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Jingling Lily
64dbac
Come morning, you rouse to find you and your companions intact and rested, reporting the watch was uneventful thanks to locale and SHROUD. Having ventured much deeper along the wilderness, you are set to make good time to your destination -- and once the camp has been broken down and remnants of your presence abated, you set out with Geoffrey and Zarin to make haste.
For several hours you trek, navigating the twists and dips of the road to Volkregar; compared to the prior paths, this one proves markedly more substantial and seems to have broadened at the fork after your encounter with the brigands -- suggesting more active and regular usage to and from the more northern reaches of Khor. Around you the air is thick with insects and cloying humidity and while your savvy herbalism largely spares you from the former, the latter leaves your pelt damp and keen sense of smell partly subdued.
As before, you again seek to handle navigation and traversal with Geoffrey, avoiding a suspicious dead-fall on the road. Mid-day, the gloom of the sky above darkens and intensifies, leaving you with that tell-tale prickly sensation precluding a storm. Determined to avoid setbacks, the three of you press on as a drizzle of rain begins to fall, further muddying the way ahead. From this, at least, you feel reassured in your decision to switch to tall leather boots, for your sandals would have left your legs mired and caked with mud most vexing.
Further on, your ears prick to the sounds of a swift river current some ways away, parallel to the road -- and as the weather trails to a burgeoning storm and grows more intense, fat dollops of rain summon splashes in ever-broadened puddles, pattering against the hood of your cloak. "I should've taken one from that lot." Geoffrey quips of your covering. "Mindful not to get tripped up on one in a scrap, though..." He mutters to himself, quite decidedly soaked.
Thunder rumbles in a rolling, roiling wave; with a flash fingers of lightning dance earthward and cast broad shadows, the scent of ozone faint. Together, you reach a gentle slope descending as the road broadens ahead, soggy swamp spreading aside and giving way to the edge of the wilderness -- far in the distance, you can spy the peaks of mountainous terrain and as the canopy parts, you set eyes more clearly on a vast and foreboding sight.
With a coursing river serving as its moat, rocky terrain rises beyond the opposite short and serves as the foundation to a vast fortress of sorts; a gatehouse looms before the span, its portcullis partly raised before the darkness within, while from your vantage you can see a drawbridge raised beyond. In the distance and on high, you spy crumbling crenellations and battlements shrouded in shadow while from the flanks of round towers trail staggeringly large chains, anchored in what appear to be rune-etched obelisks.
Lightning crackles again, twice over in tandem, bolts captured by metal spires capping conical roofs and illuminating gruesome gargoyles perched on their precipice while opulent archways adorn the cusp of a keep looming above it all. After a moment, you come to glimpse light aglow from lofty windows, suggesting an active presence within -- but no guard or garrison seems to grace the entrance as you might expect. You gather your nerve and steel your resolve, for there is no mistaking it: you have arrived at the VAULTS OF VOLKREGAR, domain of one of the last Magi of Khor -- and that you may one day breach the FATED CITY, here you must prevail.
-- END OF ACT 1 --
With this, we wrap the first thread -- but know that ACT 2 will commence soon, with great perils and daring escapades aplenty! I hope you have enjoyed our tale thus far and thank all of you who have followed along and supported its telling! If you would like in the meantime (and really, onward as we go) there is a discussion thread located here: https://questden.org/kusaba/questdis/res/137106.html#137106
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