The First Expedition: The Alchemist's Vault

Elodie pauses only a moment to measure the tower with narrowed eyes. She was no stranger to pressures and burdens, but this somehow felt different. This felt final. For a moment, it felt as though the tower itself sat upon her chest, choking her breath and wringing her heart. Everything depended on this; It was all that they had left.

A gasp filled Elodie's lungs when she found that she could breathe once more, when she managed to shrug away the thought of failure. In a desperate attempt to redirect her mind, she took inventory of her belongings. They were, after all, the only belongings she had left. Everything else, she sold to fund this venture.

She wore an old suit of scale mail, with an inner lining of chain, that couldn't hide its age no matter how much time Elodie spent cleaning and maintaining it. It once bore the cerulean and silver colors of House Clairmont, but was now faded to the point that the two hardly contrasted at all. She missed her old suit of armor, but that was pawned off long ago with the other valuables held only for sentiment. It pained her to trade tradition for practicality, but that is what the situation demanded.

At her hip was a simple, steel rapier, and upon her left forearm was a wooden buckler with a metal center. The shield was small, barely surpassing her elbow, and much to her dismay it did not possess Clairmont coat of arms, but it would have to do. Both items had been taken from the armory before its contents had been gutted by the sharks or sold away for this venture. Elodie was lucky to have gotten away with that much. At least here, standing at the foot of the dungeon, things would be simpler. She wouldn't need to worry about debt and funding. She could focus solely on the blade in her hand and the target at its tip. The thought brought her some relief, an a small smile formed on her lips.

Her other belongings consisted of a hefty backpack filled with various items that she either didn't have enough time to sell or she thought she may need in the dungeon. Elodie fidgeted with the quick-release straps on her backpack, going over the motions of how she may need to drop her pack so that she can more easily maneuver in a fight. Drop the pack to the right, Elodie reminded herself, So that it does not catch on your crossbow. The weapon she referred to laid along the small of her back, hanging from a buckle upon her belt.

"Are you certain that I cannot convince you to wear my helmet?" Elodie asked of Elara with a vague, concerned frown, detaching the armor from the side of her backpack and holding it out for Elara to take. She had no such concern for Subeen--who was likely more prepared for this than Elodie was--or Trix --who was not her charge. Her concern lay solely upon her half-sister, who Elodie fussed over with a purely visual inspection. Elodie's helm covered from the nose up, with a curtain of scale plating that protected the back and sides of the neck. Its visage was avian, with a pair of wings along the sides. Elodie had hooked her fingers into the helm's eye sockets, offering it out to her, upside-down.

Fumbling with the drawstring that holds her unassuming leather cloak closed, Elara allows her mind to wistfully reminisce on the days of lavish furs secured by golden brooches that seemed at once tauntingly recent and ages past. Maybe if she had helped herself to a few more souvenirs from her forays into the monasteries and temples she so dutifully toured during her studies, she would have come out of them better situated to assist in the matter of financial turmoil that plagued the once-great House she was to inherit. But in spite of her propensity for divination magic, foresight had ironically never been her strong suit, always having had the privilege of looking to Elodie for guidance and to be reminded of what was important, or what might become important later.

"Helmet?" she scoffs with cavalier disregard for the utility of such a thing, as her sister's voice draws her back into the here and now and directs her vision to the proffered gear. "No, you'll need that more than I will," she asserts matter-of-factly, foolhardily self-assured in her magical prowess given the situation at hand, and the state of her life in general. "Subeen's gonna make sure nothing even gets close enough to try hitting me in the head, isn't that right Big Sue?"

"Yes, Lady Elara," the tall human states as matter-of-fact. She crests a fallen column, heavy boots scraping against stone. Her portage of the elven noblewoman's satchel is adjusted across her chest, while her own laden backpack is fit snugly around her shoulders with shield conveniently stashed atop.

Subeen's clothing has seen better days. What was once a pristine uniform heralding the Clairmont Company is now a faded reminder of the guard unit's former glory. The knees of her trousers have been patched twice with any scrap of cloth left available, and the collared shirt is missing a button near the navel. Only a leather utility vest keeps things together, laced tight at each side above holstered handaxes.

She hooks the rusted iron gate with the beard of her battleaxe, pulling it further open to allow the Clairmont sisters unfettered access. Her first look is to the partially-open stone door as though assessing the presence of a welcoming party, then Subeen pans her gaze across the courtyard in careful consideration. Even though the expedition has arrived at their destination, the job is nowhere near complete.

"Where is the burglar?"

Though she might keep threats at a distance, Elodie had never seen Subeen catch a quarrel out of midair. She thinks to say as much to her sister but decides against pressing the matter further. There would be no convincing Elara once she'd set her mind to something. Even if authority mattered to her lady sister, Elodie no longer held any rule over her younger sibling who was, by Astraelis' guiding grace, her superior now.

Instead, Elodie fits her helmet upon her head, adjusting it until she adopts the hawk's half-mask as her own. She slides the rapier free from its sheath and tests the weight of the buckler upon her arm. Slipping past the gate that Subeen holds open, she turns to glance behind them, looking for the gnome that accompanies them.

The burglar, a young female gnome, hops nimbly atop the iron gate, to be joined a moment later by a fat, grey tabby cat. The gnome's chestnut hair is gathered at the back, with a pink-dyed fringe up front shading her inquisitive eyes. She wears numerous satchels slung across supple leathers worn over practical clothes.

"Wowza!" exclaims Trix. "It looks even cooler up close!"

Gnome and cat both cock their ears at the strange buzzing. "Yard could use a good weeding, huh? You think that buzzing is coming from the tower? Who do you think blasted that door open? Shall we head inside already? You wanna check it out first, Earl?"

The cat familiar meows in response to the last of the many questions, and hops down into the courtyard, warily heading for the door.

"Oh, that wasn't you?" Elara asks nonchalantly of Trix as she looks to the blasted-open door after slipping under the gate held open by her bodyguard. "I don't know then, should I check for vestigial magic before we go in? Whoever blew it up could have set traps for more things to blow up."

Without waiting for a response, she takes a seat cross-legged where she is, and starts rummaging through her pack for her spellbook to begin the ritual. If this isn't the proper next step to be taking, Elodie will stop her and set her on a different path. That was how it had always been; Elara tried things and Elodie told her whether it would be better to try something else. That way, Elara never had to think too carefully about all the different options, but the right one still got chosen. It was a perfect system.

Elodie doesn't interfere, which may as well signal her approval. It is clear enough that magic isn't her strong suit by comparison to her sister. After all, this is the only difference between them that matters to their House, so it is painfully obvious by now. She pushes her rapier back into its sheath; the only audible affirmation of Elara's plan.

She sets down her backpack and frees her waterskin from its ties, spending these moments during Elara's ritual to rehydrate from their march. While pondering the entrance of the tower, Elodie asks, "Trix, could this have been opened by Gnomish explosive powder?" She takes another long swig of water before adding, "More importantly, how recent was this?" Elodie squats down beside a bit of rubble, examining it with her free hand. She refuses to give voice to her growing worry that they are too late, or actively racing another group of delvers.

Standing tall as a watchtower over Elara, Subeen keeps her gaze on the courtyard. This was not a defensible position, but it also wasn't the worst place they could be. She doesn't have the experience her adoptive parents have when it comes to forays into unfamiliar ground, and she wishes they were here for mentorship. But needs must, and Subeen has no further time for daydreaming when reality is immediate and now.

Having called Earl back from the blasted doorway as Elara began her ritual, Trix studies peers at the rubble and sniffs it, swipes her finger across the scorch marks and sniffs for powder residue.

"Did you know there's different kinds of Gnomish explosives? Personally, I'd've used a bit more finesse. Foam or maybe hydraulics. We don't like loud noises. Do we, Earl?"

"Recent..." Elodie murmurs, wiping some soot free with her thumb and smudging it against her index finger, "Opened perhaps a fortnight ago, at most." Rising to her full height, she takes another slow gulp of water before tying the bladder to her pack once more. As she gears up once more, backpack on and sword drawn, Elodie takes the opportunity to explain, "Trix, I'm not sure how House Volaris handles these things, but if we run into other treasure seekers within the tower, we will start with words, not blades. We're delvers, not murderers."

Subeen removes the shield from her pack and readies it upon her arm. Even with a battleaxe in her other, she offers her right forearm to Elara to assist in standing as though she has wordlessly done this a thousand times before.

The barbarian warrior then takes point, walking into the courtyard to test the journey.

"This whole place is magical!" Elara announces, excited and awestruck as she gazes at the now-illuminated structure. "I don't see any traps or protective runes or anything, though. We can probably go inside. Unless someone wants to check for physical traps, first. The spell wouldn't have detected those."

Approaching the door, she sees how dark it is inside and takes a piece of phosphorescent moss from her spellcasting pouch and utters a simple incantation to imbue the top of her quarterstaff with warm white light to help her human companions see the way forward.

Whether or not Trix registered the mention of House Volaris, she doesn't show it. "Earl smells death and dried blood. Someone's used blades already. Or clubs, if you think about it. Or was claws and teeth. Or beaks and tentacles stuff."

The gnome peers up at the dangling strands from ceiling and walls. What could they be?

"Yipes!" Trix yelps. "I was just about to warn you about the vines!"

Earl hisses, tail bushy, hackles raised, claws out.

"Watch the vines," Elodie states calmly, prioritizing those vines that reach for her before making sure to clear any that might get to her sister. Afterward, she nods toward the three masses on the ceiling and says, "Those could be remains." She wasn't eager to see what these vines may have grabbed up, but there was a chance that some valuables were caught up with them, too. "Subeen, can you reach to cut them open? Trix, watch the door..." She gestures to the gnome and points her chin at the eastern door.