"There's no pain I wont go thought. Even if I have to die for you."
Cassyt jolted awake. Her eyes glowed a bright green, almost trailing like flames. "Fuck." She said weakly. Standing up and leaning around scanning the room almost zombie like. She spotted Korga, the last alive orc, and a sword nearby. Cassyt limped over and picked up the sword. She made sure to not step with alot of pressure afraid that the sticks that lie in the abandoned room would snap and wake up Korga. With the sword in her possession she looked in her bag. She pulled out a rope.
She made her way over to the orc. Standing over Korga, Cassyt plunged the sword deep into his chest. Korga awakened by the sudden sharp tingling pain. Korga screamed as he tried to swing Cassyt off him. Before he could react Cassyt climbed him and got behind his head. Cassyt's hands closed around the rope, and she tugged with a wild cry as the coarse fibers bit into the orc's thick neck.
Its eyes bulged, the face purpling in a straining effort, but Cassyt's hold did not slacken. The rope bit deeper, crushing the windpipe, and it slumped, limply falling to the ground, its life slipping out with a few gurgling gasps. Cassyt dropped the rope.
Falling to her knees, Cassyt coughed up blood. Like a gurgling sound. The metallic taste filling her mouth. It made a splat sound when it hit the cold stone floor. Splat, splat... Cassyt quickly looked for a potion in her back. Feeling the rims, she felt the double knotted rope that surrounded the bottle. She took it out swirled it and drank it.
Feeling more alive again. Cassyt's eyes stopped glowing. Her wounds closed in a pinkish firey glow like fairy dust as the potion took its effect. Breathing sighs of relief. Her chest heaving. Both orcs are dead. She scaned the room and she noticed what the orcs protected. A large to medium chest. Walking over, Cassyt opened the chest to reveal coins, bones, and a gem.
Walking back through the forest and the ruins. The still of night with a soft glow gave life to that evening. The moon was at an altitude overhead, sending streams of pale light upon the earth and casting long shadows, illuminating the pathway ahead with ghostly brightness. The stars were like diamonds scattered over a velvet canvas, their soft sparkle shimmering in ancient and distant light. Clouds above gathered their rain-bearing clouds edged with silver, sending down a fine, rhythmic sprinkle-whisper on tree leaves.
She walked easily down the narrow, curving path through the woods, emerald green with her eyes. The air was cool, refreshing with the earthy scent of dampened soil and wet foliage. Her footsteps were soft, almost not even a whisper against the earth, while her cloak fluttered lightly with the breeze. The rain, though constant, was calm-perhaps a gentle lullaby, serenading the night. It was silent, almost extraterrestrial, as she found her way to the town lying on the fringe of the forest.
The trees around her quieted their soft, maddening susurrus of leaves in the rain, conducting her along the path so unknown to her.
Comfort was present in the loneliness, in the contentment seemingly wrapping the world in an embracing quietude, shielding her from the world's rush. The soft rain from the sky lent an aspect of timelessness to this night-as if the moment had always been there, somewhere outside, the moonlight and stars joining the soft rain in serenity.
With each step further into the woods she took, before her stretched a path into infinity, but her heart was unafraid. The rain clung to her skin in cool mist, and yet the night air had that peculiar crispness which proved a refreshing balm to the weariness that had been settling in her bones. Her emerald eyes, glowing in the pale light of the moon, scoured through the dark silhouettes of the trees while sharpening at each and every sound: the soft tapping of the raindrops upon leaves, the hoarseness of a night bird far away, the rustling of creatures in stealthy motion in the underbrush.
It was a silence almost sublime, wherein the stillness was disturbed only by the sweet serenity of the rain, which poured down in steady streams, pecking kisses down to the landscape below. It was one of the sounds she had grown to love-a constant reminder that the world moved to its own rhythm and beat, independent of the turmoil that filled life. She wrapped herself in the loneliness, letting the quiet of the forest seep right into her bones.
While she approached the edge of the woods, lights from the town, far away, began to glitter between the trees. The path took more distinct shape and the thick trees opened warily to show her the known outline of the town, always waiting for her at the end of her walk.
Her footsteps quickened, the soft patter of her boots against the wet ground mingled with the whisper of the rain. Cassyt had always felt so attuned to this place, but never admitted it; the forest and the town comprised her world, yet they existed almost in weightless balance. The Eldrain had been her haven now this town.
She made it through the clearing, the last of the trees falling away in a sudden blink behind her, and she tilted her head upwards to the sky. The moon was fuller now, in a light that spread over the landscape in ways it hadn't yet before; the rain, too, although still falling, seemed to stop its rhythm at an easing quiet. The stars were more defined now, threads of silver sewn in the night. She stood for a moment and then, breathing in deeply, felt the cool damp air fill her lungs; with one step, she crossed over from the wild woods into the waiting town, taking with her the peaceful calm of this night inside of her, as long as it would last.
Cassyt walked in the town, with a small light of flickering lanterns that threw dancing shadows on the stone walls of narrow alleys; the air was cool, carrying scents of freshly baked bread coming from a nearby bakery with damp stone. Her cloak billows behind her. Only the soft scuffling of her leather boots on stone floors breaks the silence, save when the hem of her cloak stirs now and then.
It was completely silent if not for the far-off hum of laughter inside the tavern and the low hum of the night itself, the town is quiet. Above, the moon is full and luminous, high hung in the sky, where it casts a pallid glow on thatched roofs and timber-framed houses. The emerald eyes of Cassyt flick from shadow to shadow, watchful yet composed, as one who was used to stillness during the night. The street lamps dance with the soft breeze sweeping down the street, sending the night air alive with promise.
Her rented cottage is away outward in the hamlet, a small, rude cot, of stone, with ivy overspread; and so, a welcome solace after many hours. It is a night which seems part of an eternal circle, part of one night passing in a great story. Cassyt heaves a soft sigh; the weight of the day's adventures slowly disappears from her shoulders, preparing her for the quiet solitude that waits for her inside the simple walls.
. . .
Cassyt stretches as she wakes up. Adjusting her eyes to the new days light. Yawning, a flood of pain rushes to her head. "What the fuck..." She says sheepishly. Her normal bravado broken as she walks outside stumbling around with her hood on. The pain she felt quickly disappeared as she regains her energy.
Cassyt walks down the cobblestone street with a unsteady, groggy pace, her boots tapping against the stones in rhythm with the bustling sounds of the town. The cool morning air brushes against her skin, and the faint scent of fresh bread wafts from a nearby bakery. She turns the corner to reveal the guild hall.
Cassyt stands inside the busy guild hall; the creaky wooden floor, burdened by the weights of many an adventurer alike, pops in and out, looking for their next quest. Her emerald eyes are aglow with that ever-curiosity and intent.
The guild hall board is jammed full of colored posters detailing quests of varying difficulties, but all those mean nothing today as Cassyt's gaze falls upon one. It hangs askew on the board, but her keen eyes catch the glowing sigil of the guild embossed on the document. Stepping closer, a voice from behind her startles her for a moment.
"Taking another quest, Cassyt?" asks the voice of the receptionist. Cassyt nods. Sweet and rustling, like a withered leaf, the tone of her voice cuts across the air. "This one caught my eye; after all this while, this one showed up in this place, and the description sounded interesting."
He looks down at the paper and strokes his graying beard thoughtfully. "The Forgotten Tower," he reads on aloud. "Abandoned for centuries. Few have come back from that place alive. Be careful." Cassyt's lips curl into a faint smile. "Don't worry about me."
The quest reads:
The Forgotten Tower once loomed high as a citadel of learning; now it's no more than a ruin. Deeply positioned within the Shadowwood Forest, its stone spires fell long ago to the relentless onslaught of time. Yet, a host of rumors would insist that the tower conceals treasures beyond the wildest imaginings of any mortal. It is believed that some sort of ancient artifact of unimaginable magical powers had been squirreled deep inside the tower. Bring it back to the Guild Hall for a handsome reward.
And there, her head does this non-stop, filling in the little details: Shadowwood Forest-forests full of dense trees and twilight, with dangerous paths formed from the very heart of mystery; used to be the residence of mighty creatures, mages, scholars, and mystics until one day its residents all vanished in the air. Nobody knew exactly why the tower had fallen into disuse, but the tales spoke of some cataclysmic event which had shaken the foundations.
On the parchment are inscribed words echoing in her mind: find the artifact. Cassyt nods gravely to accept the mission. Knowing well, when she exits the guild hall, the burden on her shoulders will weigh strong. The forest is deep and dark, full of dangers way more formidable than those of a physical nature. The treasure most definitely is not the only thing the tower conceals.
Cassyt travels quickly, her quiver full of arrows, her twin daggers sheathed at her sides, her longbow resting comfortably across her back-the string wrapped around her shoulder and waist, coming up around her torso. She travels with silent grace incongruous with her strength, her keen senses tuned to every rustle of wind, every shifting shadow. As she draws closer to the forest's edge, the air fills with mist. The treetops go high above her head, silent, watching guardians, gnarled branches twisting against the slate-colored sky. It's alive, somehow, in a way that sends shivers down her spine; there is something weird, some ancient, hanging magic in the air. There was no song of birds and animals but just groaning of trees and a soft whisper of wind across leaves.
She takes her bow out, Cassyt tightens the grip and starts weaving her way through the underbrush, eyes scanning the surroundings. Well aware that Shadowwood is home to anything from the simple to much more dangerous creatures, she catches the faintest hint of motion: a shadow flitting between trees.
In one smooth motion, she draws an arrow out of her quiver and fits it into her bow, then feels silly because it was no more than a trick of the light. She puts away her bow.
After hours of careful travel, she finds herself at the foot of the Forgotten Tower-much more a husk now of what it had been. Inside, the jagged spires sprout to the sky like broken teeth, while the stone walls are smothered with vines and moss. There was a great, partly caved-in arch for an entrance, and past that, the dark stretched inside unnaturally.
Cassyt steps into the archway now, daggers drawn. She reaches her threshold when the air grows even colder and an eerie feeling of foreboding washes over her. She could feel the weight of time leaning upon the tower, as if it has lain there, waiting for someone to disturb its sleep.
Within, the tower is as miserable as without. The stairs are broken, the panes of the window are smashed, and rags of old tapestry flutter about the floor. Ghastly silence reigns. Mold and rot permeate the atmosphere. Her senses, sharpened, told her that the farther up she had gone, the more danger threatened her.
It wasn't until she climbed up the top of the decaying stairs that she began to notice the strange symbols on the stone walls-ancient, granted, yet unlike anything she had ever seen. The faint glow spoke of a powerful, forgotten magic, perhaps hinting at the artifact's location or some sort of warning.
The higher she goes, the treacherous the tower is; stairs were uneven and its walls unstable. Once, Cassyt's foot slipped on a loose stone, but her reflexes were quicker, and she caught herself while simultaneously drawing her daggers in case. As she continued upwards, a growing heaviness in her chest began to feel like something peeked from behind walls, waiting for her...
Upstairs on the fourth floor, she entered a big library-the shelves bare except for a few scattered books and scrolls. Everything was thickly mantled with a layer of dust. Amidst the rubble, Cassyt noticed something different: a faint glow emanated from beneath a fallen bookshelf. She carefully pushed aside the rubble to reveal an old box ornately carved with even more of these strange symbols. Her heart quickens. Can this be the artifact she's looking for?
But the instant her fingers touch the surface of the chest, a low rumble shakes the floor; the walls start to shake, and the ground beneath her feet starts to crack. Ghostly figures begin to materialize from the dark-phantoms of the tower's long-dead inmates. They were not alive but bound to the tower by the very same, very ancient magic that once gave it power; their forms were diaphanous, though their eyes shone with an unearthly light.
The spirits charge for Cassyt, and she barely has time to react. She pulls out her bow in a single quick, flowing motion and fires an arrow through one of the spirits-it passes right through. Spinning, she fluidly draws her daggers into combat position. Suddenly, a whisper, a voice so far away, yet inside the skull: "Leave. or be lost."
Cassyt narrows her eyes, unmoving, and says, "I didn't come here to turn back." She fights back with brutal determination, dodging the phantoms with her agile leaps. Her daggers strike where the forms of the spirits seem most solid, and with every stroke they burst one by one. Finally, after quite a long fight, the last of the spirits disappeared, leaving behind only silence.
Cassyt approaches the chest anew, her breathing calm and even. Opening it gingerly reveals something inside: an ornate, shining relic-an amulet with a churning gemstone at its center. It hummed with ancient energy, an artifact she had sought.
With the amulet fastened, Cassyt starts down the tower, and for a moment the air seems lighter, the weight more lifted. It would no longer be quite so forbidding somehow, as though some spell that haunted it was finally gone amidst the destruction of the spirits. The journey back to the guild hall was uneventful; Cassyt knew, however, that the artifact she now carried was much more than just a treasure, the key to some ancient power, and with it, many new questions arose. The instant Cassyt reenters the guild hall, there the receptionist waits. She proudly hands over the artifact, the gleam in her eyes indicating this quest, though now complete, is but the start of something so much greater.
"Hey, by the way someone wanted to talk to you, Cassyt." The receptionist told her. He pointed over to a rouge sitting alone at a table. "Them," he said. Cassyt walked over and sat across from them. They introduced themselves. "Hey, I'm Somnum."