The wreckage of the construct lies in a heap, its once gleaming plates dented and warped, steam still hissing softly in bursts from cracked seals. You kneel over it and pry aside a warped section of brass. The insides spill out like the guts of a clock. Gears the size of a fist, shattered pistons, and crystal fragments come rattling out. As you dig deeper, wires glow faintly, then gutter out as you pull them loose. There’s no chain, nothing even resembling it. Just mechanical sinew. One length of cabling comes free with a brittle snap, but it’s little more than twisted wire, frayed and fragile. Certainly nothing Käinen could trust.

Beyond the shattered security automaton, through the doorway, lies another stretch of hallway. Here, the filigree engrained into the floor thickens into a more deliberate pattern. It's no longer just thin lines, but heavy, geometric shapes etched deep into the stone. The faint bluish glow of the lights along the walls catches on carved runes in the floor, the walls, even the tall vaulted ceiling, all linked like veins.

The air hums faintly as though the whole corridor were resonating with a frequency just below hearing. Every step makes the pattern shift with a ripple of dull light.

Teryn straightens from the wreckage, brushing brass dust from his hands with a faintly sour look. “No chains,” he reports, voice edged with disappointment. His gaze lingers on the ruined core a moment longer before a wry half-smile tugs at his mouth. “Still, we certainly dismantled it more thoroughly than I realized.” He lets out a quiet breath, then turns toward the rune-carved hall ahead. “We should keep moving before the archive decides to send another guardian.” With that, he steps carefully onto the glowing floor, slipping ahead to lead the way.

As if reading Käinen's mind, Ellanise stands up beside him and holds out her hand. From it dangles a bundle of rope. "This isn't as strong as a chain, but if you break it, you can't magically put it back together again."

She smiles up at him. "Take it easy until we get out of here. Maybe bring up the rear."

Following Teryn, Ellanise scowls at the lines in the floor, very hesitant to step on them. She looks at the walls for something to hold onto and climb in order to get a bird's eye view of the room.

Rowan’s eyes rake the shadows, breath coming hot and fast, like a hound straining at the leash. As Ellanise scales the wall, he forces the air out slow—one, two, three—and with each measured exhale the giant-storm in him ebbs. Shoulders loosen, belt-runes dim, and his frame settles back down row by row until he’s once more a small halfling standing amid big trouble.

He slides steel home—scimitar, then shortsword—and rubs a palm over his face as if wiping off the last of the field-fury. “Alright,” he murmurs, more to the room than anyone, eyes sweeping the runes, doorways, and dead machine. “Let’s see what more scarecrows they’ve propped along these rows.” He moves forward lighter on his feet now, watchful and steady, taking in every line of the hall as if laying out a fresh furrow.

The hall ahead waits, carved through with runic symbols. The runes appear to be breathing, almost. Each faint pulse seems to draw the eye, then push it back again as if you were standing at the shore of a tide that doesn't break.

Teryn’s step across the threshold leaves a shimmer, the lattice flaring faintly beneath his boot before subsiding. The silence afterward is heavy, like the whole place is holding its breath, waiting in anticipation.

Ellanise’s eyes catch hold of the wall carvings as she tests for handholds; the stone is smooth, almost polished, though here and there the rune-work rises like scar tissue. You find that even brushing your fingers near them raises a tingling along your skin, as if the marks are aware. You imagine with a good enough attempt, you could work your way up carefully on the slight protrusions from the wall.

Rowan’s words carry softly across the corridor, but then it is as if the runes answer him with a faint hiss, like faint static fading again.

Ellanise frowns at her fingers, pulling them away from the runes.

Closing her eyes, she opens herself to magic, reaching down within herself through the generations to those who called the Feywild home.

detect magic

The glow of the glyphs brighten as your eyes shut, as though aware of your focus. For a moment, there’s only stillness, the faint hum of the runes thrumming against your skin. Then, like dipping your hand into a cold stream, you feel it. These wards are old, very old. You sense their particular taste: they strain for a trigger of sorts, illusion, masking, deception. Any magical aura of the type would call them awake. They seem to glow in the presence of magic as if anticipating to react.

A pulse rolls through the stone under your feet, light crawling across the floor like veins of lightning before fading again. The glyphs don’t reject your presence, but you get the feeling as if they’re listening.

“Some you wind, some you lose.” He answered Teryn a moment before Ellanise handed him the hope. “Thank you.”

For a moment Käinen could not help but think it wasn’t possible to transfer the enchantment of the rope to chain. Considering where they stood and Marsh’s connections they should be able to find someone who could do as much. That said, the item was a borrowed utility. He would need to consult Ellanise about the possibility, but that was for later. Part of him, what little remained of his childish self, wanted to ask the professor if he could train with other automatons. Maybe the thing could be programmed to grappling only. Considering its strength, it should make for a good device to train escaping. Gods, I’m start to think like them, admitted the voice of his mind remembering the Wardens.

As soon as he lost his focus, Merrick regained. He followed the group from behind, conscious of the fact that he was in no condition to take any hit. Pain assaulted his body as adrenaline started to subside. Not the worst he ever felt, not by a long shot, but still far from pleasant.

”Anything beyond the eyes?” The goliath asked the elves. Despite being able to use some magic himself Käinen was far from learned on the arcane.

"Wait!" Ellanise says a little too loudly. Her eyes flash at Teryn. "The wards are searching for illusion and deception," she continues, now almost whispering. "Your spell could set them off."

Teryn freezes at Ellanise's warning, dismissing his disguise. "Ah, of course. Well, it was interesting being a construct for a little while at least," he says with a small shrug, regarding the hallway for a moment before cautiously moving forward again, "The defenses here are certainly more impressive than at the University. A shame for Marsh." His eye brighten as he casts detect magic as well, looking for any wards he might be able to deactivate along the way.

Arcana: 23

For a heartbeat, the corridor holds its breath. Ellanise’s words hang in the air, and for a moment, Professor Marsh’s initial brief stirs again in your mind:

He circles an area with a tap of the quill. “These runes? Glyphs of Warding. Triggered by magical auras, and more than one is keyed specifically to detect shapeshifting or illusion magic. Step wrong, and you’ll have the pleasure of a summoned guardian beast breathing down your neck.” 

When Teryn’s disguise shimmers out of being, the runes seem to respond with a faint flicker, as if in satisfaction. The pressure in the stone eases, but only slightly, the hum of security precautions still hum in the air.

With your Detect Magic, Teryn can see it clearly: each archway along the hall is threaded with wards. They span across floor and ceiling like checkpoints, shimmering faintly in your vision. Your eyes catch their key just as Ellanise's, as if they were placed as a security check to make sure no one snuck in pretending to be someone else to gain entry. Long ago, it was a valiant effort, but these halls do not see many visitors these days. So long as you are careful, one could slip by with enough confidence.

You can see their flaws, as well. Each doorway is its own check. With enough time, you could trace the filaments, disable the glyphs one by one. Tedious, yes, but safe. Or the group could keep moving, unmasked, following the wards 'rules' rather than challenging them.

"Disabling the wards will take time we don't have," Teryn remarks thoughtfully, "Targeting illusion specifically makes sense I suppose, though if one is willing to show their true face it isn't much of an issue...As long as there are no witnesses to remember us."

"Let's go," Ellanise nods. She falls in behind Teryn, letting him lead, but with her right behind.

With her magic aiding her senses, she continues to watch out for dangerous magical wards.