Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Inside the mountain, a woman sat alone, in a cavern that diverged into a shadowed fork. Neither path was well lit, and the ceilings were tall, so much so that even her light stone failed to illuminate the space fully. And on a boulder which she perched, bundled in a cloak which shifted in its coloring. Cerulean and then emerald green, and blue once more, Yeva's wild hair remained tucked into her drawn hood, she listed to the sound of water dripping and scratching of her pen against parchment. On one leg she balanced a linguist's primer and on the other, her journal, with its bruised leather covering and smooth vellum pages. But more interesting than her own equipment, was the ancient writings of forgotten civilization, painted across the wall and decorated with crude but well preserved images, forgotten and overlooked by men inhabiting the surface.

But for how long?

Yeva tried to copy each symbol as they appeared on the jagged wall, honey brown eyes flickering back and forth across the page and upwards in an effort to follow the curve of lines and spaces. The reference book, while helpful was thick and heavy and the more she cross referenced the information, the more confident she felt in this discovery. These words were of the Shay; the words she recognized as Shay'ava, although she was far from an expert in its workings. In fact, her only knowledge of it came from children stories and a rare reward in the form of a five book series she had received in an awards ceremony.

She could have spent trials hoping to decipher the text, and perhaps would if she wasn't mindful of the time. It wasn't until her hand began to cramp and her leg was alight with pinpricks that she realized how long she must have been studying. Yeva leaned back, and stretched out her legs, wiggling her toes in soft soled leather boots. Each shifting of her weight seemed to resonate in the space and when she rose to grab her satchel and canteen, something sharp scrapped against stone.

"Hello?"

Yeva froze, a deer in the sights of a predator, her mortal eyes staring in the two darkened paths. She waited for a response, her breath loud and suddenly fearful, "I-I'm a researcher," she added, taking a step back and slowly crouching, eyes still fixated on the unknown. There was this pressing feeling of being watched, and she didn't dare look away, "H-h-h-hello?"

Her voice was now meek, nervous. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and the notion of leaving became more persuasive.The room felt smaller. Growing tighter.

Then, a clanging metal rang from the opposite path. Once, then twice, Yeva jolted in her skin. Whatever had been lurking on the left path, scurried deeper into the cave, never revealing its face. More beating echoed from the right, and without reason, a light illuminated in the distance. The rumbling sounds of men speaking. The growl of rocks being shaken through sifters and erecting of wooden beams danced to where she stood. Miners?

Yeva gave one more weary glance at the other pathway and hurried to shove her things in her bag. Books and papers tucked under one arm and pressed against her buttoned up blouse, she raced towards the sound of civilization, as if that had been her goal all along. But something kept her looking over her shoulder, niggling in the back of her mind.

Danger.

"What are you doing?" she asked in breathless manner, emerging into the light of the men to search for a familiar face. None of the workers seemed to notice her, and their outfits were different from the designs she had come to recognize in Scalvoris and Rharne. The people carried themselves in a way that felt foreign, as if she was not in a land she had ever been before, "This... This is sacred land," Sacred was a subjective term, but she knew its rarity. It was to be preserved! Searching one of the workers faces, she pushed her plea, "There's history here. Look-"

Yeva stood before a man who appeared to have some authority. He looked to be instructing others, sharing ideas, and it was to him she reached out for, looking over her shoulder and pointing. But where she came from was no longer. Instead, there was an ominous mine shaft that seemed to lead deeper into the cave. Unsupported, it was not reinforced and looked to be a tighter squeeze than the gentle path she had walked to arrive. How odd, "There's was a room..."

Confused, the healer hesitated, wringing her hands and then glancing down at her notes. At least they were still in her possession, "I'm Yeva of Rharne, this place... it's important," she looked back up, at a man who appeared to be in his early thirties, "Please don't destroy it."

The mountain had a name?

"Ymir?"

Yeva hesitated, looking over at the other miners and their dirt streaked faces, suddenly unsure. Panic crackled in the pit of her stomach, the walls suddenly felt tighter. She had been in mountains twice before, once on the great Mount Ornthrus and a second time in Faldrass. Both experiences had involved spirits, both had been a test of survival. She didn't know what Sorelian steel was, but she knew it would likely be used for construction or weaponry. Yeva's brows knitted and for a trill it appeared she was to heed the stranger's advice, but his attention was drawn away to a dead bird, limp in a place so dark.

A troubling sign, but one the redhead had no means to understand. She was preparing her round of rhetoric, unsure how to convince these men that Shay history was worth preserving and extraordinarily rare, steel or no steel, but the bearded man, at the very least, was willing to humor her.

“Oy! Have we been down there?”

One man replied over the battering of metal against rock, “Yeah, no steel, no gold. Just some weird markings.

She gasped, turning to Brent with a helpless expression on her face, "They're not weird! They're remarkable!"

"History, eh?"

"Yes," she huffed, flipping wildly through her journal, "This could be physical proof of the Shay! I've never seen anything like it!" Yeva's heart swelled from the excitement of such a discovery, but no one else seemed concerned with the details. Thankfully, he didn't dismiss her.

"History, eh? Let's go take a look."

"Really?" she perked up, already leaping towards the tunnel in a flash of blue, "Alright, I'll show you," Brent lead the way with his lantern, the light flickering off the rock to reveal deep rivets in the coarse stone. She kept close, for the light source, but also to stave off the feeling of being lightheaded when the trail thinned considerable. She forced herself to take deep breaths, eyes focused on the dip in the man's back where rivets of sweat had collected, "The Shay worshiped the Spirits; some say they even predated the Immortals - there's very little recorded history still in known existence. That's why this is so important, the c-"

Her guide stepped into a room; it was much smaller than where she had come from and she stared at in silent bewilderment, "Are....Are you sure we came the right way?" she couldn't help but ask, although there had no been no turn in the hallway; Yeva was sure she would have saw it. This place held markings unlike the ones from the cavern she had sat in, but the language was still the same, "Fascinating," pushing back her hood, a mass of red curls spilled forward and she had to push them back to allow more light to illuminate the etchings, "Fa....ra..." a small and delicate hand, with a wrist decorated in a thin scrap of ribbon reached out to trace the marred surface, deciphering the markings right below Brent's palm. Yeva flipped wildly through her book, struggling to connect the markings with her spotty alphabet. The problem with lost languages was how challenging reliable information on a topic was, "Farafan."

The text pulsed in a sudden light and died, followed immediately by an ominous rumble, which sent the cryptographer into a fright. Yeva jerked backwards and she looked at the roof, ready to doge falling debris.

"We should head back to the others."

Yeva couldn't agree more, "Quickly," she added, regretful they could not afford more time. Their feet moved swiftly, but in vain. More cracking, as if the very earth was breaking free of chains, and rock began to hiss and crumble. Familiar panic sent Yeva's heart into a fit and she jumped easily, scared of losing the light, scared of being lost forever.

"Watch out!" she screamed, debris falling from above. He changed their course, ushering them back towards the room - the tunnel looked endless in the darkness - shielding her where he could.

They were near the mouth of the room when they went spilling to the ground, the sounds of miner agony and their cries loud in the ears of the medic. A large rock smacked into the side of her head, she dropped to the ground. They called the man's name and the sound of their shouting was perhaps the only thing that kept her fading in and out of consciousness. Yeva knew she shouldn't fall asleep, but even in the pain, it was so tempting. The rock was cold beneath her cheek, she tried to roll over.

There was darkness.

Was she dead? Her body ached, there was blood, but she lived.

Yeva whimpered in pain, testing her body's mobility in the small space. To her surprise, nothing felt broken, but she was losing blood. Her boot smacked against a rock, she patted the blind world around her. Her worst fears were coming true, "Brent?" she reached out, repeating the name that echoed off the walls. The voices sounded close and so far away, "Where are you?" Her hands smacked against the earth, searching. Each empty handful brought tears to her eyes, "Brent!" she shoved aside small rocks, grit clinging to her palms. Her books were gone - she couldn't see - at last she lowered her hand and felt flesh.

Gasping, her touch lightened but lowered once, "Are you hurt?"

Was he conscious? Scared he may have a broken bone, Yeva's touch was gentle, hands shaking. She felt his elbow, then his shoulder, "Can you move? The lantern-" She disappeared back into the darkness, the sound her her shuffling around to feel for its existence. It was nearly impossible to gauge where it could have fallen or if it was still usable, but by a miracle, she touched its handle, "I found it! Okay... Fire... Need fire. Just try to stay still, alright? I'm a doctor." Under normal circumstances, such a claim might have felt unnatural, but it was truth. She grew more skilled in medicine by the trial.

But healing another without the ability to see them? Impossible. Yeva was scared of the dark, but also afraid of burning away their oxygen, yet without any light, she would never know the extent of injuries or if there still remained a way out. Adrenaline spurring her into movement, she moved along the small space, learning its limitations, and felt her bag. It was half covered in debris, and she huffed to push away rock, but found it, and soon - matches.

Steadying the tiny piece of wood as best she could, she dropped the packet once and was forced to try a few times before the sound of fire whooshed and a weak flame flickered to life.

Yeva knew the importance of remaining calm in times of crisis, and she had to admit - this was a slight improvement to Faldrass, where molten lava had also been a threat. But she didn't understand this setting fully - why she must have been here, in Ymir's mountain - when she had never heard of such a place. It was easier to focus on the things she did comprehend; lighting a match, for instance.

And when the flame came alive, she recoiled only slightly in surprise, blinking as her brown eyes struggled in the pitch space. A darkness unlike one she had ever experienced before, the fire was a welcome reprieve and her hand reached out, "I'm here, I'm right here," What surprised her inherently were the snakes, which hissed and slithered back from nowhere, no doubt a horrific experience for the man. Not everyone had her affection for the reptilian species, and she struggled with getting the lantern upright.

It took some fussing, and the fire began to burn the tips of her fingers as she tried to transfer the dying flame, "They won't eat you. I... I think they're constrictors but, they probably just feed on the bats," it helped the redhead to talk through things when her nerves began to fray, as if science or reasoning could ease the madness of life in Idalos. Brent offered his own explanation, which caused the medic to look up once the lantern took, "A nightmare..."

This was a pretty bad situation, she agreed, "I've been having a lot of those lately. We.... We'll be okay."

The lantern burned brighter, illuminating more of the space and the creatures that had shocked Brent. They moved in a way that seemed lethargic, as if they had been hibernating before the collapse, and shied away from the fire, searching for crevices to disappear back into, "Let me see your ankle." Rocks indeed crushed it, holding it in a grip that worried her, "Don't strain it too much,"

With sore muscles, Yeva shrugged off her cloak and crawled forward, inspecting the rock formation that held him. She didn't know much about structural stability, but the boulders appeared smaller and she had a feeling they could be pried away with a bit of effort, "We have to make sure we don't do more damage," Once he was free, she'd be able to bandage it or use a splint if necessary, "I'm going to try to move some of these rocks. Do you think you can pull yourself free when I do?"

Yeva started slowly, clawing away smaller segments, wiggling others to test their weakness. It was similar to a game she had played as a child with her brothers, with small pieces of wood stacked high. White blouse speckled in wet blood stains, she had to pause when she leaned forward too quickly, feeling a rush of dizziness. That didn't seem to stop the young woman, however. She continued to un-crumble the wall, alternating between low and high rocks - whatever might lessen the weight on his injury. At last, she seemed to have pulled enough away to make progress, each rock tossed to the side; the clattering loud in the confined space, "Ready?" her voice seemed to have recovered some confidence and she crouched, scooting close to the wall and used as much strength as she could to lift at the heavy blockade.

She was not a very strong woman, truth be told. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or relation to Emea, but she was able to lift it just enough to allow Brent leverage to drag himself from it if he was capable. Once free, Yeva would drop to her knees, panting as she recovered her worn leather bag and began to unveil a plethora of medical supplies, "I'm going to touch your leg, alright? Tell me it starts to hurt, okay?"

Starting at his calf, she moved downward, delicately running her hand along the bone and muscle, eyes staring in the middle distance as she felt for abnormalities.

Brent's eyes honed in on her blood, unbeknownst to the petite woman, "You're not hurt, are you?" Yeva looked up, brow furrowing as she was reminded of her aches, Brent's voice interwove with his own distress, "I shouldn’t have led you down this tunnel. My men. I don’t know what has happened to them. But…”

"Hey," Yeva scooted closer, serious and soothing, "This isn't your fault. You can't blame yourself. I-"

I wanted you to see this. I spoke the word. Maybe I caused this?

And now they were trapped. She had to stop talking, knowing how close she had come to hypocrisy, "We can't lose hope yet. We don't know what happened."

Yeva worked, doing her best to peel back the hem of his pant leg without disturbing the injury. She needed a knife to cut away the fabric carefully; did she have one? She worked at cleaning the cut and began to splint his leg, the piece of wood available without explanation. Each action and step felt muddied but accurate, a memory of action.

“I know this sounds crazy, but I want you to understand this. Even though it seems real, we’re in a dream, Yeva. Whatever happens, we’ll still wake up in our own beds.”

A dream? Her hands slowed. That's what he meant by nightmare? She had thought it was simply a figure of speech; yet something inside her seemed to stir. A hesitation in the back of her mind. This felt... important.

Still rummaging in her bag, she didn't notice the cartographer reaching outward until two fingers were in her face, "W-" What are you doing? Blinking, her breath stopped and she realized what he might of wanted. He was trying to touch her? That same feeling of importance lingered and without thinking, she decided to trust him. He had, after all, followed her first.

Yeva closed her eyes and leaned forward, pressing her face against his hand. There was silence, and then-

A single brown eye peeked from beneath her lashes, expectant and somehow disappointed. She didn't feel any different. Yeva thought... Well, she thought it might change something. Now, she only felt foolish, With blush rising to her cheeks, the medic forced a half-smile. His hand was rough, a sign of a laborer, and she took hold to lower it, wondering if the pain had made him delirious, "I'm sorry. I'm not sure I understa-"

And then it happened.

It came like a shock of fire, blazing and sudden, up her arm to engulf her entire being. Yeva gasped and she released him, jerking backwards as her eyes flashed with light and returned to normal. She looked to her own hand and then his, surprise and accusation on her face as her body settled to fading warmth. With fresh eyes, she stared at the walls, followed by the room around them. It was ethereal in the glow of the lantern light. They were here.

In a dream.

Thoughts raced, piecing together what she could, but the logic of before wasn't as foolproof as it had been. The more she struggled to make sense, the more she believed him. How had she gotten here? Where had she first learned about the Shay? She couldn't remember.

It seemed there was no time to process.

"Who are you?" she asked.

But it was the mountain that responded. The chants of whispered voices she did not understand echoed from the shadows.

Each wall began to shudder, creeping in to remind them not to forget. Yeva jumped to her feet, no longer curious. Reality or not, Yeva's fear was real and overbearing. "I never said that," her panic crackled, and she felt very much like a hunted rabbit, "Shay'ava is a dead language. No one knows it. I was trying rediscover it; learn. My book just has a few syllables. An alphabet, some hypothesis-"

The linguist's eyes were wide with terror, threatening to spill with tears. She grabbed wildly at her bag and began throwing stuff from it in search of the book. The satchel felt endless, a cavern with odds and ends...

This couldn't be the final chapter.

"Wake up," she hissed to herself, grabbing a handful of pressed flower, which she cast aside in a whirlwind of sweet smelling petals. Bluebells and sage, "Wake up." Each desperate grasp came up without her tome. Thyme, blackthorn, and a headband of Avriel feathers, "I-I can't find it."