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Dead End Party

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A Forgotten Armory The hall is vast. Walls five stories tall, all of black brick, now stand grayed and dulled by the passing of time. Swords, spears, shields and armor lay tattered and rusted, strewn haphazardly across the floor. Natural evening light beams through a gaping hole in the wall and floor, an opening at least 20 meters wide. Peering through the hole, one could gaze down at the land of Falderühn far below, as it stretches all the way up to the horizon. Suddenly, a huge orb of wind, five meters wide, like a spherically contained typhoon, rockets through the gap in the wall, smashing into the armory ceiling with a surprisingly subdued thud. The whirling orb clings to the ceiling for a moment, before unsticking and gently floating down to the granite floor. The whirling wind gradually loses ferocity, slowing and slowing until the forms of four figures can be seen within. Yellow. Red. Green. Purple. The color palette unmistakable to any citizen of Falderühn. A guiding hope for righteousness — The Lucky Star Party. "Oh fuuuck me! I HATE traveling by air cannon!" As the wind completely dissipates, Inch shakily lurches forward, knocking down rusted suits of armor as she falls to her knees. "Should have taken a fucking balloon when we had the chance!" The elf clutches her stomach and begins to heave. Celsce, ever unfazed, reaches down and holds Inch's hair back as the elf hurls: "A balloon was no option, rogue. Too vulnerable. We'd be dragon meal in an instant. Now...compose yourself." "Yeah, yeah," grumbles Inch in response. As the rogue wipes her mouth clean, she notices a distinct empty feeling on her shoulders. She reaches back to pat her shoulder, feeling for something that isn't there. "Milo? Where is he? MILO!" Inch hollers across the empty hall, to no avail. Meanwhile, Graham sits on a fallen suit of armor, tightening the straps across his tunic and boots. "The cat will survive." He remarks dryly. "Now gather 'round. Let's remind ourselves of our mission today." Inch and Celsce circle around Graham. Lumen, who had been kneeling quietly off to the side, finishes her unspoken prayer before joining in. Graham reaches into his pockets and unfurls a hastily scribbled drawing of Overseer Fortress. He points to a spot near the bottom of the stronghold: "We're somewhere around here. This section of the fortress has been abandoned for centuries. We should be safe from monsters for a while. Now this—" Graham winds his finger up, to the very top of the fortress. "—is the throne room. The Overseer's domain." Inch lets out a pouty groan: "Aw man, all the way up there!? That's like, so far!" Graham ignores Inch's fussing and continues: "This fortress is a labyrinth. There are traps. Monsters. Moving and shifting rooms. Keep vigilant." Lumen, silent until now, reaches her hands out and gently grasps the back of Graham and Inch's hands: "Children...we will be safe in the shadows. The love of the Dark Form will envelop us. We must...believe." Celsce rolls her eyes at Lumen's spiritual reassurance, but Graham quickly interjects before the samurai can retort: "You heard Lumen. We lie low. Traverse the fortress with caution. Take the Overseer by surprise. Surprise is our main advantage."