Posts from Divine Journey

Kerlian searches the corpse for useful items.

But he finds nothing.

--Wow, what a pleasant encounter. Thank you, Florian.
Seeing the hunter approaching with the keys to his cage:
--Careful! It's highly charged! Stand on something non-conductive! Otherwise, I was planning to kill the giant this way, but you beat me to it.

Decided to search the corpses.
This one has nothing.
That one is also empty.
Just a bunch of bums!

- Ah, thank you... uh... Florian? It's good to know there's a decent person in this place. Then Card addressed everyone present. - My name is May A'aren. As I understand it, we're all in the same boat now, and we don't have time to rock it any further. It's time to step ashore. How about we take a walk to the exit, and along the way, crush the skulls of a couple of occultists? Besides, we don't know where the rest of the escaped prisoners went. As far as I know, there were some good guys among them who would be useful in a fight...

The Templar trips over something and falls to the ground, and a moment later he realizes that his legs are being held by greenish hands sticking out of the earth. "Taimon" approaches him:

- Want to play dice?

The girl's body in the mage's arms turns to ashes and scatters in the wind.
- Don't worry about it," said the hunter, easily opening the door to Nokou's cell, "it won't affect me."

"Things can be of different kinds," Alco said evasively. "For example, I had a magnificent stallion, and it would be a great shame to lose him. However, shouldn't we...?" He nodded towards the exit.

That's all.
Siegfried spat, crossed his arms, stood up, brushed himself off, smoothed out the wrinkles in his rags, and ran a hand over his head.
- I've played my whole life, not worrying about the stakes. I've played with power and wealth, with slaves and people, with my own honor and life. I've always been indifferent to everything. Now I know as well as you that I won't be able to win this bet. Because people like you don't win; there's not even the slightest chance. I have nothing up my sleeve, and I don't even have sleeves left. And sometimes I wondered - what will I feel at the very end? You know everything. Can you answer that question? I will play with you, creature.

The girl's body, embraced by the mage, turns to dust and scatters in the wind.

Redram stood up and raised his head. His lips twisted into a狂笑. Flames enveloped his hands.
- WELL?! What's next?! WHAT?! - the mage's voice cracked, and he burst into laughter.

- Emptiness," that was the last thing Siegfried heard before darkness enveloped his mind.
Nothing happens. Only the grass sways in the wind as the child continues to run.

- Florian, did you happen to see any of our comrades while making your way here?

- No, unfortunately not. But I can say with certainty that they are definitely in great danger. This place... is unusual, to say the least.

--We need to find them! Hurry!

Isgerd helps Heimyr change clothes.

- Well, that's it, let's go!
Heimir went out and resolutely walked along the cobbled street, his mother hurried after him. The hardworking dwarves didn't care about the appearance of their dwellings; everything here was cheap and functional, and the streets were indistinguishable from one another. All the beauty and grandeur were concentrated in the building of the town hall, of titanic proportions, which could be seen from any point in the underground city. It was not even a building, but an entire rock, lined with smooth stone slabs and in some places adorned with huge statues of famous figures and many other distinctive features; the town hall had always been the embodiment of the greatness and wealth of the underground people, and they had never spared any expense on its construction and decoration, which is why the building reached the highest vaults of the dungeon. It was adapted by the dwarves for important administrative premises, the residence of the thane, and so on; in other cities, various schools and guilds were sometimes located there, but they were more often located on separate plots of land, as were markets and industrial buildings. Heimyr was heading to one of these – his father's forge.
The closer he and Isgerd got, the more often they encountered pits, depressions, shafts, and often even entire chasms, over which countless bridges were built: from wooden beams near still undeveloped mines to majestic bridges made of stone blocks, fitted so precisely together that the bridges seemed monolithic.
"Harald, Snorri, Alv, father... They will be so surprised when I appear!" Heimyr remembered his colleagues: Harald and Snorri were carpenters and made shields, polearms, and ranged weapons in a workshop located next to the forge, where Alv and Heimyr's father, Thorald, forged metal weapons and armor. Of course, both workshops also produced household items.
Heimir entered the forge and immediately saw a stout dwarf, slightly taller than him and almost equal in strength, despite his advanced age. He had long, thick gray hair and a beard. He was diligently working on a large sword blade, which was almost as big as himself. But then he noticed Heimyr and turned to him. He saw such familiar, expressive, distinct, and stern features, as if carved from stone. The blacksmith turned his gray eyes to the guest and stopped working, took a step forward, his movements were unhurried and calm.
- Well, hello, father! - Heimyr boomed, spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, and smiled.

Nothing happens. Only the grass sways in the wind as the child continues to run.

A killer? Worse. A traitor.
Still smiling, Redram slowly followed the boy.

Assange approached the wall and, using a dagger, carved something resembling a diagram onto it.
The father and son embraced. The dwarf felt the joy of reunion; however, he himself seemed deeply concerned, as his face betrayed.
Hostor slowly followed the child, but as the child ran away from him, he unexpectedly fell into the ground. Approaching closer, the fire mage witnesses a terrible scene:

A second later, the boy disappears into the darkness of the underground lair.
"You let this happen again," said the voice of the man to whom the child was running. This man was Vincent.