Twists and Turns [Ynd, Obe, Cass and Kovic] (Graded)

[Limbo]

Mouthy Mastes, busy with his monologue and voiced thought-process, only managed to bring Djuro’s countenance down. Each word contorted that pale, shadow-riddled physiognomy, and each word turned that wild, feminine beauty of his into that abnormally savage mug of a wildling. Suffice to say, the blood spoke to the favor of this freshly-acquainted adjective that soon ruled over all others when Djuro was concerned. His fears of a premature death far gone by now, the monologue was listened with obvious tedium, eyes scouting around them at first then fixing on the soldier, where they remained. Cassidy had certainly had the worst roll of them all – even blades coming off the floor would’ve been a better company. When Mastes went quiet, Djuro spoke up instead.
“Do you know how you kill a king, Gatekeeper?” said he, voice suddenly as poetic and as possessed by emotion as whatever little fantasy got Mastes his kicks of pleasure. “It is an act that goes beyond that of murder. In fact, it is not murder; it is an overthrow. Men can murder men, but that makes them no more than what they were. Instead, those who seek to become more must first match, and then outmatch.”

Flop. Flop. Flop. The wet footsteps of the cannibal splattered as he slowly began pacing around Cassidy, who was also unlucky enough to receive a second unwanted monologue. At the very least, this once he would see the features of the speaker, and furthermore, the mania gleaming in the driven man.
“Before you kill the King, you become the King. First, you rape his women, so that you steal his vices and make them yours. His role as a man is now forfeit. Then you steal his horses, and own what he owned. His possessions were now stolen from you. Now you kill his servants, and with them, you take away the memory of his name from the land. He is now a stranger. Finally, you walk before him, look into his eyes, and you tell him you are him. Take his crown first, then take his head. Then, reign.”

Dramatic pause. Djuro halted before Cassidy, albeit a safe distance away. The possibility of a fight was still relevant, and even if the actor was lacking any semblance of fear or caution in his performance, wisdom sure was present. The Kingmaker, Djuro’s title, sure required some wisdom Kovic was quite able to portray.
“I dislike this King, Gatekeeper,” Djuro confessed, baring those fine, sharp teeth. Flesh was still caught between them. “He speaks of topics I dislike and dares rapture Djuro from his doings. I declare him dead.” Unfortunately for the Kingmaker, his word wasn’t law. Not here, not in this place. “You are to bear witness of his outmatching, and when I’m King, I will make you my horse. Attempt to betray me and I will treat you like his women.”

The monologue came to an end, it’s final note as monomaniacal as expected. Regardless, Djuro seemed confident. Lacking anything but some ragged pants and pints of foreign blood, the tall man spun on his heels and, without so much of a pause, began venturing further and further into the initial chamber where he and what he considered to be his ‘horse’ were first brought in, a whole maze left to be explored. The prospect of death still failed to grasp him, for the monomaniac was still obsessed with his one and only goal; to find the King and take his place.

The Kingmaker was an egotist.

------------------

Although the act was solid on all fronts, Kovic, staring from beneath those blue eyes found himself quite overwhelmed with unanswered questions. Curiosity had killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. However, satisfaction had yet to toss him back into the rowboat he had been feeding on, or shed some light onto the situation. From what he could deduct, this whole situation revolved around some form of negotiation-gone-wrong or politics, and the names mentioned were, surely so, Immortal names. The matter seemed so big Kovic felt quite small.

Nevertheless, one idea was clearly extracted from the whole speech; the one behind it all had expectations. He had mentioned teams and agendas. Considering it all, one option was quite plausible; if everyone but Kovic died, perhaps the game would be over and all those unanswered questions about his fate would be sated. Of course, this reasoning offered a route all too familiar to Kovic; end the charade and simply leap across any and all others within this place, and kill them.

For now, he abstained. Were he to lose confidence in his act, this would be the most obvious solution. It was also guaranteed to put him on top of the body pile. Death just wasn't a word that fit him.

[Yndira]

There was something unpleasant that the naer could not shake about this room.

Her annoyance to the previous space had come from the intricacy of the room itself - they were meant for someone that thought in a more analytical sense. The rudimentary thought process she possessed would need more time and less pain to figure out a viable solution properly. But that was not what she was given and it soon faded away in the face of a singular name. Of course the rotten plague bitch would be behind it. Did she not have a vendetta against the great Shadow Queen's creations? Or whatever - someone had to take the charges that were stacking with each passing trill.

But this room - there was something to it. There was darkness, and where that should have been comforting, it was not. Rather, it felt like trespassing. Her - trespassing? Unfathomable. The shadows were within her rights and there would be nothing that should oppose her claim to them. To feel that something else occupied them unsettled Yndira. She buzzed with anticipation, made worse as she took stock of the situation. Webbing. Insects. She shuddered. They did not normally make her skin crawl, but the size of the burrows littering the room brought nothing but further discomfort. Too big, is what they were. She was of the philosophy that there was a limit to how much a bug should grow and how far away it should stay. In this, both boundaries had been crossed and the situation would need to be rectified.

Yndira, though, was not much of a creature of forethought or current thought. Not, at least, out of her goal. And that was to get out. The longer she stayed, the less she would feel at ease and then there would be the coiling of her stomach and the sensation of her insides needing to empty to the outside. Not a good look. Her first step was careless, but her next wasn't as much so. She was, in a sense, no more than a child bumbling through a sea of fine china with eyes on a singular prize. It was a matter of not tipping into anything along the way that made this all the more difficult.

Somewhere in her mind, though, she wondered what was there. Spiders, most likely. Spiders left webs, right? How big they were was another story and that was where the thought stopped. Instead, it went to thinking of all the ways she could make the person behind this pay. Who did she have to thank for all of this?

She'd have a lot of gratefulness to show them. So much, really. She'd have to consider if she would maneuver her broken Common to convey any words she might have, or have them suffer through never knowing what she meant in her native tongue. The confusion would be fun, but troublesome if it persisted for too long. Her scheming was interrupted, though, by the soft click of something against her shoe. It was a kind of click she could say she knew well. Look down left her with the sight of something she had not seen of her own workings for some time. A bone - she didn't quite remember the name given to it, but she knew it to be of the leg - had been what she'd knocked against. It gave her pause.

It was a strange coiling in her that she could not name. Or maybe didn't want to name. She ought not be able to feel it, she'd always thought. But then, what else would it be? Hunger? She was more angry than hungry and while the two states went hand in hand often, they didn't match up at the moment. It was hard to swallow around the lump in her throat, and harder still to ignore the much stronger shudder that coursed through her this time. It was not the beginning of her realization that she might see herself more as prey, but it was certainly solidified in the moment. The emotion was forgotten - or the naming of it was, in place of pushing it back - and instead her goal became more prominent.

Out.Out.Out.Out.Out.Out.Out.Out.Out.Out.Out.Out.Out.

Speech | Thought

[Maltruism]

Twists and Turns

It would be hard to say exactly what triggered the recognition. Social events were not something Yndira regularly marked on her calendar. But there was the most bizarre element of similarity occurring in this dirty, dank, subterranean chamber, peopled as it was, apparently by large spiders. It was....music...and it was evocative and emotionally addicting.

Just moments before she was caught up in a swoon of impulse to dance and swirl about the place, she caught sight of a second beast, plucking at the webs beneath it with its many legs. The connecting patterns of strands vibrated in lush, harmonic consonance, the bass tones maintaining the rhythmic tempo, compelling her feet to move in accordance with the swelling strength of this macabre stringed orchestra.

Her mind was soon subsumed within the memories and fantasies she'd ever indulged of grand gala events; dominating the dance floor as those she mostly loathed looked on in undisguised envy. Satisfaction of the most catty variety surged through every vein and sinew as she felt elevated above the undeserving masses beneath her. An odd impulse to shed her belongings upon them took hold of her. Her vanity spoke to her of the absolute shame and scorn this would heap upon them. And the richer it was, the greater the insult.

"Let them have her cast-offs! It was what they were only worthy of. They deserved nothing until she had had it first!"

She indulged this compulsion, finding ever greater rapture as she stripped off everything. But a strange hesitance stayed her hand where her silver items were concerned. Her ring, her chain, her armband and earcuff brought her up short. She had saved them for last, so she had thought. But now they defied her, hissing their rebellion in tones that ran a foul counterpoint to the music still motivating her legs.

The impulse died as the hissing soon was recognized as coming from several directions. The spiders, no longer "playing" their webs scurried to gather up her goods, leaving her naked and furious as she noted a niche behind them where they were stockpiling them...along with what must have been the belongings of dozens of others! There was no way to tell what riches might be stuffed into that dirty crack in the wall, but the spiders were now squared off in a semi-circle between it and her.

Yet they did not approach. They hissed and made all manner of threatening moves and gestures. But they did not approach.

It was only then, as the first shiver of cold hit, that she noticed the odd feelings of constriction from the silver items she wore. For some reason, she still wore them. The spiders had infected her mind, coaxed her to free herself of all her belongings, stole them away to some niche in the corner, yet left the silver, and now threatened, but stayed their distance.

That said something. She looked around the chamber with new eyes. There were numerous silver items lying all around. Mostly covered in webbing, but the webbing was melted where it touched the silver. She had assumed them to be web-wrapped rats or snakes or some such before. This changed everything.


It was certainly understandable that Oberan would not wait until the shelf reached its flush position, before deciding on a course of action. And climbing further up was not as foolish at that moment as it may have seemed after the fact. But what was done was done. A sensation of vertigo began to assault his equilibrium, making it seem as if the angle became more acute then 90 degrees as the ascended. He had been certain the face was vertical, but now it had a distinct outward bend. An impossible task.

He took another look down, it suddenly striking him that it looked like the shelf was once again pulling in to become flush. This meant it had extended out again as well. So it was probably driven by some mechanism, the same as the sword chamber. He focused now on the distance to discover yet one more detail he'd missed. Rage accompanied this discovery as it was clearly something none could discover unless they'd resigned themselves to fall. As the shelf became fully flush, because he was focusing on that distance, he noted buttons in the wall directly below the shelf's position.

He'd have to have gotten down on hands and knees to sneak such a look beneath the shelf even as it was retracting into the wall to have seen them. Obviously the trickster in charge of this place had counted on that. But Oberan was not a bad climber, perhaps going back down was worthwhile after all.

It was an arduous trek, descending such a face, having to gaze down at the doom below just to have a chance of seeing footholds to spare him that end. The dizzying height added to the sense of vertigo; it becoming ever harder to be sure of how far to reach, as if his own depth perception itself was now trying to trick him into a lethal misstep. Straps and belts now seemed to have a mind of their own, seeking out unnoticed protrusions to catch upon, and slow his downward progress.

Then, it happened. His perch dislodged from beneath his foot, and the escalating loss of hold and leverage on his remaining grips betrayed him. Even as he screamed (something he would never admit to), one last rational thought bid him to check if the shelf was sticking out now. Was it additional betrayal of fortune that it was not? No, it gave him a desperate chance to smash buttons as he flew past them. He slammed the flat of his hand into the mass, feeling a number of impacts and scrapes as they zipped by.

The vertigo took hold of him completely now, making him feel as if he was...was...no, he WAS...upside down, no longer outside, no longer falling. But when the chain, ending in the manacles that held his feet, began to slowly lower, it may not have been at crushing speed, but the unmistakable odor of the acid pit he was now slowly descending towards did not suggest his situation had greatly improved.

Once again, there was a stone shelf sticking out of a far stone wall. At least the pad of buttons was above it now; and his hands were free.


The stranger's expression grew ever more contemptuous as Djuro rambled on about his metaphorical politics. It would appear that "would-be insurrectionist" could be added to the labels of "murderer" and, seemingly, "cannibal". But his rambling did not imply some immediate threat, despite the attempt to spawn antagonism between them by the voice that had addressed them both a few moments earlier.

He began his slow turn before Djuro was finished, having his back to him by the time the bloody oddball had finished making his offer. The stranger did not appear to be interested in being this blood-smeared weirdo's "horse" any time soon. It was not that he felt the gist of Djuro's blather ran contrary to his own feelings toward the voice, and it's apparent motivation. He was simply not about to take sides before hopefully meeting the other two the voice had mentioned.

He strode off alone, leaving Djuro to his reverie, stopping at a clump of reeds growing by the edge of a muddy water hole. Djuro was lost in his own evaluations, and did not note the stranger's double-take towards a certain part of the clump, but he DID note the dull thump that accompanied the stranger's sudden disappearance.

Hurrying over, it was not difficult to spot the unnaturally uniform array of a certain group of fifteen reeds, set, as they were, in three perfectly aligned rows of five evenly spaced reeds each. There were no numbers to suggest which angle of orientation marked the "beginning", so he would know which one was #1, 3, 5, 15 or what-have-you. He would be purely guessing what numbers each one was.

This was largely supposition of course, but it was supported by the fact that there was no panel of buttons to be seen anywhere else. The next obstacle was the matter of how one activated them. The stranger had disappeared so quickly, it must simply have been touching them...unless he is in on this whole thing...

The thought seemed to pop into his mind of its own accord. Djuro shrugged it off, as he did the thought of further hesitation. He simply swept both hands in arcs across the tops of the reeds, not even finishing before he felt dizziness sweep him away to recollect his awareness in a 100 x 100 foot chamber, with what appeared to be stone walls, and chipped and cracked stone tiles making up both the floor and ceiling.

He stood on a singular tile, set into a small niche in one wall that kept him off of the rest of the floor. There was no button pad in evidence. But there were bones, many of them. Crushed and scattered about, making any sort of body count estimate all but impossible. The was one full corpse. It too was smashed to a gory ruin, and would undoubtedly be bones like the rest in time.

Djuro ventured a step onto the tile immediately before him. The tile dropped an inch or so with a click, and an overhead hiss was the only warning of some mechanical gadgetry that he got. It was only luck that the effect on his balance from the tile's depression caused him to fall back, instead of forward, as a stone pillar slammed down from above to smash the tile he'd just been standing on.

Had he still been there, and not instinctively embraced his imbalance to slip back onto his starting point, he'd have been bashed by what must surely be a good ton of crudely worked stone. Looking up, to see the pillar resume its place in the ceiling, he had to assume that every tile was actually the end of a stone pillar, ready to slam down on its corresponding tile in the floor, once it was depressed by his body weight.

It probably could not respond, step by step with the same immediate response as that first one, but the still did not appear to be anywhere that he could stand that would not bring a pillar down on his head. Except for the niche in the wall where he now stood. It did strike him as potentially significant that a few of the "tiles" in the ceiling had been damaged to the point of being several inches shorter than those around them.

He could not tell if it was because the leading ends had been smashed away by repeated impacts, or if the mechanism that ran this trap had pulled them further up than it was supposed to. He did not look forward to finding out.

Off Topic

Okay, I waited extra long, just in case.
Cassidy, you can be completely out of the picture now if you like, having hit on the right combination of buttons by pure luck. You will be in no more posts unless I hear from you.
This can either be to say that you want to continue, in which case, I will devise a torturous situation to dump you into , or to tell me where you'd like to pop back into Idalos.

[Oberan]

A new room, a new thread, a new situation he found himself in. Upside down with feet in manacles, dangling above a pit filled with acid. Perhaps anyone else would have been hysteric by now, panicking uselessly, unable to do anything but yank the chains, pull at the iron rings around the ankles, growing wilder and more fearful as the chain lengthened and lengthened. Not Oberan though. A situation like this was child’s play. He used to dump himself into a tank of water, all chained up and restrained, having no freedom of motion.

This was nothing.

Even compared to the other two rooms, this was nothing. Honestly, he’d take being slowly lowered in a pit of acid over an optical illusion cliffside, or a rotating rooms with blades coming out of every surface.

Really, there wasn’t even any need to use his abilities on this little challenge either. His hands were still free.

Without much trouble he folded himself upwards, abs contracting so he could reach out and grab the chain that ended in his manacles, fingers curling around the links tightly. It jingled and clanked, swaying a little as the Mortalborn began climbing upwards. First purely using his arms since there wasn’t enough chain underneath him to grab onto with his feet until a dozen trills later. Once he locked the chain with his feet, though, ascending became a whole lot easier, as now he could generate force with his legs as well, and he wasn’t solely reliant on the grip of his palms.

Acid pit or not, this was too easy.

Perhaps because of that Oberan wasn’t surprised when the chain began being lowered down and increasingly faster rates. He quickly switched the foot lock on the chain from an S wrap to a secure J wrap, quickening up his previously more or less leisurely pace. Quick, but secure, he still soared up towards the ceiling, even as the chain rattled downward more and more swiftly.

A race against the clock, against gravity, and against the pully mechanism that this room utilized. But Oberan had been given a head start, he’d been made aware that the room didn’t want to lose. He’d sped up as much as he could without being too reckless, gaining height fast. Now, it was already too late for the room to catch up; he’d passed the platform already.

Yet still he climbed higher, even gaining only a few centimeters with every ascent. Just a little bit every time, but every little bit did count. He needed that buffer.

Once he judged he had enough distance to work with, he undid his leg-wrap and threw his legs out to the front and back, slowly beginning to swing. Each kick increased the momentum, the distance he could reach, until his feet could touch the wall comfortably, and then, at the apex of the arc, he leapt forward.

Knee-first, he smacked into the wall, then fell backwards onto the platform, all the air forced out of his lungs with an oomph. His knee whined, and he couldn’t help but groan when getting up, yet there was a grin on his face that definitely hadn’t been there before.

Oberan pressed the buttons then, gently this time, inputting a combination without really thinking about it.

► Show Spoiler

Sequence: 5, 2, 3

[Maltruism]

Twists and Turns

It would be fair to note now that these spiders were not just dumb beasts. Their predatory cunning went beyond wolf-pack levels of instinct and tactics. They could see that their would-be prey had noted their aversion to silver. They began to pluck at the webs again and the chamber filled with relaxing tones that spoke of the delirious wonder of restful sleep. Yndira would have been hard pressed to resist had she not been shivering in naked chill.

Though the soft, snuggly warmth of thick woven web blankets was foremost in the imagery invading her mind, the cold it was meant to offset was a reminder to the naer that this was an empathic affectation of this music, and she could resist it.

But for how long?

There was no denying the exhaustion she felt, even IF it was some magic implantation in her senses. She looked at the button panel on the far wall, and the treasure awaiting the grip of some intrepid adventurer's hands. Even if she only went for the silver items lying about, it would more than make up for what she'd been tricked into tossing aside. There might even be some magic items in the mix.

A new wave of torpor surged through her essence and she stumbled forward a step or two. It was getting hard to think past this lethargy, but she had to decide on a course of action quickly.


Oberan would certainly have reason to decide that this "maze" had very few chambers. He would be wrong, of course, but who could blame him for this conviction when he found himself, once again, on the high perch overlooking the deadly fall to the rocks below, with only a sheer cliff face behind him.

Could it truly be possible that he'd just happened to press buttons to swing back around to this same hazard? At least this time, he knew what was going to happen. He knew that there was a button panel below the shelf that was, even now, beginning to retract into the cliff face.

A quick recollection brought him to assume his last time here had resulted in a press of buttons in straight vertical line. a flash of this past event convinced him it must have been 2, 2, 2, or 3, 3, 3. This time, he could be more selective. He knew he'd pressed 5, 2 and 3 in the acid pit. If this cliff face was rigged to send him there again, he'd know to press something else once he swung onto the shelf in that other chamber.


Djuro was quick enough to realize he needed to do his thinking on the run, as stone pillars continued to pound down onto every tile just as he left it to activate the one he moved to. Continuous movement was synonymous with living.

The button panel on the far side of the room did not have a safe platform before it. That only existed in the spot where victims first materialized in this chamber. There would scarcely be time to press two buttons before a killing impact crushed him from above; let alone three. This was something that was going to have to be worked out in advance. He would have to decide on what buttons to push before he made his move to reach the panel. In truth, it would probably take two trips.

He stayed back on the entry platform now, examining things as he tried to decide on the numbers he would push. The problem was, he'd not been able to tell what numbers he'd activated with that stupid swamp reed array in the muddy chamber where that other guy had been. There was a brief, but quickly abandoned thought on what had become of that fellow. It earned a shrug and nothing more.

As Djuro sat, thinking about numbers to press, he noted that one of retraction holes in the ceiling was considerably more worn than the rest. Giving some serious thought to its location, he was fairly certain that it corresponded to the location of one of the pillars that had had the low, "impact" end damaged noticeably. Was the upper end of the pillar dropping low enough, due to the wear on the "impact" end, to catch on the edge of the retraction hole?

Looking around now at the strewn debris of past victims, something he'd initially avoided for fear of tripping, he marked a battered skeleton, and a mace that had clearly flung loose from its dead hand. Had this past victim been on to something? With enough agility, could he "dance" around that pillar; activating it to drop and then smashing away at the end until he did enough damage that the whole pillar dropped so far as to catch permanently in the "down" position? Would the whole mechanism come to a grinding halt?

Was it worth the risk to find out? He could play it safe and simply go for the far button panel.

Off Topic

Okay, Kovic, and to a single-post-lesser degree, Yndira, you are on the verge of me giving you the same out I have given Cassidy.
I'd like to think that the potential for treasure, or possibly finding a way into the mechanism level of this whole maze might be intriguing enough to keep you at it. But it is up to you guys.
As for you Oberan, I swear to God, you really did just happen to press such button combos over the course of your last two chambers to end up back on the shelf.
I thought about placing you mysteriously in some boon location to reward you for keeping at it a bit longer than the others, but it would delegitimize the whole thing to have done so. I hope you will play it out.

[Yndira]

She might have not noticed if she were anyone else. But she wasn't some other person and thus, her fixation on the glittery things in life remained clear even with the odd need to strip down and rid herself of the constraints of her clothing. Or maybe it was something else, but she wasn't in the habit of giving credit away to outside sources. Hands lingering on the silver jewelry, she glanced between where the arachnids had retreated with her clothes and the other silver pieces around the room.

Yndira's head cocked slightly. Odd. But then the notes started up and a surge of tiredness went through her. Sleep was inviting, but not that inviting when she was faced with the opportunity to take something that shimmered. Her attention fell to the other silver objects strewn about the room, stumbling forward a step as yet another wave of lethargy filled her. But one step lead to another and she determined it would be best to take as she went.

While her clothes were lost to her, she could certainly make up for it with the necklaces, rings, and bracelets she managed to scoop up. They weighed down her hands, heavy clutched in her digits. The panel loomed ahead of her and signaled release from the room. All she had to do was press a set of those damn buttons and she would be on her way. The numbers were just in her reach - but the silver items in her hands were very much in the way.

With some effort, she managed to plug out four, two, one. Another random set that she hoped would lead her out. Or at least get her out of the room and as far away from the spiders as possible. They could have her clothes; whoever had thought this whole ordeal entertaining would be made to buy her new ones, surely.

Speech | Thought

[Maltruism]

Twists and Turns

As Oberan, once again, "enjoyed" the stunning view from the high perch on the cliff face, Djuro wrestled with a decision of whether to try to crack his puzzle with a large mace, or risk a new chamber. It was to his benefit that he had as much time as he wanted to think about it, as he sat upon the one tile that did not trigger a stone, pile-driver like pillar being slammed upon him. Oberan, of course, had no such benefit as the small shelf upon which he stood, was already starting to recede into the cliff face.


Yndira, on the other hand, had made her choice, hitting keys and feeling herself pulled through yet another tingling event horizon. The lethargy inflicted by the spiders' "music" being plucked upon their strange webs left her. But freezing cold, in her naked state, was no improvement. Worse yet, the new room was seemingly made of featureless ice walls, encompassing a room of approximately 30 by 30 foot dimensions.

Her feet and knees were the first to grow numb just in the time it took to get to her feet. She was saved from immediate peril, however, by good luck. As she had made her way to the panel in the spider chamber, she had instinctively donned some of the silver items, simply to have her hands more free of hindrance. As soon as the full realization of imminent doom by exposure to freezing temperatures, with no apparent way to leave, fully dawned on her, she wished she hadn't foolishly discarded her clothes. Her mind naturally flashed back to a gloriously rich fur coat she'd seen in a shop somewhere, and thought about how nice it would be to have that on right about now.

She was not entirely sure, but it seemed as if there was a small flash from under her jaw, and she found herself suddenly outfitted in that very coat. Once the shock of this development wore off, her mind flashed through a number of other emotions, gratitude being at a minimum. As a Naer, there was an immediate guarded attitude, along the line of '...okay, how am I going to be made to pay for this?' as well as the thought that some enemy had done this to throw her off guard. Spinning around though, she found no added peril beyond the freezing temperature.

Now feeling more free to assess the strange turn of events, it occurred to her that the flash she'd noticed seemed to have come from a silver torque she'd slipped on her neck as she'd stumbled toward the button panel in the last chamber. Reaching up, she found that the torque was oddly "connected" to the collar of the fur coat.

There had been a few gem-like pearls of glass, or something like it, on the torque. What made her recall that detail was seeing the same sort of adornments on a few silver bracelets she'd slipped on her wrists at the same time. It was quickly noted that some of the glass "gems" had a strange inner light, where others seemed just glass. It was also quickly noted that her feet and legs received markedly less benefit from the fur coat, and were becoming more than just numb.

There was a great deal of variety in the circumference of these numerous bracelets. And she was also still holding a belt with a silver buckle. The buckle was of squarish-shape and had a glass 'gem" in each of the four corners. Two had the dead look, but the other two shone with some sort of energy. It was also possible that some of the bracelets were actually anklets. She may not have known how to get out of this room at the moment, but the possibility of suddenly acquiring warm clothing was a definite improvement.

Off Topic

Okay, Please feel free to PM me with any radical ideas you have about the capability of these items.

[Yndira]

Yndira was no genius, but there wer certain ting that made logical sense to even the most unlearned. The connection between the torque and tat coat that kept much of her upper half warm should have been clear. Epecially when the hints were glaring at her. In a thrill of momentary panic, she wondered if she ought to take the jacket off - but then she would be cold and suffering from it in more than just her legs and feet.

Those extremities were currently getting number by the trill. On her arms were bracelets that were not of the right make to be bracelets. Anklets. She made quick work of rolling them off her arms, but found more difficulty in getting them over her numb feet. This was certainly some kind of cruel prank enacting by a being more powerful than she. For now. Once this was done, she'd find a means of repaying them for this very kind little vacation. Grappling with getting the silver bands over her heel, she managed to slip the first of them on. Then she moved on to the next, experiencing the same troubles.

It was her hands now that were also experiencing the cold. Unfurled from the fur of the coat, they were exposed and out in the open. Fumbling with the next anklet she thought back to a pair of ugly boots she'd seen Nadine wear at one point. The woman had claimed them to be quite warm and useful, even if they were quite bothersome to the eye. Soon enough, they were materializing over her feet and the cold was cut off from them. It would still be a moment before she could feel her toes or have them function properly, though.

If the anklets did the same as the torque, would the belt hold up? It would not hurt to try - certainly not in this case. And try she did, cursing her numbed fingers as she looped it around her waist and buckled it. Something warm - trousers. She'd seen plenty of stylish ones in shop windows before. Not one specific on came to mind, but maybe this worked with the general idea of things. Whatever it would be, she moved on to her fingers, which she was decidedly not feeling all ten of.

Had it not been for the coat, her teeth would have chattered as the chill spread through her faster. That, and the boiling hatred for the mind behind all of this. She let that go only momentarily to envision a pair of gloves her fingers. Clothed and warming up, her next task would be getting the hell out of here.

Speech | Thought

[Maltruism]

Twists and Turns

Looking around the bare, icy walls, Yndira was stymied as to a course of action. There was nothing to suggest a difference in any of the walls. Nor did the ceiling or floor give up any kind of hint. There was no door to be seen; no portal, no button panel, no grates, no windows, no ventilation. But there was light. It seemed to emanate from the ice itself.

It struck the naer that there was little to be accomplished that would be more productive than to look through the other silver items she'd scraped up from the spider chamber. Nothing as yet had indicated that the room would take it upon itself to eject her through some self-generating portal. And she was getting protection from the cold now.

The gloves made it somewhat difficult to handle some of the smaller items, and she dropped a couple of them as she started separating them from each other for closer examination. There appeared to be a trio of hairpins, each with a shiny black star upon it, looking to be made of onyx. She had to remove one of her gloves to get a grip on it.

Two things became apparent as she did this. The first was bad news, as the glove vanished to leave behind a plain-looking bracelet that would no longer generate a glove. None of the others would perform the feat this one had. The naer did not know if the loss of the magic was permanent, or rechargable. Nor did she know if any of the others had originally possessed the same capability but had likewise been spent.

But the second thing was something she did know; and that was that the black star was the mark signifying the blessing of her matron immortal, Audrae. As she lifted the hairpin, the semi-translucent star-shaped design caught her eye as the inner portion seemed to shift to the other side. Initially, this effect seemed to occur at random, but it did not take long for Yndira to perceive that it only shifted when she turned in a manner that caused it to pass across the face of the wall on her right.

With no real thought to it, she put her now un-gloved hand back in her coat pocket to help keep it warm. Had it not been cold, she may not have noticed how one of the other looted items there was giving off some heat of its own. It was a ring. It had an odd stone she'd noted when she'd first picked it up. It looked to be clear, but with some source of color at its core. That color was currently red.

It was not difficult to arrive at the conclusion that there was one thing that was both red and gave off heat. It was also something that could be potentially useful in a chamber seemingly made of ice.

Off Topic

PMs ftw!

[Yndira]

Well - fuck.

The disappearance of the glove first startled the Naer, then exasperation. Just as she’d managed to finally get over her fingers to keep them from freezing. It would be a pain to correct the tattoos after the injury had set in. But at there very least there was soom boon to this, and that was that Audrae had not abandoned her.

She’d never been a fervent worshipper of the Immortal, but she might very well be now. The black star on the hairpin was a comfort. Something familiar and came with the knowledge that the pin was blessed. Touched by the Shadow Mother herself. There were more than one, and she had to work fast if she were to get out before losing her hand to the cold. She kept one in her gloved hand before pocketing the others along with the other trinkets she had managed to gather.

There was more warmth in the pocket than she expected, though. Perhaps this coat was of better quality than she had originally thought. The final hair pin remained in her hand. What would the Nightmaiden gift her with now? She slid her ungloved hand out of the pocket once more to put the pin in her hair. There a sense of knowing she was embued with - she turned her head to the right.

The wall was entirely ice and there was no means of seeing beyond it, but she knew. It was enough that it put more energy into her step as she approached. The pocket she’d tucked her hand back into was still warmer, warm enough that she could feel it against her thigh. Not the same as the other, though, and this was how she put one and one together to get two.

Yndira was not of complete certainty on how to use the ring, but pressing it against the wall of ice seemed like enough. She watched at it melted with satisfaction.Finally, she could get out of this room. With the number pad exposed, she could plunk in any number to at least move her from the space.

She turned back to be certain that she had gathered everything she’d wanted, pockets heavy with the spoils of her struggle. Three, one, three - there was no more to this than punching in random numbers. But there was hope that she might be a little more prepared for whatever lay in the next room.

Speech | Thought