Far to the wind-swept west, where the wastes stretch out as far as any eye can see, there lies a passage into a world beneath the earth’s crust. For generations, the nomadic tribes and waste-folk that dwell in these regions have assembled at a set of black iron gates in the bowels of a solitary mountain. Beyond these gates, winding deep into the earth, there exists a vast warren of twisting tunnels and caverns, where the crumbling ruins of a long-dead civilization rest in silence. None know how far the caverns descend, but tales tell of the great riches and terrible dangers that await in the dark below. This dread realm is known as Deephold.
The people of this region have long sent their criminals, outcasts, and rivals defeated in war, into Deephold sentencing them to a life of darkness and horror in the lightless tunnels. In recent years, however, the territory has come under the rulership of House Tallona, a relatively minor noble estate seeking to advance its station and fill its coffers. Eager to pillage the forgotten wonders of a fallen civilization, House Tallona has created a dungeoneering gold rush. Using their considerable resources to gather up mercenaries and thugs from across the borderlands, they have established a system by which prisoners – whether they be innocent or guilty, gross or petty – can be ferried to Deephold from across the adjoining realms. These unfortunates are to be condemned to the dark, sent below to be forgotten by history – and to scavenge for relics and resources.
Now, one way or another, you all have been branded as criminals and sent to languish forever beneath the earth in the vast underground penal colony that is Deephold. Whether you wither away in the dark or rise to the challenges of this terrifying lightless realm will be up to you and you alone…
Near the entrance to Deephold, there is a small wooden palisade set up where prisoners are kept before being transferred to the cage-topped wagons that take them into Deephold. While being held there, each of you had opportunities to converse with your fellow condemned prisoners or even with some of the mercenaries that serve House Tallona. For those less inclined to converse with others, perhaps you simply overheard a conversation. Either way, each of you learned of a rumor or two.
(OOC: Each of you will be sent on Discord 1 or 2 rumors for you to share or keep to yourselves…)
You sit side-by-side on a wooden cart, a cage of ironwork over your heads. Your wrists are bound by chains that run through an iron loop set into the floor of the cart, preventing you from raising your arms higher than your waist additionally, for those magically gifted you've been fed a constant drip of magebane. Around you, the entrance to Deephold is buzzing with constant activity – mercenaries, houseguards, and workers mingle throughout the cavern, moving across the scaffolding that runs along either cavern wall. To one side, the cavern turns gently toward the exit. To the other, there is a great chasm, a large mechanical lift made of wood and rope suspended above it. A slim, fair-skinned young man no more than 16 with freckled cheeks sits on one side of the wagon, a mop of dirty blonde hair running down to the lobules of his ears. He wears tattered clothing and flinches slightly at every other noise, his clear blue eyes full of nervous fear.
"He-hello, I'm Tomas. I-it looks like we've a-all been condemned to De-deephold eh? I-I don't know about you all, b-b-but I can't believe I was sent here for just petty banditry. Just food really, w-we just took enough so we could survive." After pausing for a few seconds, Tomas asks, "Hey, w-what do you think will h-ha-happen to us?"
(OOC: Please introduce/describe your characters, whether they engage in the conversation or not, and feel free to post a picture of them for others to reference.)
Black or Whispering Iron is a mysterious and rare metal that constantly emanates an aura of unnerving murmurs audible only to spellcasters. Weapons and armor forged from whispering iron are known to disrupt the concentration of mages. Enough of it in one place, such as Deephold's entrance gates, causes spellcasters to find their minds utterly overwhelmed by the whispers when within even 200 feet of it. Staying too near such a concentration for too long can drive them mad or even kill them if they attempt to cast spells.
Magebane is a nauseating, acrid liquid that causes intense grogginess and makes it impossible to cast spells.
(OOC: I guess I'll start this off, wish me luck. I'll leave the day-to-day character description to the picture I found.)
Sitting within the cart, the disheveled young Bomon seemed to have shrunk into himself despite his large stature. Head bowed, wrestling with his thoughts, the gloom visible in his slumped posture. When Tomas spoke, Bomon looked up, his tense features softening, and for the moment, his deeper worries seemed somewhat shaken off. With a more friendly air about himself he responds to Tomas.
“Innocent or guilty, I imagine we will be dealt our sentences all the same." Offering a slight nod and a little more fake smile then intended he added "Oh and my name's Bomon."
There was a groan in the cart as a male was heavily bound up. His arms were forcefully crossed and his shackles chained across his back. This was to ensure that the male couldn't move his arms to attempt to lockpick them if he had anything hidden that the guards hadn't found. He looked to the two young looking males and he let out a sigh.
"Great....they have me under the effects of Magebane." He said before looking at the chains the bound him and he instead of moving decided it would be better to just deal with the massive headache he had and sit there. "Names Ravi, and where we are going you should be careful Tomas....there will be a lot of dangerous people, and people who didn't deserve to be considered a criminal....but from what I've heard there's going to be plenty of mushrooms to eat."
The Older male stirred from his thoughts, his deep brown eyes sweeping over the weary souls caged alongside him. His broad frame, once a pillar of quiet strength, sagged slightly under the weight of the journey, and the lines on his face seemed etched deeper by exhaustion. Yet, despite it all, there was still a gentle warmth to him, like the last embers of a dying fire refusing to go out.
He turned to Tomas, offering the boy a reassuring smile, though it carried the weariness of a man who had seen much and endured more. “There is a saying where I come from, young man—‘A creature caught in a snare learns the measure of its strength far better than one left to roam free.’ Perhaps, in time, you will find the same to be true for you.” His voice was steady, calm, as if willing the boy to take solace in his words.
Glancing toward Bomon, his smile wavered into something more awkward yet no less fond. “Did you hear? Mushrooms,” he mused, chuckling softly. “Perhaps we could brew tea from them.” The attempt at humor was light, but the unspoken message was clear—he was searching for something, anything, to make this place feel less like a cage.
Shifting slightly, he leaned toward Ravi, his tone gentle. “And you? How are you feeling, young man?” There was no pity in his voice, only genuine concern, the kind that expected no answer but invited one all the same.
OOC (Here's a picture. Yes, she can be chatty, but she's lived a life, and at 35 years old, she's more inclined to cut through the BS.)
As the cart lurches over uneven ground, the Magebane drip silences the melodies and words that usually fill her mind—the acrid taste clings to her throat, mingling with the assault of the Deephold's stench. Shackles weigh on her wrists, as confining as the guilty charge for a crime she didn't commit. She grits her teeth and glances around the cart, taking in her companions. She never imagined this journey for herself, and the unnerving frustration of being without her words renders her conversational skills rather short.
"Gentlemen," she says, her voice steady despite the weight of the Magebane, "I've heard talk of mushrooms, tea-making, and inevitable sentences. But I'd say what happens next depends on how good we are at staying alive." She pauses, her tone shifting slightly as she adds, "I've heard whispers of a settlement below—Low Town, they call it."
Bomon’s eyes lit up slightly. Leaning into the flicker of positivity, he offered, “I believe you are onto something uncle. Ooh maybe even a good soup from them would do wonders. I know I could use a proper meal. We could brew a tea and I could start a broth like I did a couple towns back… the good one, not the burnt one, of course.”
As the woman spoke, her steady tone cutting through the talk of tea and stew, Bomon shifted his attention to her curiosity sparking in his gaze. “Low Town, you say?” He leaned forward slightly, as if her words carried the slightest promise of hope. “If there’s a settlement down there that’s... well that's at least something.”
Oji turned toward the source of the female voice and offered a weary smile, his expression kind despite the weight pressing on his shoulders. “Well, I cannot promise I will be any good at staying alive,” he mused, his tone light, “but I shall do my best to look after you young ones. One of you is, after all, my nephew.”
He let out a weak chuckle—gentle, warm, yet not quite reaching his tired eyes. Even here, in chains and uncertainty, he made the effort to lift the spirits of those around him, as if his presence alone could shield them from the dark that lay ahead.
Turning back to Bomon, he reached out and gave the boy’s knee a reassuring pat. “Worry not, Bo,” he said softly. “We will get through this. As my Kaori used to say, ‘Even the mightiest mountain is worn smooth by the patient touch of the wind.’ Hardship will shape us, but it will not break us.”
At the mention of familial connection, Tyjra's mind shifts to her younger siblings. The shackles clang sightly as she rests her hand over their portrait tucked securely in her waist pocket.
"A nephew? Kind of you, Oji, to care for him. I lost my younger siblings long ago, and I don't know if they're dead or alive. It's good you still have family. I picked up new families along my journeys but still miss my brother and sister." She closes her eyes for a moment, but a jolt of the cart interrupts her.
Ravi still had a look of grogginess as Oji spoke to him and he listened to what the others had to say. "Im doing better.....just this Magebane is ruining any chance I have of getting myself out of these chains" He said quietly before he let out a sigh as people began to talk about family.
"I never got to know who my parents were, but the group that raised me has slowly disappeared and I've been alone for the last ten years.....doing what I could for the people of my area" He said making a special note that it seemed that he was the only one person in this cart who seemed to be a criminal. "Sadly....Im thinking you three should be careful, it seems whatever you did lass was enough for them to target you to be put under.....the people down there have to survive so we could expect some hostility, and it seems Im the only real criminal here."
Seemingly taking some solace from Oji's words, Tomas' voice steadies some as he says, "I'd heard s-say Deephold extends down into Hell itself. I guess if there is a town down there it m-mustn't be true." A ghost of a smile briefly crosses his face while his eyes show his battle with despair. While looking towards Oji and Bomon he says, "It is good you two have family to rely on." Seemingly realizing the other side of that, his face flushes momentarily in embarrassment. "Ah, I guess in this case maybe not. Um, i-if you don't mind me asking why are all of you here? His gaze goes over everyone stopping on Ravi. "I-it wasn't murder was it?"
Oji smiled, shaking his head at the woman’s words. “If anything, he is the one taking care of me!” he said with a soft chuckle, casting a fond glance at Bomon. His gaze then shifted back to her, and with a knowing nod, he added, “I know what it is to lose the ones you love, young lady. But still, we must have strength, for their sake. They would want no less from us.” His voice carried the weight of experience, but there was no sorrow in it—only quiet resolve.
Turning to Ravi, he nodded, his expression calm but firm. “This too shall pass, young man. We will strive to do well, to learn this new world we’ve been thrust into, and in time, we will find our way free of it. Through unity and good spirit, nothing can break our resolve—hmm?” His words were gentle but purposeful, spoken like a man who had faced storms before and weathered them.
Despite everything, he clung to hope—not just for himself, but for those around him.
Looking back to Tomas, he offered another smile. “See? It cannot be as bad as hell,” he mused, his tone light with humor. “Finding joy where we can—that is how we will endure.” He then gestured toward Ravi with an open hand. “As for our crimes… well, that is not our story to tell.”
"Theft, but I was falsely accused. I didn't take a thing as long as you don't count a bruised ego as theft. It seems people in power don't take kindly to umm...injustice directed at them." She feels the Magebane again and the haze in her mind trapping her words. "No town, huh? Just hell to the depths?" Tjyra watches Tomas' smile turn. Clearly, she thinks the boy has seen too much for only sixteen.
"Thank you, Oji. I agree. Lost but not forgotten." The trite words sting her lips. "Damn, the creator of Magebane!"
Tomas nods at Oji's words and attempts to put on a brave face. "I don't know what joy is to be had in a life condemned to live underground never to see the sun again but maybe it won't be all that bad."
Turning shyly towards the woman, "I'd heard rumors of nobles unjustly sending people to Deephold but to think an entire wagonload of prisoners would all be so! Well at least I don't think you won't have to put up with the magebane for much longer, it looks like we'll be moving soon enough again and..."
Tomas' words drift off as his gaze shifts to the giant black gates in the distance. "They certainly are ominous looking, aren't they? Perhaps it is for the best Ravi and you are under the effects of magebane. That much whispering iron could drive a magic user mad!" Turning back to face the woman, "Oh um, I-I am sorry I didn't catch your name and it seems discourteous to only refer to you as 'you'." Blushing Tomas quickly adds, "I-I mean only if you don't mind sharing it."
Tyjra shifts in her seat, the chains clinking softly as she turns to Tomas. "Ah, my name's Tyjra. Apologies for not offering it sooner. These are strange times, after all." She gives him a faint smile, then tilts her head. "And, of course, it would be a fool's way to believe a wagonload of us are all innocent." She slightly chuckles, "I suspect most of us have truths we're not keen to share just yet."
Her gaze drifts toward the looming gates ahead, her expression growing pensive. "I'll admit, I'd misunderstood something about all this. Thought the Magebane was meant to protect us from the whispers of that cursed iron. Turns out, it's just keeping us magic workers too dull to notice the madness creeping in." She lets out a soft laugh, one more self-deprecating than amused. "Strange, isn't it? To be thankful for the very thing keeping my magic shackled. I suppose ignorance is better than losing your mind—or your life."
Tyjra glances back at Tomas, her tone lightening. "Shows what kind of bard I am, doesn't it? Singing stories and missing the obvious. At least it gives us something to talk about on this little trip to the depths."
Without warning, one of the four nearby guards swats at the oxen ahead of the wagon, and the creatures move forward. Ahead, against the dusty rock walls, stands an immense gate of black iron. There is a shriek of grinding metal as another group of workmen heaves it open, revealing an elevator on the other side. Approaching the gates the spellcasters among you begin hearing the telltale unnerving murmurs of black iron. Luckily, the magebane already dulling your senses makes tolerable what would otherwise be an intolerable amount of black iron. Passing the gates the oxen move forward onto the elevator.
There is a loud cry, and a set of broad-shouldered men grasp the chains at either side of the contraption. Their arms straining in unison, they heave, and the wooden structure groaning around you begins to descend. As you descend you hear a deep metallic groan as the gates begin to close behind you. The last thing you see of the world outside is a slim, guttering shaft of light from high above before the gates slam shut. For a moment, there is only darkness, before one of the guards accompanying your wagon lights a torch, bathing the shaft in a flickering orange firelight as you descend. The cart shakes uncomfortably as the elevator judders its way down for several minutes, into a large, wide cavern. Ahead is a long, winding tunnel that snakes downward into the dark below...
(OOC: You can RP things while all this is happening if you'd like.)
As the cart lurches downward, Bomon straightens his posture and brings his shoulders back and spine aligned. His hands, though still bound rest firmly against his knees, grounding him. He takes a slow deep breath. Inhaling through his nose, his chest rises gently before exhaling through his mouth. As the breath settles his mind begins to still. He recites the words of a soft chant to himself, something he’s clearly done before, a steady anchor in the chaos.
“In balance, there is peace; in peace, there is strength.”
Ravi continued to watch as the cart lurched forward and even with the Magebane in his system, Ravi could hear some whispering and echoing in his mind. He began to shrug it off as they began to go downward, and his head began to clear up from the noises of his head. He let out a small sigh of relief before he looked to Tomas and he let out a genuine smile.
"About your question earlier lad.....no, its not murder. I've been a thorn in House Tallona's side for upwards of the last 12 years....Im a thief and I was doing my best to ensure my neighbors could afford to eat....and the furthest I've done to hurt someone is them going headfirst into a wall because they thought there was a hallway there." He said said in a calm manner as he looked to Oji and Bomon. "These two had the unfortunate situation of being associated with me because they tended to some pretty bad injuries some guards caused me."
Momentarily distracted Tomas turns towards Ravi as he speaks then says, "Not so different than my crime then, stealing to feed others." The first genuine smile you've seen on his face thus far briefly shows before a particularly rough part of the ride down seems to remind him of the fate awaiting you all. Turning his head Tomas mournfully gazes back up into the darkness before asking no one in particular, "Do you think we'll ever see the sky again?" He knows the answer just as well as all of you. None ever escape Deephold for whatever awaits you down in the dark depths, it is a life sentence.
Tyjra closes her eyes and listens. She thinks of her lost family and her new adventure, if one could call it that. Through the dull rumble in her mind, she finds some semblance of a tune. "Though the sun is gone from sight, its memory paves the way across the endless night."
Oji watched the sunlight go. His hand moved gently to rest on Bomon's shoulder, his grip firm yet comforting. "Worry not, Bo," he said, his voice a soft, steady anchor in the growing darkness. "We will see it again. Besides, what better way to conquer my fear of the dark than to embrace it, hm?" He chuckled lightly, the sound warm and fatherly, as if to chase away the chill that crept into the air.
Turning his attention to Ravi, Oji gave a slow, deliberate nod, his eyes carrying the weight of many years of wisdom. "Once we are wherever we are going, we stick together. Watch each other's backs. United, we stand a far better chance than if we are divided, my boy." His words held a quiet conviction, a reminder that even in the face of the unknown, strength came in unity.
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Dark Decent: Part I – Land of the Blind
Far to the wind-swept west, where the wastes stretch out as far as any eye can see, there lies a passage into a world beneath the earth’s crust. For generations, the nomadic tribes and waste-folk that dwell in these regions have assembled at a set of black iron gates in the bowels of a solitary mountain. Beyond these gates, winding deep into the earth, there exists a vast warren of twisting tunnels and caverns, where the crumbling ruins of a long-dead civilization rest in silence. None know how far the caverns descend, but tales tell of the great riches and terrible dangers that await in the dark below. This dread realm is known as Deephold.
The people of this region have long sent their criminals, outcasts, and rivals defeated in war, into Deephold sentencing them to a life of darkness and horror in the lightless tunnels. In recent years, however, the territory has come under the rulership of House Tallona, a relatively minor noble estate seeking to advance its station and fill its coffers. Eager to pillage the forgotten wonders of a fallen civilization, House Tallona has created a dungeoneering gold rush. Using their considerable resources to gather up mercenaries and thugs from across the borderlands, they have established a system by which prisoners – whether they be innocent or guilty, gross or petty – can be ferried to Deephold from across the adjoining realms. These unfortunates are to be condemned to the dark, sent below to be forgotten by history – and to scavenge for relics and resources.
Now, one way or another, you all have been branded as criminals and sent to languish forever beneath the earth in the vast underground penal colony that is Deephold. Whether you wither away in the dark or rise to the challenges of this terrifying lightless realm will be up to you and you alone…
Near the entrance to Deephold, there is a small wooden palisade set up where prisoners are kept before being transferred to the cage-topped wagons that take them into Deephold. While being held there, each of you had opportunities to converse with your fellow condemned prisoners or even with some of the mercenaries that serve House Tallona. For those less inclined to converse with others, perhaps you simply overheard a conversation. Either way, each of you learned of a rumor or two.
(OOC: Each of you will be sent on Discord 1 or 2 rumors for you to share or keep to yourselves…)
You sit side-by-side on a wooden cart, a cage of ironwork over your heads. Your wrists are bound by chains that run through an iron loop set into the floor of the cart, preventing you from raising your arms higher than your waist additionally, for those magically gifted you've been fed a constant drip of magebane. Around you, the entrance to Deephold is buzzing with constant activity – mercenaries, houseguards, and workers mingle throughout the cavern, moving across the scaffolding that runs along either cavern wall. To one side, the cavern turns gently toward the exit. To the other, there is a great chasm, a large mechanical lift made of wood and rope suspended above it. A slim, fair-skinned young man no more than 16 with freckled cheeks sits on one side of the wagon, a mop of dirty blonde hair running down to the lobules of his ears. He wears tattered clothing and flinches slightly at every other noise, his clear blue eyes full of nervous fear.
"He-hello, I'm Tomas. I-it looks like we've a-all been condemned to De-deephold eh? I-I don't know about you all, b-b-but I can't believe I was sent here for just petty banditry. Just food really, w-we just took enough so we could survive." After pausing for a few seconds, Tomas asks, "Hey, w-what do you think will h-ha-happen to us?"
(OOC: Please introduce/describe your characters, whether they engage in the conversation or not, and feel free to post a picture of them for others to reference.)
Black or Whispering Iron is a mysterious and rare metal that constantly emanates an aura of unnerving murmurs audible only to spellcasters. Weapons and armor forged from whispering iron are known to disrupt the concentration of mages. Enough of it in one place, such as Deephold's entrance gates, causes spellcasters to find their minds utterly overwhelmed by the whispers when within even 200 feet of it. Staying too near such a concentration for too long can drive them mad or even kill them if they attempt to cast spells.
Magebane is a nauseating, acrid liquid that causes intense grogginess and makes it impossible to cast spells.
(OOC: I guess I'll start this off, wish me luck. I'll leave the day-to-day character description to the picture I found.)
Sitting within the cart, the disheveled young Bomon seemed to have shrunk into himself despite his large stature. Head bowed, wrestling with his thoughts, the gloom visible in his slumped posture. When Tomas spoke, Bomon looked up, his tense features softening, and for the moment, his deeper worries seemed somewhat shaken off. With a more friendly air about himself he responds to Tomas.
“Innocent or guilty, I imagine we will be dealt our sentences all the same." Offering a slight nod and a little more fake smile then intended he added "Oh and my name's Bomon."
There was a groan in the cart as a male was heavily bound up. His arms were forcefully crossed and his shackles chained across his back. This was to ensure that the male couldn't move his arms to attempt to lockpick them if he had anything hidden that the guards hadn't found. He looked to the two young looking males and he let out a sigh.
"Great....they have me under the effects of Magebane." He said before looking at the chains the bound him and he instead of moving decided it would be better to just deal with the massive headache he had and sit there. "Names Ravi, and where we are going you should be careful Tomas....there will be a lot of dangerous people, and people who didn't deserve to be considered a criminal....but from what I've heard there's going to be plenty of mushrooms to eat."
The Older male stirred from his thoughts, his deep brown eyes sweeping over the weary souls caged alongside him. His broad frame, once a pillar of quiet strength, sagged slightly under the weight of the journey, and the lines on his face seemed etched deeper by exhaustion. Yet, despite it all, there was still a gentle warmth to him, like the last embers of a dying fire refusing to go out.
He turned to Tomas, offering the boy a reassuring smile, though it carried the weariness of a man who had seen much and endured more. “There is a saying where I come from, young man—‘A creature caught in a snare learns the measure of its strength far better than one left to roam free.’ Perhaps, in time, you will find the same to be true for you.” His voice was steady, calm, as if willing the boy to take solace in his words.
Glancing toward Bomon, his smile wavered into something more awkward yet no less fond. “Did you hear? Mushrooms,” he mused, chuckling softly. “Perhaps we could brew tea from them.” The attempt at humor was light, but the unspoken message was clear—he was searching for something, anything, to make this place feel less like a cage.
Shifting slightly, he leaned toward Ravi, his tone gentle. “And you? How are you feeling, young man?” There was no pity in his voice, only genuine concern, the kind that expected no answer but invited one all the same.
OOC (Here's a picture. Yes, she can be chatty, but she's lived a life, and at 35 years old, she's more inclined to cut through the BS.)
As the cart lurches over uneven ground, the Magebane drip silences the melodies and words that usually fill her mind—the acrid taste clings to her throat, mingling with the assault of the Deephold's stench. Shackles weigh on her wrists, as confining as the guilty charge for a crime she didn't commit. She grits her teeth and glances around the cart, taking in her companions. She never imagined this journey for herself, and the unnerving frustration of being without her words renders her conversational skills rather short.
"Gentlemen," she says, her voice steady despite the weight of the Magebane, "I've heard talk of mushrooms, tea-making, and inevitable sentences. But I'd say what happens next depends on how good we are at staying alive." She pauses, her tone shifting slightly as she adds, "I've heard whispers of a settlement below—Low Town, they call it."
Bomon’s eyes lit up slightly. Leaning into the flicker of positivity, he offered, “I believe you are onto something uncle. Ooh maybe even a good soup from them would do wonders. I know I could use a proper meal. We could brew a tea and I could start a broth like I did a couple towns back… the good one, not the burnt one, of course.”
As the woman spoke, her steady tone cutting through the talk of tea and stew, Bomon shifted his attention to her curiosity sparking in his gaze. “Low Town, you say?” He leaned forward slightly, as if her words carried the slightest promise of hope. “If there’s a settlement down there that’s... well that's at least something.”
Oji turned toward the source of the female voice and offered a weary smile, his expression kind despite the weight pressing on his shoulders. “Well, I cannot promise I will be any good at staying alive,” he mused, his tone light, “but I shall do my best to look after you young ones. One of you is, after all, my nephew.”
He let out a weak chuckle—gentle, warm, yet not quite reaching his tired eyes. Even here, in chains and uncertainty, he made the effort to lift the spirits of those around him, as if his presence alone could shield them from the dark that lay ahead.
Turning back to Bomon, he reached out and gave the boy’s knee a reassuring pat. “Worry not, Bo,” he said softly. “We will get through this. As my Kaori used to say, ‘Even the mightiest mountain is worn smooth by the patient touch of the wind.’ Hardship will shape us, but it will not break us.”
At the mention of familial connection, Tyjra's mind shifts to her younger siblings. The shackles clang sightly as she rests her hand over their portrait tucked securely in her waist pocket.
"A nephew? Kind of you, Oji, to care for him. I lost my younger siblings long ago, and I don't know if they're dead or alive. It's good you still have family. I picked up new families along my journeys but still miss my brother and sister." She closes her eyes for a moment, but a jolt of the cart interrupts her.
Ravi still had a look of grogginess as Oji spoke to him and he listened to what the others had to say. "Im doing better.....just this Magebane is ruining any chance I have of getting myself out of these chains" He said quietly before he let out a sigh as people began to talk about family.
"I never got to know who my parents were, but the group that raised me has slowly disappeared and I've been alone for the last ten years.....doing what I could for the people of my area" He said making a special note that it seemed that he was the only one person in this cart who seemed to be a criminal. "Sadly....Im thinking you three should be careful, it seems whatever you did lass was enough for them to target you to be put under.....the people down there have to survive so we could expect some hostility, and it seems Im the only real criminal here."
Seemingly taking some solace from Oji's words, Tomas' voice steadies some as he says, "I'd heard s-say Deephold extends down into Hell itself. I guess if there is a town down there it m-mustn't be true." A ghost of a smile briefly crosses his face while his eyes show his battle with despair. While looking towards Oji and Bomon he says, "It is good you two have family to rely on." Seemingly realizing the other side of that, his face flushes momentarily in embarrassment. "Ah, I guess in this case maybe not. Um, i-if you don't mind me asking why are all of you here? His gaze goes over everyone stopping on Ravi. "I-it wasn't murder was it?"
Oji smiled, shaking his head at the woman’s words. “If anything, he is the one taking care of me!” he said with a soft chuckle, casting a fond glance at Bomon. His gaze then shifted back to her, and with a knowing nod, he added, “I know what it is to lose the ones you love, young lady. But still, we must have strength, for their sake. They would want no less from us.” His voice carried the weight of experience, but there was no sorrow in it—only quiet resolve.
Turning to Ravi, he nodded, his expression calm but firm. “This too shall pass, young man. We will strive to do well, to learn this new world we’ve been thrust into, and in time, we will find our way free of it. Through unity and good spirit, nothing can break our resolve—hmm?” His words were gentle but purposeful, spoken like a man who had faced storms before and weathered them.
Despite everything, he clung to hope—not just for himself, but for those around him.
Looking back to Tomas, he offered another smile. “See? It cannot be as bad as hell,” he mused, his tone light with humor. “Finding joy where we can—that is how we will endure.” He then gestured toward Ravi with an open hand. “As for our crimes… well, that is not our story to tell.”
"Theft, but I was falsely accused. I didn't take a thing as long as you don't count a bruised ego as theft. It seems people in power don't take kindly to umm...injustice directed at them." She feels the Magebane again and the haze in her mind trapping her words. "No town, huh? Just hell to the depths?" Tjyra watches Tomas' smile turn. Clearly, she thinks the boy has seen too much for only sixteen.
"Thank you, Oji. I agree. Lost but not forgotten." The trite words sting her lips. "Damn, the creator of Magebane!"
Tomas nods at Oji's words and attempts to put on a brave face. "I don't know what joy is to be had in a life condemned to live underground never to see the sun again but maybe it won't be all that bad."
Turning shyly towards the woman, "I'd heard rumors of nobles unjustly sending people to Deephold but to think an entire wagonload of prisoners would all be so! Well at least I don't think you won't have to put up with the magebane for much longer, it looks like we'll be moving soon enough again and..."
Tomas' words drift off as his gaze shifts to the giant black gates in the distance. "They certainly are ominous looking, aren't they? Perhaps it is for the best Ravi and you are under the effects of magebane. That much whispering iron could drive a magic user mad!" Turning back to face the woman, "Oh um, I-I am sorry I didn't catch your name and it seems discourteous to only refer to you as 'you'." Blushing Tomas quickly adds, "I-I mean only if you don't mind sharing it."
Tyjra shifts in her seat, the chains clinking softly as she turns to Tomas. "Ah, my name's Tyjra. Apologies for not offering it sooner. These are strange times, after all." She gives him a faint smile, then tilts her head. "And, of course, it would be a fool's way to believe a wagonload of us are all innocent." She slightly chuckles, "I suspect most of us have truths we're not keen to share just yet."
Her gaze drifts toward the looming gates ahead, her expression growing pensive. "I'll admit, I'd misunderstood something about all this. Thought the Magebane was meant to protect us from the whispers of that cursed iron. Turns out, it's just keeping us magic workers too dull to notice the madness creeping in." She lets out a soft laugh, one more self-deprecating than amused. "Strange, isn't it? To be thankful for the very thing keeping my magic shackled. I suppose ignorance is better than losing your mind—or your life."
Tyjra glances back at Tomas, her tone lightening. "Shows what kind of bard I am, doesn't it? Singing stories and missing the obvious. At least it gives us something to talk about on this little trip to the depths."
Without warning, one of the four nearby guards swats at the oxen ahead of the wagon, and the creatures move forward. Ahead, against the dusty rock walls, stands an immense gate of black iron. There is a shriek of grinding metal as another group of workmen heaves it open, revealing an elevator on the other side. Approaching the gates the spellcasters among you begin hearing the telltale unnerving murmurs of black iron. Luckily, the magebane already dulling your senses makes tolerable what would otherwise be an intolerable amount of black iron. Passing the gates the oxen move forward onto the elevator.
There is a loud cry, and a set of broad-shouldered men grasp the chains at either side of the contraption. Their arms straining in unison, they heave, and the wooden structure groaning around you begins to descend. As you descend you hear a deep metallic groan as the gates begin to close behind you. The last thing you see of the world outside is a slim, guttering shaft of light from high above before the gates slam shut. For a moment, there is only darkness, before one of the guards accompanying your wagon lights a torch, bathing the shaft in a flickering orange firelight as you descend. The cart shakes uncomfortably as the elevator judders its way down for several minutes, into a large, wide cavern. Ahead is a long, winding tunnel that snakes downward into the dark below...
(OOC: You can RP things while all this is happening if you'd like.)
As the cart lurches downward, Bomon straightens his posture and brings his shoulders back and spine aligned. His hands, though still bound rest firmly against his knees, grounding him. He takes a slow deep breath. Inhaling through his nose, his chest rises gently before exhaling through his mouth. As the breath settles his mind begins to still. He recites the words of a soft chant to himself, something he’s clearly done before, a steady anchor in the chaos.
“In balance, there is peace; in peace, there is strength.”
Ravi continued to watch as the cart lurched forward and even with the Magebane in his system, Ravi could hear some whispering and echoing in his mind. He began to shrug it off as they began to go downward, and his head began to clear up from the noises of his head. He let out a small sigh of relief before he looked to Tomas and he let out a genuine smile.
"About your question earlier lad.....no, its not murder. I've been a thorn in House Tallona's side for upwards of the last 12 years....Im a thief and I was doing my best to ensure my neighbors could afford to eat....and the furthest I've done to hurt someone is them going headfirst into a wall because they thought there was a hallway there." He said said in a calm manner as he looked to Oji and Bomon. "These two had the unfortunate situation of being associated with me because they tended to some pretty bad injuries some guards caused me."
Momentarily distracted Tomas turns towards Ravi as he speaks then says, "Not so different than my crime then, stealing to feed others." The first genuine smile you've seen on his face thus far briefly shows before a particularly rough part of the ride down seems to remind him of the fate awaiting you all. Turning his head Tomas mournfully gazes back up into the darkness before asking no one in particular, "Do you think we'll ever see the sky again?" He knows the answer just as well as all of you. None ever escape Deephold for whatever awaits you down in the dark depths, it is a life sentence.
Tyjra closes her eyes and listens. She thinks of her lost family and her new adventure, if one could call it that. Through the dull rumble in her mind, she finds some semblance of a tune. "Though the sun is gone from sight, its memory paves the way across the endless night."
Oji watched the sunlight go. His hand moved gently to rest on Bomon's shoulder, his grip firm yet comforting. "Worry not, Bo," he said, his voice a soft, steady anchor in the growing darkness. "We will see it again. Besides, what better way to conquer my fear of the dark than to embrace it, hm?" He chuckled lightly, the sound warm and fatherly, as if to chase away the chill that crept into the air.
Turning his attention to Ravi, Oji gave a slow, deliberate nod, his eyes carrying the weight of many years of wisdom. "Once we are wherever we are going, we stick together. Watch each other's backs. United, we stand a far better chance than if we are divided, my boy." His words held a quiet conviction, a reminder that even in the face of the unknown, strength came in unity.