down the path these monks had built. Or perhaps who or whatever was lurking here besides Ardyn had made this. It didn't matter either way to her though as she crouched feeling her calves tense in anticipation. With one quick motion, she rocketed herself up, out, and to the other side of the pit she had found herself in. It was gonna take more than a pit to take her out of the picture.
The adrenaline was shooting through her in a new and more uncomfortable way than she was used to. Usually it fueled her to defeat whatever adversary she had encountered but now it was only screaming at her to flee. To be honest she hated it. She was a fighter not a flier, but she kept reminding herself that there was no point in fighting a losing battle.
And suddenly she had to throw her arm across her face at the sudden burst of light. Aranea's eyes slowly adjusted to the room but not quick enough as the air was knocked out of her lungs. She had been pinned down by a beast. Her reflexes kicked in as she swung it off her in one fluid motion striking it in the breast with her spear. It looked much like the one Ardyn had earlier. But this was different. A different but still evil miasma and aura spouted from it but at least it was taking its last few breaths as her spear pierced its lungs.
When it had fallen, Aranea unsheathed her weapon from its body. Good one down. She turned and was not amused at what she saw before her. Still she gave a good laugh at the circumstance. She had been stupid to think things would go smoothly.
Apparently in dealing with the one, she hadn't heard the pack of at least six which had formed in the circular room she now inhabited. She thought it weird that torches affixed the walls but she didn't have time to dwell. She could hear more snarling their way from down the hall. She looked up and judged she could get enough clearance to dive down on them with a good jump. She began her ascent. Aranea knew she needed to keep putting distance between her and Ardyn, but she had to take care of this mess first.
It was something that monsters did. Lurking in the dark. Stalking after its victims with fevered eyes and bared teeth. Odd that he didn’t feel like much of a monster, strolling along with his hands clasped behind his back, whistling a little tune to himself he’d heard somewhere bright. He rolled on his heels, almost swaying as his boots gave their odd, off-kilter clicks. Placed in another time and place, he might have been on a lovely afternoon stroll, that was, if not for the darkness.
Only a monster gave chase in the dark.
He heard it long before he saw it. The scrabbling of paws followed by a hideous thump somewhere not too far ahead of him. Ardyn paused before bringing his own corruption to his fingertips and peering into the sickly blue shadows they cast. Before him, he found a typical hall decked in crumbling stone, filth, and cobwebs, but a stretch of the floor was cut out and painted black. He stepped towards it, eyeing it carefully, to find that it was actually a deep and rather steeply-walled hole. Far below him, his corruption glowed weakly from its canid prison. The wolf had fallen victim to a trap. At least it had served him some manner of use.
”Commodore?” Ardyn brought his hand beside his mouth as he leaned over the pit and squinted into it. ”Are you down there?”
No answer. She’d either avoided the pitfall or she’d died on impact. Ardyn gave a long sigh before shaking his head. ”This is hardly worth the trouble,” he muttered to himself before flipping his loose hair out of his eyes summoning his sword in a flash of red. A toss of the blade later and he’d landed safely on the other side, free to banish the sword with another flick of his wrist. ”I do hope you entertain me.”
The rest of his trek proved uneventful. Boring almost, in that dreadfully predictable kind of way. He continued through the darkness, meeting very little resistance and finding no trace of Aranea. Apparently she was far too used to dealing with undead daemons in the dark to be slowed by the unfamiliar terrain. Still, Ardyn continued forward because he had very little else to entertain himself with. As time passed, he became slowly aware of his vision clearing. In the dim, dim partial light, he could see everything. The uneven path beneath his feet. The walls covered in ruined torches and death motifs. And the source of the light, far away but growing closer by the second.
Someone had lit a fire. How very curious.
The light led him to a circular room with torches mounted on every wall. There was an altar in the center and carved hollows on every edge -- likely to store some corpse or another. His eyes touched on every one of them before he noticed that there were two undead wolves snarling at him. In fact, there were wolves everywhere. A pack of them, if he could call them that considering they no longer had a will of their own. There were a few dead ones here and there. Slaughtered by precise piercings through ribs and viscera. Aranea had been here.
He gave a long sigh. ”I hardly have the time,” he told the wolves, but they didn’t listen. He saw them lunge as one. Saw the flash of dulled and yellowed teeth. He ripped through them in seconds. His darkness did it for him -- like an intense heat melting through flesh. He didn’t summon his sword, but he didn’t need to. They dropped back to the ground in a heap of fur and rot.
”Aranea?” he tried again, glancing around carefully. ”I do hope you’re not hiding from me. Oh! What an insult that would be!”
Somethin' 'bout you makes me feel like a dangerous Woman
Shit. One had got her real good. She felt the sting of a claw slice through her left arm causing her to hiss out in pain. Aranea needed to end them fast and she did. Their blood was thicker, darker, colder on her skin than a regular wolf's would have been and it made her shiver even as the adrenaline kept her heart pumping out the hot red blood of her own down her arm. It was too fast, pumping too hard. How bad was the wound. She slunk down a side hallway before she slumped against the wall.
Her head ached in time to her heartbeat. Aranea surveyed her wound. It was nastier than she had felt. She needed to make a tourniquet and quick. She patted herself down trying to pry at any loose material. She cussed as the only purchase she found was her leather armor. It provided good armor but it wasn't very versatile.Finally she felt herself clutching her skirt which she found more freeing than pants to jump about. She cut at the leather near her wound with her spear grimacing each time her arm moved.
Aranea made quick work of fashioning her tourniquet. Although the blood was now just pooling on her skirt material and the strap of leather stopping her limb from circulating, she needed to get out of the catacombs as fast as she could. She stood and felt her knees buckle. How much blood had she lost? Now wasn't the time to think, now was the time to make haste. She should backtrack.
”I do hope you’re not hiding from me. Oh! What an insult that would be!”
Fuck. She had forgotten about Ardyn in the time she had taken to patch herself up. She couldn't stop now. Keep going. Down back the hallway she had almost emerged from. She just needed to keep...
Aranea fell fast and hard. Her nose crunched on the impact. She lay in the dark, unconsious, her tourniquet the only thing keeping her from a most certain death. She didn't dream.
