02. Enter the old mines of Amarice

The dusk had barely settled when the group set off in pursuit of the lone fugitive—a man whose reckless escape had led him deep into a snare of his own making. They found him ensnared in a pit trap he’d cunningly devised, now turned against him by fate. Struggling and bitter, he hurled vile insults at Lia, the half-elf whose calm dignity clashed with his puritanical, self-righteous vitriol. In that charged moment, Cre’s thoughts were struck by the shimmering image of a tarot card—recently drawn from Gwen’s deck—a silent, enigmatic omen. Yet, he saw no merit in prying further from a man whose secrets were as murky as the twilight itself.   Enraged by this insolence and the fruitless silence of their captive, Lark’s anger ignited into a blaze of swift retribution. With grim resolve, he ended the man’s life without hesitation. As the cold echo of death faded, Talon swept down like a dark-winged shadow and discovered a curious note clutched in the fallen man’s hand. Its cryptic message—musing inexplicably on a bunny and a map—hinted at a mystery that beckoned them further into the unknown.   Their journey led them to the yawning mouth of an ancient mine. Amid the musty gloom, Thranmire crept forward, his keen eyes catching sight of a solitary figure slumbering atop a decrepit lower tower. High above, in the deeper recesses of the mine, a low, guttural growl emanated from the upper tower—an ominous promise of danger lurking just out of sight. Cautiously, the group scouted the entrance, finding within the first tower three wolves bound in chains, their eyes glinting with both defiance and despair.   Before they could fully comprehend the silent warning of the imprisoned beasts, the fragile calm shattered. Two bandits, roused from a doze in the tower, leapt into action, their blades glinting in the faint light. Almost as if summoned by their struggle, a bandit leader emerged from the depths of the mine—a dark silhouette advancing with cold intent. In the ensuing clash, steel clashed against steel and resolve was put to the ultimate test as the party managed to fell the trio in a fierce and desperate melee.   But the battle was far from over. Pushing forward along the path from which the leader had come, the group soon found themselves beset by three additional foes. In the chaos of combat, amid the clamor of clashing weapons and cries of exertion, an unexpected moment of intimacy unfolded. Lark, caught in the thick of the struggle with Gwen, found his gaze inexplicably drawn to a glimpse beneath her modest skirt. For a fleeting moment, he was struck by the surprising elegance of her legs—a detail as incongruous as it was arresting amidst the violence. However, this diversion proved fatally costly; a brutal blow sent Lark crashing to the ground, and he slipped into unconsciousness, his life hanging in the balance as they desperately sought to revive him.   In the midst of this turmoil, a new terror began to surface. From far below, amid the echoing silence of the mine’s depths, an eerie chanting resonated upward. Following the sound, the group discovered a grim scene—a man bound and bleeding, left at the mercy of fate, while three ominous figures known as Uloon circled him. Their rhythmic incantations filled the cavern, a sinister prelude to a ritual steeped in unknown malice.