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year 5, quarter 3
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The monk jumps as the professional woman clasps his shoulder, but nods, gathering himself up the best he can. Even as the undead swarm the group, he tries to look resolute though he fiddles often with the handle of his staff. Despite his efforts, he winces with the sound of explosions, and then again when his staff is snatched away from his grasp.
”H-hey! That’s-!” he starts before stumbling away from the undead that had closed in on them both. He forgets about his staff quickly, choosing instead to dodge behind the others. With the first wave dead, he blinks the fear from his eyes and nod to the woman with the sword. ”This way. Stay close.”
Without his staff, he had nothing with which to ground himself as the earth rumbles once again. He stabilizes his stands, thrusting out his arms for balance, before starting ahead. He guides them into the entrance hall -- musty and shadowed -- and leads them down a side path around the temple rather than through it. The dead still stumble through these halls though not in mass, and he allows his escorts to deal with them whenever they arise.
In time, he comes across a weathered door and jiggles the lock as he thrusts in a key. He smiles sheepishly. ”This wing’s been closed off for about a century,” he says. ”It might be a little dusty.” The door creeks open and a stale air meets them. The monk sniffles at the heavy musk of moldering tapestries and aged scrolls, but he starts forward with a bolder step. No one -- dead or otherwise -- has walked these halls in his lifetime.
The path opens to a crumbling courtyard that might have once been beautiful but has long been overrun by moss and ivy. The courtyard is framed by nine columns that have cracked and tilted with age. Wildflowers shoot through dense bushes that obscure scattered idols, discarded pens, and an old dagger that still gleams with tarnished pearls. A statue of a woman oversees her abandoned shrine with a somber eye. She wears the garb of a martial artist mixed with the ritual beads and amulets of a priestess. At the statue’s base, a circle of mystical sigils is set into gleaming stone. Though the path around it has cracked with wild grasses, the circle remains immaculately preserved.
The monk offers the statue a quick nod of respect before scurrying to its side. ”Something awoke here weeks ago. By the time I realized where this new magic was coming from, the temple had already been overtaken. I haven’t had the chance to study-!” At his approach, the statue pulses with power and the woman’s amulet gleams with an amber light that fades as quickly as it came. The monk is frozen, staring at it, before jolting towards it.
”That’s it! It is here! But how do I-?” He cycles through several incantations and gestures in rapid succession, but the statue does not awaken again. After a moment, he sighs. ”Are any of you experts in magic?”
Under the light of a shrouded sun, the courtyard is as dismal as the world outside. However, in this hazy light, an inscription at the base of the statue’s feet peeks through winding ivy.
’I REST STEADY AS EARTH CLEANSED AT LIGHT'S TOUCH.’
Amalia appeared to have a firm grip. The woman was confident and competent but seemed short-fused when others did not exhibit the same. Cissnei couldn’t help but give a mental sympathetic nod. Yes. Good help was hard to find these days, Amalia.
Cissnei nodded to Amalia as she watched the woman tear the undead apart. By time Cissnei and Amalia were done there were heaps of rotting flesh and limbs in disarray and scattered into harmless piles on the lifeless ground. Cissnei studied a fallen one and wondered if she should retrieve a sample for later use. But alas, she did not have the proper supplies. She tilted her head towards the entrance and made a gesture for the monk to lead the way.
She noticed Arc appeared to have a few tricks up his sleeve, saving Kefka in the process. Very good. Kefka, however, was much more amusing to watch in his antics. Plus, his shouting reminded her of home, when she had a purpose in serving. In those days, the executives had shouted at her and her colleagues to protect them, while in turn, the executives tried to finish off the tired Turks. Those were the exciting days.
In the end, Cissnei agreed with Kefka. If she was sealing off evil, she did a poor job. This legend should have at least planned for when her safe guard failed. Cissnei followed the others into the temple taking care of the rear to protect the monk, child, and the ‘magic expert’ blondie. She saw the creatures crawl out of the shadows of the corridor, but Cissnei was quicker with her own dark magic. They seemed to crawl along the floor before lumbering to their feet, but before the undead could make a full run, Cissnei enveloped them in dense, purple orbs and crushed them together. Bones broke, and flesh cracked. Even if the things still lived, they would not be able to move. Harmless piles of meat bags.
She saw some torches along the corridors. She lit them up when the fuel in them allowed for it with a simple snap of her fingers and the fire magic she owned. Perhaps the light would maybe deter the creatures of darkness. Despite the earthquakes, she decided that the stone architecture here would not so easily catch fire. She softened her knees and went with the balance of the ground to steady herself in the corridor with each angry grumble from the earth. Dirt and dust fell with each rumble, covering them in its film.
As the corridor opened into a courtyard, Cissnei creased her brow. “Monk. Earlier you said this place was watched over. If this is the case…then why has it been abandoned for a century?” She cautiously stepped into the gloom. “And even more so…” She stopped in front of the monk and studied him, “If no one has step foot in here, then tell me how you know something awoke here?”
After gazing into the monk’s eyes, awaiting his answers, she turned away from him. Ochre eyes scanned over the mixture of stone and plant. It was terribly beautiful and would have been more so if restored to its former glory. Cissnei saw just a glimmer of the amber light, before watching the monk do his hocus pocus. “The older gentleman said he was an expert in magic.” She looked up at Kefka for a moment studying him. “What do you have to say on these matters?”
“And you, monk? What can you tell me about this statute and its decoration? What do these sigils and idols mean? And that dagger used for?” She pointed to each. But as she looked on the statue, it gave her a humbling feeling the statutes to Minerva in her time. She noticed also, the inscription and she knelt to rub her hand along it to remove the dust. She murmured the words to herself. What was considered the I? The statute? Or… “Perhaps the ‘I’ is the amulet that lit up?” When she thought of cleansed earth she imagined the first rays of light after a rain. She looked up at the sky and wondered if they simply needed to wait for a sun shower. It was an option, but she needed more of an understanding of her goals and what was around them to decide.
“Arc, I saw you using magic earlier. Can you fill the amulet with light? Or have magic to cleanse it? Fire could also do the trick, but I don’t want to test those waters yet…” She had a feeling a water bottle and flashlight was not going to work.
I've been screaming out a language that I never knew EXISTED before
Ashe felled the last few of the undead her Treaty Blade alight with it's blueish glow. She flicked the blood and the grime from her sword before glancing at the one again deceased with something pity and disdain. "May the Great Father guide your spirit back to the Mother of all," she whispered the Dalmascan prayer for the dead before things began to escalate behind her. The woman was doing well enough and Ashe gave a general nod in her direction at her competence, and even the boy surprised her with his curative gifts. It was the jester that inflamed her senses as he squealed and yelled and did little all but brandish a stick and demanding help with insults
Ashe marched over to him casting the undead that tormented him with a quick swish through their middle before rounding on the man. Switching her blade to her less dominant hand, she took her right hand and smacked Kefka clear cross the cheek. "How dare you," she yelled her eyes burning bright the Estersand sun as she stared into his eyes, "to be outshone by a child in the face of combat and then to act like one. Your incompetency is not only a danger to you, we've no time to act as protectors. Your foolishness will get you killed. Prove your worth or leave." Ashe didn't wait for a response as she huffed and walked away. Passing by Arc, she laid a hand on his shoulder, "I misjudged your resolve," she spoke as an apology before following Cissnei and the monk deeper into the temple
Ashe tended to any undead that got too close to the group as they made their way into the courtyard. Once inside she made sure the door was truly locked before scanning any and every inch of the ceiling before breaking from the group. If this warrior priestess was protecting anything of true value, the tomb was sure to be littered with traps and spells to keep the unworthy out much like Ratihwall's Tomb had. Still she found nothing but a bedazzled dagger and few small statues that she gathered and brought back to the group.
As Cissnei grilled the monk for answers, Ashe continued to scour the place for traps eyeing the statue and the stone. "How?" she questioned walking over to the worn statue looking at pristine circle beneath it. "How has this circle of stone stood the test of time while all else has succumbed?" Ashe didn't expect an answer more so just cluing in the others to the mysterious circumstance. Coming back to the group, her eyes narrowed and tensed as Cissnei asked Kefka's opinion of the situation. She wondered if the jester would be able to prove himself or not. She then cast Arc a curious glance as Cissnei would ask him of his magic prowess as well. She clenched the dagger in her hand as she lay the statues down in front of them wondering if they could make sense of them, for she did not trust them enough to let them access to a weapon so easily.
Nervously following along Arc took notice of Kefka tumbling over. Not only that, once he got up he was quickly attacking with a dagger, but the jester definitely didn't seem like a fighter. At all for the matter. Even though he stole the monk's staff and started attacking in a weird manner while shouting, the boy did aid him as the undead were attacking him. Considering he had been scared of the man before, this all seemed like a total joke. But honestly? The man could quiet down a bit with how much he was shouting and how little aid he was providing himself. Rather, he was only causing trouble. It appeared to anger one of their companions, Amalia who was quick to react on his antics and actually praised him. He gave a bit of a nervous smile when she spoke to him, happy that he was actually helpful.
As the three that seemed to actually being capable of fighting, the undead seemed to thin out quickly before they had dealt with them all for the moment. Arc listened to the group talking, he wasn't exactly certain how to add in as Cissnei questioned the monk on the abandoning of this area. He wondered if there was a reason for possibly sealing this place so tight. "M-maybe they have a way of detecting where the 'new magic' was happening?" he raised on his own while looking over their surroundings, "but if this place h-had been closed off, wouldn't that mean it had been sealed for a reason?" he asked while looking over at the monk. "I-is it really wise to open this place?"
Looking over at Amalia while Cissnei started to ask Kefka, who had referred to himself as an expert in magic before, Arc tried to take a look at the statue. He moved a bit over to it and take a better look of the general area. The statue itself seemed to hold some kind of power and appeared to be the statue of the certain woman the monk had been talking about. The courtyard itself looked kind of nice, it would've been a really nice place if one were to do some repairs and cleaned the place.
When the question was directed towards him, Arc turned to look at the others. "I-I am a scholar, magic is my forte, but I'm n-not entirely certain if I can help with otherworldly magic," he replied while he remained really nervous, but was definitely interested in the power that seemed to come from the statue. Looking back at the statue and studying the amulet in particular, he tried to cast a study on the amulet with a Libra spell to see if it gave any hints in particular while also trying to cast some kind of magic into the amulet. He wasn't sure if providing MP was going to make many differences, he could cast a variety of spells both elemental and curative into the amulet if it did anything.
murk™ WORDS: 505 TAG: DM , @blacksuit , @ashe , @kithos NOTE: Arc casts Study/Libra first to see if that gives a hint before trying to cast anything else.
Kefka was blinded by the green light as he struggled with the undead on top of him. The ghoul on him seemed to melt away as it ceased to struggle, letting out faint screams in the process. "Hehehehehe…" How he had missed moments like this. He sprung up feeling surprisingly energetic, but more undead were breathing down his neck. He flailed his arm in place, grappling at the memories of magic and destruction that once made him a god. “ERUGH. Why isn’t any of this WORKING!”
The undead flew apart in succession as Amalia appeared threw the fray. “Did you see it? I just made those bodies fly apart like fireworks! You can thank-”. Amalia hit him with a swift backhand, and harshly scolded him for his incompetence. As she walked away he was speechless, as though any words he had to say were knocked right out of his head and over the courtyard wall, well out of reach.The others seemed to have the clearing under control, so he went to retrieve his dagger from the still writhing zombie. “Why do you cling to unlife?” he jests as he slowly removes the dagger from its head, making a slick muddy sound.
Catching up with the others, Kefka was still nursing his face. I should have just made fun of her goofy armor. Staying quiet might be required for know realizing his goal was ultimately in the temple. If he could get The Returners to lead him to the Esper world, he could easily ride the coattails for these poor excuses of a band of goons. He swings the staff at any undead that don’t look too threatening out of frustration, biting his tongue the whole time.
As the monk starts to blather again as they approach another smaller courtyard with a statue in the middle. He strays from the group to avoid detection and surveys the scene. The glimmer of a decorated dagger caught his eye. I’ll be back for this later. The crumbling architecture piqued his interest too. “What an odd number of pillars. Hehehe…” Kefka said to himself. He admired the asymmetry and the amount of damaged they had sustained. “These would make good dominoes”.
As he examined each one, he began to eavesdrop and casually spy. The monk seems to think a source of power comes from the statue’s amulet. He even says he can sense it before beginning to recite incantations at the statue, but to no avail. Cissnei begins her interrogation of the monk. Amalia collects the dagger and the sigils for the party. Arc seems to be examining the statue. Time to make a good impression.
Kefka strode back into sight of the party. “Do you always talk to statues old man? Are you that lonely?”. He tosses the staff back to the monk with a beaming grin. “Try not to lose it next time”. Cissnei asks Kefka about his proclaimed amount of knowledge about magic. “Well, if my suspicion is correct…”. Kefka proceeds to feign casting a few magic spells towards the nearest wall. “... the type of magic I use would be blocked by the seal".
He continued his bluff and closed his eyes while turning towards the group. “I am sensitive to the presence of magical items and may be able to cast some lesser spells though". Kefka squints his eyes just enough to make sure no one had moved since he had closed them. He first points directly at Cissnei before opening his eyes. “Hmm, must be your fancy battle equipment. You’ll have to show it to me sometime". He had to hold back an incriminating grin. Kefka performed the same charade, this time pointing to Amalia. “You must have picked up something magical among the items you gathered”. He attempted to feign a welcoming smile, but ended up looking more like he was wincing in pain.
The ritual finally had him point at the statue and his eyes popped open in fake disbelief. “The monk appears to be right!” he exclaims as he runs to the statue. He scraped a fingernail across the amulet in a sort of caressing affection. Placed his hand across it, he remembered what it was like to infuse himself with the magic drained from Espers in the factory in Vector. The thought made him shiver, or was it the amulet?
A silhouette flashed before his eyes for no more that a second. Did this amulet truly possess the magical power of a deceased being, much like magecite? Or was the corruption speaking to him? “I need to take a closer look at this”. He began to yank at the amulet, which clearly wasn’t budging. Getting slightly better footing, he gave it one more hearty ripping motion when the amulet erupted with a quick spat energy, knocking him back towards the group.
He tried to divert the attention away from his mistake. “There is something he’s not telling us” he choked, motioning to the monk. “He tells us he knows everything about this shrine, but seems to know nothing at the same time. This is a trap!"
Kefka was not sure, but he was now concerned that something about the statue may indeed still possess the power to seal off evil.
If you'd like to know a reaction to your actions or magic ahead of time, just ask!
I rest steady as earth cleansed at light's touch
The monk looks taken aback as the professional woman turned to question him. He winces at her harsh tone. ”The temple’s been watched over,” he corrects her. ”The warrior herself, she’s more of a legend now. I found records of this place in old archives. I don’t know why this wing was sealed off, but once I realized where this spike in magic was coming from, I searched desperately for a way to reach it. We monitor-” The scholarly boy suggests that they could sense the magic separately, and the monk looks relieved, nodding. ”That’s right. This whole temple is a source of great magic. We study it at all times.”
”As for the sigils…” The monk turns to face them, frowning. ”I can’t say. They’re from the Time of the Heroes. We have experts in the old magic, but they all fled or…” The monk bites his tongue. ”I’m one of the only ones left.”
He watches the mercenaries in hopeful interest as they begin their efforts. The statue gives no visible response when the Libra spell is cast, but the boy’s mind is struck with knowledge. The statue is sealed with a nearly overpowering magic. Protective magic. It rejects earth and darkness. It is vulnerable to air and light. Riding the stream of this knowledge comes the flicker of a separate presence and the sensation of being watched. It carries with it a subtle sense of panic and anxiety. A woman’s voice touches the boy’s mind in hardly a whisper.
’Soul of light, save that which I protect. I have waited long for the worthy.’
The connection breaks like the passing of wind. The chilling presence remains.
The statue responds to the curative magic though the seal does not break. With every casting, the amulet glows weakly with a pure white light. The statue’s power stills at the jester’s approach and then thickens into a hostile buzz. Every touch of the stone seeps through the jester with a quiet warning, and the amulet does not budge as he grabs it. However, after a short moment the magic thickens. The amulet flashes a blaring red and holy magic surges through the jester’s body as he’s thrown away from it with a sharp crack. The surge sends him flying until he collides straight on with one of the pillars. It wobbles dangerously.
The monk jumps, looking between the statue and the jester in wonder. ”I didn’t realize...That power…” A look of awe dawns over him. ”I never read anything like it in our records.”
As he used his magic, Arc found himself learning the weaknesses and resistance of the statue. He wasn't entirely sure if he should really go and destroy the statue by accident or anything. However, a voice suddenly resonated through his head as a woman seemed to speak to him. It was hardly a whisper, but the youngster focused his entire attention on it and the words that were spoken. Then when it ended, he spoke word after word the exact sentence over while he did his magic and didn't bother with what the jester was doing for the most part.
"Soul of light, save that which I protect. I have waited long for the worthy," Arc spoke in a calm tone before turning towards the others. "I-I think the protector of this place, the w-woman just spoke to me." The voice hadn't spoken since, it was like it had passed, but he could still feel a chilling presence. Looking from Cissnei to Amalia to the monk, the boy turned back towards the statue as he continued: "the statue itself is weak to the elements of light and air while having a resistance to dark and earth," he looked back towards the others before continuing, "I-I can try an Aeroga if you all would like me to. I don't want to accidentally destroy the statue."
Hearing the agreement from Cissnei and seeing Amalia nod his way, Arc didn't bother himself too much with Kefka's voice as the jester was talking. Possible bringing up more things towards the monk, so he focused his magic as he started to chant his spell and cast Aeroga right at the statue. He hoped this would give them an idea on what was going on. Perhaps he'd also hear the voice again.
Looking back, "anyone else capable of either light or air magic?" he asked a bit nervous. From these events, Arc did note in his own mind that Amalia seemed to be incapable of magic at least thus far shown, so he was more focused on Cissnei to see whether she could provide aid. He wasn't very optimistic on what Kefka could do. He hadn't really noted any magic from the jester at all when he tried to cast before, perhaps his magic was blocked by something in the tomb. Maybe I should try a Libra on him later, he was worried that he might actually be some kind of enemy that was infiltrating their ranks. He had seen that before and hoped he was wrong on that end.
murk™ WORDS: 430 TAG: DM , @blacksuit , @ashe , @kithos NOTE: We discussed on the posting and the response, thus why Arc ended up posting first.
Cissnei held no answer for Ashe’s question on how one aspect of the place withstood the withering and decay of what was around it. It was terribly curious indeed. Though, it felt familiar to something from her home world. Something in a run-down building…full of light and life. She furrowed her brows trying to remember. Perhaps that memory could help in her current situation. But alas, as faintly as it had come, it was gone. She was getting used to these sensations in this world.
She had no time to dawdle on the past. She gave a nod to the monk, understanding the situation a little better now. She tried to tune out Ashe’s angry remarks and Kefka’s hysterical ones. Perhaps they were both two halves of the same coin. Arc, though nervous, seemed highly knowledgeable. She responded encouragingly to him, “That’s okay. Perhaps, we can use this as a learning experience to see how our magic reacts in this world.” She tried encouragingly.
As Arc examined the statute, she turned to Kefka to watch his demonstration that his magic was supposedly blocked. She tried to stare through him, trying to determine if he was joshing her or not. She pressed a knuckle to her lips as she began to process what he was saying. “I would love to show you my equipment some time, and perhaps talk more about how magic works after we are done here.” She said courteously, but somewhere in her gut something turned. A warning maybe? Something in her instincts made her want to keep a close eye on her materia.
She was a little shocked Kefka was getting so physical with the statute, and she winced as it violently repelled him into a pillar. Why did it do that? Was it his roughness? Or was it something else. What exactly did it seal? Did Kefka have something similar to what was sealed? Regardless…
She moved to Kefka quickly and leaned down to help him up. She placed a hand on his bicep to assist him to his feet. “Are you okay?” She asked sincerely, checking him over for injuries. He looked pale, but she felt it was safe to assume that was his normal color. “Be a little more careful, ok? Oh! Your cheek.” She reached into her blazer, to remove a small first aid kit. She opened it to find a small ice pack that, when the material became crushed, became cold. She held it up to his cheek for a moment. “Hold that there for a few minutes. Or else the bruising and swelling will be awful.” She pressed the ice pack at him before replacing the first aid kit back in her breast pocket.
She heard Arc’s prognosis on what he discovered based on his observations. She wondered if Kefka had an affinity to darkness and earth? Was that why his magic was sealed, and he was repelled? But, that made her nervous. She too had darkness spells…but…
She felt a strange calling from the magical artifact she found in Headstone Forest. As if it was as sentient as the statute itself. She reached into her pant pocket to brush her fingers over the magicite. There was an odd static shock that made her skin goose bump. This voiceless calling seemed to cry louder. Cissnei pulled the magicite out and held it to her chest. Walking to the statute, she noticed that Arc’s spells seemed to be causing the amulet to react. Maybe…the abilities in this strange artifact would help?
“I think I can try something, Arc.” She said, standing next to the young man. For a moment, she was unsure how to use the magicite. Materia had to be equipped and then gaining access to it was just natural to her. But this magic did not feel linked to her realm at all. Closing her eyes, she meditated on the magicite, allowing its knowledge to flow into her, much like she did the knowledge of the Ancients. She felt something inside her gain insight, and she wondered if she needed to “cleanse” the stone. She felt the magicite act as a channel as she cast the soft, caressing light of Esuna on the amulet, followed by the spell Regen.
She pushed through the dark oppressive feeling of being watched as these spells became cast. Her light spell mingled with Arc’s to create a healing wind that caressed over the statute and amulet. The sense of being watched seemed to recede from the room, at least a little less oppressively. With the soft caress of their spells the statute’s amulet at first began to sparkle, before coming to life in bright light. Cissnei’s first reaction was to reach out to touch the amulet. But she remembered what happened to Kefka, and she hesitated and pulled back her hand.
“What now? Arc...maybe you should take the amulet? Something spoke to you, correct?” She posed the question to them.
The air softens as wind touches hard stone. It whistles through the courtyard -- sharp and quiet -- rustling through hair and cloth and the leaves of the ivy. The oppressive chill shudders against it and lightens as though siphoned by the unnatural whirlwind. A new magic joins it in motes of fairy lights spiraling around the statue in a dance of sparkling streams and fluttering leaves until finally the chill breaks entirely. A new air engulfs the courtyard. It carries with it a warm gaze, a sense of calm, and the dusky scent of wildflowers.
The amulet blares a gleaming white from the statue’s center. A wave of power pulses from it and engulfs all who stand in its way. To the child, it feels almost like a mother’s touch. It embraces him and whispers, ’I place my trust in you, young one. But take heed of what lurks behind.’ To the harsh woman, it comes like a summer breeze. It carries with it the familiar warmth of sun across desert sands. ’You are a fierce warrior,’ a woman’s voice whispers, ’But one must know peace to cleanse the darkness.’
To the professional woman, it feels like nothing more than a gust of sweet-smelling wind. Still, it stirs something within her like the smile of an old friend. Words come to her -- ’Take care...Trust not...Mission.’ -- but they’re faint and drowned by the whistling winds. Perhaps there were never words at all. It’s impossible to say.
To the jester, the winds come hot and rough. The gust slams against him, and with it, a hissing voice. ’Come no further, destroyer! My power is not yours to take!’ Though the words pound against his ears, no others hear them. The heat dies as quickly as it came. The courtyard is still once more.
The amulet’s chain snaps. It falls to the statue’s feet and glints with its own white light. As though at its call, the pristine circle of runic symbols separates at the center and slides open revealing a set of crumbling stairs leading into a dark passage. Stale air wafts from its center mixed with cobwebs and dust. The bottom cannot be seen through the darkness.
”That’s-! How did you-?” The monk gapes at them in stunned awe. ”The statue! Her amulet!” He gathers himself until he’s straight-backed and serious. He addresses them with an almost somber resolve. ”Take it. It might be the temple’s relic, but it belongs with you. Please, purify the temple’s power. Calm its guardian. You can take whatever else you find as long as it’s done.”
From far away comes a pounding noise and the splintering of wood. The monk jumps and braces himself as shambling footsteps approach. ”Go!” He bites his tongue. ”It's too important! I'd only slow you down!”
The magic from Arc and her seemed to have worked its way into appeasing that statue and its amulet in some way. She looks curiously to the magicite in her hand, before placing it back in its designate packet. The atmosphere livened up with life and light and it passed over her refreshingly. She watched breathtakingly for a moment, almost hypnotized by the spectacle. Any oppression and tension were dissolved and swept out.
For a moment, the light from the amulet became too great and she turned her head away and put a hand up to shield her eyes. There was feeling of warmth and a soft breeze seemed to carry soft words to her. Trust not…mission? What did that mean? Or was she just hearing things? Perhaps just the winds making sounds in the pillars. As the sudden burst activity came, it slowly died down. Her eyes shifted to the monk. Was she meant to not trust him?
Then, the amulet fell, and a passage way opened. Her eyes lingered on the tempting darkness. It felt like an alluring new mystery to her. As if curiosity pulled her on a string, she takes a step towards the gaping maw. But the monk’s words stopped her. Trust not…mission. She furrowed her brow. The only way to figure it out was to let the others move forward, and she stayed behind with the monk.
“No. I’ll stay with you. I can at least try to hold off the threat.” She told the monk, and she look to the others. “Go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” She told the others, her eyes now darting from the monk, to the sounds pounding and shambling steps. “Arc, I think you should keep hold of the amulet.”
