As they walked into the area, Zevran stopped short of stepping on any of the runes, but when Meg didn’t and ended up getting thrown back, he immediately went over to help. Meg!!! Are you all right!!!! She seemed to be, as she spoke, Zevran looked over at the runes, and then the others and then the cat that seemed to be able to walk freely over the runes.
Perhaps the cat can guide us through the maze. We should observe its movements and follow its path. Zevran suggested, keeping a close eye on the feline as it navigated the rune-laden ground with ease. Did it know the path or was it just immune because of the collar, how would they even know unless they tried to follow the cat to see. Unless we can get it to come to us and we can get our hands on that collar.
Zevran manages to get the cat to come to them, Revas manages to figure out how to use the cat to get safely across the runes. Revas also finds a special hat with a return address in Antiva. It is apparently owned by a merchant.
Diplomat/Ambassador representing the Dwarves and Tantervale
Played by: bach
Zoltan tried to get the cat to come to him, but it seemed wholly uninterested in the dwarf, ignoring him entirely and just pacing around the runes as it watched the group call to it. Zoltan was frustrated, he didn’t want to have to back track, but he also didn’t think it wise to cross the runes blindly either.
Somehow Zevran managed to get the cat’s attention, it even started to purr a bit as it winded its way towards the elf and across the runes, setting not a single one off. Though Zevran had no idea why, if it was because the cat was too light to set off the runes, or perhaps it had something to do with the collar. He imagined they wouldn’t know for sure until they’d earned the cat’s trust.
Eventually the cat made its way to Zevran and started winding itself between his legs. Hoping against hopes, Zevran carefully reached down and pet the cat, hoping to further earn its trust so that he could pick the cat up and they could properly look at the cat’s collar with the rune markings. Once he had the cat, he looked triumphant.
Now let’s see if we can figure out what this collar means, any ideas guys? The cat was no purring very loudly and seemed relatively content to be held by Zevran.
Back on her feet Megara resigned to take a rest, stomach lurching left and right and her head swam with disorientation. Meg was relatively unharmed, though the healer sat herself down, setting her head between her legs to gather herself. She’d leave the puzzle for the others who’d not flown through the air at speed, less frazzled minds. [color=#008e02]“You’re all doing wonderfully,”[/color] giving them all a thumbs up while her head still hung and she settled her upturned stomach.
Sylaise raged, though it was more a disgruntled grumble than full anger, but she was rest assured that her host would recover after a short rest. As Zevran managed to convince the cat to approach, a slight snicker escaped her lips. [color=#008e02]“Ruth would make a fair comment about you and… kitties, Zev. I’m sure you boys will get us across.” [/color]
In accepting and agreeing to travel out here, Revas knew there might be a few strange occurrences. Something that he perhaps had never witnessed firsthand, only told of in stories and during his wonders in dreams. Though by the path they'd already taken, it was clear that they were not the first, nor would they be the last to enter this maze. And that meant things would be left behind, but finding a hat of all things flung to the side so carelessly, was a sight he had not expected to see. Even as he quietly tucked the item into his satchel with the rest of his belongings, his gaze stayed with the cat still before them. A puzzle to be solved and a way forward yet to be found.
Shifting across to the elven that still held it in his grasp, and while weary of the individual, at the very least he could be polite and cooperative until this was done. And while the runes beneath it's collar were starting to make sense the longer he looked at them, it was likely not the wisest choice to linger here for too long. So, he bet on a hunch, a flicker of memory and whispers of old magic. If nothing else it was worth a try. A ripple of amusement echoed from June as he began to speak softly to the cat, if the being was perhaps a shapeshifter or granted higher intelligence by a spirit of some kind? There was no reason not to have manners.
Words echoed out slowly, an old language, one he knew far better than common and he knew Sylaise would likely translate the ancient elvhen tongue for Megara to understand as well. But after a moment, it seemed to do the trick, watching as the creature began to move and Revas took that same moment to follow. Do as I do. The same steps taken, the same movements made in order to cross safely.
Diplomat/Ambassador representing the Dwarves and Tantervale
Played by: bach
Zoltan followed Revas's lead, his eyes fixed on the intricate patterns of runes and symbols that adorned the floor. Each step felt like a potential misstep into unknown peril. He trusted Revas implicitly, knowing that his knowledge of these ancient markings was far superior to Zoltan's own.
Revas's voice broke the tense silence at varying intervals to offer additional guidance, at one point Zoltan had to sidestep a rune that shimmered with an ominous glow. Zoltan didn’t question Revas’s guidance, feeling a chill run down his spine as he imagined the consequences of stepping on such a rune.
As they progressed, Revas continued to point out the safe paths, instructing Zoltan with calm authority. Zoltan's heart raced with every careful step, the weight of each decision palpable in the air. He gripped his staff tighter, relying on it not just for balance but for a sense of security amidst the unknown magic that surrounded them.
Revas’s words encouraged, urging Zoltan forward. With each successful maneuver around a dangerous rune, Zoltan felt a surge of relief mixed with admiration for Revas's expertise. Together, they navigated the maze of symbols, inching closer to their goal with each cautious step, the floor beneath them a tapestry of ancient power and potential danger. Once Zoltan was across, he looked to Zevran and Megara behind him, as they made their way as well.
Zevran finally reached the other side as well and looked back to make sure Megara made it the rest of the way. The cat seemed to have gotten a bit enamoured with the group, or at least quite curious about them, and didn’t seem eager to go away any time soon. In fact, it started to act like it wanted them to keep following it.
Zevran, after a moment of contemplation, decided to go along with the feline's apparent suggestion. "Well, it hasn't led us astray so far. Let's keep following it. Just... cautiously." He looked to the others, sure it seemed a bit crazy, but it had done them well so far, what could it hurt if they kept going a bit further. The cat clearly knew more than they knew.
With Zevran’s assistance, Megara managed to navigate the path, taking care to step exactly where she needed to and asking when unsure. Her head still thrummed from being hurled and banging her head, but once safely on the other side she took a moment to run a cooled palm over the back of her neck and across her brow, then around where she’d bumped her head. A groan of relief was offered, eyes peeking open to cast her eyes between the men.
Zevran’s suggestion of following the cat wasn’t without merit, it may take them right to its master or have something to do with the goods they’d been sent to find. Everything about this maze wasn’t what it appeared to be, and so far the only helpful thing had been the cat. I think it likes you Zev and it seems friendly. I’m good with following it.
You feel a sudden shift in the atmosphere around you. The damp, twisting paths of the labyrinth begin to glow with a faint, pulsing light. Then, from the shadows, an ancient figure steps forward, robes flowing around him as if caught in an invisible wind. His eyes gleam like distant stars, and he raises a hand, as if in greeting... or warning.
Ah, you’ve found your way here. Quite impressive, I admit. You’ve not heard of me have you? Come here looking for me? Camlen?. Though, if you could see the state of my patience as clearly as the paths you’ve trudged through, perhaps you would not look so pleased with yourselves.
*The elf mage tilts his head, studying you with an expression that shifts from curiosity to something closer to exasperation.*
A hundred leagues of enchanted corridors, woven with riddles and hidden perils, and yet you stand here, the lot of you, bold as if you own the place. Let me be clear, dear intruders—this *is* my domain. The twisting walls, the shifting ground, the eerie voices you ignored as you stumbled forward; they are all under my control, existing solely to keep... distractions at bay. But here you are, nevertheless.
*A faint flicker of magic sparks around Camlen's fingertips as he sighs deeply, the weight of countless years pressing into his voice.*
So, I shall give you this one chance. Turn around, retrace your steps, and kindly vacate *my* maze. I have spent months cloaked from Elgar’nan’s wrath, and I have no intention of your reckless meddling spoiling the peace I’ve earned.
*Camlen's tone sharpens, his eyes narrowing slightly.*
If you do not heed me, I fear I will have to make things... less pleasant.
*He pauses, allowing his words to sink in.*
Now—take my advice, and get the fuck out of my maze.
Diplomat/Ambassador representing the Dwarves and Tantervale
Played by: bach
Zoltan raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching into a half-smile as he studied the ancient mage before them. His eyes flickered with mischief, even in the face of Camlen’s deadly serious warning.
Ah, well, there he is—the man behind the mystery! It’s truly an honor, Camlen, really. After all, it’s not every day we meet the architect of a maze so delightfully, ah... unwelcoming.
He gestured to the maze around them, as if Camlen were a chef proudly displaying a disastrous banquet. Then, his tone grew softer, nearly conspiratorial.
But here’s the thing—you’ve got to understand our situation. We crossed a hundred leagues and more to get here, danced through enough traps to make a jester jealous, all to... well, to see what’s so damned important to keep hidden. And now, you want us to just turn around?
Zoltan leaned forward slightly, one brow arching as he measured the ancient mage’s reaction. He was exaggerating mildly on how far they’d travelled, but it wasn’t as if Camlen really needed to know where they had all come from.
See, I’ve been known to take advice when it’s good advice... but to simply leave? You wound me, Camlen. Besides, if we go back the way we came, we’d just be risking that death you’re so eager to keep us away from. Why not simply guide us out? Perhaps even... share a tale or two? That is, unless you’d prefer to meet our charming, stubborn friend here, *he gestured at the cat,* over a nice bowl of tuna instead.
He offered Camlen a disarming smile, as if the idea of a centuries-old elf being irritated by a gang of intruders was somehow amusing rather than dangerous.
*Zevran let out a soft chuckle, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he took in the ancient mage’s disapproving gaze. He glanced down at the cat, then back up at Camlen with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.*
Ah, Camlen! Surely, a mage of your… stature must realize the allure of such an enchanting maze. You don’t create something this exquisite and not expect the occasional curious visitor. *He shot a sideways look at Zoltan, clearly entertained by his companion’s clever retorts.*
Besides, *he continued, gesturing at the path behind them with an exaggerated sigh,* we’ve come all this way, been tossed about, tested, nearly impaled… Now you want us to simply turn tail and flee? Camlen, I must say, that would be quite the tragic ending to our little adventure, wouldn’t it?
*With a quick, charming smile, Zevran placed a hand over his heart as though pleading his case in earnest.*
Now, I understand you have every reason to be wary. But consider—our nimble little friend here, *he gestured to the cat, still perched near them,* seems to think we’re worth the trouble. Perhaps a sign?
*He leaned closer, lowering his voice in a way that suggested camaraderie,*
And what better story would you have to tell than the one where you graciously spared us because you, Camlen, the mighty mage, saw something worth sparing?
*Zevran held Camlen’s gaze, a glint of challenge in his expression. Then he shrugged lightly, a hint of amusement still lingering as he awaited the ancient mage’s response.*
The appearance of the stranger was only indicated by the shifting energy and as he appeared Megara offered him a warm smile and a friendly wave. She listened intently like the others, brow wrinkling in concern for him, but equally understanding his wish to remain undisturbed.
It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Camlen. I really am jealous of your little haven, as a gardener myself I’m really impressed with your vine control, just amazing. She sighed though, disappointment lined her face as he voiced his wish from them to leave empty handed. I’m afraid it’s not that simple. The boys are right, there are a lot of people depending on the supplies we’re searching for. Some might die without them.
Carefully, with her hands raised and showing the emptiness of her sleeves, Megara moved to approach him. We’re not friends of Elgar’nan either. In fact my friends and I are doing what we can to help, maybe your friend here saw that and that’s why he brought us. Sylaise has even appeared to help us in the fight so… the odds are getting better.
Megara reached out her hand, letting it hang in the distance between her and Camlen. If you know anything that could help us beat him, I’d love to hear it too. I’ve got some tea with me that we could all enjoy.
Camlen's narrowed eyes gleamed with a sharp, suspicious light as the strangers continued to speak, one after the other. Flattery, charm, appeals to his ego—none of it masked the core of his concern. His lips pressed into a thin line, his ancient, weathered features hardening with every word.
So... he began slowly, his voice like the rustle of dried leaves, you're not friends of Elgar'nan, you say? His gaze flickered over each of them, lingering on Megara's outstretched hand, then on the cat, who continued its impudent observation.
And why should I believe that? What proof do you offer, beyond your oh-so-sweet words and innocent faces? How do I know you're not here *for* me, sent by the All-Father himself to flush me from this sanctuary I've bled to protect? Your ‘companion’ seems to think you are harmless, but enchantments can be fooled, spirits misled.
His eyes burned with a sudden intensity, and a thread of energy crackled in the air, causing the maze's walls to ripple faintly as if in response to his rising anger.
You come, uninvited, into my maze, my refuge—**my** creation. You *could* be assassins, spies, hunters seeking the last of the unbowed. You may claim to help, but who am I to trust that? Just because you’ve danced through a few traps doesn’t make you saints, and I have no interest in entertaining the whims of those too foolish to recognize a real danger when it stands before them.
Camlen's sneer deepened, his posture rigid as if bracing for the betrayal he was certain would come.
Perhaps Elgar'nan sent you *because* I have eluded him for so long. You claim you aren't his servants, but what if he sent you as bait? What if he knew *exactly* how to tempt a tired, paranoid mage into lowering his guard with your tales of resistance? After all, what's more convincing than a group of strangers offering exactly the words an enemy longs to hear?
His eyes blazed with suspicion, but beneath it was something else—exhaustion, perhaps even fear. He paused, his breath heavy, and spoke in a low, dangerous voice.
So tell me, intruders. What if you're wrong? What if it's *you* who have been lured here, not by some innocent purpose, but by the gods themselves, to bring me down? What if everything you say is just what I want to believe?
Diplomat/Ambassador representing the Dwarves and Tantervale
Played by: bach
Zoltan observed Camlen carefully, the mage’s words laced with suspicion and exhaustion. He let the silence hang for a moment, weighing his response, and then gave a small, almost apologetic smile.
Ah, Camlen, Zoltan began, his tone light but with a hint of weariness himself, you’re not wrong, you know. A healthy dose of paranoia is the first rule of survival for someone in your shoes. But then again, I don’t have the energy to concoct a grand conspiracy just to wander into your fine maze uninvited.
He stepped forward slightly, careful not to provoke, but enough to make his presence clear. He was unarmed, save for the staff he leaned on, and his expression was one of understanding—if not sympathy.
Let me put it this way, old friend. If Elgar’nan truly sent us here, do you think he’d have entrusted this mission to *us* of all people? A ragtag group more likely to argue about supper than wage war on ancient mages? Please, he said with a casual wave of his hand, we’ve barely managed to survive your maze, let alone some grand scheme to bring you down.
He let the words sit, studying Camlen’s reaction with careful eyes. Then he sighed, as if confessing a painful truth.
As for trust—well, let’s just say I don’t expect you to take our word for it. Words are cheap, aren’t they? We’ve all been burned before. But think on this: if we *were* working for Elgar’nan, we wouldn’t have announced our arrival. We’d have sprung a trap, ambushed you in your sleep, or worse... offered a gift and called it peace, only to poison you from within. His tone darkened, serious for a moment, before he lightened it again with a knowing grin.
Instead, you’ve got me here, babbling away, hoping you don’t incinerate us with a flick of your wrist. And trust me, I’d rather negotiate than burn to a crisp, so how about we meet halfway? We’re not asking for your trust, just a... suspension of disbelief. At least until we’ve all had a chance to share that tea Megara mentioned.
Zoltan cocked his head to the side, his smile broadening just a little. You give us a chance to prove we’re not your enemies, and in return, we stay out of your hair and avoid any more unpleasantness. What do you say, Camlen? Not the worst deal, is it?
