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Rosalind's ears flickered when Liam spoke elven. It was a tongue common amongst fairies. The little fae's eyes twinkled at the unnatural light that Liam created. Such had cast out the previous darkness and the wicked shadows that stalked them within it. Rosalind leaned her little head outside of Gweyr's breastplate pouch and marveled at the scene before them.

"Liam is very handsome. Very magical." She giggled.

"You still live?" Gweyr frowned.

"Of course. I am not an insect. I won't die in your pocket. I have been here, watching. I seen you and Liam slay that big monster. Wait until I tell the other fairies about Liam."

"Are all your kind this simple?" Gweyr asked.

"What do you mean...simple?" The fairy crossed her arms.

"Nevermind." Gweyr grinned.

"Wait, if you think I am easy, just because I complimented him..."

Rosalind was cut off. "No that's not what I meant."

At that moment Gweyr noticed something small and metallic ahead. She swiftly caught up to Liam to place her gentle yet calloused fingers on the elf's shoulder. "We should take caution. Something dangerous lies ahead."

Even still, Gweyr would move onward, fearlessly and approach the item. Rosalind hid back inside the Rangers pouch, sensing an unusual evil...

When Xyla offers her hand Amara smiles beneath her leather mask. So the girl won't just let her die after all. For now at least it seems as if they are truly partners. That is good to know. The tall elf's strength is such that she doesn't actually need her companion's help to pull herself up but she accepts the hand offered nonetheless. Once she is back on her feet Amara turns her expressive grey eyes towards the pit as well. It's hard to say if the other woman is accusing her of tripping the trap by her attempts to mark their path, but whatever Xyla may think on the matter, Amara definitely feels the guilt of it herself.

"Well, it won't be hard to know which directhion we came from at leatht," she says before tilting her head to gaze down at the dark haired elf beside her. One hand reaches over to rub at the side that had slammed into the wall. It was a bit sore still but certainly not enough to slow her down yet. "I'm fine. I...Shank you. But you're right. We thould keep moving."

As she turns to begin moving in the only direction they have available at the moment, Amara is careful to walk softer and lighter than usual. She has a feeling that they won't run into the same trap twice, but better safe than sorry. She also makes no more attempts to mark their path. She isn't even sure she remembers where they came in at this point due to the rush of adrenaline from escaping the pit trap but the trap itself will serve as a good enough reminder provided it doesn't some how magically reset itself.

Curling his lip in irritation, Corym turned to follow the direction of the carved arrow, though not entirely sure it was a good idea. Even with the advice, it could very be a trap intended to mislead. Still, blind was blind and he figured the other could be just as likely be a dead end, or rife with danger.

Keeping an eye out for the aforementioned 'reflection' the statue's inscription mentioned, he proceeded. "Reflection... Would it be water, a mirror? Or perhaps a shadow or illusion." He murmured under his breath, going as far as to look up above for some sign. Seeing the sky so far out of reach, a strange feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure if it was relief that not all was death and gloom, or resignation that this might be the last positive thing this horrible maze would let him experience.

Either way, he still kept his right hand firmly to the hedge wall, siphoning energy and ready to retaliate should a monster appear.

((Corym))

As Corym siphoned energy away from the maze's foliage alongside him, the leaves and branches withered and left a train of wilted debris, scarring the wall of flora aside him and marking a trail as to where he had been. In the distance, he may hear the aftermath-echoes of something falling and collapsing, as well as a few faint and urgent voices, too faint to be able to decipher what they say.

This path transitioned into worn dirt, packed into the earth by either being trodden upon or being so curiously undisturbed; the exact cause was difficult to determine.

Corym thought he saw just the faintest shift of a shadow, turning the corner almost thirty feet ahead of him. Was it really there? Were his eyes deceiving him? What was that?

(please roll d20 at the end your next written turn)

((Xyla and Amara))

Up ahead of them, the two elven women would see various items scattered haphazardly across the floor. Armor pieces, weapons, an amulet or two and the like. Many of them looked like they had been there for a long time. At the end of the corner, where the path took a sharp left turn, there was a sizable chest with a ring of chalk all around it, merely sitting ominously in the path.

Liam had also noticed the glint of the metallic object on the ground ahead of them. He was going to go investigate what it was when he felt Gweyr's hand on his shoulder. He turned his head slightly towards hers and nodded at her words. Internally, however, it was a somewhat different story. He internally rolled his eyes at her stating the very obvious. No shit something dangerous lies ahead, Gweyr, he thought. Take a moment to consider where we are. Returning his attention to the glint of the object before them, he approached it, holding his inherited light aloft in his right hand.

When he reached the item, he looked around before getting down on his haunches to get a better look at it. "Hmmmm...." he said softly to himself. After a couple of moments, he closed his eyes and quickly muttered something. A complex, bright - but soft - blue rune appeared on the back of his left hand. Over the last couple of decades, Liam had discovered that he had an aptitude for a form of magic that was an interesting combination of runic magic and aetherial manipulation that was capable of a variety of different things. One of these things was an ability to identify something, its unique aetherial signature, or both, depending upon what he incanted. On this occasion, the young noble was looking to identify both.

A strange glow that was the same shade of blue as the rune surrounded his hand. Taking a deep breath, Liam reached down and touched the object. Once his hand met the metal, he closed his eyes and concentrated on what he wanted to glean from the object.

A strange glow that was the same shade of blue as the rune surrounded his hand. Taking a deep breath, Liam reached down and touched the object. Once his hand met the metal, he closed his eyes and concentrated on what he wanted to glean from the object.

The small object that Liam picked up appeared to almost be some sort of arrowhead. It was a simple construct of grey slate, brittle when flaked to pieces but surprisingly sturdy when thick like this. The pointed tip was sharp and the arrowhead had been tapered to decrease air resistance. As for any sort of magical aptitude, Liam would sense that there was only the barest traces of some expired spell. Paralysis. It would not affect him now; this was merely the residual that his ability would glean from this object.

Suddenly, he and Gweyr would hear a loud clicking a good ways behind them, starting from both sides of the current passage they were in and coming closer, as if priming upon some unspoken indicator.

Xyla continued to walk towards the chest, cautiously taking care to avoid any of the pieces that were scattered across the wooden path, stepping over and skirting around them when she could. Her steps slowed, a little hesitant, even a little repelled by the ominous-looking chest at the end of the corridor.

“That certainly looks foreboding,” she remarked under her breath. “Chalk is used in occult practices…I think it’d be best if we stayed away from it, but that’s just me…”

Once they got closer, Gweyr was not comfortable with Liam touching this mysterious object. But she did not warn him again. Last thing she wanted to do was sound like a paranoid mother. She shook her head defiantly, disappointed in herself for coming here—only to place her life in the hands of a boy; whilst in her eyes. Liam may have been a runic Master, thus when the loud clicking came, Gweyr was readying herself for a quick escape.

“This is not good.” Rosalind said, sneaking her little head from Gweyr’s tunic. “You woke it up Liam. Now it’s going to get us!” The fairy cried.

Gweyr looked into the sky and it was as if everything threatening had eased from her mind—as if time had miraculously slowed down even. She could not see Elvira’s spirit watching over her, but she could feel her. She smiled upward even though danger was coming fast. Perhaps now was the time to make her last stand. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth coming.

”Rima lle amada!” Elvira’s voice was heard in Gweyr’s head.

Gweyr opened her eyes and felt pain instead of warmth. Tears poured down her eyes. She felt anger and fear to be left alone with no Queen to love or protect. ”Rima lle amada!” Elvira’s voice came again this time more desperate. Tears could even be heard in her friends words, as if she begged Gweyr to move.

Finally Gweyr listened and ran as fast as she could. The danger that came would no doubt leave Liam and herself fending for their own lives; only to survive its monstrous blast.

Amara isn't particularly interested in the chest itself, though she does pause for a moment to examine the items laying on the ground around it. Taking a knee she even turns one piece of armor over with the tip of her sword so that she can check it for holes. As someone who has always been poor and had to scavenge to replace her equipment more than once she's loathe to simply walk by anything that's both abandoned and intact. At her companion's words, however, she stands once more and leaves the armor where it is.

"Yesh," the taller elf agrees, taking care to catch back up without touching anything else. "Let'sh keep moving."

Tensing at the apparent movement, Corym stopped in his tracks. He took a deep breath in and held it, straining to listen while pressing himself against the wall. He wasn't in the mood to run into anything hostile this maze had to offer after his last encounter. He was sure if there was a present audience, his actions might be deemed cowardly in comparison to the standard traditions of combat, but he didn't care. Slowly, he drew one of many hidden knives and sawed its serrated edge against one of the vines on his arm, coating it in a milky-green sap. Whatever it was, he had a measure of what he hoped would weaken it should it prove an adversary. He could not tolerate waiting in suspense for much longer, and dared to sidle along the wall and check around the corner.

Liam knew that Gweyr was standing over him, and disapproved of his touching of the arrowhead, but he had to figure out what it was. The residual paralysis spell intrigued him, and he wondered why it had been attached to the arrowhead, in addition to why the arrowhead was here in the first place. However, when he heard the loud clicking noises from behind them, he feared that the three of them were about to find out.

Despite Rosalind's cry that whatever was making the noise was "coming to get them", it sounded much more mechanical than bestial. That aside, however, he had a distinct feeling that whatever mechanism it was that was starting up behind them was as much of a danger to them as any beast was. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the clicking became louder and louder. He took off running at around the same time as Gweyr, hoping that they could outstrip whatever machine was behind them.

The closer the two girls head towards the chest to turn that corner, the more the marks on the cobblestone path suffer heavier nicks and scratches, and the concentration of the armor pieces became slightly greater. Xyla couldn’t get rid of the annoying pit in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure why. The only thing she was sure of was that the maze wasn’t a kind place, and in that regard, everything was suspect.

There was a rattling noise, something metal. Xyla’s head immediately snapped in that direction where she swore that she saw a small piece of armor spinning like a bottle. A shin guard. After a moment it struck her that she was pretty sure she had a gist of what happened. At another sound of metal behind Amara, the younger elf suddenly lunged without warning, seeking to parry the sudden blow. “Look out!”

Corym was more than sure that he had seen a shadow, but when he checked around the corner, he saw…nothing. This place was a dead end, the walls of the hedge ending. Right alongside the offending wall was a small and circular pool of what almost looked like the clearest water but had the thickness of quicksilver. Shimmering mist seemed to emanate from the liquid, drifting upward like bog mist or fog even though it wasn’t nearly cold enough for natural iterations of those.

But that wasn’t the only thing that he saw.

Gold. There were piles of coin, goblets and other adornments strewn around the area, stopping just short of the pool itself. They were covered in a fine layer of dust and neglect but they still faintly reflected what little sun did reach them.

~~
Along the corridor in which Gweyr and Liam ran, a hail of arrowheads began to shoot horizontally at random intervals, the system beginning behind them but catching up to them quickly, each arrowhead shooting out from seemingly indeterminate points within the hedge walls themselves, whose foliage apparently disguised the projectile launchers.

There was a space ahead of them where the corridor’s floor shifted to brick, but shortly before they would reach that point, Gweyr’s breath would catch as pain sparked in her right thigh, cold and hot simultaneously as skin flushed around the stone arrowhead. The momentum would cause her to stumble, and numbness would begin to radiate through her leg, and she would make it just to the line, where the numbness would cause her to trip and fall as she couldn’t feel her leg, splaying onto the brick floor.

Stinging. Liam would sudden feel something swipe across his forearm, very close to his elbow where there was an opening in his armor. The arrowhead had streaked in front of him and clipped his arm on the way out, but he was otherwise unhurt. He too could feel the numbness spreading like an unwanted balm through his arm, beginning at his elbow and radiating outward to encompass his upper and forearm, where he would lose feeling in all but his hand.

The arrowheads continued to fire behind them as they both made it to the brick area. The volley wall of arrows seemed to cease here just up to the line, the change in the floor likely marking the end of the vulnerable zone.

~~

Xyla’s sword clanged against another sudden blade that had seemingly leapt towards the veiled elf, its hilt held by a pair of chainmail- and gloved gauntlets, although no body was attached to said implements. It was as if said armor had taken a life of its own and had attempted to strike Amara, and likely would have done so if the younger elf had not intervened in time.

Rattling came from around them, and two other other bedraggled and enchanted pairs—all with at least a weapon and gauntlets. One held a mace and also had a breastplate and girdle floating at the appropriate distance from the hands. The other, no torso but with chainmail leggings and foot implements alongside forearm plates in addition to a spear.

The armor that Xyla faced, merely gauntlets and a sword, fenced with the younger elf as if some invisible frame kept it mimicking the movements of a real person. The one with the spear and the feet leveled its weapon at Amara before charging, metal steps clanking against the cobblestone floor.

As Corym rounds the corner he is faced with the pond and the piles of dust covered gold. Beside all of that, standing alone in this darkened dead end is a thin, young looking elf woman carrying an actually physical torch. Her hair is not as light as is considered properly elvish, but it isn't dark enough to cause offense. A muddy blond that curls around her cheeks in a bob style fashionable in some of the more southerly elven territories. Her skin is pale and she is dressed in what could be described as 'hunting leathers,' tight and well cut but still functional. There's a bow over her shoulder and a quiver on her hip, not to mention several throwing daggers across her chest.

The look on her face as she regards the untouched treasure is...lustful though it quickly turns wary at the soft sound of Corym's footfalls. One of those throwing daggers slips from her fingers a few inches but she doesn't throw it just yet, crouching a bit lower as she regards the new arrival. For a heartbeat there is silence as they face off, then her thin, dark eyebrows rise.

"You're...you're the competitor they locked up in the town square like a dog...Cor-Cor-er, something." There is yet another pause and her expression grows wary. "Where's your partner...?"

A moment of blackness lingered around her as if it was death itself that had come to claim her. Unsconsciousness was the correlation of silence. All this happened after she lost her step and hit her head on the pavement. Crimson leaked from her thigh while the paralysis went into a critical affect. Cold blue hues opened and she took a new breath—as if life had reclaimed her. Blurred vision made it difficult for Gweyr to gain her bearings.

The mechanical arrowheads had seized.

She dragged herself to no where; tender fleshed fingers threatened to pull the shaft clean from her flesh. Gweyr hesitated. Then she screamed as she grit her teeth and pulled the arrow clean of her thigh. Tears came down her eyes and the pain made her eyes lids shut again. Her skin became pale as fresh scarlet leaked from her vitals. She felt cold and could no longer move. All the years she dedicated her life to this forest, it was almost unfortunate that she would die here like this...in this hideous game. She started to shiver...

In the back of her mind Amara recognizes the wisdom in drawing her sword earlier though there was no immediate threat and, should they survive this current ordeal, resolves not to put it away again until they are out of this sadistic maze. The taller woman steps back as her companion begins her duel with the disembodied gauntlets. The brows above her mask furrow and her eyes dart from Xyla to the newest threats. She doesn't know much about magic, but she has to assume the armor itself is somehow a part of the enchantment. Otherwise, why bother to give it any form at all?

As the spear and its arm guards begin their charge, Amara readies herself. She may not be knowledgeable about magic, but a fight is something she understands all too well. As the shaft shoots towards her, she will attempt to side step, bringing the sharp of her blade down upon the more brittle wood. The hope is to break it, which with her strength should be easy so long as she hits it rather than the other way around, as some part of her can't help but assume that if the magic is tied to the weapons and armor, breaking said accouterments will break the spell as well. It's really the only plan that comes to mind at this moment.

"Hmm, I could ask the same of you, stranger." Corym regarded this new person with suspicion and mild curiosity. "Creeping about in the darkness of this maze, I might've mistook you for a wild beast."

He spent a moment, remaining in a nonthreatening posture, albeit alert should her demeanor change. "As for my partner, who knows? He's probably dead, and if not, he should probably give up while he has the chance. I'll admit, he had an interesting idealism, but it won't do any good in a place like this." His gaze trailed to the knife she held in waiting, and a sneer stretched across his face. "Ah, someone else who likes to throw weapons around. I wonder which of us is faster?" He thought to himself.

"Well, I'll not delay. If you don't cause me any trouble, I'll not bother you either. I'd just be careful about that treasure, its presence doesn't leave a good impression. The pool however, does interest me for... another reason." He says, cautiously approaching while disregarding the belongings scattered about the ground.

Liam hissed in pain when the arrowhead grazed him. He reflexively looked down at it, noting how the wound, thankfully, wasn't wide or deep. However, he felt his arm starting to go numb as the paralysis spell took effect, but luckily it seemed to only be isolated to his arm. However, Gweyr wasn't so lucky. An arrowhead had lodged itself in her thigh. Although, before he could move to help her, she had managed to pull it out.

Still, however, despite the arrows mostly ceasing, there were still a few flying. Also, Gweyr had gone motionless, and the wound on her leg was bleeding somewhat profusely, but nothing too life-threatening as of yet. Either way, the two of them needed to get away from here. His right arm hung limply at his side as he moved over to his longtime mentor; he could still feel his hand, but that was about it. "Sorry Gweyr..." he said softly as he used his left arm to drag her away from the end of the arrowheads' firing line.

He managed to pull her about 15 feet before he had to stop from the fatigue of pulling dead weight with only one arm and fatigue due to the adrenaline spike from running from the arrowheads ending. He sat down on the bricks next to Gweyr and looked down at her wound. It didn't seem to be too bad. The paralysis spell was the main danger here, and he figured that was the reason she wasn't moving.

The young noble shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying and moderately succeeding in getting his heart rate down. He needed to have a steady hand for what he was about to do, and his heart pounding in his chest wasn't going to help with that. Once again, he closed his eyes and muttered something, and again a rune appeared on the back of his left hand. It was a different one than the one he had used before. Like before, his hand glowed with a bright yet soft blue light the same color as the rune on his hand. Slowly, gently, Liam lowered his hand until it rested just atop Gweyr's wound. He continued to incant for a few more moments before finally removing his hand from her leg, the rune disappearing. The wound had been healed with only a small amount of scarring.

He sat back and leaned on his left arm. He felt a little winded from this - as he always did whenever he healed wounds - but at least Gweyr was was no longer bleeding. Now all there was left to do was to wait out the paralysis spell. Hopefully such a thing wouldn't take too long.

In the haste of the act, Amara’s blow lightly deflected against the back part of the metal spearhead before it bit into the seasoned wood at an angle. In the next moment of movement, with the sword only slightly hindered by the catch upon the foe’s spear, a significant chip of the wood, nearly half of the spear’s diameter, splintered off. The spear remained intact for the time being but may not be able to survive a similar assault on portions close to it.

However, such an attack seemed to throw the invisible foe slightly off guard, as might be determined by the sudden uncoordinated sway that the blow caused. After a small moment, the spearhead whipped in an arc, slashing instead of merely taking a stab.

~~~

As Corym approached the pool, he could be able to see the faint silhouette of his blurry image reflected upon the mist. If he would look at it, it would return the glance, ‘moving’ as Corym did but ultimately being rooted to the spot just above the pool at emanated that fog. To mimic, of course, as a reflection was wont to do. The thick pool was like a mirrorlikek puddle that only reflected the mist above it and the barest tinges of the sky above, a pool of just barely disturbed blue beneath the image.

~~~

As moments passed, the frequency fo the arrowheads had begun to slow, and then eventually stop with a few empty clicks of whatever mechanisms were hiding within the foliage of the hedges. Even at this moment it would be difficult to pinpoint where the individual thing was. Some of the arrowheads had been unlucky enough to skitter across the ground while most seemed to find their place, disappearing into the opposite hedge from where they had been shot.

The brick floor that they now trod and sat upon wasn’t much solace either, surfaces uneven; some the rough of the unbothered and then those, towards the center of the path, which had been worn a bit more smoothly. A few minutes passed, but the numbness in Liam’s arm and Gweyr’s entire body continued to persist. However, things were otherwise quiet and uneventful.