There was so much to learn, almost too much. Angela of life, Dalanesca of death and desire, Zanar, and Lokir were the only names she knew of the deities. Mirannda knew that there were more, but she didn't know any of them yet. Then, to make matters worse, there were the deities of old in the vast history of Revaliir. Somehow, their influence was beginning to reach through the fabric of time and muck things up for the present.

As Mirannda pondered on the situation, she decided that what mattered was Life and Death had been tampered with. Those who were shut in the mine were stolen from the lifestream between the two domains. Countless souls were lost, doomed to linger in cold, dark halls and caverns. With no relief, no escape, it was no wonder that they were now rising their decaying bodies now that fresh air began to flow once more. Were they stirring out of spite, or were they merely wishing to escape? Regardless of their hopes, Mirannda had a job to do.

The champion of death and desire, Reaper's Hand, felt that it was her obligation to return the poor souls to Dalanesca for judgment. She was dressed in her traditional elvish leather armors, with swords on each hip and dagger hilts sticking up from her boots. Fiery hair was pulled back into a single tail, with a few defiant short hairs dangling before her face. If she found some treasure, that'd be a bonus. With her sapphire sword in hand casting its beautiful stary glow, Calcifer floating above her, she felt undefeatable. Calcifer Novis, her fire sprite, looked much like a little fireball, pulsing with energy as he was ready to help his master fight the undead.

Silently like a shadow, the swing of a scythe cut through the body of a risen corpse releasing an ethereal flame from its physical prison. The soft clinking sound of her armor echoed through the dark like bells that had long went out of tune. They had been trapped, abandoned and forgotten–but soon they would find closure. It would be all over soon, she thought as another pile of bones fell back to the dust. Venturing ever deeper into the mines, she wondered if this place held a connection to her past. It was hard to know, knowing so little. With only her name and naught else where should she start? There was…that memory. Faint and distant, of a place where she had lived. It seemed like a monastery or some sort of cloister, the sharp contrast of shadow and light forming shapes through the windows and stone architecture. Where was that? Was that place still standing? Why was she there? Only that which she had lost held the answers. Answers that the people she too had forgotten knew. What she did know was a deep-seated desire to send those who had stayed too long out of the realm of the living.

With each slice, she broke their earthly bonds and freed them to move onto the afterlife. She didn't remember how she knew there was life after death. In her past, had she been a pious person? An empty tome with pages wiped clean of any mark or blemish, that was a fitting description of her mind now. "It will all be over soon. The end of your time will soon arrive." The dark armored gown brushed against the walls as the wavering lights of willowisps illuminated her path. All the while she kept searching, looking for something–anything familiar. Edelweiss was a kingdom long forgotten from ages past. Aside from its wealth, not much had remained of its presence. There were many things the world would discover again and the people would learn. With her sight she sought out the undead here to give them their final rest, but within the twisting passages she sensed someone among the living. Out of curiosity she followed it, until she could faintly make out shapes. With hair black as night and her long gown, surrounded by wisps bearing a scythe, she appeared more like a banshee herself. 

Jesgil noticed quite the number of adventurers gathering and preparing in Adeluna. It was preparations for a major excursion, that was for sure, with many ensuring they carried holy water and other symbols to act as wards. It did not make much to gather information from some of them to learn of massive happenings nearby at the ruins and it had caught everyone's attention. Guess that explain's the traffic, ran through the young woman's head as, while people did venture over there, it was never in such massive numbers! It was enough for her to make the journey herself and,, at the very least, aid a medical camp in those who worn themselves out on escaping.

After days of travel, she arrived on the scene, helping cook meals for the exhausted and mending the wounded that stepped out. Some were obviously confused with a woman dressed in a frilly maid outfit greeting them, decorated with an obsidian shard necklace that shimmered, while others seemed to have taken a bit too much joy into it (their treatments were not exactly gentle). Still, every now and then, each member shifted from caretaker to rescue op by deving into the ruins to try and find any who had trouble moving or to report those that had fallen in the ruin themselves. Today, it was Jesgil's turn.

"Awaken, my blood, and grant me thy steel," Jesgil muttered to herself in Draconian tongue before a beam of light came before her, solidifying into her trusted axe, Tillan. "Now be a dear and help me make sure things are alright, okay?" she asked the axe as she petted the blade with a whetstone, ensuring the weapon had a solid edge before venturing forth. The glances she got, again, confused folk, as many entered inside with many forms of protection, and yet here she was, stepping inside with such a frilly maid dress with a hum in her voice…

Deep within the caverns and mines of Kingdom ruined centuries ago, many a treasure could be found. Riches beyond ones wildest dreams, an enticing offer to those of strong wills and sharp wits….. or at least to those that think of themselves in such manner. Many now come seeking glory or to better their lot in life inside dampy caves filled with all matter of flesh hungry bugs and restless souls. Ruins around the entrance to old caverns were bustling with life, adventurers of all sizes, backrgounds and creeds gathered to fill their pockets, though many of them will not manage to do anything of the sort. Many will come out empty handed, many more will not come out at all, the caverns becoming their tombs. But if there is treasure to be found, if there is possibility of never having to work again in their lives, many will try their luck and consequences be damned.

Altough there is at least one man among the adventuring lot who did not come here seeking riches of the ruined Kingdom. Nor did he came seeking glory or to be remembered by song…… no….. he just got lost.

Thomas Druh was already deep within the caverns, not realy knowing why….. he kinda remembers wandering about some ruins….. bieng jumped by some wild animals….. and then things get hazy to say the least. The commoner scratched his head his head in confusion and then shruged.
- Well at th' 'ery least I ain't bein' haunded by the wolfs again - he muttered under his nose and went about wandering through the cave…… which was fairly hard since he didn't have any source of light on him……. he went in cicles for about good few hours before finding a tunnel that would let him press forward. Though as he went on further he might have started reconsidering his choice. He heard noises, noises of a fight. Someone was up ahead of him fighting against something. He waited a bit untill sounds died down and proceeded to sneak forwards, placing his steps with extreme care as to not make any noise. He saw some faint light at the end of the tunnel, but instead of coming ou there and looking for the source, he instead chose to hug the wall and only slightly lean his head from behind his cover.

He saw two women one which could be described as fiery, confidnet and ready, the other was ghastly almost like a wraith or banshee of sorts. Above the red heade warrior hang the source of light…. somekind of small ball of fire…….

Thomas was not certain what he should do…… should he greet them? Leave his cover and risk his life? Or maybe he should just wait it out behind the safety the stone vacern wall. Well…… he chose neither and just stared at the two, as he was lost in his thoughts.

As her heels clicked against the stone ground, it was not unexpected to hear other echoes bouncing through the tunnels nearby. Clinks and the clatter of bones disturbed the rhythmic steps. The phoenix knew she was not the only living being down here, searching to make their fortune. So long as none rose their blade against her, Mirannda had no qualms with anyone. To be safe, she allowed the mental walls she had spent so long building to fall, opening herself up to more than just shadow and flame.

"Someone approaches," Calcifer whispered, his voice akin to the soothing crackles of a campfire. Mirannda nodded once. Upon reaching a branching path, she spied a ghostly aura. It appeared to be a woman of sorts, but the poor lighting made it difficult to discern the true nature. The phoenix stared at her, unflinching, in her attempt to work her next step. 'Stink of smoke. Smoke and death.' A voice of a spider sent a shiver down her spine, a voice that she had opened herself up to. Mirannda could hear the creature scuttle back down the path.

"Only the dead have fear of me, for I am Mirannda, the Reaper's Hand," she called out to the woman. 'Dirty stink, now smoke? Lizard too. Home defiled. Deeper, gotta go deeper.' The phoenix frowned as she heard this comment. This was an entirely new creature than the spider before, one she wasn't quite familiar with by the sound of its voice alone. However, it was approaching her, meaning there were at least one or two more people from that direction. "Cal, recon down that tunnel." Her little fireball of a familiar began bobbing through the darkness, happy to oblige in any way for her.

The Reaper's Hand…why did none of this sound familiar? A woman's voice came from the darkness in response to her approach, and in the dimness of the earthen walls she saw flickers of red around a face with what appeared to be a ball of fire. Ardea answered, voice echoing down to the woman's ears. "Your words say you are an emissary of death. You must be, if the dead fear the living. Have you come to ferry the souls of the lost to the afterlife?" Closer now, her form and shape were clearer to Mirannda's sight. The ethereal glow was from a spectral cloak and the darkness surrounding her became long raven tresses. In one hand she held a glass vial which willowisps flitted from, and the other a great scythe. "If so, then I have no further purpose to remain here. The dead will be sent to their eternal rest." This woman, did she know her? The chance was unlikely, perhaps wishful thinking. With nothing which to recall every face was a stranger, every place a first encounter. There was magic within her, that the tall dark-haired woman could tell. Bold and bright, yet ebbing at the edges–and something stronger mixed between.

Pale blue eyes stared back at the red-haired woman from an impassive face. No ill intent or hostility came from Ardea, rather a distinct lack of intent emanated from her behavior. Her actions seemed all based on unconscious habit than active volition. To those of lesser mettle, she could have come off as being quite intimidating. Despite that, she knew not to provoke another into combat unless necessary. More footsteps nearby drew closer, and she turned to look over her shoulder at their new company. Perhaps they had more knowledge of the past of this place, or anything useful to guide her next steps. If only she could remember…

The crippling remains of the undead had once again laid in pieces upon the floor of the routes the mines had taken. "Oh dear me," Jesgil stated, stepping over one what had been sliced through the spine, "I should find Joriv after this for another Incineration run." If it wasn't to simply clean the halls of corpses to dust, it would be to help try to keep the entry level somewhat clean and safe from disease, though any deeper would provide too much hassle as the numbers simply thickened up. Still, the main objective would be to help clear rubble, aid those close to the entrance, and be able to aid deeper in should any kind of alert or warning would seek out the entrance of the maze of tunnels.

Despite heading deeper in, it seemed her path was getting brighter before a small ball of fire floating into her sight: A flame sprite. Easily not a wild one as, in Jesgil's mind at least, fuel would be hard to come by here. "Why hello there, little one," she told the small sprite, moving her empty hand up to greet it as its flames made the silver strands in her hair shine more than the crimson. The biggest shine, however, came from the obsidian shard that rested around her neck. "Tell me, are you here to seek me out, or were you just investigating?" Despite many clearing the paths before them, it was not unheard of to be jumped from behind as the undead crawled in from other parts of the tunnel.

"If you need to lead me to your master to ensure I am trustworthy, than feel free to lead the way," she told the sprite, her smile radiating across the face of the maid wielding an axe…

Thomas looked upon two women intently when they spoke. Words poping up that sounded very important….. yet he could not discern their meaning as he was never faced with such things before. Though what brought him back from his thoughts was sudden movement, the ball of fire flew into his direction! He went quickly behind the cover of the wall, huging the stone as if his life depended on it. Thankfuly it seemed that sprite hasn't noticed him…… or it just ignored him at the very least and it went down furhter into tunnel. He tried to control his breath, to keep it quiet. He was somewhat succeding in this….. but…… then he started to wonder…. what are those two in the chamber doing? He could try to look….. I mean the sprite was gone and there isn't any light left so while he won't be able to see anything but they too shall not able to see him.

So he took a little peak and…..and…. went back behind the cover once again, heart pounding, breathing shallow and unsteady. The commoner almost squealed like a small girl but he quickly brought his left hand over his mouth, letting out but muffled barely heard sound.

"The Banshee woman….." his thoughts run….. "She ….. she…. looked here….. in my direction" his eyes started to dart around, darkness was everywhere…. but only now he noticed how suffocating. He could barely breath now, irrational fear squeezing air out of his lungs and not letting him take anymore. He tried to reassure himself that the gasthly woman have not seen him, how could she? But well…. he had seen her somehow. In a way that one sees death just behind the corner, waiting to reap your soul and take it to far beyond. His hand was still over his mouth, touching his long, unkepmt and greasy beard that hasn't see shower in….. in well ever. He was paralyzed, eyes closed, hand cluthing a sword he doesn't know how to use. He was waiting, waiting in fear for the end that would surely come his way.

Mirannda nodded. ”I am, and I have.” Whatever the woman was, as she came closer, things became clearer. She had heard of clothing that made one seem more spectral and coupled with pure black locks, played tricks with the eyes in this darkness. ”The mine is large and extensive, and I am but one person. That is to say, I would not turn down any assistance.” The phoenix turned her head and watched her familiar’s progress until he rounded a bend. Calcifer was rewarded by the sight of a curious person indeed. A maid with an axe was walking toward him.

Even more curious was the way she addressed him. He blinked with surprise as he froze in the air, her hand extending toward him. With the exception of Mirannda and possibly children, no one ever reached out to him. However, he held his excitement and did not allow himself to touch her, just allowed her close enough to feel his heat. ”Both, madam. My master has many sources, and takes appropriate precautions.” As he began to lead the frilly, out of place maid, Calcifer also thought about how much a reckless, stubborn woman his master was.

On the way back, Calcifer paused in his path and looked off to the side. ”You there, ya, you, the bearded male. Sorry, but ya look like a gaping fish at present. If you want to live, I suggest following me to my master. Mira will make sure you are protected until we return back to the surface. And ya don’t have to worry, she doesn’t bite.” Calcifer chuckled at his joke as he continued on his way to Mirannda. ”Mirannda, I found this lady and some clueless, scared lookin’ guy back there. Other than that, all clear.”

”Thank you Calcifer.” The phoenix took in the sight of the lady her sprite brought back. A single eyebrow rose in regard to the attire, but nothing would be said about that. ”I am Mirannda, Reaper’s Hand. This is Calcifer, and sorry if his tongue gets away from him at times. I think he’s still young.” She smiled warmly at them. ”And don’t let my title create any misconceptions. I’m not a cold-blooded, heartless assassin. Right now, I am only interested in releasing the lost souls.”

She did not know her, that Ardea gathered from how the crimson woman spoke. Hopeful desires extinguished and the truth now clearer her unasked questions were answered. Death's emissary showed cordiality towards her, even welcoming assistance and company. She had no reason to refuse, so she accepted. "I will assist you in whatever way I can, Reaper's Hand. My name is Ardea. Regrettably I have naught more to give about myself, as I no longer recall." This was the truth. Had she found more about her own origin, she would not withhold it from Mirannda. As the emissary turned her head, more unfamiliar faces came to join them. A small fire sprite belonging to the red-haired woman brought another dressed in the attire of a domestic servant bearing a large battle ax. The sprite greeted his master, informing the three of them of the presence of a fourth person hidden in the darkness of the mine's tunnels.

Turning again back where the sprite had came from, her eyes could discern the outline of the timorous man poorly attempting to conceal himself. "Luminatio." Casting a small glyph with her hand, a sphere of light manifested beside her. The vial of willowisps no longer needed, it was put away as she turned on her heel to approach the male mercenary. Her ghostly 'aura' gone, she was only slightly less terrifying as the light revealed her armor and great scythe. Boots rhythmically resonating as she walked, at this moment she more resembled an emissary of death than a spellsword. "You have nothing to fear, we bear no intent to harm you." She reassured him. The Reaper's Hand herself declared a vested interest in only the souls that had been trapped here, not those still with time left to live.