At an excavation of some sort...Sigmund is most pleased to see this development - perhaps he won't encounter crazed mages who will tear him limb from limb after all!
"What can I say? A miner would not be an inconvenience, and could actually help us to get back to civilization. Don't you think so?""I guess. Nothing ever goes wrong at excavations in the middle of the woods, right?" Art says cheerily.
"Crazy hermits digging tunnels to the center of the earth. But it's not like we've got a choice. We should've just looted the house and then walked away," Kevin grumbles, ever the perfect pessimist.
But, no matter their personal opinions, the group moves on forward and downward, approaching the stairwell, a rather new, wooden affair that holds their weight admirably well, and go down for what seems like... twenty meters, maybe? The walls of the stairwell are initially merely reinforced till, but as the group progresses downward, they quickly transition into proper stone.
Once they reach the bottom, they become rather aware that the only light coming in is from above - the light of the now-setting sun. And this far down it illuminates rather little - the room they find themselves in is quite dark, though it is possible to make out tunnels leading in four cardinal directions, though not anything further within, sadly, aside from what looks like a small light source in what can freely be assumed to be the northward tunnel. Even the illumination from Art's core only brightens things a little bit, and in a rather short range, too.
"Man, it's dark in here," Art observes, and the sound makes the three notice something else - the whistling seems to have stopped, though one can still make out some very faint clicks before those stop as well.
In Castle Melville...Morton, quite deprived of exposition up until this very moment, tries to process the information he has so far.
"Hmm... I recall good group Gub mentioning the banishment of a demon in Mothdale, and how he hadn't been able to commune with it before it was removed. However, I've heard the news beforehand in Shriekpot. I believe that perhaps what has transpired in Mothdale may be a more recent event. The man who spoke to me about it may have been speaking of older news however, although that would have meant Gub has been aware before the event in question. Perhaps they know what has happened, and who did the dreadful deed," he says, eliciting a look of interest from Justine.
"I'm not sure what exactly, but I think something there might be a bit off. The timelines don't feel right about it.""But I suppose we cannot ask without completing good group Gub's task. I've spoken them about their task and the result of, I believe I've changed their mind as to how they shall accomplish their rebuilding. If they have taken my words to heart, I know that they'll turn Mothdale into a shining gem in these lands, a place to flock to instead of fear," Morton continues.
"I really don't share your optimism on that front. The gub are of dubious trustworthiness at best," Justine pitches in.
"But what if being good benefits them? Wouldn't it make sense for them to operate on that basis, then?" Tailor Craig, silent up until this point, proposes. Justine looks at him and shakes her head disapprovingly.
"Good lady Melville, I must ask, would the Black Circle of done such a thing? To destroy a town so violently? I admit I know very little of the Circle, only what I've heard from my companion, old rumors, and some stories. Why would they have perhaps wished ill against good sir Jurgen?" Morton meanwhile asks of Lady Melville, hoping to obtain some good information.
"The Black Circle of Magic, one of the most awfully-named magical consortiums in existence, and yet unquestionably the most powerful one, collect, manufacture, study and innovate things of magic - quite successfully, too. With eight main towers and many other centers of power all over the Free Seas, their grandmaster has more political power than any group of kings you'd care to name. The regular mages in the Black Circle are average, ordinary mages - their masters, on the other hand, tend to be of vast power and alien to anything we would consider normal conduct or behavior among people of magic. The group as a whole tends to be really distasteful as a result. And Jurgen, he had an artifact and didn't want to give it up, and also had a city of his own - I am guessing the mages wanted to consolidate by any means necessary. Although the introduction of this gub seems like a very strange twist to that idea..." Lady Melville says, raising her sort-of wings to the air as she speaks, possibly out of agitation, then lowering them again.
In the basement of the Red Tower of Power...Niklas, not quite sure if the face meant Fat Candace or somebody else, begins to loot everything in sight with the aid of Lifeboy, ending up with a set of thin glass beakers that he accidentally shatters in his hands and pockets after gripping them a little too firmly and walking a little too quickly - now, with glass thus embedded in Niklas' flesh, he and Lifeboy move upstairs!
But, as soon as they are out of the basement, they quickly realize that the face was oddly nonspecific as to where they were supposed to meet Fat Candace - upstairs is a very broad term in a tower, after all.
"Aw, nuts," Lifeboy says.
"I bet she's in the last place we'd look. And then she'd blame us for not getting there sooner. She's kind of mean that way."At the Temple of Automaton Worship...Darren finds himself remembering that he remembers terribly little about this game.
"So, uhh. What are the consequences of looking again? Can I look afterwards, or what? Oh, and drop that one," he says, dropping his card.
"Considering the entire principle of the game is that you're not supposed to know what you get, I'd presume really bad. But actually I'm not that sure," his friend replies, following suit. Both of them draw new cards. His friend appears to have gotten... uh... "TREE"?
"Oh, finally! Keep this one," his friend says.
Accidentally missed Xantalos the first time. Whoops.