Pinata heard the woman's approach behind him, shouted a quick (but sincere) apology over his shoulder, and then directed his attention forward again. The thief looked to be getting away, and he couldn't have that. He uttered the incantation for a spell that would temporarily petrify the man, not quite turning him to stone but definitely holding him still, then sent the magical energy in the thief's direction.
Evan skidded around the next bend. Panting, he looked up. The man was holding the medallion, letting it hang from the chain in his hand. He was floating away through a large archway cut into a massive tree. The entry- or exit was trimmed with large triangles, colored in a purple then yellow pattern. At the base, were runes- strange ones. Each was a different color. One looked like an angry face, and then another, a sad one. He did not have time to observe these details. He rushed into the cave- knowing of a trap, but not caring. After a few long seconds of complete dark, he felt the floor beneath him leave. Looking down, he saw nothing but darkness.
Not one to exercise caution, Pinata followed Roara right over the edge of whatever cliff he had fallen off of. We're f**ked if the Elf doesn't stay up there to throw us down a rope or something, he thought. Immediately on the heels of this thought came another one: What do I care? I'll be splattered all over the landscape anyway.
Her eyes caught the last wisp of the mage as the dark passage swallowed his form. He was, contrary to normal beliefs, rather fast for being one of magic kind. Such a thing was good, for if he were to be any less and a nuisance, she would have to not give her respects to him. One of weakness was one to be spat on. Yet, now was not time for her mind to wonder or even think on such things. It was a show of lack of discipline to allow a mind to spend its time along with other things besides the mission at hand.
She had now come to the tunnel-carved passage, running in at the at first at the highest speeds but slowing, as she felt the oppressive darkness surround her. All sense of sight was blocked from her, a silent blindfold swooping around her eyes. Her pace slowed at this, her mind taking caution's importance over the situations urgency. To tread without knowledge of her grounds could mean a deadly fate to her and those two, who's presence absence she now--
Ground swept from from beneath her feet, vanishing in the moment mind traveled from concern of grounds. Yet, she had not moving so fast when the earth fell, and her reflexes gave her the action to react. A hand, barren from any protecting clothing sort, brought the momentum around to allow her grabbing onto the ledge. Yet, such an action would not go without a price, for the edges were jagged and ready to spear.
Burning, the most piercing of experiences: pain in its most brutal and true form, ignited in a fast spreading wild fire in her body, the source, her single hand, bearing all the weight and acceleration from her fall, punctured into the stone hooked point ledge, and bore most gruesome injury. Her body swung and crashed into the stone wall, nearly knocking the sense and grip from her mind. Despite all pain, she remained hanging, the hooked wound partially holding her to the wall. All mind grimaced as warm blood dragged its way down her sword arm, creating chills where it tread. Her eyes followed up to see the source, and met the deform'ed silhouette of fleshy hand slab hooked onto the cliff. The sight and the thought of the consequences made her mind drift into the panicked river that streamed down her arm. Yet, each finger had sense enough to clasp gritty ground, keep the pressure enough from the tearing of flesh.
It took a moment, a time, for her best of senses to regain and for herself to attempt to pull herself up. First, she put all terrors of pain into the back of her mind and all knowledge to what her instinct to survive may bring to her battered hand. Then, mind sweatingly clear, she moved to swing herself up from the infinity below her and bring the other arm to the ledge. Taking a deep breath, she leaned her body down and--
She was falling. The bloodied hook her hand had both grabbed and been punctured into crumbled from the strain of her weight, stone savagely ripping, jaggedly cutting through part of her palm, filling the heavy-breath laced air with a whisper of flesh being torn before surrendering her to the void's grasp. Pain vehemently exploded, enough to forever numb with a thousand screams, enough to force her from all life itself. But the warriors mind, facing death, was elsewhere. There, was where she only would feel her bodies mind desire to weep, not from pain, but another thing, another evil: She had failed him.
The darkness and the rush of air seemed to never end. He thought at any moment a large pit of lava would rise and consume him.
(only my guy sees this part)
The blackness around him was frightening. He could feel everything, but his vision was like being blind. Then, almost as soon as it started, it stopped. He was floating in blackness. From below him, the faces of creatures he had never seen before that looked to be drawn in crayon were rising and disappearing past him.
It was childish to try to stop me. And for that, you will be punished accordingly. A low rumbling voice came from nowhere, making his hairs stand on end. Then, in the distance, he could see a face he thought familiar. It was crude, but he could make it out. As it grew closer, the startling revelation became apparent: It was his own. The hair was shorter, and the definition less complex. With a great rush of air, he began falling again, his face going right through it.
It seemed like hours, but it could have been seconds. Now an image came into view. A round room at the bottom of the pit, lined with torches. There were small puddles and patches of grass. The thief was floating there, chuckling.
"Play nice now." He said, and floated back through a massive rolling door, which shut when his feet passed.
The sudden realization that he could use magic to slow his fall and prevent injury occurred to Pinata as he was about five feet from hitting the ground. He slowly and gently lowered himself, landing feet-first next to Evan, and looked up. The Elf woman was about to land right on top of him... he extended his arms in an effort to catch her and perhaps prevent her being injured, also reaching out with his remaining magical energy to slow her fall so she wouldn't break his arms.
Evan stood up. His legs felt as though the bones were rubber. His vision was blurred, and every sound was dulled. He could hear his heartbeat as if someone was playing a drum in his face. He tried to stumble over to use Pinata as support. He took a short step. Then another. He tried to reach out to grab his shirt, but then the ground rushed up to him.
He started coughing. His chest felt lighter, but weaker at the same time.
Into infinity, feeling all, yet nothing. An illusion, in plummeting, wrapping and warping around that which was the mind. More felt there than in flesh's form; a torment's force overwhelming that which was felt with panic-born wind and, all feeling, infinity.
Yet, not she. Her force was more than that of terror's, of delirious fear, of that confusion that born it all. She was, through her right of mind and certainty, at peace, facing her death with open eyes and no fears. But, every regret was on her, though they were hushed away with consoling thoughts. Not a peep of one could escape, if she were to meet this death with fools pride of sanity. That was one thing she could have, in this most direst of moments.
Once again, facing infinity, it ended.
Images came to view, breaking the well placed order in her mind. So, this would be the end, if no force of the others below acted on her. She saw their living easily, in that brief moment of sight before her supposed demise. That was what drove a mind to new chaos, the thought of survival. Instinct would take place as she did what was best for her living. All will power was pushed ahead to allow herself to live, to have another chance and--
To the ground, she slowed, in a mystic force exerted by, eyes finding his face, the mage and then, her own form meeting his body, a cause for confused annoyance, mixed with a slight edge of gratitude. But, above this, was pain, for though magic and meat'd bones had cushioned her, there was still and impact and still a former injury biting at her nerves. A hand, the hand bloodied, made instinctive impact with the floor, throbbing with screams, but not one escaped her lips. As she met the ground and mage, she did but only wince, and roll away from him, mumbling a relieved thanks of polite sorts. And, after this, she would store her hand away into hiding, relying on dark to hide the stain already made and her to block its source from sight.
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. -Macbeth
Pinata watched the woman carefully to make sure she was okay after she extricated herself from his arms. He had tried to preserve her modesty as much as possible by keeping his hands away from private areas, and he hoped his efforts to keep from offending her had not gone unnoticed. She seemed unhurt, so he immediately turned to Evan.
"Hold still, I need to find the source of your injuries," he told the necromancer. He muttered some words and waved his hands over Evan's body, and Evan's chest became transparent, allowing Pinata to see the organs and bones inside. "Broken ribs -- one greenstick fracture -- and a punctured lung," he said, the calm in his voice belying the unpleasant nature of the diagnosis. "Nothing a little white magic won't fix. But I'll reiterate... hold still." He said an incantation and waved his hands over Evan again.
(OOC: I left it open in case you need Evan to be hurt for some reason... that way, you can say Pinata's spell failed, or perhaps was countered by the thief, if you want to.)
(No, you dont realize besides the physical injuries.)
In the dark, it was hard to tell the injuries Evan had sustained. He looked overall intact, besides the bruises and cuts, broken ribs and fractures. But- there was one major detail that at first was overlooked. He was shorter. His limbs were thinner, and less complex. Where his black tunic, and precious belongings once were, was a white long silk gown to his knees.
Evan slowly got up. He looked up at Pinata. He was only tall as Pinata's lower ribs.
"What did he do to me..?" His voice slightly cracked, when it did he clasped his hands around his own throat. Then he noticed his clothing.
"Did you see my stuff land around here?" He was trying not to make his voice crack, or sound squeaky. He knew personally that people with squeaky voices were generally not respected. He twisted his body around, noticing it was much more flexible and light. When he found there was nothing besides the three of them and the dim torches lining the round room, he looked back at Pinata again.
"Is there any way out?" He asked, looking at a large round carving on the wall.
"Sure, there's always a way out," Pinata said. "You might want to get behind me, though." With that, he raised his hand, muttered what sounded suspiciously like "Meteor", and send a flaming ball of rock at the farthest wall. It exploded on impact, raining rubble down on the three of them, but fortunately not burying them. Pinata waited for the dust to clear so he could see how big an opening he had made.
(OOC: Not sure if you wanted us to be trapped for some reason, so you can have the spell not work if you want. I want to blow something up though, dammit!)
((Sorry that I haven't posted in a while (Why do I feel like I'm always saying this?). Once again, its because I'm I've been very busy with 'work' lately, and when I've had free time I've been too lazy/exhausted to do anything productive. I have written my next post out, key word in that being written. Yeah, I'm a dork who writes out her roleplay posts before she types them. So, for now, I'll just have a filler post, before I put all the fluff in. I warn you, it's going to be suckily short.))
She tended her wound while the other two engaged each other, instinct blocking out there voices and both using their preoccupation with each other to focus on her hand. She used some of the bandagings on her leg to cover the wound and, after this, she turned an saw the man Evan-- now only a child and the mage attempt to blast their way out.
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. -Macbeth