Wilhiem Hammerstorm and the Tomb of Misfortunes - Featuring a Ghost, an Elf, and a Dozen Bugs, pt.1

[hammerstorm]

Wilhiem keeps his head turned away. A low chuckle can be heard as he rises - still looking away. "Hello... Moira?"

Auspice rides up on a weary looking ram. A distant cousin? She glances down at the page to verify the coordinates. She has a crossbrow slung over her back, and there's a bolt sticking out from her right shoulder. "Notebook. Glasses."

Wilhiem releases another chuckle. "What, not even a 'hello'? Come and get them, love."


There is a small tent behind the man, traces of a dimmed out fire. The gate behind him is as it appears - smooth, golden, seemingly no way to open it.

Auspice slides down from the ram, maintaining a grip on its reins. "You made it sound like an emergency. I rode here as fast as I could." She moves towards Wil cautiously.

Wilhiem rolls his shoulders. "Well, we -are short on time." He pulls the hood lower down his face, chuckles. "I found it though. Can you believe it?" He shakes his head.

Auspice walks the ram over towards the tent. "Then stop wasting it. What exactly happened, then? If you've troubled me with this cryptic message for the edification of your ego, I am going to be annoyed."

Wilhiem stretches out a hand, motioning the woman to come closer. "You wanted the glasses? The notebook? Come and get them then." He pats the robes over his chest, chuckles.

Auspice ties the ram down to the tent peg. She lays a hand on the pommel of her crossbow, then circles slowly about to face Wil.

Wilhiem turns, slowly, his head still lowered. He stretches out an arm and runs it down the woman's waist. "Well, come on now- why so hostile?" He chuckles. Something golden flashes from beneath the hood.

Auspice narrows her eyes, swings about to stand in front of Wil. "Because you are not acting yourself. The tone you are taking now is decidedly different from the one in your letter." She makes a grab for the front of his robes.

Wilhiem shakes his head. "Clever- girl. Indeed. Right. I'm rather disappointed, the pictures, the promise-" He pulls the hood down. "Careful with the body, it's still your- whatever he is to you." The first thing she'd notice is that this is -not- Wil.-

Auspice makes a vague gesture with her hand. "Just give me the glasses and the notebook." She touches the handle of her crossbow.

The man's skin is a tone darker. His eye - and only one seems intact - is framed by a network of wrinkles. Some features, here and there, are from Wilhiem himself, some are completely foreign. His left eye is gone only to be replaced by a dark void that seems to be there and -not- there at the same time. He smirks, black and gold oozing down his cheek and stretches out the notebook and glasses. "Enjoy."

The man lifts up his hand for a second, tapping on it. "What- is this?"

Auspice draws back her lips, sucking in her breath. She snatches the notebook quickly, then takes a step back - slowly. She keeps the crossbow balanced against her hip, pointed at the man. With her free hand, she pulls down her veil and crams the glasses on her nose. She begins to read quickly. "What's what." She states, irately.

He shakes his head. "Again. I would not advise against hurting this body." He taps his chest.

Wilhiem 's notes will read as follows:

"First of all, allow me to apologize. I could, actually, spend the whole page here apologizing but we are short on time. You may scold me all you want once this is done and over with. Now.This is Mah'rat. Mah'rat is dead.Mah'rat explored these very ruins a little over a century ago and perished in the end without finishing his task. Now-

Do not trust Mah'rat. Do not trust him anywhere outside of the ruins. I let him use my body in order to be able to guide you through, but there is no telling of what he might attempt once this is done and over with.

Yes, this was probably unwise, but this is the only way I could see us getting in at all - he proved this to me by opening the first entrance and he should be able to do the same for you.

Now. Precautions. There are two soul-scarabs in my pack. He does not know about this. They are enclosed in carved wooden casings that I made myself. Be careful - and, if Mah'rat attempts anything funny, warn that you will use it on him.

In fact, use one on him if the situation grows dire. If it gets me instead, use it on him again. I don't just want that man dead if he lied to me. I want him a step below death.

I am hoping that this will not have to happen. If the man speaks the truth, he will be out in twelve hours or once he leaves the layers of the circle (check my maps to see what I mean). However, I want him out on the last chamber.

I will be able to see and feel everything he sees or feels. I found his plans of the place, ask for them as well.I'll be back, I promise, and I hope.

Don't let the bastard touch you. I know he'll try.

Have fun!    -Wil."

Auspice purses her lips slightly. She glances up at the man as she reads, the crossbow still trained on the man. "Mah'rat". She curls her lips back derisively. "Have fun indeed. Alright Mah'rat. I need two things from your pack."

The man shakes his head. "No, not like that. With the back of your throat, love- Hr! Hhhhr! Roll your 'r's. Come on!"

Auspice quirks her lips with annoyance. "I don't have time for this. How long has it been since you've been a spirit?"

Mah'rat sighs. "A little over a century? I've lost count. Mmh."

Auspice circles about to get at the man's pack. "One thing ghosts tend to forget is that you need a body to feel pain." She cocks her crossbow at him. "And believe me, if you even -think- about doing anything stupid, I will show you how many places I can inflict non lethal shots on your precious corpse. I know Wil wouldn't mind."

He shrugs. "Go ahead. Maybe I'm -into- that." He wiggles his eyebrows, taking off the pack. "Or maybe -he- is into that?"

Auspice rummages through the pack quickly. She pulls out the case as instructed, along with the map. She makes a quick inventory of what was left in the pack. "Just get the door open, then."

He smiles. "And what do I get for it?"

Auspice shoots a bolt through Wil's forearm. "Get. The door. Open."

Mah'rat shifts his weight from one hip to another, cocking an eyebrow.

He looks down. Blinks. Lets out a womanly shriek before pulling the arrow right out. "Bitch! I should just stick my head unto the sands and wait to suffocate so that this idiot never gets it back!"

Auspice cuts the man a thin smile. "It's been a while since you've been shot, huh?" She trains the crossbow at the man's other arm. "Do you need arms to open the door? I can be very nice - or I can be a bitch. As long as you know who is in charge here, I will make this jaunt from beyond the grave very pleasant for you. If not ... "

Mah'rat shakes his arm, hissing. "Yes, lady, I very much need these dainty fingers of mine! Now, if we are playing nice you've got to- play -along-." He growls, making his way to the door. "Come... witch. Is that hat some sort of a fashion statement?"

Auspice curls her lips back. "Did Wil have to pick such an insufferable ghost? He had better not have had a choice - if he settled on you, perhaps I'll put a few more bolts in your kneecaps for good measure afterwards."

The man runs a hand across the door, through a few indents, pressing down, making odd gestures as he does so, as if playing a musical instrument. "He picked me because I am -handsome-." Click-click.

Auspice frowns. "Really?" She studies the man's movements with care, attempting to discern a pattern. "You look like shit. And I am not sure I like that ponytail on him."

He looks back, grins. The void-eye twinkles, shifts, and disappears for a second revealing a familiar grey - narrowed. Hides in the dark again. "Just a matter of getting used to- and the hair was getting in the way of work." More hissing. Clicking.

Auspice shakes her head slightly. The complex pattern was quickly lost on the elf. She shifts impatiently, looking over her shoulder. "I don't plan on it, Mah'rrrrrrat." She emphasizes the r.

He nods. "Better! Better. Better than him, actually. Almost done here, by the way, you are in luck, miss. It took me three months to figure out the pattern." A loud, distant buzz can be heard, the ground vibrating ever so slightly. The gates seem to press in. "Almost there, sugar." He winces, throwing back a fist and pressing down onto the gate-front.

Auspice frowns. "That's strange. Wil always seemed to have low range of gutterals. I would have thought that he would excel at that sort of phoneme." She takes a step up towards the door, the crossbow still aimed at the man. "Now what?"

He shakes his head. "Now you move back, love." Step after step, he does so himself, quickening the pace.

Auspice keeps pace with the man, crossbow wedged against arm and hip the entire time, trained on the map. "What am I to expect? I'd like some forewarning."

The gates move forward with a loud groan, revealing a dark and narrow room. A distant light is gleaming at the very end. The dark-haired man winks. "Off we go? Careful, there's a slope." The ceiling is high, towering.

"Expect- everything." He chuckles.

Auspice waves the man onward with her crossbow. "You first." She casts a glance about the interior, looking for possible crenellations, imperfections, inconsistencies that may suggest hidden panels or traps.

Auspice curses inwardly the perishability of cameras in water. That'd be the second company camera in as many weeks.

The walls are perfectly high and smooth. Small, dark shapes dart about. "Scarabs, don't touch them." He rolls his shoulders, making his way down the slope and towards the small hatch in the end. "I dug this out. Be quick, crawl in, feet first- there is a bit of a drop. We are not coming back the same way." That said, he disappears down. A quiet 'thump' can be heard, echoing from the stone-carved walls.

Auspice glances about dubiously. A small, narrow hatch with a drop? The perfect place for an ambush. She shoulders her crossbow and pack, palming a dagger instead, before sliding down after the man.She would feel something crunch beneath her body. If she looked down, she would notice a pile of dried and almost fully decomposed small bodies - pygmies. Hundreds of them. Mah'rat is only a few steps away, dusting off his robes and smirking. "Doing alright?" He smiles. They are in a dome-shaped chamber now, lit by numerous scarab-shaped lanterns that are pressed into the walls and the ceiling like jewels.

Auspice lets out a hacking cough, then sneezes into the palm of her glove. She looks about the desiccated corpses with disinterest. "How -did- you end up as a corpse, Mah'rrrrrat?" She unslings the crossbow.

He shakes his head. "Well, it did not happen here- come, come!" He makes a vague gesture with his hand, carefully prying a small, carved door open.

Auspice follows after the man cautiously, taking time to pick her way through the corpses. She casts her gaze upward towards the vaulted ceiling, clearly impressed. "Hngh. Hope Wil made a few drawings of this." She turns back to the man. "Where, then?"

This door leads to yet another chamber. It seems to be carved entirely out of some rich bone, delicate ivory railings and patterns falling over from the ceiling and the numerous pillars like frost on a window. In those carvings - scarabs, everywhere.-

"Unfortunately, no. He is here.. down here... for the first time, like yourself. And I lack his- abilities which are admirable, really!"

Auspice narrows her eyes slightly at the man. "You are avoiding the question. Where, -how did you die?" She moves towards one of the one railings, taking out a thin scalpel with her free hand.

He turns back and throws the woman a sly smirk, making his way towards a tall arch at the end of the hall. In front of it is a table of sorts. On this table - also carved from the bone - are two hand-shaped indents.

" All in due time! I died in the end. In the -very- end, see, I went alone and that was my own damn fault. You need at least two people to finish that- game."

[He nods towards the indents. "Go ahead." Places a hand in one of them.

Auspice scrapes a bit off of the ivory railing into a vial before picking up her pace to join the other. She pockets the vial, then at the hand shaped indent. "What does this do." She states flatly, hands at her sides.

The man smirks. Something stirs in the dark - and a mechanism seems to start working. The pillar to the right of them splits in two and a long ivory blade lowers itself on top of their hands, while a cuff forms around their wrists from underneath the table. "See, I went alone, and I won this one - thankfully - two hands, insurance. Even if we both lose we can go on." He smiles. Something shifts behind the arch and a bone-carved statue rises with a hiss. It looks like a woman with skewed proportions and scarab-shaped jewels for eyes. It's mouth opens.

Auspice draws her lips back into a snarl, her free hand fingering the pommel of her dagger. "What now?" She looks expectantly to the man, alert to any movements or tensing of muscle that may betray his next move.

He smiles. "We wait! And we hope we answer right."

The ivory-carved woman's mouth moves slowly, with a  hiss.

"Two strangerssss- two questions. Two answersss. Two doorss."

Mah'rat narrows his eyes. "Bitch. There was only one last time! One!"

Auspice narrows her eyes, muscles tense. She didn't want to lose her hand. An annoyed growl rumbles from her throat.

The scarab-eyes dim.

"First one- three tries- one answer." A low, distant cry can be heard. The man shifts uneasily. "Wonder if they are the-" The blade lowers menacingly. He swallows.

"Little time to waste, strangers." The woman opens her mouth.

More powerful than the most powerful of gods. More vile than the most vicious of demons.

I speak in silence. I speak in riddles.

Those with no coin to my name, they have me whole.

Those showered to their teeth with gold do not.

What am I, strangers?

Auspice grits her teeth. She examines the metal cuff on her wrist, trying to gauge its strength. "Hnngh."

"A thought."

The blade lowers an inch, with a hiss. "Wrong." Mah'rat suppresses a yelp.

Auspice hisses at the man. "Well? Any ideas? You've been through here at least twice."

The man wrinkles his nose. "This is not- the one I got last time. However, be careful what you say - she may count almost every noun- as an answer. It's simple though, usually. Think about what she does -not- mention."

Auspice reaches into her pack for a vial of anesthetic. She pushes her thumb against the cork of the vial. "Desire."

The blade lowers yet another inch. "Wrong." The scarab-eyes light up and go dim again. The man shudders. "You are not very good at this."

Auspice lets out a low growl. "Shut up. You are not helping."

He shakes his head. "Well- take the statements, put them together. What do they have in common?"

Auspice grits her teeth. She pops the cork on the vial, then inhales deeply. "... Nothing."

The blade hisses, retreating. Auspice's cuff opens with a click. "Correct."

Auspice exhales slowly, then closes her eyes. She lets her hand fall to her side. "Your turn."

Mah'rat looks down at his own wrist, then up at the ivory-woman again. He taps a finger on the cuff. Looks up. "Right?" The scarab-eyes light up, then dim again. "Two strangers. Two questions."

The ivory-carved woman opens her mouth once again.

"Why do you run from death?"

Mah'rat winces. "This is not- what." A low growl is heard deep behind the archway.

He looks back at Moira, up at the riddler. "Money." The blade lowers.

Auspice rubs her wrist, glancing over to the man. She casts her gaze about the room, looking for a weakness she could exploit in the ivory woman - anywhere.

Auspice frowns. "This is obvious, if she is asking about Wil."

The woman is an odd device, seemingly bound to the room. There is a long hallway behind her - but there is no way to squeeze in, through, or past. The man looks back.

"What is it? I'm not sure which one she is asking. I guess we'll find out."

"Try love - or to live. Take your chances."

He narrows his eyes. "To... love?" The scarab-eyes light up and dim once again.

"Wrong." The blade lowers.

The man bites his lip. "I think she is- asking me. I hope. You like your lad with his hands intact, right?" He bats his eyelashes.

Auspice makes a vague gesture with her hand. She turns to the side, watching the man from the corner of her eye. She wasn't about to betray her feelings to Mah'rat. "You'd better hope you're right."

He chuckles. "The lad's -obsessed-, Fel, did you even see all those drawings? Right-" He shakes his head, looks up at the ivory statue.

"I want to live. To live - forever." The light form the scarab eyes suddenly becomes so bright that it fills the entire room.

Auspice narrows her eyes, looking about the room quickly. She grips the pommel of her crossbow, thighs tense. "You don't know what you are talking about, Mah'rrrat. But I am glad you were right."

A hiss. The blade falls down, stopping a hair's length away from the man's wrist.

"Fooolssss." The woman starts spinning rapidly, lower and lower, sinking into the floor. The cuff releases his hand. The table lowers itself, slowly, and the blade shoots up to hide inside the pillar once again. The man sighs, rubbing his wrist.

"Ugh- right. Let's go. That hallway- is long. Move behind me. Do not touch anything to your right or to your left." He takes a step towards the dark archway. "There is a door at the very end, but to get to it, we do -not- touch the walls or even look at them, understand? Better yet, grab me by the robes and repeat my steps exactly." He swallows.

Auspice offers a curt nod. She moves behind the man, focusing squarely on the despicable ponytail of his. It'll probably bob up and down with his gait too. Great. She grips his cloak with one gloved hand, the other remained on the pommel of her crossbow. "I  understand. I'm ready."

Wilhiem thinks that the ponytail really -is- despicable. Bounces.

He takes a step back, grinning, attempting to throw his head back onto the woman's shoulder. "Well, hello."

Auspice bumps into the man as he steps back. She jerks the crossbow against the small of his spine. "You'd better watch yourself, Mah'rrat. Any more sudden movements, and I will not be responsible for any ...  misfires. I picked this off of a dead nomad. It  is not reliable."

The man chuckles. "Really, you would maim -his- body? Well, if I-" He swallows. Takes a step forward. "Right. Now, this room- is a bit more dangerous than the previous one. Scarabs, remember? Don't touch the walls." He carefully, gracefully makes his way through the corridor, foot after foot. There is a faint, constant hissing coming from the walls, as if water was running down them - but there is no moisture in the air. Scattering of a million legs, up, down, and around, everywhere but the floor. Numerous glistening bodies, the shells reflecting what little light the narrow corridor offered. A swarm, a living blanket. Touching these walls would probably be a very bad idea indeed.

Auspice pushes the crossbow roughly against his back. "You've no idea, Mah'rrrrat. Whatever he told you about me - you're right. He's obsessed. The troubling thing for you now, /spirit/, is if I reciprocate that interest." She traces the man's steps, matching  each of his movements. She knew firsthand how deadly these scarabs could be - she had no intention of repeating the experience.

The man chuckles, keeping his head and his voice low. "Now. Sweetie. It would mean -nothing- to me to trap you in here but I am not doing it, am I? I am helping. I am a good person!" He makes a mocking wave to the side, pretending to scoop up a bug.

Auspice continue to match each step, letting out a low growl. "Enough with the banter. Save it for when we are not in a deathtrap."

The man shakes his head. "The entire place is a death trap, my thorny desert-flower. Haven't you guessed already?" The hallway is about halfway done.

Auspice sucks in a slow breath. She focuses gaze at the man's veiled shoulder blades. "Then you'll shut up until I am out of it. Is that too hard for you to grasp?"

Step, another, and now the man has stopped. He turns to face the woman. "You are missing my point here. You -need- me. I do not need you. All I needed here is a body - and I got it. I can get to the end by myself. In fact, I can throw you down to the scarabs right now and just run out. Would you like that?" He narrows his single eye.

Auspice looks the man in the eye, drawing her face into an implacable wall. She didn't have time for this. "Right - no, of course not. Accept my apologies, Mah'rat."

The man smiles, cocking his head to the side. "Then play along, sweetie, and we both can have what we need. Right? Right!" He turns sharply, making his way down the corridor. Stopping. "Door's here." He slams a foot down on the floor - promptly disappearing once again. A distant echo, cackling. "Whoops!"

A distant yelp. Thundering steps - like a large vehicle passing by. The ground is shaking, scarabs falling down from the ceiling. An angry growl. "Shit!"

Auspice exhales slowly. Why was it that the most insufferable spirit was trapped n Wil's body. As soon as the shaking starts though, she wastes no time. She steps where Mah'rat had stepped, repeating his actions.

One would certainly hope that the woman could properly land - it was a drop of about six feet, piles and piles of sand underneath. The sand rolled down, in a slope, revealing a huge, elliptical hall, the ceiling as tall as a five-story building.

Mah'rat could be seen in the distance. Running. Falling, scrambling, running again. He is being chased down by a giant, clanking, thundering cloud of sand. It glistens, shifts, and releases loud screeches, metal grinding against metal.

Auspice landed in a jumble of limbs. Her staff and pack sliding down from the large pile of sand before she did. She raises her voice to be heard above the screeching, leveling her crossbow. "What the fel is that thing?"

The 'insufferable spirit' snaps his head back at the woman, grins. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He stops, crouching on all fours and looking up. The cloud stops, the sand settles. Said thing stops a few feet away from the man, letting out a loud hiss. It is a construct of some sort. Layer upon layer of stone covered with intricate golden designs, jewels embellishing the enormous shell. Six legs, huge mandibles. It is a scarab. A rather large one. Really, did you expect anything else?

The man lets out a shuddering breath and starts running again. "This was not here before!"

Auspice straightens her legs, leaning forward to slide faster down the sand dune. She catches up with her pack, slinging it quickly over her shoulder. "I am very sick of these fel cursed scarabs in this fel cursed tomb." She takes aim carefully and she coasts her way towards the bottom of the sand. "Recommendations?"

The man stops for a second, catching his breath, falling down to the ground and rolling away from the thundering beast. "I don't know yet. Keep running. I think better when I run- now! Plan. This is a construct. You can de-activate those things. Question!" He throws a hand up into the air, running towards the edge of the pit, turning sharply, and running again. "What exactly do we turn off? Hn- Thank Fel this lad of yours is at least physically -fit-."

Auspice takes a shot at the scarab's jewel encrusted back with her crossbow as she finally slides to the bottom of the dune. She collects her staff, looking about the room quickly, trying to discern any features of note - an exit, perhaps.

There are oval-shaped, thick, glass-covered domes  all across the lower edge of the room. As Auspice takes a shot at the construct's back, it seems to turn his attention to the woman immediately, charging.

"And here I had it all figured out! Run!"

Auspice remains still - such a lumbering construct would surely generate a great deal of momentum. With her back to the dune, she readies a vial of acid. As soon as it got close, she would fling it at the creature's face, then hurl herself out of its path at the last possible minute. Who says playing chicken never helped anybody?

Mah'rat uses this chance to run about the edge of the room, knocking on each glass-covered dome. "This was -not- where it lead the last time, hun-huh, not at all..." The construct rises up on its lower legs, shaking its head in rage. The acid seems to either blind or disorient him, either way, it cannot easily track the invader's direction anymore, not with as little ease anyway. The dark-haired man knocks on the glass-covered dome and wrinkles his nose. "Hrn- well done."

Auspice stands up from the roll she had done across the sand. She glances about the room, then dashes her way towards the closest glass dome, glancing over her shoulder all the while. "What is in these?"

The man glances at the woman, then at the construct. He shouts. "I don't know! Let's find out!" The glass is frosted - she wouldn't be able to peer at the other side. Mah'rat places two fingers in his mouth and lets out a loud whistle. The construct charges at the dome, shattering it as the man rolls away. Nothing behind this one, just sand - six more domes to go. "Help me! Do as I do!" The man shuffles away, quickly, quietly.

Auspice nods. "Clever." She dashes towards the next dome, then levels her crossbow. She takes aim carefully, then unleashes a shot from her bow at the scarab's back. Her legs tense, she prepares to dive out of the wave.

The construct takes a final lunge at the man's direction before dashing off towards the source of the shot. The glass shatters once again. The scarab backs up, shaking its head and letting out a metallic groan. If the woman was close enough at this point, she would feel a wave of immense heat from behind the shattered glass as long tongues of flame erupt from behind the stone-carved wall.

Auspice recovers quickly, ready to dash off towards the next glass dome. "I'm glad whoever built you also made you as dumb as a brick!" She notices the flames from the indent. "Wi - ... Mah'rat! Get this thing away from me! I need to take a look at what it just  smashed!"

The man rises from the dust, cradling an hand. "Hn- right." He lets out another whistle, stepping over to the third dome. Moira wouldn't be able to see much - the flames do not seem to stop. Whoever built it did not want it to be broken by anything but the construct. The flames stretch out for almost half the length of the room's diameter at its longest point.

Auspice grits her teeth, looking back at the flame. She positions herself as close as possible to it without having her clothes seared off. She waits for the beetle to charge towards Mah'rat, leveling her crossbow.

The sound of smashing glass fills the room. A yelp, a womanly shriek. "I do not, do not, do -not- recommend moving anywhere near this one!" The opening quickly starts to spew out- creatures. Numerous bugs, scorpions, scarabs, insects, locusts.

Auspice lets out a faint sigh. "... Wil." She takes a shot at the scarab from across the room before rolling out of the way, hoping to lure it into the path of the flame.

This scarab ain't afraid of no flame. This scarab is a champ. This flaming, hissing, thundering, dust-kicking thing continues charging into the next dome. Mah'rat dashes about in circles, attempting to shake off whatever critters latched onto his robes. "Hey! Hey why do they -like- me all of a sudden, hmm?" Glass shattering. The man lets out a whistle to lure the construct away once again. Behind the last dome is an opening - another narrow path. It is well-lit by numerous scarab-shaped lanterns.

She dashes off towards the next dome, before seeing that a path had opened up. She dashes towards it. "You'd like them too if you were Wil. Let's /go/." She glances over her shoulder to make sure the man was following.

Mah'rat grunts, rolling away immediately and dashing towards the woman. "You -sure- that's safe?"

Auspice manages a quip over her shoulder. "I'm -sure- /that/ isn't safe. Unless you'd like to stay behind." She ducks into the hallway. "Move it!"

The man follows swiftly. Construct's groaning could be heard from behind as it starts to charge once again, attracted by the woman's shouting. He cocks his head to the side, grins, starts dashing down the hall - towards the intricately carved door. Said door seems to be half-open, letting in soft, pink-tinted light.

Auspice reaches into her pack as soon as the man is through the door. She pulls out a red vial - the flare. She shakes it violently, then hurls it across the room. It would explode in a series of violent red sparks as it smashed against  the floor. Auspice runs down the hallway to rejoin the man, her momentum almost carrying her into his back. She braces herself with her hands on his shoulders, then on the wall, skidding to a stop.

The man grins, turns. He raises a hand up to the woman's forehead. "You alright?" The construct rushes over towards the flare like a puppy towards a milk bone.

Auspice raises a hand to swat his away. "The flare doesn't last long. What is beyond this door?"

The man smiles, folding his hands together and offering a court bow. He backs up. "A- shortcut, it appears. Look!" Grinning widely, he kicks the door behind him open.