Lev isn't particularly fond of the idea of a tattoo, mainly because it could be used by his enemies as an identifier. That doesn't mean he won't accept it... probably. For the temporary one it doesn't matter, and... well even if they manage to return and accept a permanent option it isn't like he isn't already recognizable enough.

He takes in everything in a quiet daze. Unsure how to feel about the concept of mixing blood and becoming family. Family is something he's only ever lost in the past. And.. it feels odd to suddenly create such ties with people he just met. Regardless he follows along without objection or other comment. 

When Atticus enters the tent to provide them with temporary powers, Lev allows everyone else to speak up first. When his turn comes, he makes his request and overs his hand. He seems numb to the pain of the process, not even flinching when the knife comes into contact with his flesh. 

Like Iolinder, Vydar isn't very fond of the idea of someone else's blood being forced under his skin. Though after watching his companions receive their tattoos he realizes that the longer he waits, the more blood is being mixed into the bowl... He rubs his right arm, he doesn't want to pass by an opportunity for a power boost, though he still would rather only rely on his own strength. Still, its only temporary. He has no obligation to receive a permanent mark.

"Is it possible to get something that will increase the power of my spells?" He asks. "Or perhaps something that will make me lighter on my feet?" ...not that he feels he needs that, he believes himself to be quite agile. Though he's at a loss for anything else to ask for. At this moment, he once again regrets having lost his mentor's sword...if he had a sword he knows he'd be far more useful should he need to fight in close quarters. Though he's certain that these people have no such weapon based on their culture.

Atticus considers Levs request, I believe the magic of the ancients along with your blood, dark elf I believe, can provide a resistance to most damage from weapons. Hum, he tastes your blood, “but your blood is more than that. Interesting.”

Atticus considers, “well, many would enchant the tattoo so they may cast one additional spell, or I may be able to make your spells more powerful for one combat”

(+1dc or spell attacks)

Lev nearly corrects Atticus, as even though he is technically his bloodline is of dark elf origin, he like most black elves doesn't consider himself to be related to them anymore. But he holds his tongue, frowning slightly when the warrior... tastes his blood. ..More than what? Blood? Dark elf blood? He is left in confusion as the tattoo is applied to the back of his right hand. 

Atticus smiles at Lev, “ah, that’s it, black elf. Hum, very rare, and there is divine magic in your spirit,, but…I think you know that.” He winks at Lev as he creates a tattoo of an angry bearded troll.

“My magic comes from the elders, spirits, and nature. I can bring the memory of someone and utilize their powers. In your case, an ancient bloodline you would call a barbarian but in our tribe, we call them berserkers. Theycould become so fierce, blows could hardly hurt him and they would not feel pain.”

(We'll catch up Iólinder and Vydar when players can post)

After Atticus leaves and you each consider what the new temporary blood magic can do for you over the next day, the high priestess Inauniq knocks and then enters.

"Ah, honored friends. I am glad that the council voted as they did. The place you wish to enter, a place the Sh’torem called a cache was not always this. The place was a great structure, built into the very mountainside. It held many many people of an ancient kingdom. I believe it was called a Palace. A group of people that thrived here in these mountains. But, something terrible happened in the halls of that place. It is said all perished there a great breach occurred, allowing an Ice demon Prince to rise. A great ice age then ravaged and covered in snow and ice what remained of the great place, as well as most of the lands that my people know of.

We have warned our warriors to not go there, but over the years, every once in a while, one of our warriors can't resist the challenge and goes their for their warrior rite." She frowns and shakes her head. "None have returned from that place."

"I have consulted the gods, and they are favorable when I asked of your group of six. The Toa-Suo are calling you, "The Sh'torem", in your language, The Storm.

I believe you will survive if you work together. You have the magic of our elders to aid you, and instead of one young warrior, you are six whose beliefs and reasons for your tasks are far greater than that of a single warrior. With strong hearts and spirit, you will prevail."

"Now, the reason the place is now called a cache, is because a cult, called the cult of The Dragon King breached the ancient kingdoms walls perhaps 50 years ago and used it for their unholy ceremonies and sacrifice. Your Professor believed that some sort of powerful artifact made of bone lies in that place. Be warned, the cultists have laid magical curses and traps within, but far worse is that I believe the place is haunted, and that the dead can rise there. There are stories of an angry spirit of a child within."

"In order to complete your rite of the warrior, you will have two objectives. First, retrieve the artifact of bone if it exists. Second, retrieve 5 necklaces, She shows you one she wears, of fallen Toa-Suo that you might find there so that their spirits can finally rest. Then you must return to us."

Iólinder observed the others as they put forth their requests. Most of them were in line with what he expected out of his companions. Lev wants to protect others. Vydar wants more power. Both simple yet reasonable requests: he could not fault them for that. Both Zarbyn and Amdaeng wanted a way to see in the dark. That would prove useful: the situation at the pyramid had shown the shortcomings of trying to coordinate a single group where not everyone had the same access to all information.

He did not know Lira well enough yet to figure out what her deal was. Receiving a magic granting tattoo merely to be able to use a weapon seemed rather a waste. As part of his studies on war, Iólinder had also received detailed training and handling of every sort of weapon used in warfare. Which is to say all of them. Perhaps he was just biased. One of his teachers had often hammered on the curse of knowledge and how it could cloud one's judgement. In the end, if that is what Lira wanted, it was not Iólinder's place to comment on it.

'The Toa-Suo are a people in tune with nature.' Iólinder said when he noticed he was the last one remaining not to have partaken in the ritual. 'Is there perchance a method that would allow me to commune with nature? Or through nature? Like see through the eyes of a bird from on high, hear through the ears of a dog, things like that?'

Atticus considers the request. "Ah, Corrach, what you seek is the power of a familiar, where you can see through its eyes and communicate with it." He smiles, "I believe I could allow you to do this, but you would need to pick the animal before we begin."

Quote from shimshon123 >>

Atticus considers the request. "Ah, Corrach, what you seek is the power of a familiar, where you can see through its eyes and communicate with it." He smiles, "I believe I could allow you to do this, but you would need to pick the animal before we begin."

Iólinder contemplated his options. He knew of familiars: small animals who would aid magic users, wizards being the classic image, in their day to day dealings. He could see the value in one. Especially a flying one could provide him with views of battlefields hitherto unavailable to him.

'A bird, if you would.' He said to Atticus. 'Which are indigenous to this region? I'm not familiar but I would guess owls or hawks?' He held out his hand to take the blood needed for the drops of his blood.

-------
After Atticus informed them more about the upcoming trial, Iólinder asked: 'This cache or palace, where is its entrance? Professor Storm's notes mentioned a waterfall hiding a way in.'

Atticus recommends a gyrfalcon or snowy owl. 

”But you may consider a bat as well for dark exploration and stealth.”

Atticus takes the clerics blood, mixes it and begins the tattoo process.  “Hum, that is curious. The blood is not mixing Corrach, something is wrong.”

—————————

Aisulu says, “yes we know of an entrance behind a waterfall. To my knowledge, that is the only way in and out, but the harsh elements could have created other options. Our scout will take you near the waterfall but no further.”
She sighs, “There is a story of the girl that I have heard. We use it to scare children from going there.”

'Dark exploration?' Iólinder asked Atticus. 'Why, do you think we'll need that?' His mind was edging over to an owl but it did not hurt to get a second opinion.

----------

'What's the story?' Iólinder replied with interest in his tone.

Atticus smiles, “well two of your group have asked to see in the dark. The rest are elves, so I expect you will enter the tomb without torches, and a familiar that also could see in the dark could prove useful.”

Aisulu smiles, indeed, gather and I will tell you the story I know.

The story begins with a cruel man bringing a young girl into a room. As she walked in she saw a horrific sight. Inside were many dead bodies, missing their heads. Nearby, lying in a group was a pile of heads. She was asked, “Tell me sweet child, exactly how many people do you see?” She was uncertain if the man wanted her to count the heads, the bodies, or both but she knew that if she answered wrong, something terrible would occur. The clever girl decided the answer was a trick. She concluded that a person must be a head and a body together, for a head was not a person, nor was a body without a head. She went to the first body, then found a corresponding severed head and counted “One.” Then the second body, verifying a head, “Two.” She continued, matching body to head, body to head, until she had counted 12 sets, “Twelve.”. The man then said, 

“I am thirsty, please get me some water from the well.”

 She began to pull up a bucket attached to a rope from a well used to retrieve fresh water. She pulled up the heavy pale, filled with water, but the water was dark red and she saw another head within. Grabbing the head from the pale, she began looking for the corresponding body in the room. There were no other bodies. She looked at the head again, trying to piece together the puzzle, but to her horror, she realized it was the head of her mother. Screaming, she dropped her mother's head. The man picked it up and carelessly dropped it back into the well. Then, realizing what he had done, the girl jumped in after it. 

The deep well was filled with cold water mixed with blood and the dead body of her mother. With no way to climb up, the helpless girl drowned. 

It is said you can hear someone counting if you walk the halls. “One, two, three.” 

Aisulu pauses in thought

"Some have said that outside of the structure, they have heard crying, or seen a child if they have camped. To this day, none who have entered have lived to tell what truly is inside the place or what happened there. I suspect there is a way to release this child spirit, but if any have tried, they have all failed."

Lira listens intently, every word of Aisulu's tale sinking deep into her heart. The story of the girl, forced to endure such unimaginable horrors, sends a chill down her spine. Her hands clench tightly as she hears of the child's final moments—the despair, the helplessness, the loss. It reminds her all too well of her own childhood and the suffering she and other poor children endured. Left with no options, many turned to lives of crime out of desperation and helplessness.

When Aisulu pauses, Lira swallows hard, her voice soft but resolute as she speaks. "What that child went through…it’s beyond words." She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "If there’s any way to release her spirit—to free her from the torment that still binds her—I will do everything I can."

Her gaze moves to her companions, seeking their support and silently drawing strength from them. "Whatever lies within that place…we face it together. But I can’t shake the feeling that there is more to this child’s suffering than just a spirit trapped in a place of death. If this curse can be broken, maybe it will help us understand more about what we’re truly fighting."

Lira looks back at Aisulu, determination blazing in her green eyes. "Do you know anything else—any rituals, words, or signs that might help us free her spirit? If she is trapped there because of what happened… then perhaps our quest isn’t just about finding the artifacts, but about bringing justice and peace to those who suffered at the hands of the cult."

Amdaeng glowered as she heard the tale, too many of her friends back in Fang had similar stories....though most had less decapitations..

She looked across as Lira spoke a single tight nod indicating her agreement.

" The man in the tale.  Does he still exist?"

She looked around at her companions, some were priests....of a sort....perhaps they could lay spirits to rest?

Vydar nods, "Increase the potency of my spells, yes. I'll go with that." Walking up to the blood bowl, he picks up the dagger only wincing slightly as he slices his had. He's gained a pretty high pain tolerance over the years, having to stitch up his own wounds while on the streets probably helped with that. He then rolls up his sleeve to let Atticus place the mark on his upper arm. Having a strange mark on his hands would be distracting to him.

Vydar sits in silence rubbing his arm where the tattoo was placed as he listens to Aisulu. So they want them to bring back the necklaces of the fallen...he does understand that. Returning them to the families of the fallen warriors would grant some peace. However, he isn't overly concerned with completing this right of passage thing. Storm's quest comes first, if they get the necklaces too then that's just a bonus.

He grimaces at the story. How can anyone be so cruel. He nods to Lira's words, then waits for an answer to Amdaeng's question.

Aisulu considers the questions. "Well, we think the main entrance is trapped, some sort of pit with spikes. I believe the Cult has a secret entrance. 
There are 4 main chambers inside. I know not how far any of my brothers or sisters advanced as non have returned. If I were the cult, I would think the main hall is where they would keep something of value. I do not know how they avoided the spirit, nor if the spirit is actually harmful. But...I think the place reeks of death, including my brothers and sisters. To release the spirit, you would need to figure out why she is trapped within, its a mystery to me.

The man and the civilization that lived within has been dead for over 1000 years. The ice age occurred after they all died. The dead within have been there for a long time, as has the child spirit. I may be able to give someone the ability to speak with the dead. You may be able to find out answers that way.

Aisulu pauses, then looks at the group again "The person you spoke of, Shareella. She cannot be alive. If she were, she would be well over 1000 years old. The palace is where she and her people lived. I know not more about her, except that she was said to be some sort of princess or queen.

Amdaeng nodded silently....she suspected that the Shareela Lira and others spoke of was the same woman from an age past....though how she was still unsure...

Lev's frown slowly fades as the tattoo is placed on his had... so that's what this is about. Does that make him feel anymore certain? No, not really. He still isn't sure what the vision was really about, aside from... well, does that mean he can't die until...? 

He flexes his hand after the ink is applied, not even bothering to look at the depiction of the angry troll. Barbarian? He never considered himself to be that kind of a fighter, but if it makes him resistant to damage then he won't complain. 

___________

As Aisulu tells her story, Lev's face darkens. That was a terrible story. If that spirit is truly still roaming the halls then he can't blame her if she takes her anger out on whoever she feels is responsible for her pain. However, he hopes that there is something that can be done to help her. He nods when Amdaeng asks her question. 

He does somehow doubt that Shareela is really dead. She was a vampire after all, so it could very well be possible for her to be alive. Why else would the Kobolds have been so afraid of Lira? Then again, perhaps the ice witch really was dead and someone is actively trying to resurrect her. ...too many variables. 

He sighs, putting a hand to his forehead. He has too many things to think of right now, it's getting hard to focus. 

"The ability to speak to the dead..." Lev starts, but then trails off as other thoughts cloud his mind. He shakes his head, shutting his eyes for a moment before starting over, "The ability to speak to the dead could be helpful. Even if we don't run into a spirit, if we find other... sacrifices," he glances at Lira, perhaps hoping he doesn't upset her in some way by bringing that up again, "We may be able to get information out of them."