Selena put her fingers to her lips, a look of embarrassment washed over her in the darkness. This wasn't a boy at all, "Oh! My apologies, little miss!" She giggled and swayed as she stepped forward. "I hope I didn't insult you!" As she closed in her shadow slowly crept forward, encompassing Sparrow's small frame in its entirety.
A few feet away now, Selena stopped in her tracks and produced the map from her pocket. She held it up to catch the feint light from the torch behind her, "I don't believe I'm lost... not yet, anyway. Do you think you could help find where I'm going?"
'Is... is she drunk?' Sparrow raised an eyebrow as the woman sauntered clumsily towards her.
"Oh! My apologies, little miss! I hope I didn't insult you!"
Sparrow furrowed her brow, maybe she wasn't as good at disguising her gender as she first thought. Remaining silent, she shifted her weight slightly, ready to lash out with her knife or run, should the situation arise. There was no need for her to hurt this woman. Not yet.
Sparrow tensed as the stranger reached into her pocket, taking a step back, she let the knife in her sleeve fall into her hand slightly.
"I don't believe I'm lost... not yet, anyway. Do you think you could help find where I'm going?"
As the woman turned towards the light, the girl saw the parchment. Her gaze shifted towards the woman's face, no longer hidden by shadow. She was pretty, well, pretty for someone who lived in the District. Subtly returning the knife back into her sleeve, Sparrow took a step forward to get a better look at the parchment in the woman's hands. It was a map. Glimpsing up at the woman, Sparrow reached out and titled it further towards the light. She recognised it instantly, for it was the same map she had in her back pocket.
'Where they just handing these out or what?'
Sparrow stepped back and crossed her arms across her chest, "Yer, looks 'bout rate, you're th' first 'n I've seen down 'ere so far." She let the huskiness fall from her voice. No point trying to fool her now, but maybe she could trick her in another way.
"See, I'm 'ere to wait for folk like you, who come with the map, and then show 'em t'way." Sparrow narrowed her eyes, "How much did mah mates tell ya? 'Bout what's goin' on I mean, just t'make sure you're on the same level."
Langston's heart jumped into his throat as he quickly stole a glimpse over his shoulder. A small figure had ambled into the light, its flesh was course and rigid, as if covered in the scaled skin of a snake. He normally scoffed at the idea of monsters and magic, but in this moment he could believe anything.
'Maralith. Fool, run!'
Torch held high, Langston broke off into a sprint, his mind empty as his feet pounded against the uneven muck covered ground. He cursed under his breath as old wounds reopened on the soles of his feet, his thoughts immediately becoming preoccupied with the idea of infection- followed by a sudden white flash of light.
He lay face down on the filth, wondering when exactly his feet left the ground. He lifted his head, allowing a warm stream of blood to flow steadily from his nose. He wasn't worried about the broken nose, what he feared more than anything else was the possibility of a concussion. He began to sit up; one hand cupping his bloodied nose, and the other, still miraculously gripping the torch.
'I certainly didn't trip over anything, perhaps I just slipped. It is-'
Langston's thought was interrupted as he felt two small hands gripping his back and shoulder. Hairs rose on the nape of his neck and a cool chill sank deep into his bones
'How could I forget the Marailith? Gods, I'm going to be killed by something that doesn't exist'
the creature rasped from behind him,
"I'm sorry I startled you. What's your name?"
It was just some woman, Langston kept his gaze lowered as he attempted to rise to his feet, "Uhm... The name is Langston, Madame. May I ask your name?"
He attempted to rise to his full stature in order to give a proper introduction, but his vision blanked. He found himself weak-kneed and careening back towards the ground.
Blaize began trekking through the winding sewer passages. He kept one hand on the wall and slowly navigated the dark passageways, head low. He was thankful he was short, it made getting around cramped spaces that much easier, and he had a feeling that he'd be doing a lot of such scrambling if this was where the Shroud met. Just ahead, he could see the path split into two. That wasn't good.
He pulled out the map again, knowing the futility. He held it up to his face, straining his eyes, but it was no use. He had good eyes in the dark, but the sewer tunnels obliterated almost all light, he had no hope of reading the map. Shutting his eyes, Blaize focused on the map as he saw it on the outside, trying to draw the picture in his mind. Left...yes, that's it, He thought, No, wait, right? He let out a sharp hiss of air and hit the wall. He'd have to go back and try to memorize the map again. That was just perfect, all that time wasted. It was... Then a sound rose to his ear.
Someone else was in this passage, but who? The Shroud? Someone else searching for them? Or was it something else entirely?
After a moment's debate, Blaize made up his mind, planting his hand against the wall once more he started off toward the voices in the darkness. He kept his pace slow and quiet, trying to make out what was being said. The closer he got, the louder the voices became, and he saw lights begin flickering nearby.
Blaize stopped just before the point the voices seemed to be coming from, and peered in quickly to catch a glimpse of whoever was there. He gave a quick sigh as the figures came into view. Some little kid, probably about twelve or so, covered in grime; standing over the kid was a woman who, by the look of her, was a whore. Another quick look confirmed that they were both reading a map, quite probably the same map that had been given him.
A thief, a whore, and a kid all walk into the sewers... Blaize thought wryly. It was like the setup to a bad joke. Still, they had light and were probably looking for the same people he was.
"Hey." He said, taking a half step into the light, his hand still in his coat pocket, "You lookin' fer the Shroud?"
Kaim stood against the wall, practically trying to meld himself into its shadow. His chest was heaving heavily as he struggled to keep his breathing as quiet as possible, whilst simultaneously shaking with trepidation as he waited for the stranger to turn the corner.
Yo, Ho haul together, hoist the colours high
Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die..
Wait... Is that... a sea shanty?
Shit. The last kind of person Kaim wanted to deal with was a would-be-pirate hopped up on god knows what. Drunken sailors caused just as much hassle at the brothels and pubs as the rest of the Drowned District's inhabitants, except unlike the rest of the proletariat they had significantly easier access to swords and pistols. Great.
Kaim's hand gripped around the rubble tight as the stranger's footsteps closed in to his position. Any second now...
It was then that he saw him. The man was no fool, and despite all of Kaim's best efforts to remain inconspicuous it did not take him long to notice the heaving young man with a porcelain face trying to blend in with the dingy wall.
"I don't suppose you're going to try and bash my head in with that, are you? It's just I'm sort of in a hurry... to get somewhere that smells a shade nicer, you understand?" the man said, giving Kaim a safe berth out of caution, noticing the piece of rubble he so tenuously clutched in his hand.
He looked at the man. He was just as tall, if not taller than Kaim himself, with a slim yet toned build. He wore a seaman's garb, but judging by the state of the clothes as well as his bedraggled hair and beard, he guessed that he was not in active service. The look in his eyes suggested that he wasn't completely comfortable with his surroundings, making Kaim suspect that he had only recently fallen on hard times, and had not yet become one of the drowned.
His eyes were drawn to the man's belt, where a large sheath hung, though he couldn't tell if there was anything actually in it. Still, it was best to assume everyone had a deadly weapon on their person, it prevented any *cough* unfortunate altercations if he imagined it that way.
Kaim played on his already nervous disposition, aware that he wasn't particularly intimidating in his present position, his normal advantage of height effectively nullified.
"Who, me? Of course not! I meant no trouble mister. Surely you can understand me 'avin to keep myself armed. Never can be too careful around here...."
He gave a smile to try to reassure the man he had no ill intent, loosening his grip on the rock in his hand and giving a small shrug.
"Anyway, no harm done. I just didn't expect to see others down here..." he said, bringing his hand behind his head and scratching at an itch. "So what brings you to these parts, sir?"
"How much did mah mates tell ya? 'Bout what's goin' on I mean, just t'make sure you're on the same level."
Selena's eyes moved over the map once more before finding their way to the small girl before her, "'The Shroud calls to you. Hear it, and know what it is to be feared."'" She stated in a voice that implied the words were not her own. It was a tad unsettling that she could recall his words to so well, but she shrugged off the uneasiness thanks in no small part to the wine she'd consumed. "I'm not entirely sure what I expected coming down here, but... well, let's just say the man or... thing that appeared before me alluded to an escape from my current predicament."
She furrowed her brow and let out a nervous laugh, "Which is to say, my entire existence, I suppose."
"Hey."
Selena's eyes shot open, wide and alert as she spun around to see the new arrival. Strange she'd been so calm around the young girl, but jumped the moment she heard a man's voice. Actually, no, that wasn't strange. It would be unusual for her to not have some issues with the opposite sex, what with the way she'd liver her life these past six years. It also didn't help that he was creeping about in the shadows. Who knew how long he'd been watching.
"You lookin' fer the Shroud?"
Selena, wide-eyed and frozen in place, took a few uncomfortable seconds for herself to think of the right answer. Unfortunately, the booze was making her far too bold to tiptoe around the question, "Y-yes... And you are?"
Will shrugged and gestured with his map. "Some shadowy stranger dumping food in my lap, strongly implying he could improve my lot. And I suppose if it comes to nothing, I can always just run firmly in the other direction and hope for the best." Scratching the scar that split his beard thoughtfully, he looked at the man. He was pale, and seemed nervous. There probably wasn't any actual ill intention there.
"So, what about you? I doubt you're here to mug passersby. You'd be waiting awhile."
Sparrow nodded her head knowingly as the woman recited the words she herself had heard earlier that day.
"I'm not entirely sure what I expected coming down here, but... well, let's just say the man or... thing that appeared before me alluded to an escape from my current predicament."
Sparrow furrowed her brow, looking down at the map. The words these people used, it was more indicative of a religious group than a criminal one, the woman before her didn't particularly strike Sparrow as the illicit type, cementing her suspicions even more.
"Which is to say, my entire existence, I suppose."
Sparrow looked up at he woman as she chuckled nervously, there was a sadness in her eyes, not dissimilar from the look that haunted her mother's eyes. Was she a whore? Maybe. Abused housewife maybe? Regardless, it was one thing to want change, it was another to actually pursue it. Sparrow felt a pang of respect for the woman, maybe they would both find what they were looking for down here, however, that didn't mean she trusted her.
"Hey."
Sparrow perked up slightly, she didn't want to appear too surprised, not if she wanted to maintain her appearance of belonging in the place. She noticed the anxiety on the woman's face, something that wasn't there before. Brushing the thought aside, Sparrow turned towards the newcomer slowly, a look of caution on her face.
"You lookin' fer the Shroud?"
Crossing her arms across her chest, she remained silent as her eyes looked over the boy. Not particularly tall, probably a gutter rat like herself.
"Y-yes... And you are?"
The girl nodded her head towards the woman. "She is, a'm 'ere t'show 'er t'way, you got a map too? Hold it up." Might as well maintain the ruse as long as she could.
"Some shadowy stranger dumping food in my lap, strongly implying he could improve my lot. And I suppose if it comes to nothing, I can always just run firmly in the other direction and hope for the best."
The man gestured to the map in his hand, seemingly identically to Kaim's own. His story too was practically the same as his, and he assumed that it must have been the same stranger that gave them both the map and supplies. Kaim wondered just how many others might also have a similar story, and his previous thoughts about possible other disenfranchised denizens turning up to the meet seemed to be reaffirmed.
"So, what about you? I doubt you're here to mug passersby. You'd be waiting awhile."
He smirked faintly, the sailor being quite right. Unless you intended to mug a rat that is.
"The same reasons as yourself. Mysterious stranger an' all that. Anything's better than sleeping in a gutter and struggling to find your next meal" Kaim shrugged, admitting to his true logic.
He looked at the man from head to toe, before asking "Pardon me, but you don't seem to me the type to need a 'way out'. Unless of course you've spunked all your money on booze and 'ores. It's either that or your ship left port without you..." Kaim put forth apprehensively, his voice trailing off as he realised he might have possibly antagonized the man with a knife at his hip.
"...Although there's nothing wrong with any of that, Mister...?"
Giles opened his eyes. Slowly. He had wandered in through a tunnel, and now he was face down, next to a ladder down a hole.
This was not the worst way he'd woken that week alone, but it still came as a shock somehow.
He stumbled to his feet, looks like his drugs had worn off already. Always happened when you tried moderation. His head beat in a rhythm like a bongo, and he felt a burning in his coat pocket. The napkin, the map. Not sure why it felt like that, but best not to question it. Illegal material leading to... something. Something important, probably, hooded men who give food usually lead to lands of riches and illegal prosperity. Or something like that, whatever prosperity meant.
A headache and a map to something. He half tip toed half stumbled through the tunnels, feeling his head about to explode and smelling not too pleasant. Was this rock bottom? His jaw hurt a lot, as did most his body. Still, his senses weren't quite dead, and he could hear the patter of other feet, as well as faint voices. Not something he wanted to deal with right now, sewer people tended to be better at violence. Giles checked his coat pockets, for a weapon or other thing. Closest he had was fire and cards... he'd have to try that one day. Would be bitchin.
He ran his fingers across the grimy stones that made the walls, stopping every once in awhile to double over from his head pains and general sickness. He used to be so much more durable, able to maybe run the parts he had before. He didn't even have a grey hair! He didn't even have a reason to look for a grey hair! He sighed to himself, clutching his deck of cards to his head. Tonight could still end up being good. No reason why it couldn't, except maybe getting killed. Giles hated it when he got killed, always ruined his night.
Giles sighed, and sat down. Spreading out three cards in front of him, face down. Too dark to make out what they said, some dick twister took the fucking torch. ONLY ASSHOLES TOOK THE TORCH, PERHAPS PEOPLE NEEDED THEM.
"... FUCK!" He yelled into the air, banging his head against the stone wall. "Why is everyone shit. I hate this world."
"...Although there's nothing wrong with any of that, Mister...?"
Whores!? Will went crimson. "I've never in my life! I've only been with one woman and--" he shook himself. Now wasn't the time to get flustered. "My name's Will. William Hunt. I uh... I'm not really in this city by choice."
He supposed the man just thought he was a sailor. He didn't mind that, but he thought he might as well be honest. "I was an officer in the Privateers. First Lieutenant under the Captain, actually. We had a run in with a crew of pirates..." he wasn't sure the man would believe his rank, but it was the truth, even if he was young.
He stopped at that. He didn't really feel like going into it. Although common sense told him it was unavoidable, the mutiny still made him burn with shame. He'd been acting Captain, for the sake of the Gods. "Let's just say Denissa really screwed us over, and leave it at that. What about you?"
Skylar could hear them and each minute slowly passed as she waited for the noises to stop. Every time she tried to figure out what was on the map, she fumbled - unable to settle - and gave up, burying her head in her arms. What sort of existence was this, anyway? For the better part of a year she had just been scurrying from one hidey-hole to another. But what could she do? Skylar was at poor as a church mouse - no - poorer. At least a church mouse had somewhere to live, not to mention the fact that it would probably be more worthy of the Gods and their temples than her. The strange man was right about that. From what she had seen of the map, it of somewhere deep within the city, down where the larger vermin made their homes, both murine and human.
Funnily enough, it was probably where she would have been dumped if Sally hadn't got her out of the house. Skylar tried to picture that possibly, tried to imagine who the man with the skull tattoo would have chosen to give the parcel to instead of her. A boy? A girl? Rich? Poor? Such things hardly mattered in the Drowned District. The place ate you up, consumed you and spat you out - just reduced to a bag of skin and bone - regardless of what you were before. In a burst of nostalgia, she attempted to imagine meeting the maid and asking her if staying alive was really worth it if all there was ahead of her was hunger, dirt, lice, and other evil things that plagued the poor. Skylar chuckled. Of course Sally would say yes.
*Skrrreeek*
And with that, the rats were gone. Just chasing after another person with some food, most likely. All they did was eat, sleep, mate and eat some more, anyways. At least Skylar had time to act. She looked out of the broken window, making sure with a careful eye that every rat had scampered off before she made her descent. Even before that, she took a few deep breaths. Nothing like climbing up only to fall on the way back down. No, she didn't want that. So Skylar climbed down slowly with care, but she allowed herself to drop off as she neared ground level. The girl dusted herself and braced herself for what to come: the stench of human and animal filth, more rats, water even dirtier than that of the Drowned District, and complete, utter darkness.
She walked at a steady place, scouting for the nearest sewer entrance, trying to avoid the notice of people. With each step, Skylar was reminded of the steady ground beneath her feet - dirty or not, a pavement was still a pavement. Conversely, she was reminded of the fact there would be no such thing in the sewers. Just muck and mucky water and mucky rats. Still, Skylar's snarky side told her that it wouldn't be a far cry from the state of the Drowned District. In fact, the District was like a giant sewer itself, but for trash like her, rather than the usual sort. Diseased, plagued, crippled, ostracized, malformed... All were thrown into the same pot and left to stew. Well, until the corpses floated up, ready to be served au jus d'ordures.
'There it is.'
Skylar spotted a grate and hurried over it. Then, with all of the strength of a malnourished little girl, she slowly opened it. Her body cried out for her to stop, but she was desperate for somewhere warmth, for food and for a home. Panting, she lowered herself into the sewer. Her senses were accosted. Skylar wandered onward despite the smell, despite the dirt, or the rats and despite common sense telling her to go back. However, before she knew, she had wandered into a pitch-black space. There was no chance of reading the map now. The only ray of hope she had was the faint glow of torches in the distance. She ran towards to the light, her feet plodding over all sorts of vile things in the process.
*Squish*
Suddenly, she stopped and screamed. What was beneath her feet wasn't simply muck. It... It felt slimy and somewhat warm. With every step she had taken up until that point, that awful, vile and digusting sensation was repeated over and over again. Skylar looked down and saw just what she had trodden into: rat guts. Long bits of intestine were scattered on the floor along with their owners right beside them. The scream died down for a second when the girl actually noticed a lanky figure beside the rat corpses as she tried to calm down. In her panic, Skylar had made the mistake of alerting a suspicious sewer stranger to her presence. Well, there was no backing down from that now. Raising her voice just so she could be heard over the sewer currents, she called out to the figure.
"Hello?! Er..." Skylar paused as she though of sometime else to say, "Are you here for The Shroud as well?!"
"Uhm... The name is Langston, Madame. May I ask your name?"
Langston stood up gingerly.
"Andra... oh!" Langston had suddenly collapsed again. Somehow, his death grip on the torch remained firm. Andra could see from the light that his nose was broken and there was fluid leaking from his feet.
Andra reached into her supply bag and pulled out a bottle of alcohol and some gauze.
Andra never saw the purpose in lying. "This is going to hurt... a lot..."
As she worked, she saw her reflection in a puddle of unidentified liquid near the torch. With her dress not properly done up, she looked absolutely horrible. Combined with her frayed voice, it was no wonder that Langston had made a run for it.
================================================
Langston was back on his feet, clearly in pain, but safe from infection.
She wasn't lying, it hurt a lot- a great deal more than Langston had expected. He gritted his teeth and remained motionless, letting the alcohol seep deep into his open wounds.
She then took out a few clean bandages, wrapping his feet with a tender expertise not commonly found in the Drowned District. Andra tied the last bandage and Langston rose to his feet unintelligibly murmuring both apologies and thanks, but she did not hear him- she was lost in thought, staring deeply into her own reflection.
Langston towered over her as he looked curiously at the reflection, his faint pink eyes meticulously scanning the curves and contours of her pleasantly round face. She seemed nice enough.
She turned quickly, almost bouncing to her feet. Her movements were so sudden. Langston's eyes widened as he hastily looked off into the darkness, hoping she hadn't noticed his staring.
"You have the torch, lead the way"
He paused,
'Lead the way? Are we going to the same place? Perhaps we already talked about this... Shit, do I have a concussion?'
He stole a look at her face. She was staring at him expectantly waiting for an answer. He put his free hand in his pocket searching for the map, answering "Uh... oh, yes. Of course," under his breath.
After a brief pause he looked back towards Andra, "I apologize if we discussed this already Miss, but- erm, where is it that I am leading you?"
"I apologize if we discussed this already Miss, but- erm, where is it that I am leading you?"
"Oh, my apologies... I assumed you were going into the sewers for the same reasons as I."
It seemed so natural to Andra that they should both have a map. Why else would anyone be this deep into the sewers and still alive?
Andra gingerly pulled the map out of her bag. "This cavern is marked... and we're over here... I think. If you don't have a map, why are you down here?"
Langston pulled his hand out of his pocket, producing an identical map. He let out a short nervous laugh exclaiming, "No, I- I have a map too. See?" He walked up to her, allowing her map to be completely illuminated by the torch.
He stared at her map, her finger was firmly pressed against it, indicating the wrong location. It seems that travelling together would be mutually beneficial. He lifted her hand delicately, tracing her finger further down the path, adding " And we are actually over here."
Y-Yes... And you are? The older woman jumped when he spoke. Frightened, he decided, but of what? It could be she was just frightened of his approach, after all, she hardly seemed the type used to stalking around the sewers. Or maybe it was something else. He'd learned not to jump to conclusions, it had cost more than one person their life.
The younger kid seemed more in control, but also a bit startled at his approach. She was probably just better at masking it. "She is, a'm 'ere t'show 'er t'way, you got a map too? Hold it up." Blaize smiled when the kid spoke. He was reminded of himself when he was that old, reminded of himself and most kids he knew actually. Full of piss and something to prove, ready to jump head-first into something thinking they knew full well what they were about. What idiots they all were. Maybe the kid was a scout with the Shroud, but he doubted it, probably just a kid hoping to run with a big crew. The woman though...
"Where's yer mum kid?" Blaize asked, "Ain't it past yer bedtime? It's dangerous out here." He reached for his map with his free hand, his other hand still in his pocket, still holding the knife. He held up his map, still folded, "Anyway, I got my map ta the Shroud, might be I'll go wit'cha, if we're goin' the same way. First things first though, who're you two? I ain't givin' my name 'til I have yers."
Ezrah stood at a crossroads of sorts, a place beyond the first torch and the second, a small landing where the sewer split along four distinct paths, two running with sewage, two dry. He stood outside the glow of the nearest torch and closed his eyes, leaning on the senses that thrived in the gloom. The two he'd passed near the first torch, padding along as they'd confronted one another, they weren't moving. A woman and a boy and now... another voice, male. Low tones but not conspiratorial, no sounds of struggle. Searchers in the dark then, looking for the way forward. Ezrah cocked an ear in the opposite direction, heard the sound of footsteps, a loud curse, no change in movement though, another searcher still. Down one of the wet paths, a faint light bobbed to and fro, coming closer, the scuffle of footsteps and yet more voices. Many searchers, all of them slow. Ezrah figured there was a time for patience and a time for haste. If their maps were the same as his, they led through this fulcrum next, that left Ezrah with options. He could wait here for awhile, allow the others to creep along.... But so many souls pressed together so closely, no shadow would hide him from so many eyes and the lights they carried. So perhaps... perhaps it was time to abandon the dark in favor of the light, and seek obscurity in another manner. He needed them ahead of him, moving along the right path, into the pitfalls he could not see.... A fellow searcher falling constantly to the back of the group risked suspicion, but a guide herding them along....
Footsteps, footsteps too close! Ezrah's body stiffened for a moment and then went loose, sinking into the calm they'd learned to associate with combat. Ezrah had learned a thing after years of scrapping in the gutter, a tense body broke quickly. Better to stay limber, poised on the knife edge, ready to lash out in one blinding, twitch reflex. The footsteps grew closer, a figure lingering on the periphery of Ezrah's vision. He didn't turn, merely let the calm sink into his bones even as the spike of adrenaline set his veins afire. He lowered one hand casually to the cudgel at his hip. Closer and closer still... almost... almost....
"Hello?! Er.... Are you here for The Shroud as well?!"
Ezrah hesitated, allowed for a second's pause that might have gotten him killed in any other situation. The figure had spoken, a girl's voice, and yes he could make out a girl's shape as well, small, dressed in little more than a tattered gown. She hadn't attacked, she'd made her presence known, she'd given up any supposed attack of opportunity, and her scant clothing would do little to hide a weapon... and still something in Ezrah's gut told him to crack her skull and roll her body into the sewer water. No, he'd bite back the old instincts for now, the girl's words marked her as one of the searchers, she may well prove as useful as the rest. Ezrah pulled on a mask in his mind, the farce he'd need if this little lie was to work. He spoke, his voice low and steady, filled with a sort of steel, something that demanded attention and even more so, obedience, "You are the first, the others must be gathered. Be still, be silent."
The lad pulled his cloak tight about his shoulders, donning the hood and pulling it impractically low, as though all cultists had no prohibition against leaving themselves half blind. He moved towards the center of the small landing, gripping the torch and snapping it clean from its sconce with one vicious twist. He reached into the satchel beneath the cloak and fished about for a moment. He drew forth an odd colored, small brick, a milky silver tint glistening on the stony, crumbly surface. A small puddle of water pooled at the dip in the landing's center, more than sufficient for Ezrah's purposes. The Marked were not unfamiliar with a bit of Theatre, so many of the old rituals thrived on it, much to the chagrin of many who tried to emulate the Magus' works. One could never be quite sure though, where the theatre ended and the magic began. Best to keep to the old ways.
"Cover your eyes, open them slowly when I finish speaking," the warning to the girl came nearly unbidden to Ezrah's lips, but if fit the role well enough. The other searchers would not be so lucky. Ezrah stood on the landing's edge, the small puddle behind him, the rushing sewer waters in front of him. In his right hand he held the burning brand, and in his left he held the strange brick, the soul candle. Soul candles, so the Crone and the Tomes named them. They were a bugger to make, but of all the old magics, they were perhaps the most visually impressive. Dragon silver, pulled from the sea and mixed as powder with a slow burning adhesive. The candles burned white and twice as bright as sunlight, though they burned far quicker than normal candles. No water would quench them, only adding an evil tint to the light's color and making the flame all the more intense. The dragon silver split the waters, turned them to aether and consumed them. Sailors paid good money for lantern kindling that no storm would snuff, but this little candle, must serve a higher purpose than the pursuit of silver. Ezrah sank into himself, and spoke the words as he learned them, hands outstretched in benediction," Bless the Making and the Unmaking. Bless the fire that dies and the light that lives. Bless the soul of the dragon, may it fill all the world with the light that dies in glory. All is Made and All is Unmade."
Ezrah closed his eyes tight and brought the candle and torch together, pressing them firmly. A moment of silence, and then, light, a light so intense Ezrah could see the burn of it through closed lids. He heard the telltale hissing and knew what must come next, already the blazing candle grew unbearably hot in his hands. He tossed the torch forward, letting the sewer carry it away. The candle he tossed behind him into the puddle of water at the landing's center. Heat bloomed at his back, and even in the water, the candle burned. The water hissed and let up a mist that caught flame as well. An unearthly green light burned behind the cloaked figure, bright enough to light the sewers for a hundred span or more. Ezrah opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust gradually to the fully illuminated sewers. He folded his hands together beneath his cloak, ignoring the throbbing pain in the hand that had held the candle. Those burns would be minor enough, and they could be dealt with later. He took in a deep breath and set himself into the voice the Crone had used when a bit of play was in her, a growling, rolling, rumbling basso that she'd used to speak in the Magus' voice. That play would have to serve him well today, "HAIL! You who seek the Shroud, you who heed the Stranger's Call, come forth, move quickly! The darkness of this place is full of teeth, and your road is far from over."
A part of Ezrah struggled to keep a contented smile from his features, after all, the show had gone as planned. Another part of Ezrah hoped he hadn't accidentally set his cloak aflame.
Dragon Silver is powdered magnesium, magnesium produces an extremely bright light when burned, and oddly enough, does not burn in water, instead forming magnesium oxide and hydrogen gas ('aether',which is also extremely flammable), it's a fun science project for home, always gets a jump out of the kids. Use sand to smoother, or a class 4 extinguisher to put it out. When I say bright, I mean bright as hell. Should be bright enough for everyone to see, even if some are too distant to hear Ezrah shouting. This youtube vid is a good demonstration.
"Where's yer mum kid? Ain't it past yer bedtime? It's dangerous out here."
Selena crossed her arms and frowned. Could he be more condescending? The girl was willing to help them out after all.
"... I ain't givin' my name 'til I have yers."
Relaxing her stance, Selena let her arms drop to her sides and giggled, "What, you don't trust a young woman and a child? 'Kay, I suppose that's fair considering the circumstances. The name's Selena. Selena Lashani, though you may be more familiar with the name 'Sapphire'." Hopefully he wasn't. She didn't want the boy getting any funny ideas.
"Where's yer mum kid? Ain't it past yer bedtime? It's dangerous out here. Anyway, I got my map ta the Shroud, might be I'll go wit'cha, if we're goin' the same way. First things first though, who're you two? I ain't givin' my name 'til I have yers."
Sparrow raised an eyebrow slightly, her arms still held across her chest. 'The hell is this twat?', she shrugged off the insult, glancing to her side as the woman introduced herself.
"What, you don't trust a young woman and a child? 'Kay, I suppose that's fair considering the circumstances. The name's Selena. Selena Lashani, though you may be more familiar with the name 'Sapphire'."
The girl's face remained expressionless as Selena outed herself as a whore. 'Sapphire? Come on, Do they even try any more?'
Without a second look, Sparrow turned to walk further into the tunnel, casually waving her hand in beckoning. "Name's Sparrow, I don't really give a toss about yours, you've gotta map so that's all t'matters."
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