As the silence takes hold, Iromae realizes someone will likely come any moment. They have to do something! Already holding Vorenus' hand, she pulls him gently towards whatever nook or out-of-the-way spot she can see. She doesn't risk saying anything as she tries to keep as silent and motionless as possible.
The silence inside the old tribunals is absolute. Too absolute. Every shuffle, every breath feels magnified. When Shenua’s boot slips, when Vorenus bumps the wall, when Iromae tugs him quickly into the shadow — it’s already too late.
From deeper in the passage, there is a ripple of sound — not boots, but cloth, soft and precise. Then the faint hiss of air displaced as a ward is broken. You hear a sharp click — not of steel, but of something arcane, deliberate.
And then the shadows move.
Figures detach themselves from the walls ahead and behind, dark silhouettes gliding silently on practiced feet. They do not speak. They do not draw blades. Instead, something cold and metallic presses against Iromae’s throat — not a sword, but a hooked iron rod, fixed with a shimmer of runes. Another clamps across Shenua’s wrists with unerring precision. Vorenus feels hands seize him from behind, far too many, far too strong to fight off in silence.
“No sound. No light,” a voice breathes in his ear. A whisper so close it vibrates against his skull.
And then comes the final command, quiet and deadly certain:
Iromae's heart pounds at the sudden movement and feel of metal against her throat. As much as she wishes she could object, their trio seems to have been overwhelmed. She does as the voices say, keeping quiet, not producing any light, and moving as directed. She tries to calm herself, to get her pounding heart back to normal, and to think clearly. While following every order, she tries to observe whatever she can about those who have captured them, and anything she can glean about their surroundings. (Perception: 8)
As the silence takes hold, Iromae realizes someone will likely come any moment. They have to do something! Already holding Vorenus' hand, she pulls him gently towards whatever nook or out-of-the-way spot she can see. She doesn't risk saying anything as she tries to keep as silent and motionless as possible.
(Stealth: 8)
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
The silence inside the old tribunals is absolute. Too absolute. Every shuffle, every breath feels magnified. When Shenua’s boot slips, when Vorenus bumps the wall, when Iromae tugs him quickly into the shadow — it’s already too late.
From deeper in the passage, there is a ripple of sound — not boots, but cloth, soft and precise. Then the faint hiss of air displaced as a ward is broken. You hear a sharp click — not of steel, but of something arcane, deliberate.
And then the shadows move.
Figures detach themselves from the walls ahead and behind, dark silhouettes gliding silently on practiced feet. They do not speak. They do not draw blades. Instead, something cold and metallic presses against Iromae’s throat — not a sword, but a hooked iron rod, fixed with a shimmer of runes. Another clamps across Shenua’s wrists with unerring precision. Vorenus feels hands seize him from behind, far too many, far too strong to fight off in silence.
“No sound. No light,” a voice breathes in his ear. A whisper so close it vibrates against his skull.
And then comes the final command, quiet and deadly certain:
“Move.”
Iromae's heart pounds at the sudden movement and feel of metal against her throat. As much as she wishes she could object, their trio seems to have been overwhelmed. She does as the voices say, keeping quiet, not producing any light, and moving as directed. She tries to calm herself, to get her pounding heart back to normal, and to think clearly. While following every order, she tries to observe whatever she can about those who have captured them, and anything she can glean about their surroundings. (Perception: 8)
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer