Plotlogs
To Breach Stone And Shatter The Veil Sr Nate 250301
In the dense forests of Navorost, a party of adventurers, accompanied by the seasoned mercenaries of Forged Fortune, faced the mysterious and dangerous Petrified Tower. As dawn broke, they met with Centurion Marco and his team - Vex, Griggs, Dane, Rook, and Kara, setting the stage for their perilous journey. Each member specialized in a specific role, from sharpshooting to heavy weapons, forming a formidable force prepared to confront whatever lay within the tower.
As they approached their destination, they were ambushed by a sinister gorgon. The creature's gaze turned members of the squad to stone, drastically reducing their numbers. In a desperate fight, they managed to defeat the beast, courtesy of teamwork and bravery, particularly from Juniper and Victoria, who found creative ways to avoid looking directly at the creature while fighting back. Their struggle was not in vain, as the stone curse was lifted from their petrified comrades once the gorgon fell. However, the victory was bittersweet, as they mourned those permanently lost to stone, their stories ending as silent sentinels outside the tower's entrance.
The opening of the tower revealed an atmosphere heavy with magic and history, beckoning the adventurers inside. Inside, they were met with a scene frozen in time, full of ancient artifacts, mysterious jars, and crumbling tomes - a treasure trove of knowledge untouched by time. Juniper and Victoria, rummaging through the artifacts, sought the essential materials needed for their ritual. Despite accidental releases of unknown entities and the unsettling energy permeating the tower, they found a jar containing the precise mix of obsidian dust and ground selenite necessary for their quest.
Reflecting on the enveloping atmosphere of ancient magic and the stirring sense of having barely scratched the surface of the tower's secrets, Juniper expressed a desire to return. With the crucial elements in hand, and a newfound resolve, the adventurers prepared for their journey back, hinting at future explorations into the forgotten depths of the Wilds' most enigmatic places.
Their expedition to the Petrified Tower thus concluded with a mixture of success and solemn contemplation, marking the end of one chapter and the potential beginning of many more within the untamed wilderness of Navorost.
(To breach stone and shatter the veil(SRNate):SRNate)
[Fri Feb 28 2025]
In Near the Petrified Tower
Deep within the forests of Navorost, there stands a solitary tower.
It is before dawn, about 76F(24C) degrees, and there are a few wispy white clouds in the sky. There is a waxing crescent moon.
Traveling through the forests of the Wilds is not much of a problem for many of the party since these paths have been navigated many times some, so it doesn't take long to reach their destination. The Petrified Tower stands as a solemn monolith in the heart of the forests of the Wilds, its immense form stretching toward the storm-laden sky. The stone that comprises it is a deep, slate-gray, as if time itself hardened the structure beyond natural decay. Its surface is cracked and weathered, though in places, it is eerily smooth, as though shaped by forces beyond mortal understanding. Veins of glowing energy pulse through the fissures in the rock, flickering in shifting hues of blue and orange, like the slow breath of something ancient. They move irregularly, as though the tower itself is alive, its heart still faintly beating. Twisted vines and massive roots, long since petrified, coil around its base and stretch up its walls, frozen mid-motion. Some hang from the upper reaches like jagged stone chains, their sharpened ends swaying slightly, though no wind disturbs the air. At the base, a massive doorway looms, carved directly into the rock. It is twice the height of a man, its edges adorned with fading runes that flicker weakly, as if waiting for the right words to reignite their power. The entrance does not appear to be a separate piece but rather fused into the tower itself, suggesting it may only open by means beyond brute force. Surrounding the tower are the statues of the fallen figures of warriors and shamans, frozen in place as though caught mid-stride or mid-incantation. Some bear expressions of terror, others reverence, and a few seem almost peaceful, as if they had accepted their fate before being claimed by stone. Cracks run through some of them, but none have shattered completely, their forms standing as eternal sentinels of the tower's legacy. The air around the structure is unnervingly still, thick with the scent of dust and lingering magic. A deep, humming resonance pulses through the ground, barely perceptible at first but unmistakable to those who step too close. It thrums in the bones, a warning, or perhaps a call, as the tower waits for those daring enough to enter.
Nearby is the contact, Centurion Marco, a tall, battle-hardened soldier with a lean, muscular build. He has short dark brown hair with hints of gray, cold steel-gray eyes, and a scarred face, including a thin mark on his left cheek and a jagged one on his neck. His black Kevlar armor, reinforced with composite plating, bears the Forged Fortune insignia and his Centurion rank. Equipped with a customized battle rifle, a combat knife, and a sidearm, his stance and sharp gaze reveal a seasoned warrior who's always prepared for the worst. Centurion Marco motioned for his men to step forward, their black tactical armor blending with the twilight shadows cast by the Petrified Tower. The mercenaries stood with practiced ease, their weapons slung but never far from reach. Each bore the insignia of the Forged Fortune, the Sword of Damocles patch stitched onto their shoulders. Marco gestured to the first, a lean sharpshooter with a scoped rifle resting against her shoulder. "This is Vex. She's our long-range support. If anything moves where it shouldn't, she'll see it before it sees us." Vex smirked slightly, adjusting the angle of her visor. "Just don't get in my line of sight, and we'll get along just fine." Next was a broad shouldered man with a heavy machine gun slung across his chest, his armor reinforced with extra plating. "Griggs. Close range fire support. If something needs to be put down hard, he's the one to do it." Griggs simply nodded, his expression unreadable behind the tinted visor of his helmet. Beside him stood a lithe, wiry figure, the smallest of the group, though the way he carried himself suggested speed rather than fragility. Marco tapped his shoulder. "Dane. Scout and breacher. If there's a locked door or a path through the ruins, he'll find it or make one." Dane gave a casual salute, his fingers twitching near the hilt of a combat knife strapped to his vest. "Just let me know when to go first." To the right, a quiet, imposing figure stood slightly apart from the others. His armor bore a distinct claw mark over the chest plate, a faded reminder of past battles. "That's Rook," Marco said. "Heavy weapons and forward defense. If we need to hold a position, he's the wall between us and whatever's coming." Rook simply nodded, shifting his grip on the large shield strapped to his back. Last was a woman with a pistol holstered at her thigh and a compact submachine gun strapped to her chest. Her stance was relaxed, but her eyes moved constantly, scanning the adventurers, the terrain, and the tower in a single practiced sweep. "Kara. Medic and tactician. If you're bleeding, she'll patch you up. If we're in a bad spot, she'll find the fastest way out." Kara nodded to the adventurers but said nothing, her expression unreadable. Marco turned back to the adventurers, crossing his arms. "That's my team. We've fought in worse places than this, but that doesn't mean we're underestimating what's inside. We're here to make sure you get the sands and get out in one piece. Once you are ready, we will cover the perimeter so you can find a way in."
Victoria squints her eyes, patting down her equipment before snapping her fingers. "I forgot liquor," she sighs out, more toward Juniper than anyone else.
Juniper stands at attention, listening stoically to the introductions given to her by Marco, nodding her greeting to each member in respect and gratitude both while her eyes keep drifting over to the tower. Following that thorough briefing she releases a sigh that sounds like a breath that had been held for some time. "I need dust, or, well sands, of crushed Obsidian and Selenite," she relays to Victoria in her thoughtful and unhurried tones, keeping her voice low for some reason. "They will be... the conduit for energy to open the- well like the door we're going to be opening for the Elemental Plane of Earth." She slides her gaze back over to Victoria from the tower. "It has to be pure though. It needs... well. Everything has to be perfect. I can't risk anything less."
"I have reason to believe the shamans from this tower," Juniper gestures to the great structure before them, "Would have it. They communed with the different planes. They would have needed it."
As there seems to be no overt objection from Victoria, Juniper gives a little nod to Marco then in confirmation. "Let's hope this place gives up its secrets with a little less payment required this time," she says with a wry little smile. "I'm ready to head in."
With the green light given from Juniper and no objections from Victoria, the Forged team advances towards the tower in a wedge formation, clearly showing that this isn't the first time as the team worked together. A clear reflection of both professionalism and experience. As Marco and his squad neared the Petrified Tower, the air grew unnaturally still, thick with a sense of impending danger. The dim light cast by the tower's stone seemed to warp, flickering like a shadow just beyond reach. Then, with a sudden lurch, the trap was sprung. From the shadows near the entrance, a dark, sinuous shape lunged forward, its scaled body rippling with unnatural grace. Its glowing, slitted eyes locked onto the mercenaries, and in that instant, the world around them seemed to freeze. Vex, the sharpshooter, barely had time to shout a warning before her body stiffened, her rifle raised halfway to her shoulder. Dane, moving to react, was struck next, his body freezing in mid-step, locked in a permanent lunge. The transformation was instantaneous flesh grayed, hardened, and became lifeless stone in the blink of an eye. "Find cover!" Marco shouted, diving behind a jagged stone outcrop. The rest of the squad scrambled, ducking and weaving as they tried to stay out of the creature's line of sight. Its shadow slithered closer, the gorgon's hiss echoing in the stillness as the mercenaries did their best to avoid its gaze. The petrified soldiers stood like grim statues in the ruins, their bodies silent and unmoving. Somewhere in the dark, the gorgon's low chuckle reverberated, mocking them. It wasn't done yet. With a sudden flick of its tail, the gorgon slithered forward, its eyes gleaming as it locked onto the remaining mercenaries. The air around them seemed to freeze as its gaze swept over the group. Vex, crouched low, rifle ready, felt the curse wash over her. Her fingers froze, unable to pull the trigger, as stone began creeping over her body. Her rifle, once aimed, became a part of the landscape, the cold grip of the curse claiming her. Griggs was next. His massive form, rifle raised to fire, was hit mid-motion. His arm went rigid, his eyes wide with shock, but there was nothing he could do. His body began to turn to stone, his weapon now an immobile, lifeless piece of the scene. The gorgon's gaze swept over the two statues now standing among the wreckage, a victorious hiss escaping its lips. With a casual flick of its tail, it knocked over a loose stone, testing the permanence of its victims. It slithered closer, its movements slow but inevitable, its eyes fixed on the remaining squad, preparing to finish what it had started. The rest of the team scrambled for cover, hearts pounding in their chests. They knew they couldn't hesitate much longer. Marco turned to them, his face grim and determined. "Fall back! NOW!" he barked. The urgency in his voice was clear. "We need to drop it!" As the gorgon inched closer, its eyes scanning for its next victim, the remaining squad members moved quickly, the pressure mounting as the creature closed in. The moment to act was fast approaching.
With a gaze first to those turning to statues, then drawing toward that shape, Victoria's fingers draw an arrow into a bow she holds. Without lifting her face too high, she steadies herself and aims higher than where she looks, firing an arrow with a flicker of hope. "June," she clears her throat. "We should probably....." she doesn't move from the blonde, but she does chew at her lower lip, ticking her head toward the others.
Lucky to not be in the line of immediate sight when the beast emerges from the shadow, Juniper is able to take quick stock of the situation and use the petrified remains of others who had come before them as temporary shelters. Running, ducking, and rolling between pieces of cover, the blonde tries to keep her back to the creature as much as possible while regularly taking in deep, measured breaths - nostrils flaring to draw in as much of the scent of the creature as she can - marking it for memory. When Victoria makes it to her side and lets loose the arrow, Juniper is closing her eyes and focusing on her supernatural senses to hear, and scent where the gorgon is at. Drawing her rifle from where is is strapped against her pack, she readies it and in another moment of quiet where she can mark the whereabouts of the gorgon as best she can without having to make too much of an effort to stare, she pops out of cover to release a spray of bullets.
In the first volley of attacks, the gorgon took out Dane, Vex, and Griggs. This only left Juniper, Victoria, Marco, Rook, and Kara left. In a quick sweep, a third of their ranks have been turned to stone. Rook pulls from his back, a heavy riot shield made of some kind of metallic compound. It appears to be very heavy, but it is something he moves as if it was made of cardboard and in his other hand, a massive two-handed sword held in a single hand as he starts advancing, keeping himself completely out of view of the gorgon as he slowly advances on where he believes it is. Perhaps a sound tactic, perhaps a foolish one, but at this moment, it seems like no orders have been issued and Rook is taking it onto his own to deal with it. Then it happens, Juniper lets off a burst of fire at the gorgon, raking fire hitting into the gorgon as it screeches in pain from the injury. How many shots actually hit it, it is uncertain. After all, who really wants to make sure to get a good look to know?
Whether it was purely Juniper's firing or Victoria's arrow. All that is certain, something hit the gorgon. They can determine who hit what after the battle is resolved.
"We need something reflective," Victoria tells Juniper in a hushed tone, before letting another arrow loose, taking only a brief moment to sense where the unknown thing may be. "It just needs to look at itself."
"I think we all know by now not to look it in the face, ya?" Juniper shouts out loud for whoever is left to hear her. Glancing to Victoria, she nods a little in acknowledgement. "So the old tales go," she tells the other woman with a wry sound of amusement. "But other than Rook's shield, you carry around something that'll do the trick?" That being said she lifts her voice again, "How shiny you keep that shield of yours, Rook?" And, when she stops barking long enough to listen to the slithering rustle of its movements she steps out from the other side of her cover to try once more, looking without particular aim - only hoping not to have a case of friendly fire while also having her bullets find home in its target.
The Gorgon continues its hunt throughout its forest of stone statues of its previous victims. As for Rook's shield, it is clear that it is made of a ballistic metal, coated in a black subdued surface for tactical operations. Rook, a man of few words doesn't immediately answer, but just gives out a grunt as he advances slowly, utilizating his shield to its maximum effectiveness. Unfortunately, shiny objects are rather frowned on in just about every instance of combat, except perhaps in rare instances like this. With the gun fire, there are several other shots, as the Forged take blind shots at the Gorgon, it crying out surprising frequent, most likely because supernaturals don't often just rely on their sight, but their other senses and instincts as well. Victoria letting a few arrows off and Juniper firing a few more bursts, it seems things might be resolving themselves without said mirror. It is obvious that several hits land from the combined arms fire of the mercenary group.
With a final, bone rattling hiss, the gorgon collapsed, its serpentine form writhing in agony before crumbling into a heap of lifeless scales and stone. The air was thick with the scent of burnt flesh and the echo of the battle's violent end. Marco, breathing heavily, wiped his brow and gave a sharp look to his squad and the adventurers. They had done it. The threat was over. Almost immediately, the stone statues of Vex and Griggs began to crack. Tiny fissures spread across their petrified skin, and the stone seemed to soften, crumbling away in chunks as their bodies regained their original form. Vex's sharp eyes fluttered open first, her breath catching as she gasped for air, fingers twitching as the sensation of touch flooded back to her. She quickly took stock of her surroundings, her rifle still resting by her side, though now just part of the environment. With a grunt, she stood, flexing her limbs as life slowly returned to her muscles. Dane's body, once frozen mid-step, began to tremble. Small cracks appeared along his petrified form, spidering out across his statue-like figure. His face, frozen in a look of concentration, twitched. His breath, once stolen away by the gorgon's curse, suddenly returned. His limbs began to shift, softening from stone to flesh. The cracks widened as his body regained its former texture, muscle and bone reshaping, reforming. Griggs groaned as his massive body shifted and twitched back to life. His fingers, once stone, now flexed with full range, and his deep, guttural voice broke through the silence, "Hell of a fight... Didn't think I'd be having this conversation again." He stretched, cracking his neck and knuckles, then rose to his feet. But as the other mercenaries regained their forms, they were starkly reminded of the price of victory. The statues of the older victims, those who had fallen long ago, did not come to life. The stone that had claimed their bodies remained frozen, unmoving. The faces of those lost to the gorgon's curse were forever trapped in their final moments. No magic could undo the toll of time and death. Marco's jaw clenched. "We will secure the outside of this tower, go finish this," he muttered, his voice cold with resolve.
With its guardian stilled, the doorway to the tower remains. The door to the Petrified Tower is a grand, monolithic slab of ancient stone, weathered and worn by centuries of exposure to the elements. Its surface is rough, covered in intricate carvings that seem to pulse with a faint, ethereal glow, as though the stone itself holds a memory of forgotten magics. These runes are faded in some places, but still legible to those with knowledge of the old languages, symbols of power, protection, and connection to the elements. At the center of the door is a massive, circular insignia, the focal point of the entire structure. This symbol, a blend of concentric circles and angular lines, radiates an aura of primal force. Its edges are jagged, cracked from age, but they still emit a soft, golden light, hinting at the magic woven into the very fabric of the door. The surrounding stone seems to shift subtly when viewed from different angles, the carvings appearing to come alive as if they were meant to move.
"Thank you, Marco," Juniper tells the Centurion somberly, giving her relieved looks and nods once again to the team that is recovered - her hopes for the other statues quickly dashed as the sound of crumbling and receding stone is too soon ended. Beckoning Victoria to her side, they make it to the door way just for Juniper to huff out in small annoyance. "I miss Ash at times like these," she says in quiet confidence to Victoria. Then, without much else to lose or try, she just starts by sticking a warm hand into the central circular insignia to test its feel or possible movement.
Wrinkling her nose as she watches Juniper, Victoria agrees. "I miss them too." While she doesn't shove a hand anywhere, she does push against the door with the tips of her fingers.
Walking up to the door of the tower with the confidence of this place belonging to her, perhaps all of the Wilds belongs to her? Juniper places her hand in the center of the door almost as if she was guided by some kind of echo of the past or perhaps that she has been here before. Or perhaps, it was just the luckiest guess in existence. Whatever the case, the door begins to shift and open. As the door to the Petrified Tower begins to open, the very stone seems to groan under the strain, a deep, reverberating rumble that shakes the ground beneath their feet. The ancient slab of stone shudders and shifts, the carvings along its surface flickering with a soft, golden light as if the very runes are awakening after centuries of slumber. The massive door creaks, its edges separating from the frame with slow, deliberate movement. The faint, almost imperceptible glow from the runes intensifies, illuminating the surrounding stone in a warm, golden hue. As the door slides back, the faint sound of ancient mechanisms unlocking can be heard, a click followed by a deep rumbling noise that emanates from within the tower. With the door now open just enough, a thick, unnatural mist spills out from the shadows beyond, swirling like a living thing, creeping around the edges of the doorway. The air feels colder, charged with an eerie energy, and the adventurers can almost taste the age and power that hang heavy in the atmosphere. As the last few inches of the door retract, it becomes clear that the stone is not just moving; it's shifting and reshaping, the ancient grooves in the surface gradually disappearing into the tower walls, leaving behind a seamless gap, a smooth, perfectly curved entrance. The runes fade back into the stone, their glow receding as the door fully opens, revealing the darkness of the tower's interior.
Inside the Petrified Tower, the air is thick with the weight of neglect and time. Dust has settled over everything, a thick blanket that speaks of abandonment. The once pristine stone floors are cracked and uneven, worn down by centuries of footsteps that have long since ceased. Cobwebs stretch from the corners of the high, vaulted ceilings, their delicate threads shimmering drifting through throughout. These webs have woven themselves into the very fabric of the tower, a testament to its long forgotten state. The shelves that line the walls are sagging under the weight of time. They are cluttered with crumbling tomes, their leather bindings brittle, their pages yellowed and curling at the edges. Some of the books seem to be disintegrating at the slightest touch, their knowledge slipping away into the ether as they crumble to dust. Their titles unreadable are likely valuable information of the long lost practices of shamans who once communed with the elemental planes. The musty smell of decay and old paper fills the air, mingling with the cold, stagnant atmosphere of the tower. Among the shelves are rows of glass jars, some intact, some cracked with age. These jars are filled with an assortment of strange and exotic materials, glimmering powders, strange crystals, and liquids that shimmer with an otherworldly glow. Some jars contain dried plants, their leaves curled and desiccated, while others hold delicate, translucent insects that seem to be frozen in time. These are the tools of a traveler to the elemental planes, items that once served a purpose in the rituals of summoning, binding, and navigating the realms beyond the mortal world. Each jar is carefully labeled in a script that is foreign to all but the most learned of Ancient Wildling, though the ink has faded over the centuries. Scattered across the room are arcane instruments, their edges dulled by time. A few ancient, rusted chains lie coiled in one corner, and a tarnished compass, its needle spinning aimlessly, rests on a wooden desk covered in dust and grime. These items once had a purpose, a role in the delicate balance of crossing between planes, but now they stand as silent relics of a time long past. The silence in the tower is oppressive, broken only by the faint echoes of footsteps on the stone and the distant, unsettling sound of creaking wood. It feels as though the entire place is holding its breath, waiting for something or someone, to disturb the stillness. The remnants of a forgotten age stand frozen in time, the secrets of the elemental planes locked away, hidden beneath layers of dust and decay.
Juniper steps into the tower with the appropriate amount of reverence for what she has come to understand of these ancient temples and tombs of knowledge and guardians. Hours spent pouring over research has somehow created a bridge, even if temporary, between wolf and magic users. Shamans of old. Particularly in these territories of the Wilds where the natural magic pulses with something much more familiar. The cold of the room seeps through her supernaturally warm body and her usual comfort in the lower temperatures. A shiver runs through her as her eyes scan over the layer of dust covering the bottles labeled in a language she couldn't possibly understand. "Alright I... don't know if I can tell obsidian from onyx and selenite from quartz to be honest," she admits out loud in an almost whisper to Victoria. "Especially in dust or ground form."
Dryly, Victoria replies, "I am sure I can spot the obsidian." Her eyes narrow and she scans the area in silence for a few moments. "Well..." she shrugs a shoulder, deciding to pluck a bottle and reach inside.
With the random pick of a bottle, it seemed like it had some kind of dried flower in it. Something very exotic and ancient looking. The moment Victoria pulls at the cork seal and it touches air, it dissolves into a puff of purplish dust.
Victoria tosses the bottle aside for the moment, selecting another. "That wasn't it," she tells Juniper, with determination to find it evident in her tone.
Juniper steps to the shelves full of jars and looks over them, trying to find anything familiar from her hours of reading that might tie back into the elemental plane of earth. Runes, script, or perhaps just the collection of items that look like they might be what she needs. She makes a small sound of frustration at what appears to be so many lost samples and her eyes flick with interest to the books that might have once offered all the answers to their problems. Or perhaps, just more questions. It's hard to say. "Alright try-" she winces as the bottle smashes when Victoria tosses it aside. "Okay try not to destroy all of the precious history if we can? Please?" She gives her best scholarly begging look to the brunette then, just for good measure.
"Oops," Victoria looks momentarily apologetic. "Sorry about that one," she grins to Juniper.
Plucking open another vial, this one lets out a screech as some kind of mist escapes, dissipating into the air. Was an unspeakable evil released? Or imprisoned innocent soul? Or just a strange sound with the air interacting with the chemical continues, whatever the case, it was the wrong vial as well. With Victoria's reckless search, it seems Juniper's methodical and logical approach will garner better results.
Searching long enough, the jar becomes clear which is the correct one. The jar itself is a heavy, cylindrical vessel, its shape simple but sturdy, with an almost ethereal glow that emanates faintly from within. The glass is translucent but slightly fogged, as though it has been untouched for centuries, and its surface is etched with delicate, almost imperceptible symbols, runes of old that seem to shift and change when viewed from different angles. Inside the jar, the sand is a striking mixture of obsidian dust and ground selenite, swirling together in a mesmerizing dance. The dark, jagged shards of obsidian catch the light, their edges gleaming with an inner fire, while the selenite particles shimmer with a soft, milky white glow. The two elements are perfectly mixed, their textures contrasting yet complementing one another. The sand appears almost alive, as if it shifts and moves of its own accord, a swirling vortex of energy contained within the fragile walls of the jar. When disturbed, the sand settles slowly, creating small, shifting patterns, like a miniature storm of stars within the glass. The lid of the jar is sealed tightly, but there are faint marks around its edges, small cracks and scratches, as though it has been opened and closed many times over the years. The seal, though old, still holds, keeping the precious contents contained. The faint glow from within the jar seems to pulse with a quiet energy, a subtle reminder that this sand is no ordinary substance.
"I shouldn't open things," Victoria decides, carefully setting the bottle back where it came from. "June, find it?"
Juniper is holding the cylinder, staring at the contents in a sort of mesmerized kind of way when Victoria's voice cuts through the fog. "I, I think so," she tells the other woman in a clear enough voice. "It's unsettling, isn't it?" she asks out loud, a little distractedly. "All of this. It's fascinating from a researcher's point of view but just... feeling how almost everything has its own signature energy. Like it's alive when it shouldn't be... It's unnerving." Clamping her hand down over the seal of the bottle she says. "I think this is it. I have... everything else on the list." She says the words as if they are a surprise even to her. Like they are so much closer than she could have hoped for when things looked bleak. "But I think I'd also like to come back here." It's a statement made for Victoria, perhaps just to suggest that if the blonde she-wolf ever went missing... the Petrified Tower might be a place to look.
With the likely materials secured. There is not much else that needs to be done here. The Forged team outside of the tower re-gathering and treating their wounded (more mentally than physically), the trip back to civilization should be an easy one. [OOC: Thank you for taking part in this first part, the second and final part of this will be in roughly two weeks.]
As they approached their destination, they were ambushed by a sinister gorgon. The creature's gaze turned members of the squad to stone, drastically reducing their numbers. In a desperate fight, they managed to defeat the beast, courtesy of teamwork and bravery, particularly from Juniper and Victoria, who found creative ways to avoid looking directly at the creature while fighting back. Their struggle was not in vain, as the stone curse was lifted from their petrified comrades once the gorgon fell. However, the victory was bittersweet, as they mourned those permanently lost to stone, their stories ending as silent sentinels outside the tower's entrance.
The opening of the tower revealed an atmosphere heavy with magic and history, beckoning the adventurers inside. Inside, they were met with a scene frozen in time, full of ancient artifacts, mysterious jars, and crumbling tomes - a treasure trove of knowledge untouched by time. Juniper and Victoria, rummaging through the artifacts, sought the essential materials needed for their ritual. Despite accidental releases of unknown entities and the unsettling energy permeating the tower, they found a jar containing the precise mix of obsidian dust and ground selenite necessary for their quest.
Reflecting on the enveloping atmosphere of ancient magic and the stirring sense of having barely scratched the surface of the tower's secrets, Juniper expressed a desire to return. With the crucial elements in hand, and a newfound resolve, the adventurers prepared for their journey back, hinting at future explorations into the forgotten depths of the Wilds' most enigmatic places.
Their expedition to the Petrified Tower thus concluded with a mixture of success and solemn contemplation, marking the end of one chapter and the potential beginning of many more within the untamed wilderness of Navorost.
(To breach stone and shatter the veil(SRNate):SRNate)
[Fri Feb 28 2025]
In Near the Petrified Tower
Deep within the forests of Navorost, there stands a solitary tower.
It is before dawn, about 76F(24C) degrees, and there are a few wispy white clouds in the sky. There is a waxing crescent moon.
Traveling through the forests of the Wilds is not much of a problem for many of the party since these paths have been navigated many times some, so it doesn't take long to reach their destination. The Petrified Tower stands as a solemn monolith in the heart of the forests of the Wilds, its immense form stretching toward the storm-laden sky. The stone that comprises it is a deep, slate-gray, as if time itself hardened the structure beyond natural decay. Its surface is cracked and weathered, though in places, it is eerily smooth, as though shaped by forces beyond mortal understanding. Veins of glowing energy pulse through the fissures in the rock, flickering in shifting hues of blue and orange, like the slow breath of something ancient. They move irregularly, as though the tower itself is alive, its heart still faintly beating. Twisted vines and massive roots, long since petrified, coil around its base and stretch up its walls, frozen mid-motion. Some hang from the upper reaches like jagged stone chains, their sharpened ends swaying slightly, though no wind disturbs the air. At the base, a massive doorway looms, carved directly into the rock. It is twice the height of a man, its edges adorned with fading runes that flicker weakly, as if waiting for the right words to reignite their power. The entrance does not appear to be a separate piece but rather fused into the tower itself, suggesting it may only open by means beyond brute force. Surrounding the tower are the statues of the fallen figures of warriors and shamans, frozen in place as though caught mid-stride or mid-incantation. Some bear expressions of terror, others reverence, and a few seem almost peaceful, as if they had accepted their fate before being claimed by stone. Cracks run through some of them, but none have shattered completely, their forms standing as eternal sentinels of the tower's legacy. The air around the structure is unnervingly still, thick with the scent of dust and lingering magic. A deep, humming resonance pulses through the ground, barely perceptible at first but unmistakable to those who step too close. It thrums in the bones, a warning, or perhaps a call, as the tower waits for those daring enough to enter.
Nearby is the contact, Centurion Marco, a tall, battle-hardened soldier with a lean, muscular build. He has short dark brown hair with hints of gray, cold steel-gray eyes, and a scarred face, including a thin mark on his left cheek and a jagged one on his neck. His black Kevlar armor, reinforced with composite plating, bears the Forged Fortune insignia and his Centurion rank. Equipped with a customized battle rifle, a combat knife, and a sidearm, his stance and sharp gaze reveal a seasoned warrior who's always prepared for the worst. Centurion Marco motioned for his men to step forward, their black tactical armor blending with the twilight shadows cast by the Petrified Tower. The mercenaries stood with practiced ease, their weapons slung but never far from reach. Each bore the insignia of the Forged Fortune, the Sword of Damocles patch stitched onto their shoulders. Marco gestured to the first, a lean sharpshooter with a scoped rifle resting against her shoulder. "This is Vex. She's our long-range support. If anything moves where it shouldn't, she'll see it before it sees us." Vex smirked slightly, adjusting the angle of her visor. "Just don't get in my line of sight, and we'll get along just fine." Next was a broad shouldered man with a heavy machine gun slung across his chest, his armor reinforced with extra plating. "Griggs. Close range fire support. If something needs to be put down hard, he's the one to do it." Griggs simply nodded, his expression unreadable behind the tinted visor of his helmet. Beside him stood a lithe, wiry figure, the smallest of the group, though the way he carried himself suggested speed rather than fragility. Marco tapped his shoulder. "Dane. Scout and breacher. If there's a locked door or a path through the ruins, he'll find it or make one." Dane gave a casual salute, his fingers twitching near the hilt of a combat knife strapped to his vest. "Just let me know when to go first." To the right, a quiet, imposing figure stood slightly apart from the others. His armor bore a distinct claw mark over the chest plate, a faded reminder of past battles. "That's Rook," Marco said. "Heavy weapons and forward defense. If we need to hold a position, he's the wall between us and whatever's coming." Rook simply nodded, shifting his grip on the large shield strapped to his back. Last was a woman with a pistol holstered at her thigh and a compact submachine gun strapped to her chest. Her stance was relaxed, but her eyes moved constantly, scanning the adventurers, the terrain, and the tower in a single practiced sweep. "Kara. Medic and tactician. If you're bleeding, she'll patch you up. If we're in a bad spot, she'll find the fastest way out." Kara nodded to the adventurers but said nothing, her expression unreadable. Marco turned back to the adventurers, crossing his arms. "That's my team. We've fought in worse places than this, but that doesn't mean we're underestimating what's inside. We're here to make sure you get the sands and get out in one piece. Once you are ready, we will cover the perimeter so you can find a way in."
Victoria squints her eyes, patting down her equipment before snapping her fingers. "I forgot liquor," she sighs out, more toward Juniper than anyone else.
Juniper stands at attention, listening stoically to the introductions given to her by Marco, nodding her greeting to each member in respect and gratitude both while her eyes keep drifting over to the tower. Following that thorough briefing she releases a sigh that sounds like a breath that had been held for some time. "I need dust, or, well sands, of crushed Obsidian and Selenite," she relays to Victoria in her thoughtful and unhurried tones, keeping her voice low for some reason. "They will be... the conduit for energy to open the- well like the door we're going to be opening for the Elemental Plane of Earth." She slides her gaze back over to Victoria from the tower. "It has to be pure though. It needs... well. Everything has to be perfect. I can't risk anything less."
"I have reason to believe the shamans from this tower," Juniper gestures to the great structure before them, "Would have it. They communed with the different planes. They would have needed it."
As there seems to be no overt objection from Victoria, Juniper gives a little nod to Marco then in confirmation. "Let's hope this place gives up its secrets with a little less payment required this time," she says with a wry little smile. "I'm ready to head in."
With the green light given from Juniper and no objections from Victoria, the Forged team advances towards the tower in a wedge formation, clearly showing that this isn't the first time as the team worked together. A clear reflection of both professionalism and experience. As Marco and his squad neared the Petrified Tower, the air grew unnaturally still, thick with a sense of impending danger. The dim light cast by the tower's stone seemed to warp, flickering like a shadow just beyond reach. Then, with a sudden lurch, the trap was sprung. From the shadows near the entrance, a dark, sinuous shape lunged forward, its scaled body rippling with unnatural grace. Its glowing, slitted eyes locked onto the mercenaries, and in that instant, the world around them seemed to freeze. Vex, the sharpshooter, barely had time to shout a warning before her body stiffened, her rifle raised halfway to her shoulder. Dane, moving to react, was struck next, his body freezing in mid-step, locked in a permanent lunge. The transformation was instantaneous flesh grayed, hardened, and became lifeless stone in the blink of an eye. "Find cover!" Marco shouted, diving behind a jagged stone outcrop. The rest of the squad scrambled, ducking and weaving as they tried to stay out of the creature's line of sight. Its shadow slithered closer, the gorgon's hiss echoing in the stillness as the mercenaries did their best to avoid its gaze. The petrified soldiers stood like grim statues in the ruins, their bodies silent and unmoving. Somewhere in the dark, the gorgon's low chuckle reverberated, mocking them. It wasn't done yet. With a sudden flick of its tail, the gorgon slithered forward, its eyes gleaming as it locked onto the remaining mercenaries. The air around them seemed to freeze as its gaze swept over the group. Vex, crouched low, rifle ready, felt the curse wash over her. Her fingers froze, unable to pull the trigger, as stone began creeping over her body. Her rifle, once aimed, became a part of the landscape, the cold grip of the curse claiming her. Griggs was next. His massive form, rifle raised to fire, was hit mid-motion. His arm went rigid, his eyes wide with shock, but there was nothing he could do. His body began to turn to stone, his weapon now an immobile, lifeless piece of the scene. The gorgon's gaze swept over the two statues now standing among the wreckage, a victorious hiss escaping its lips. With a casual flick of its tail, it knocked over a loose stone, testing the permanence of its victims. It slithered closer, its movements slow but inevitable, its eyes fixed on the remaining squad, preparing to finish what it had started. The rest of the team scrambled for cover, hearts pounding in their chests. They knew they couldn't hesitate much longer. Marco turned to them, his face grim and determined. "Fall back! NOW!" he barked. The urgency in his voice was clear. "We need to drop it!" As the gorgon inched closer, its eyes scanning for its next victim, the remaining squad members moved quickly, the pressure mounting as the creature closed in. The moment to act was fast approaching.
With a gaze first to those turning to statues, then drawing toward that shape, Victoria's fingers draw an arrow into a bow she holds. Without lifting her face too high, she steadies herself and aims higher than where she looks, firing an arrow with a flicker of hope. "June," she clears her throat. "We should probably....." she doesn't move from the blonde, but she does chew at her lower lip, ticking her head toward the others.
Lucky to not be in the line of immediate sight when the beast emerges from the shadow, Juniper is able to take quick stock of the situation and use the petrified remains of others who had come before them as temporary shelters. Running, ducking, and rolling between pieces of cover, the blonde tries to keep her back to the creature as much as possible while regularly taking in deep, measured breaths - nostrils flaring to draw in as much of the scent of the creature as she can - marking it for memory. When Victoria makes it to her side and lets loose the arrow, Juniper is closing her eyes and focusing on her supernatural senses to hear, and scent where the gorgon is at. Drawing her rifle from where is is strapped against her pack, she readies it and in another moment of quiet where she can mark the whereabouts of the gorgon as best she can without having to make too much of an effort to stare, she pops out of cover to release a spray of bullets.
In the first volley of attacks, the gorgon took out Dane, Vex, and Griggs. This only left Juniper, Victoria, Marco, Rook, and Kara left. In a quick sweep, a third of their ranks have been turned to stone. Rook pulls from his back, a heavy riot shield made of some kind of metallic compound. It appears to be very heavy, but it is something he moves as if it was made of cardboard and in his other hand, a massive two-handed sword held in a single hand as he starts advancing, keeping himself completely out of view of the gorgon as he slowly advances on where he believes it is. Perhaps a sound tactic, perhaps a foolish one, but at this moment, it seems like no orders have been issued and Rook is taking it onto his own to deal with it. Then it happens, Juniper lets off a burst of fire at the gorgon, raking fire hitting into the gorgon as it screeches in pain from the injury. How many shots actually hit it, it is uncertain. After all, who really wants to make sure to get a good look to know?
Whether it was purely Juniper's firing or Victoria's arrow. All that is certain, something hit the gorgon. They can determine who hit what after the battle is resolved.
"We need something reflective," Victoria tells Juniper in a hushed tone, before letting another arrow loose, taking only a brief moment to sense where the unknown thing may be. "It just needs to look at itself."
"I think we all know by now not to look it in the face, ya?" Juniper shouts out loud for whoever is left to hear her. Glancing to Victoria, she nods a little in acknowledgement. "So the old tales go," she tells the other woman with a wry sound of amusement. "But other than Rook's shield, you carry around something that'll do the trick?" That being said she lifts her voice again, "How shiny you keep that shield of yours, Rook?" And, when she stops barking long enough to listen to the slithering rustle of its movements she steps out from the other side of her cover to try once more, looking without particular aim - only hoping not to have a case of friendly fire while also having her bullets find home in its target.
The Gorgon continues its hunt throughout its forest of stone statues of its previous victims. As for Rook's shield, it is clear that it is made of a ballistic metal, coated in a black subdued surface for tactical operations. Rook, a man of few words doesn't immediately answer, but just gives out a grunt as he advances slowly, utilizating his shield to its maximum effectiveness. Unfortunately, shiny objects are rather frowned on in just about every instance of combat, except perhaps in rare instances like this. With the gun fire, there are several other shots, as the Forged take blind shots at the Gorgon, it crying out surprising frequent, most likely because supernaturals don't often just rely on their sight, but their other senses and instincts as well. Victoria letting a few arrows off and Juniper firing a few more bursts, it seems things might be resolving themselves without said mirror. It is obvious that several hits land from the combined arms fire of the mercenary group.
With a final, bone rattling hiss, the gorgon collapsed, its serpentine form writhing in agony before crumbling into a heap of lifeless scales and stone. The air was thick with the scent of burnt flesh and the echo of the battle's violent end. Marco, breathing heavily, wiped his brow and gave a sharp look to his squad and the adventurers. They had done it. The threat was over. Almost immediately, the stone statues of Vex and Griggs began to crack. Tiny fissures spread across their petrified skin, and the stone seemed to soften, crumbling away in chunks as their bodies regained their original form. Vex's sharp eyes fluttered open first, her breath catching as she gasped for air, fingers twitching as the sensation of touch flooded back to her. She quickly took stock of her surroundings, her rifle still resting by her side, though now just part of the environment. With a grunt, she stood, flexing her limbs as life slowly returned to her muscles. Dane's body, once frozen mid-step, began to tremble. Small cracks appeared along his petrified form, spidering out across his statue-like figure. His face, frozen in a look of concentration, twitched. His breath, once stolen away by the gorgon's curse, suddenly returned. His limbs began to shift, softening from stone to flesh. The cracks widened as his body regained its former texture, muscle and bone reshaping, reforming. Griggs groaned as his massive body shifted and twitched back to life. His fingers, once stone, now flexed with full range, and his deep, guttural voice broke through the silence, "Hell of a fight... Didn't think I'd be having this conversation again." He stretched, cracking his neck and knuckles, then rose to his feet. But as the other mercenaries regained their forms, they were starkly reminded of the price of victory. The statues of the older victims, those who had fallen long ago, did not come to life. The stone that had claimed their bodies remained frozen, unmoving. The faces of those lost to the gorgon's curse were forever trapped in their final moments. No magic could undo the toll of time and death. Marco's jaw clenched. "We will secure the outside of this tower, go finish this," he muttered, his voice cold with resolve.
With its guardian stilled, the doorway to the tower remains. The door to the Petrified Tower is a grand, monolithic slab of ancient stone, weathered and worn by centuries of exposure to the elements. Its surface is rough, covered in intricate carvings that seem to pulse with a faint, ethereal glow, as though the stone itself holds a memory of forgotten magics. These runes are faded in some places, but still legible to those with knowledge of the old languages, symbols of power, protection, and connection to the elements. At the center of the door is a massive, circular insignia, the focal point of the entire structure. This symbol, a blend of concentric circles and angular lines, radiates an aura of primal force. Its edges are jagged, cracked from age, but they still emit a soft, golden light, hinting at the magic woven into the very fabric of the door. The surrounding stone seems to shift subtly when viewed from different angles, the carvings appearing to come alive as if they were meant to move.
"Thank you, Marco," Juniper tells the Centurion somberly, giving her relieved looks and nods once again to the team that is recovered - her hopes for the other statues quickly dashed as the sound of crumbling and receding stone is too soon ended. Beckoning Victoria to her side, they make it to the door way just for Juniper to huff out in small annoyance. "I miss Ash at times like these," she says in quiet confidence to Victoria. Then, without much else to lose or try, she just starts by sticking a warm hand into the central circular insignia to test its feel or possible movement.
Wrinkling her nose as she watches Juniper, Victoria agrees. "I miss them too." While she doesn't shove a hand anywhere, she does push against the door with the tips of her fingers.
Walking up to the door of the tower with the confidence of this place belonging to her, perhaps all of the Wilds belongs to her? Juniper places her hand in the center of the door almost as if she was guided by some kind of echo of the past or perhaps that she has been here before. Or perhaps, it was just the luckiest guess in existence. Whatever the case, the door begins to shift and open. As the door to the Petrified Tower begins to open, the very stone seems to groan under the strain, a deep, reverberating rumble that shakes the ground beneath their feet. The ancient slab of stone shudders and shifts, the carvings along its surface flickering with a soft, golden light as if the very runes are awakening after centuries of slumber. The massive door creaks, its edges separating from the frame with slow, deliberate movement. The faint, almost imperceptible glow from the runes intensifies, illuminating the surrounding stone in a warm, golden hue. As the door slides back, the faint sound of ancient mechanisms unlocking can be heard, a click followed by a deep rumbling noise that emanates from within the tower. With the door now open just enough, a thick, unnatural mist spills out from the shadows beyond, swirling like a living thing, creeping around the edges of the doorway. The air feels colder, charged with an eerie energy, and the adventurers can almost taste the age and power that hang heavy in the atmosphere. As the last few inches of the door retract, it becomes clear that the stone is not just moving; it's shifting and reshaping, the ancient grooves in the surface gradually disappearing into the tower walls, leaving behind a seamless gap, a smooth, perfectly curved entrance. The runes fade back into the stone, their glow receding as the door fully opens, revealing the darkness of the tower's interior.
Inside the Petrified Tower, the air is thick with the weight of neglect and time. Dust has settled over everything, a thick blanket that speaks of abandonment. The once pristine stone floors are cracked and uneven, worn down by centuries of footsteps that have long since ceased. Cobwebs stretch from the corners of the high, vaulted ceilings, their delicate threads shimmering drifting through throughout. These webs have woven themselves into the very fabric of the tower, a testament to its long forgotten state. The shelves that line the walls are sagging under the weight of time. They are cluttered with crumbling tomes, their leather bindings brittle, their pages yellowed and curling at the edges. Some of the books seem to be disintegrating at the slightest touch, their knowledge slipping away into the ether as they crumble to dust. Their titles unreadable are likely valuable information of the long lost practices of shamans who once communed with the elemental planes. The musty smell of decay and old paper fills the air, mingling with the cold, stagnant atmosphere of the tower. Among the shelves are rows of glass jars, some intact, some cracked with age. These jars are filled with an assortment of strange and exotic materials, glimmering powders, strange crystals, and liquids that shimmer with an otherworldly glow. Some jars contain dried plants, their leaves curled and desiccated, while others hold delicate, translucent insects that seem to be frozen in time. These are the tools of a traveler to the elemental planes, items that once served a purpose in the rituals of summoning, binding, and navigating the realms beyond the mortal world. Each jar is carefully labeled in a script that is foreign to all but the most learned of Ancient Wildling, though the ink has faded over the centuries. Scattered across the room are arcane instruments, their edges dulled by time. A few ancient, rusted chains lie coiled in one corner, and a tarnished compass, its needle spinning aimlessly, rests on a wooden desk covered in dust and grime. These items once had a purpose, a role in the delicate balance of crossing between planes, but now they stand as silent relics of a time long past. The silence in the tower is oppressive, broken only by the faint echoes of footsteps on the stone and the distant, unsettling sound of creaking wood. It feels as though the entire place is holding its breath, waiting for something or someone, to disturb the stillness. The remnants of a forgotten age stand frozen in time, the secrets of the elemental planes locked away, hidden beneath layers of dust and decay.
Juniper steps into the tower with the appropriate amount of reverence for what she has come to understand of these ancient temples and tombs of knowledge and guardians. Hours spent pouring over research has somehow created a bridge, even if temporary, between wolf and magic users. Shamans of old. Particularly in these territories of the Wilds where the natural magic pulses with something much more familiar. The cold of the room seeps through her supernaturally warm body and her usual comfort in the lower temperatures. A shiver runs through her as her eyes scan over the layer of dust covering the bottles labeled in a language she couldn't possibly understand. "Alright I... don't know if I can tell obsidian from onyx and selenite from quartz to be honest," she admits out loud in an almost whisper to Victoria. "Especially in dust or ground form."
Dryly, Victoria replies, "I am sure I can spot the obsidian." Her eyes narrow and she scans the area in silence for a few moments. "Well..." she shrugs a shoulder, deciding to pluck a bottle and reach inside.
With the random pick of a bottle, it seemed like it had some kind of dried flower in it. Something very exotic and ancient looking. The moment Victoria pulls at the cork seal and it touches air, it dissolves into a puff of purplish dust.
Victoria tosses the bottle aside for the moment, selecting another. "That wasn't it," she tells Juniper, with determination to find it evident in her tone.
Juniper steps to the shelves full of jars and looks over them, trying to find anything familiar from her hours of reading that might tie back into the elemental plane of earth. Runes, script, or perhaps just the collection of items that look like they might be what she needs. She makes a small sound of frustration at what appears to be so many lost samples and her eyes flick with interest to the books that might have once offered all the answers to their problems. Or perhaps, just more questions. It's hard to say. "Alright try-" she winces as the bottle smashes when Victoria tosses it aside. "Okay try not to destroy all of the precious history if we can? Please?" She gives her best scholarly begging look to the brunette then, just for good measure.
"Oops," Victoria looks momentarily apologetic. "Sorry about that one," she grins to Juniper.
Plucking open another vial, this one lets out a screech as some kind of mist escapes, dissipating into the air. Was an unspeakable evil released? Or imprisoned innocent soul? Or just a strange sound with the air interacting with the chemical continues, whatever the case, it was the wrong vial as well. With Victoria's reckless search, it seems Juniper's methodical and logical approach will garner better results.
Searching long enough, the jar becomes clear which is the correct one. The jar itself is a heavy, cylindrical vessel, its shape simple but sturdy, with an almost ethereal glow that emanates faintly from within. The glass is translucent but slightly fogged, as though it has been untouched for centuries, and its surface is etched with delicate, almost imperceptible symbols, runes of old that seem to shift and change when viewed from different angles. Inside the jar, the sand is a striking mixture of obsidian dust and ground selenite, swirling together in a mesmerizing dance. The dark, jagged shards of obsidian catch the light, their edges gleaming with an inner fire, while the selenite particles shimmer with a soft, milky white glow. The two elements are perfectly mixed, their textures contrasting yet complementing one another. The sand appears almost alive, as if it shifts and moves of its own accord, a swirling vortex of energy contained within the fragile walls of the jar. When disturbed, the sand settles slowly, creating small, shifting patterns, like a miniature storm of stars within the glass. The lid of the jar is sealed tightly, but there are faint marks around its edges, small cracks and scratches, as though it has been opened and closed many times over the years. The seal, though old, still holds, keeping the precious contents contained. The faint glow from within the jar seems to pulse with a quiet energy, a subtle reminder that this sand is no ordinary substance.
"I shouldn't open things," Victoria decides, carefully setting the bottle back where it came from. "June, find it?"
Juniper is holding the cylinder, staring at the contents in a sort of mesmerized kind of way when Victoria's voice cuts through the fog. "I, I think so," she tells the other woman in a clear enough voice. "It's unsettling, isn't it?" she asks out loud, a little distractedly. "All of this. It's fascinating from a researcher's point of view but just... feeling how almost everything has its own signature energy. Like it's alive when it shouldn't be... It's unnerving." Clamping her hand down over the seal of the bottle she says. "I think this is it. I have... everything else on the list." She says the words as if they are a surprise even to her. Like they are so much closer than she could have hoped for when things looked bleak. "But I think I'd also like to come back here." It's a statement made for Victoria, perhaps just to suggest that if the blonde she-wolf ever went missing... the Petrified Tower might be a place to look.
With the likely materials secured. There is not much else that needs to be done here. The Forged team outside of the tower re-gathering and treating their wounded (more mentally than physically), the trip back to civilization should be an easy one. [OOC: Thank you for taking part in this first part, the second and final part of this will be in roughly two weeks.]