The cold was relentless. At first it was a 'nuisance', then 'problem', finally a 'disaster'. Prime crops were dying, animals growing ill, and workers seriously losing morale as rumours and unrest began to spread. People were saying the food wouldn't last long enough to feed eneryone for the whole year around, that is was almost gone already, that in some areas people were already recieving rations. Of course, this worried the aristocrasy as much as it inspired fear in the peasants. If the lower classes of people didn't get their three meals, that meant trouble of many kinds and general inconvinience for their rich supiriors.

And that was why Sane had suddenly an influx of incoming work, such that he was almost overrun. But luckily, all his prospective employers wanted the same thing: For this infernal winter to end and as much of the harvest to be saved as possible. Everyone - from criminal ringleaders to nobles to businessmen - who knew of Sane was finding a way to get in contact and offering him various sums of money as payment if he could sort the situation out. Many of them were able to provide him with the supposed cause of the trouble, The island of  Itjivut, and many of them were able to tell him intrigueing rumours of treasure. Not that he would need any treasure if he managed to pull this off. He was a savvy guy and had purposefully waited a while for as many people as possible to offer their rewards to him before starting out on the journey, leaving his horse and companion behind. They probably wouldn't fair well if things were truly as cold as people said.

So now he trudged through the deep snow, not really looking where he was going and hugging his cloak close around him. He was only pulled his thoughts when the temperature plumeted. It was a good sign. He had come to the right place. He looked up to see mighty doors with statuesque dragons framing them. In fact, they were statues but so lifelike that Sane could easily have mistaken them for the real thing. In such a place, positivly oozing magic from every pour, he wouldn't have much been surprised if they were.

So he reached out with his mind to push the door open. However, he needn't have bothered, it swung open of its own accord. He stepped inside without hesitation. He was not afraid of the cold, though it might be a little uncomfortable. He doubted anything here could truly hurt him. Inside there were torches of blue fire. Quite pretty, he thought. The walls curved and twisted magestically as well, with bone and and scales and ice all glinting blue from the periodic light sources. He liked the style, although he would never employ anything so obtrusive for himself. He prefered dark colours just as he liked to work from the shadows.

Admittedly, mazes were by no means his favourite thing. He had no way of reading it's thoughts to find out which way to go but undetered, he set off at a brisk march and began the labourious process of turning left and right and on and on. He knew he was quickly lost. However, the plan was to keep walking until he wasn't lost any longer, however long it would take.

Little did he know that he was about to trip a wire that would almost probably kill him as it released a deadly volley of arrows.

Per aspera ad astra…Per aspera ad astra. Per angusta ad augusta…per aspera.
O Fortuna velut luna statu variabilis, semper crescis aut decrescis; vita detestabilis nuncobdurat et tunc curat ludo mentis aciem, egestatem, potestatem dissolvit ut glaciem. 
Sors immanis et inanis, rota tu volubilis, status malus, vana salus semper dissolubilis, obumbrata et velata michi quoque niteris;
Nunc per ludum dorsum nudum fero tui sceleris.  

The words of the old songs cycled through her head, a never-ending mantra with which drove away the madness of the Vault of the avaricious dragon. The verse and hymn she had once heard in the echoes of times long past she repeated to give her strength. How long had it been since she had entered the accursed bastion of want? People had come and gone, yet she remained. Looping through the serpentine tunnels, their paths and patterns began to become ingrained into her memory. A spike trap there, spears descending from the ceilings here. Arrows shot from hidden mechanisms embedded deep within the bone and ice. A false floor, hallways lined with pressure weighted stones. The empty promises and whispers of treasure, the cold merciless reality of death and ruin. She had become fully familiar with these, but in all of her time here she had yet to achieve her main objective: to end the infernal beam of Glaciem.

The frost up there was unbearable, to where even she could only last in its presence for ten minutes. Her willpower was not nearly enough to surpass the limits of her body. If only she had brought something to throw, to disrupt it from a distance. But she had yet to find what she sought, and was still in the process of searching. The gold and jewels here were worthless to her now. For all their shine and value they were nothing more than dead weight. The bones and scales were even more useful than they, which said a lot about her situation. Passing over handfuls of coins and cut gems, she continued on for something of greater size. Something large enough, so it would make it to the beam when thrown. She had established a routine of resting, eating, and walking. They once said that the definition of insanity was to do something over and over again while expecting a different result–much like what she was doing now. 

There were a few things she had learned about the Vault aside from the obvious. One, the traps would reset and refill after an indeterminate amount of time. However since their locations did not change it was not a problem for her. Two, there were different types of wyverns in this area: one with poison and one without. The ones up in the passages before the foyer were the nontoxic kind, as she had been unfortunate to learn in her attempt to explore the depths of the caverns. The Vault contained four distinct sections: the initial maze leading up to the foyer, the foyer which led to the beam of frost, and the depths below where the icy river flowed. The only materials she had at hand were bone, scale, ice, and anything else left behind by adventurers and treasure hunters. Since approaching the beam safely was impossible, she had to find a way to extend her reach. 

The sounds of other movement within the Vault had died down, as the wyverns were accustomed to her presence. The lack of new footprints meant she was the only one who had come by here recently, and the chances of meeting someone who wasn't insane or a raider was getting slim. She would make another round through the tunnels before it was time to rest in the safety of the foyer.

Sane actually did step on the almost invisible thread next to the ground and initiated the volley of arrows. They came quickly from multiple directions, all aimed in the space where he was standing. There was absolutely no way whatsoever that he would be able to get out of the way in time but luckily his mind was trained to a fine point and reacted quicker than his body could ever hope to. He blasted the power of his will outwards and watched as the arrows were all swept away from him, as though by a gust of wind. However, his heart was beating fast as he realised just how close to death he had been. He would have to procede more carefully from now on.

He walked for a couple more minutes and set off two more traps in that time, narrowly escaping death with the help of his telekenisis for each one. Then, out of the blue, he became aware of another intellegent mind somewhere ahead and to the left. All this time he had been aware of the minds of animals. They were numerous, though he had yet to come across any. He wasn't worried about them, however, because it was easy to subdue mere beasts compared to humanoids. He followed where the presence of the intellegent mind seemed to be sourcing from, this time stepping over a wire and hoping over suspicious looking stone slabs on the ground without triggaring anything. As he grew closer, the mind was quickly becoming more defined. He could almost make out their thoughts. They didn't seem happy but they didn't seem hostile either.

Unsure whether they would hear him if he shouted, he decided it was worth a try. "Hello? Anybody out there?" He hollared, then listened as he continued walking. True to his predictions, he quickly came across a cluster of minature wyverns hanging from the cieling. They were all awake from his shouting and staring at him like they should like to literally eat him. Thankfully, it took practically no effort at all to calm their aggression and convince them to go back to sleep. Once they were far enough behind him, he called out again. "Hello!" He could make out thoughts now. Something about a stone. The cold. A strange glowing beam of energy. More cold. He needed to get closer still in order to get anything more specific. His was very keen to find another person. It would be lovely to get back in someone's head. A minion might be useful in destroying this infernal cold, too. He smiled as he picked up his pace.

Her ears detected the sound of a voice. She ignored it; likely another scavenger in the halls. Her mind began running possible designs, construct outcomes, and various other calculations. To the unseen mental voyeur, he would pick up an influx of disjointed mental fragments of thoughts and descriptions–jumping from one topic to the next erratically. Either the mind he was viewing was scattered and disjointed, or simply used to thinking faster than coherent complete concepts could form. For Shiloh, it was the latter. In her mind's eye the words were sparsely sprinkled amidst images of possible construction ideas to launch a weighted projectile. Every now and then whisperings of the darkness of human hearts would surface, remnants of the negative thoughts and desires she had drained from people. All this combined with the lapses of repeated loops of words in a foreign tongue made a mess hard to follow and decipher.

Bone against bone, lashed with sinew or rope. Levers or pulleys? Icicles and stalagmites as a fulcrum, broken chair legs to form the arm and base. Angles, trajectories, height and distance. Direction of wind, the lack of moisture would influence elasticity. Counterbalance of the projectile, against the weight of the launching mechanism itself. Mental images of locations in the Vault, flashes and glimpses of where potential parts and pieces for the machine could be found. There were brief impressions of broken weapons such as polearms, swords, and clubs rusted yet still of use. There was a lingering and intense focus on certain parts of those images before switching over to a visual impression of the room where the beam of eternal ice was housed and various cognitive assessments of scale. There wasn't much to glean, aside from technical things. Even after a potential form took shape, it collapsed and the process of mental restructuring would happen again.  

Then, there was absolute silence. Mentally and audibly, it became dead quiet. Shiloh had stopped briefly and was staring at a pile of bones. Taking a short break from her brainstorming she let her mind rest, shutting off and blocking all external influences. To Sane, it was as if somebody had abruptly severed the connection. Gathering the largest, most usable fragments of bone from the pile, she continued on through another passage. This one had a trail of triggering spike traps lining the ground, and she walked forward ahead of its pace avoiding being injured with ease. She had passed through this particular area so many times that she didn't even need to think to cross safely. Back at the entrance of the foyer again, she took her accustomed seat in a defensible location within the chamber and sat down to rest. Ending the period of mentally blocking her senses out, she ruminated over the verses again, this time the mental words coming loud and clear.

Per aspera ad astra, per aspera ad astra. Per angusta ad augusta, per aspera.  

As he grew closer to the other individual, Sane indeed was greeted with the pleasant flickering of rapid thoughts. Perhaps even a bit too rapid for his liking as it was difficult to grasp anything before it was gone. He was able to gather more than most would have been able to, however, because of his training. Whoever this was, they were trying to work something out. It was a complex problem, to do with catapaulting an object at some energy beam. Intermixed with this were occassional thoughts of despair. He didn't blame them. This place wasn't pleasant by any standard, but the nature of their thoughts didn't match with that of a depressed person, which is what these strange token thoughts seemed to convey. And he should know: He knew every illness of the mind intimately. But he didn't pretend to completely understand this.

However, the Psionic Master apprecaited that whoever he was about to meet was clearly quite intellegent. What's more, an energy beam such as the one he saw in their mind was also a part of the rumours he had been provided with by his many employers. Some people said it was the source of all the cold. This was important progress. He should remember to thank his new minion when he found them.

But just as he thought that, everything went quiet. He could no longer detect any thoughts at all. Instead, he sensed only a wall. It was a strong one too. Walls were rare amoung most people and seldom put up unless they knew they were at risk of being scanned. It was quite possible that whoever it was knew he was there because of his shouting. But how would they know he was a telepath? It didn't make sense. Was it possible that they had just put it up because they felt like it or because they were overly suspicipous of new people? Was it even possible that the wall was an accidental thing, as a biproduct of intense concentration? He wasn't sure. At this time, however, he didn't feel the need to waste energy breaking their barrier down. Another couple minutes and he would catch whoever it was up and be able to speak to them properly.

It was just as Sane was about to enter the black foyer, where his quarry resided, when he felt their mind again. It was almost singing in some foreign language. He stepped into the foyer. It was worth a good look around. However, he could now see the person he had been tracking for so long. They were strong, thin female with dark brown hair. He waved as he made his way over. She looked very defensive, but Sane was unconcerned. He meant her no harm and that would soon become obvious. If she chose to attack him, he was confident he would have no trouble at all defending himself.

"Greetings!" He grinned at the woman, "I've been following you. May I ask what you are doing here?"

At the sound of another person's voice Shiloh's mind was alert. As soon as her eyes and senses discerned the person coming in, immediately several layers of mental walls were triggered. Normally she wouldn't be so guarded, but there was one specific reason why: he was a human. To the average person, it would seem absurd that a human would react with such antipathy towards their own kind. But this wasn't a case of simple misanthropy–it was due to a few other factors. This man, though as innocuous as he seemed, was a mage–and a skilled one. She could sense it coming from him, and his overly-friendly demeanor set off warning bells instead of being disarming as it should. Her reaction was completely opposite to what the average person would do, and this would only become more apparent the longer their interaction lasted.

Any stray thoughts that would have been accessible to Sane were now completely barricaded, and the connection silenced. Shiloh's expression was in her usual poker face, and her eyes watched him like a hawk. No visible display of emotion could be detected from her eyes and they stared back at the man like the abyss. No malice, no hate, no fear, no joy, no anger. They were simply watching, waiting to see what he would say and what he would do. He greeted her, but she did not return the social gesture. It was a mere formality, a social construct of human society and cultural norm. Coming from him it didn't mean anything. Then he asked what she was doing here. To that she gave the laconic, monosyllabic response: "…Sitting." He had asked her, so she answered. What else did he expect her to say? Everybody who came here arrived under three possible general intentions: curiosity, personal gain and self-interest, or due to a sense of purpose and responsibility. Within a couple of tries anyone could figure the combination out.

As he drew closer she analyzed his physical appearance and approximated his capabilities, creating an initial estimate of his potential threat level. The mental walls were high and at full strength, and if she detected any weakness in them they would promptly reinforce themselves. He and her were close in height and build. He had no obvious weapons, thus it was possible they were concealed or he was reliant on magic. She continued to collect and assess information as her observation continued. 

As he approached, he quickly became aware that her mind was even more fortified than it had been before. No matter, he could talk to her for now. He was also quite undeterred by her lack of expression. He could derive meaning from a lack of expression as well as he could read the meaning of a present one. It obviously meant that she was feeling a negative emotion which she was trying to hide, be it hate, jealousy, fear. Something told him it was the former of those. It also told him that she was skilled at either deception or secrecy or both.

She still sat tensely and defensively, which told him she was being cautious and wary. Her eyes were trained on him unblinkingly in what he assumed was an attempt to weigh him up in her mind. He probably looked quite normal, wearing casual clothes and a cloak which would hide the two daggers on his right him from her.  On the other hip he had attached a canteen and a pouch with which looked pretty full. Apart from this, he had brought nothing with him, which might appear strange to an onlooker. Despite her general, unhelpful manner and obviously standoffish response to his question, the Psionic Master forged on unconcerned.

"Very clever, my dear," He said dryly, "Now tell me why you have come to this place and what you wish to accomplish while you are here." It was not phrased as a question.

While he did this, he closed his eyes to hide the inevitable glow of his eyes and pressed against the walls around her mind, first gently and then more firmly. He was unsure if she would feel the intrusion but doubted it. He pressed until he finally felt something give, only to be immediately refortified, but this satisfied him. He could push a lot harder than he had been, which meant he now knew he could break down her walls if he wanted to. That was enough for him.

He opened his eyes and acted as though nothing had happened, waiting for her response to his more direct questions. If she continued to be uncooperative, he could think of numerous ways to persuade her, with and without the aid of magic.

When he ordered her to tell him about herself, she already had an answer for him. "No." She was familiar with that tone of voice, that body posture, that air of pride. His words reeked with the stench of arrogance, just like them. Her suspicions were confirmed when she felt something trying to slip in through the cracks of her defenses. He was a mage. She had all the pieces now, and the picture was crystal clear. The results of the assessment: a young male with above average skill and prowess in the arcane, capability for mental intrusion returned as a positive. And the assigned danger threat level–high. The entire Vault itself had originally held the seat of the highest priority, now it was only second to the presence of this man here.

After Sane had attempted to break through, the entire nature of the defenses changed. Instead of faltering or going into disarray from a heightened sense of danger, something clearly tangible suddenly pushed back with force. It was as if something or someone had stood up and was standing their ground, cognitively speaking. On the outside, Shiloh had not changed, but she wasn't going to let anyone push her around like she was a lesser being. Even the bloodthirsty orcs and goblins that roamed the passages of the Vault had given her the same degree of treatment as everything else. And to be fair, she would rather prefer being stuck with a legion of them in a bottleneck than this here human. Knowing from experience, she knew that it wouldn't be enough to assert herself. People like him always thought too loftily of themselves, and insisted they get their way. They were so short-sighted that the only thing they could see and acknowledge was themselves. She had no business with their ilk.

She wasn't going to let him try to break in a second time, and if he tried anything she'd give him a full serving of what he deserved without hesitation. She only trusted him as far as she could throw him, and that wasn't very far. He could hide behind his words, but he couldn't hide his actions.  

Sane didn't bother to hide his surprise when she pushed back on his mind. Very few people could do such a thing and even fewer dared to try it on him. Luckily, it seemed more of a warning than a proper attack. Nonetheless, he raised his eyebrows and immediatly erected his own walls around his mind just to be safe. His mind was the most important thing he owned and he wasn't going to be haphazard about defending it, even if he was completely confident he had the upper hand over this woman. As such, his walls were far too strong for anything but a deity to break down.

Now, usually he wasn't in the business of worrying about the insolence of individual people - they weren't worth his time - but right now this woman held clues as to how to get his job done and his patience was wearing thin. However, before he resorted to nasty tactics which couldn't be taken back, he reigned in his irritation in order to try and sweet talk her around. He would have normally tried to influence her mind to charm her into likeing him, however, that was just as likely to be detected in some way and fuel her hostility. So first he would try the carrot without the aid of magic, then the stick with magic if needed.

"Fine," He relented, sculpting his expression into one of a normal person. That is, a humble person with insecurities and the like. He took a step back to give her some more space. He may have been crowding her into her chair a little before. He waved his hand as if to brush away the terrible start they had gotten off to, "By all means keep your secrets. May I at least know your name? You can call me Sane. I'm here for my work and I would really appreciate any help you could provide me about this place. I would simply hate to have to return to my employers with faliure."

Shiloh obviously wasn't going to give him her name. Not if her life depended on it. Personal feelings aside, knowing her name wouldn't bring him closer to what he wanted to know, therefore irrelevant. It seemed he was backing down based on his face, but she didn't trust it. It wasn't natural enough, the reaction was far too stiff. He was trying a different approach, she could feel it. She continued to watch him with a look that was both alert and blasé. So now he was asking her to tell him about this place, claiming he was here on a job. She doubted the credibility of his story, after all what kind of employers failed to inform their hired help about the basic details of their job? Thinking about the most energy-efficient way to respond, she finally spoke more than a single word to him.

"Well I guess your employers will have to learn to deal with disappointment, since they should have told you the important details when they gave you the job. If you've made it all the way in here, then you obviously know what you're doing. You don't need my help." He was a smart person. Smart enough to try to probe into her headspace. There wasn't really much to know about the Vault, other than what you could observe directly. Winding tunnels aside, the whole place was straightforward. If he wanted information that only she could give, then she might consider. But if he wasn't willing to at least spend the effort to work for it himself, then she would have to decline. Why bother asking a stranger the answers to an easy question? And no she didn't care if he really was here on a job. It was his own responsibility to get as much information he could from the ones who hired him. This wasn't some old jungle ruin or abandoned castle where you could waltz in without a map or supplies and hope to make it back out by sundown. She knew what she would be getting into before she set foot in the Vault, and so did he.