war table: one giant leap.

[propulsion]

WHO: Intrepid heroes
WHAT: Forging a path to the second Crossroads Gate, and then poking it with sticks.
WHEN: Late Drakonis
WHERE: The Crossroads
NOTES: n/a

Comments

[heorte]

Poor Thot. Stymied.

Ellis reaches up to her, fingers stroking feather briefly before his attention swings back to the threat at hand.

"It's worth a look," has some level of resignation. Yes, they will go back to the previous gate, over and over again until they hit upon some way to neutralize it. Ellis understands it, even if he hates the inevitability of it.

"Anything else, while I'm there?"

As if there's something to fetch.

[nonvenomous]

Anything else? Dick thinks it over.

“Be careful.”

Level warning, to the point, underscored by the step he takes back from the threshold and then away from Ellis and his chalk to carry on with his contemplation of the void. Thot peeps sadly on his shoulder for the few seconds it takes her to redirect down into a useless preening of the armor under her great taloned toes.

[heorte]

A flick of a smile, strained but clear. Be careful, said to a Warden (Said to Ellis) is a sweet sentiment but what does it come to should any given thing go wrong? Careful only goes so far.

It is still a relief that Richard steps back.

There is nothing left but to descend. Ellis wishes for fire, though he knows there's no guarantee it would cleanse anything in this place. At most it would be temporary respite, satisfying only for a matter of minutes before that rift spewed out fresh-grown contaminant to reclaim any scorched space. They're left with one solution, though Ellis can see no immediate way to accomplish it.

The sickening pulse of the Calling in his mind rises as he crosses the threshold. It would blot out everything, if Ellis allowed it. (There had been a time where he might have welcomed that.) The chalk is caking to his fingers, and Ellis is moving slower, careful and deliberate this close to the stretch of tainted stonework. The Calling burns like a fever, leaps higher as Ellis sets chalk marks as instructed.

He doesn't turn back immediately. There is a long, measuring look for the diseased rift, face upturned, studying it with the chalk held loosely in his fingers while disease burns beneath the soles of his boots.