"Onam xovlilar, usta Mattias. U menga o'z xalqining urf-odatlari va tarixida yaxshi o'rgatgan edi. [My mother is of the Howlers, Master Matthias. She taught me well in the customs and history of her people.]" , replies Alessandro in fluent Palagic, accent distinctly of his mother's tribe, as he answered Matthias' question about his knowledge of the Howler Lands. "U qizil chiziq klanidan edi, u bizning mo'ljallangan yo'nalishimiz bo'ylab harakat qilishni xohlaydi. Ehtimol, ularga aytishim kerak bo'lgan biror narsa bor. [She was of the Red Stripe Clan which tends to rove along our intended route. I will probably have something useful to say to them.]"

He grins,"And my family made its fortune running caravans through these lands for decades. You won't have to worry too much about me. Father didn't neglect teaching me."

Alessandro is willing to take his place as perhaps the most junior, untested member of Matthias' caravan but there should be no doubt that he was qualified. Nevermind the other capabilities he was bringing to the caravan. That said Alessandro wasn't interested in usurping Matthias or playing the know-it-all. That would be counterproductive and take him away from more interesting things they would find on the trip.

Mathias let out a booming laugh in response to that with another slap upon the shoulder that would have threatened to knock a lesser man to the ground. A fact that showed the boisterous man's respect for the younger if only because he expected him to weather the blow.

"A better handle of it than I'll ever have lad. I sound as drunk as the sailors at the river side whenever I try to talk it! Now off with ya, fall in with Amelia's team and we'll see how the journey suits ya, experience or no! Just keep the sheaths oiled and listen to the firehead there and there shouldn't be a damned thing to worry about!" he added with another gesture over to the plate clad woman who continued to bellow with the passion of a true and aggrieved commander.

As Alessandro fell into step with the others, he could feel the intensity of the woman's stare as she removed the helmet from her head and glared at this new piece in the otherwise smooth running of her machine, her command. Her hair was tangled and tinged by a fire's hue that seemed, for the most part, a natural colour save for a shock of dye here and there leading to a deeper, coppery hue. Those feral eyes stood out though and something in her stance reminded him of his own style but adapted to a single, heavier steel instead. A variant then to allow for armour and weapons suited to war over dueling.

"You the one the book keeper nudged our way? She's still got eyes for proper talent at least!"

Alessandro's eyebrows climb to his hairline at the unexpected recognition. It felt good to be taken seriously in spite of his youth, Howler heritage, or the near dissolution of the da Vigo House. Granted it was a litany that was unlikely to inspire confidence in his fellow countrymen.

Courtesy trained bone-deep into the young nobleman took over as he returned a polite smile and bow. Matthias had neglected to give the woman a title and the expedition was more a collection of adventurers then a true caravan. He chose a default.

"Good morning, Madame Amelia! I will give you no cause to regret including me in your troupe." , replies Alessandro. "You can put me where you need too. I'm not unfamiliar with life in a caravan."

He pauses before inquiring, "You move like one trained at the Coltello affilato School?"

"Good, no one gets a free ride even with a recommendation." Amelia replied with a hint of a lopsided grin as she rolled her shoulder with the subtle creaks and clatter of mail and plate. One wondered if she wouldn't cook alive in that campaigner's plate but it seemed she was made for it and that it didn't bother her in the least. Alessandro was canny and experienced enough to know that there was more than one soldier or mercenary who was happy enough to sleep in their armour.

"I've danced with the men of that school but most of my talent with a blade was forged in the drill yards of the army." She offered with a laugh and a sweep of foot towards her rear in an adopting of the traditional posture. Elements of foreign styles and other such details evident in her posture to a trained eye.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:56, Wed 18 July 2018.

Alessandro eyes the woman's forms with admiration. The various additions shaped the traditional fighting techniques into something different but not alien from what he was used too. While she lacked the elegance of a true master there was no doubt she would prove a worthy sparring partner or a deadly opponent. "Well...I see you are no slouch. You have a fine form."

His horse nickers and nudges his arm as he falls into line with the rest of the adventuerers,"This pushy beast is Marengo." he says affectionately, feeding the monster a sugar cube.

The woman's eyebrows quirked up with a lopsided grin in response to the compliment and it's double meanings but otherwise made nothing of it for the moment. Her posture relaxed regardless as she spared a glance towards Marengo with a tilt of head and a contemplative expression.

"Pushy isn't always a bad thing, my own Natasha was always been fond of demanding with bites and headbutts rather than asking or waiting to be offered. I'd rather fire in a hear than anything else if something goes crossways." Amelia offered with a grin as she gestured with one armored hand towards a black charger that lingered off to the side. The animal seeming almost preternaturally surly as it glanced back in response to it's name and whinnied with annoyance.

"Anyway, we'll be riding out shortly and you'll be staying close to me for the time being. We'll be riding a few leagues ahead to ensure a clear path but keeping close enough to round back if the caravan finds itself in any trouble. Mathias can probably beat his way out of it with that club of a sword of his but sometimes, he needs a softer touch to sort things out."

Alessandro's eyes widen a bit at the unexpected assignment. While he had no qualms about being part of the scouting contingent it was surprising that a asset like a theurge would be sent out of the main body. Well...when in Patria do as the Patrians do...

"Natasha has fine lines", he replies with a appreciative smile and to cover his own consternation. It passed quickly as he considered his place.

"I'm a decent enough horseman but I think I'll be getting out that salve my man Leobardo insist I take. He's a wily old campaigner for these kinds of outings. Glad I listened since we are going to be putting on a lot of miles.", he jokes as he listens to Amelia. "I'm versed in Pelagic if need a translator."       

"She's also fond of biting. The plate's as much for safety as practicality with a demon like that as my travelling companion." Amelia replied with a laugh at both the compliment paid her horse and the consternation she had seemed to thrust upon Alessandro. It had the ring of that distinct balance between good natured and just the right side of adversarial.

"It'd be helpful. I have a handle on a few classical languages but the tribal variants of Pelagic in the area have escaped me. Your man gives good advise though on that front. We won't be riding too hard, gods willing, but we'll be riding long to get to the prize of Mathias' eyes and the desire of his investors." she offered with a gesture to follow her as she made her way towards her own horse and the gathering of her belongings and travel goods that sat beside the saddle and girding for Natasha.

Marengo eagerly greets Natasha in his horsy fashion as Alessandro falls in beside Amelia. It was good to finally be on the move again and away from Chieri. As much as he loved the city it had become prison of sorts over the last year. He needed some time away.

He laughs at the mention of their goal, "I'm invested in making sure Mathias reaches our goal as well. I am very hopeful there will be some interesting arcana to be found. Magic has always been a passion of mine."

[We can push it forward!]

The first steps of any caravan's journey were always times of immense chaos but Mathias' company seemed to have a solid grasp upon the ephemeral details of it to keep everything flowing forward with an orderly, stately quality. The only real incident being a brief shouting match between the stout man and another caravan trying to enter the city via the same gate over right of way. The gesticulations, raising of voices, and the sudden tension of the two young gate guards on duty at that hour all giving the impression of action before they had even left the city... and then the two clapped each other on the back and the matter seemed to be sorted in that lively way of the people of Vissio without steel or blood.

It led into a few days of idle travel as the landscape slowly transitioned from the rolling and lush hill and mountain sides into the familiar flatness of the Red Dust plains. The pleasant warmth of a mid summer in Vissio falling away to the harsher climates that made the savannah and it's various denizen's way of life possible.

Through it all the vanguard of the caravan proved amicable company with an almost egalitarian bent but that, as much as anything, may have been due to the presence of Amelia who seemed comfortable with anyone that could carry their weight. Her horse, Natasha, seeming ill tempered in the extreme as they road along and nipping at anything that threatened to get close that wasn't another horse; living up to it's demonic reputation. As expected, much of the conversation was the off colour and vivacious chatter of professional soldiery and adventures with camp fire talk of past exploits and good natured probing, ribbing, and revisionist retellings of past events.

Alessandro does his assigned duties with good will and verve. The tour through the Vissian countryside for the first couple of days is nearly a holiday as the expedition moves along the roads through idyllic country scenes of vineyards and farms. Marengo absolutely loves the new freedoms afforded him in his horsey way, racing and nipping in dominance disputes with the other horses, or just outpacing all contenders. Alessandro is beginning to think Marengo is the one in charge here.

Alessandro doesn't talk as much to the men but when its discovered that he is an able artist with a pencil they beg him to draw them one by one, serious or comical poses. More than a few have sketches tucked away in saddle bags they will bring home to spouses or just as mementos.

As the scenery turns sere and dry that Alessandro becomes more intent on the surroundings. The aura of an ancient magical catastrophe seemed to lie heavy over the former Former Empire lands. Ancient stone peeking up therough the dust draw Alessandro's attentions, as well as the signs of tribal territories.

With a deft hand Alessandro draws the monuments, markers, and scenery in his chapbook. He is looking for patterns and words that speak to him about those long gone days while curiosity compels him to be at every meeting with his mother's people, asking questions and drawing conclusions.

The only horse that the bullish Marengo seemed unable to dispute with remained Natasha. The black charger forever living up to her, deserved, reputation as a demon in the flesh of the horse. Harder, faster, and of seemingly a foul disposition until she was at the head of the pack... It didn't seem so much that Amelia road her as Natasha took Amelia for a ride. It didn't stop the seemingly impervious woman from laughing in delight though at these rebellions and simply pressing herself into the saddle. The freedom of the road a potent drug, it seemed, for every one of their number as they all had wanderlust worked deep into their souls.

They weren't the ruins they were looking for but the long winding imperial roads and the flag markers at each intersection, slowly claimed by grass and weed, gave a fine sense of their course and pacing. A few marks, of course, stood out as particularly interesting and far more resent declaring the ever shifting domain and territories of the howler tribes active in the region. The familiar dust clouds of their coming and going absent but one mark stood out just a little more than the others; bearing a certain stylistic familiarity to the personal seals of Alessandro's mother.

It was only as the sun set that the forward brigade settled to make camp. The rest of the caravan close enough to be seen and aided in the moment and the smoke of their cook fires twisting idly into the air as the golds and reds of a setting sun stained the sky.

The busy work of setting camp seemed to dampen the carefree spirits of the guildsmen as they were forced to contend with the mundane. Their horses, meanwhile, seemed happy for the break in the ride. The familiar sounds of Amelia's barked orders and a cursing fit as she was head butted by Natasha. With everyone set to task, it left Alessandro to his devices; either more drawing for some of the characters of the company such as Amelia, Leon, or Casca or to explore their surroundings just a little more. A network of caves, after all, had been worked into a hill they passed and there was no doubt trinkets and artifacts of bygone wonders to be found in the field as souvenir.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:57, Sat 11 Aug 2018.

Marengo's frustrated antics around Amelia's Natasha brought a smile to Alessandro's face even as he sketched the horses in their temporary corral. Charcoal drawings were one of the best way to pass the time on the trip as well as a useful scholastic exercise when recording the bizarre tribal markings or the ornate writings of the Howler ancestors. But it was the markings of his mother's tribe that was particularly inspiring and several illustrations of it from various angles graced the pages of his book.

There were advantages to Alessandro's enhanced metabolism as the cooking fires were started. The thought of another meal of hard tack and dried meat was particularly unappetizing so Alessandro decided not to waste his time. He simply didn't need to worry about such mundane things and there were better uses to put the remaining daylight.

In an opportune moment he waves Amelia down. He dutifully says, "I'm going to be heading over to investigate those ruins on the hilltop! I may be gone for a while!"

Once his own horse and camp are squared away Alessandro shoulders his bag, snatches up a few torches, and takes a brisk walk up the hill to the caves, senses sharp as he surveys the area.

[Perfection of Understanding allows recognition of any theurgy worked in his presence, if it matters.]

Amelia spared a glance towards Alessandro with a somewhat surprised expression that implied a certain doubt about the wisdom of such a course but with nothing amiss and it hardly Alessandro's opportunity for watch, she offered her blessings in cheeky enough fashion. There wasn't a hint of disrespect, merely the expectation that men signing on with their outfit could look after themselves.

"Just try and be back for dinner, I don't fancy chasing after wayward child tonight."

With nothing else to say for the time being, she turned back to the tending of the campaign and the keeping of a relative order in guard rotations and who was in charge of passing out rations.

The journey to the hill and caves beneath it was, unsurprisingly, a placid one. The subtle hints of time worn stone and fabric could be found among the tall grasses. A hint of the past. The mouth to the caverns, themselves, showed a hint of what had once been doors; rotted away or broken down under the passage of time and the misfortune that such can bring. The air flowing from it still and tinged by the distinct tang of dust and mold born of disuse and perhaps some unseen source of water. There was something like foreboding that hung about the place as if it was a scene of tragedy or merely the resting place of honoured dead.

Akos excitement grows but is checked by the discipline of a scholar. As he moves up the hill he carefully sketches the surroundings and the placement of scraps. Alessandros is attentive, looking for clues as to the makers of this place and if it had seen other visitors over the years.

The Former Empire that had once ruled these lands had been fanatical in its use of word magics, inscribing everything with their mystical glyphs. Perhaps he would find some secret of theurgy in the ruins. A slender chance at any rate.

At the cave Alessandros lit his lantern and studied the entrance and the broken doors. The hint of water was interesting and would be valuable to the tribes of these wastes if superstition didn't bar them from entering. He is careful to look for tribal markings or warnings as he procedes deeper into the cavern.

There were many there referring to the place as cursed or otherwise a resting place for unquiet ancestors from times before the great shattering of the spheres and machines that supported them. All in the diverging scripts of the current Howler tribes. The smell of clean water, however, was unmistakable as Alessandro moved a little farther in. The warnings of the Howlers were unclear as to just what lingered there but it was along a great and faded arch way that he found reason to stop himself for just a moment.

It was that flicker of intuition and sensation that every theurge had from the working of sorcery and reality. A feeling that the gears had been shifted and tweaked and as he looked closer the spiraling script of the old peoples of this place could be seen. A barrier, of sorts, had been enacted. One that didn't keep others out but something contained within. That sense of foreboding about the place only reinforced by the thought. The words weren't specific but it, again, seemed a precaution against the unquiet dead worked into the very stones of the mound.

Alessandro grins like a fool at being in the presence of the old people's workings, and not just reading about it in his books. The Old People. Ancestors of the Howlers. HIS ancestors. It made one a bit humble.

Not for long. Alessandro steps forward with his palm outstretched and crosses the arcane barrier into the chamber beyond. He raises his lantern and eagerly looks about at the cave.

It was, perhaps, less a cave in it's conception than a proper excavation. It's walls hewn and cut from living stone with the deliberate airs of the craftsman's hand... Only to be worn away by weather and water it seemed. The air past the barrier, however, remained stale and still save for that hint of disconcerting moisture that lingered. The faintest tang of something else like spice or salt lingering.

The room itself bore the signs and appearances of something like a mausoleum with alcoves cared into the stone and small, spherical censers set into the walls on each column. The hints of past finery and etchings in the stone worn away by time as all things are. Inside those alcoves remained an assortment of belongings; some the crude leathers and weapons of the raiders while others appeared to be things far more sophisticated in their artistry and adornment. It was these latter items that seemed original pieces of the tomb while the crude leathers and weapons bore out an impression of something newer and recently laid out here. A fact further attested to by the hints of struggle and violence etched into the stone floor around the room and drawing the eye to a spiraling stair case going yet deeper.

Alessandro squats next to the newer relics, Howler adventurers perhaps. The fact they had been laid out in this Former Empire mortuary like those of its original inhabitants was curious.

He extends a fingertip to caress one of the broken weapons and concentrates. Soon a vision of the past begins to play out...

[Using Echoes of the Past to observe what happened and how it ended up here.]

Perception distorted, as it always did, when Alessandro reached out through the endless flow of the river of time. A task that became more difficult with the slow fracturing of the celestial engines and the natural laws that bound existence as he understood it. The men, howlers, clad in the leather of skinned beasts and bearing weapons of steel as likely as not stolen upon one raid or another advanced cautiously. Some, already spooked, more cautious than others as they spoke of ill omens and the scent of something unnatural in the stillness of the air.

Quiet and still, they moved with the intent of finding the scent of water that their diviners had pointed them towards. Several stopping to look over the trappings and finery left behind by the ancients with avarice clear and bright in their dark colored eyes. It was simultaneously as one approached the spiraling stairs and disturbed the bodies of the honoured dead that a shrill, thready screech tore apart the air with such force as to even warp and twist the divine magic by which the Godbound watched the events that unfolded. The man nearest the stairs fell to his knees and ceased to move whilst the others, shaken and rattled readied their weapons and watch as something black and quick as shadow roiled up.

The scene that followed as madness as much as anything else with only glimpses of a pale thing drawing men into the darkness and taking the life from them. It was a dire warning, in it's own right, for how unprepared a mortal might be for what might lurk in dark places. With the last man falling as nothing more than shriveled remains, the thing, still shrouded in shadow and time worn clothe, set about laying them to rest in the free alcoves. The habit confusing and seemingly obsessive. Each corpse arranged with belongings and possession, it retreated with that same swiftness and what might have sounded like sobs. It's form vanishing over the lip but revealing a length of spear etched with the same words and magic of the Ancestors plunged through it's form.

Withdrawing his finger Alessandro dropped his hand to the hilt of his blade, his torch held high as he examined the room again. An illuminating vision even if it brought no comfort. No doubt the thing still lurked below.

Logic told Alessandro that it was time to withdraw but his heart was drawn ever deeper into the mysteries of this place. Besides...his power should see him through anything he encounters here!

Shouldn't it?

Gathering his courage Alessandro descends the stairs.

The stairs spiraled downward into darkness with only a hint of gentle luminescence from scrawling word scripts etched above the steps at even intervals all the way down. The darkness promised hardly a comfort for the knowledge of whatever it was that might lurk in the depths of the burial mound. The air retained the scent of water, fresh and running, along side decades and centuries old funerary spices that somehow remained to burn at the nose despite the passage of time. The stillness of the air now almost oppressive with the awareness and tension Alessandro was forced to by his vision.

The steps beneath his feet, fortunately, bore no hint of trap or greater malevolence than the simple wearing of stone with the passage of feet and time. As he descended, however, scraps of fabric could be seen caught on the railing at one particular landing. It seemed like rotted silk at a first glance but upon close inspection it was merely torn and stained; any scent it might have given off long fled as it stained to brown. Another hint of what lurked beyond.

It was hardly a surprise then as he exited the narrow confines of the stairs to see more of the spiraling stairs... Still wrought of stone but now free standing and supported, no doubt, by yet more of the etched word magic of the ancestors into cavernous chamber with gentle glint of yet more somber illumination. The familiar alcoves lining the walls and stone lids at even intervals across the floor. A great crack in the wall seeping with water enough for, perhaps, a foot to pool upon the whole of the floor and move towards yet further depths in a gentle current that prevented it from growing tepid or filthy.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:39, Thu 23 Aug 2018.

da Vigo studies the room in the light of his lantern, pitching it this way and that to get as clear a view as possible. The floating stairs were a wonder but the dark waters below promised hidden dangers.

With a slight gesture of the fingers a thick stone plug fills the 'upstream' crack neatly and dams any further in-flow. Another gesture widens the 'downstream' crack and quickens the out-flow of water until only puddles remain.

Alessandro peers warily at the newly exposed floor as he braces for an attack.

[Using Builder of Mountain Peaks to dam the incoming flow and dry out the chamber.]

The water, perhaps thankfully, had done little to truly distort the perceptions of what lay below. The rows of raised sarcophagi rising perhaps, at most, a few inches above the stone floor and glistening wetly in the light of glow words and lantern to indicate forging rather than carving; the characteristic reliefs of the faces of the departed staring up peacefully and their resting place lined in warding words and well wishes against what may come in the afterlife. The side alcoves were not dissimilar but in these the belongs and armours of the ancestor once again rested in state. Rendered, after a fashion, pristine by the preservative magics of the place but otherwise worn away by those things that no magic could hold back forever.

It remained, however, pointedly and worryingly still and silent. The shadows seeming to only move and twitch with the dance of lantern's flame. Keen eyes, however, could note in the distance near one of the cracks heavy door forced wide open and a greater darkness and the sound of... something stirring faintly from within.

Alessandro spies the elusive shadow in the room beyond. Raising the lantern more he calls out, "Come out. I don't wish to fight you. I want to talk."

Perhaps the thing was capable of more than just mindless mayhem. They would soon find out.