[It is time.

The chill which had come from the now-open, unnumbered room has now begun to seep into the rest of the Depths. It seems to call to the Titled, beckoning them to come forward and to face whatever is now beyond that door.

Fie and Rubedo were right - that room was, indeed, the exit to the Depths. And at the end of the staircase is a door, which the Skeleton Key can very easily open. A few seconds later, the door at the top of the stairs opens.

And the city within the cave below is revealed to them, as they stand on a platform high above the ground.

The ruin still looks as new as it did the day it was built. The air here is cold mountain air, though the only light seems to come from one massive building carved into the very rock of the cave. There is nothing coming from the mouth of the cave save for snow.

On the door they just came through is a single parchment of paper which reads "LEINALZIND OUTER DISTRICT." Each building, they will find, is labelled similarly. Which means there is only one conclusion.

Welcome to the city of Leinalzind, Titled. And good luck, teams.

You will need it.]



[Once the final clues are found, the unsettling chimes sound three times again. However, the Debate Hall doors do not open for the Titled. At least, not for a moment or so.

When they do, though, and the Titled descend the stairs, they will find that the desks have been completely updated, up through the deaths of the previous night. It is...unsettling. Have they truly lost half their numbers in such a short time? But, what can they do about it?

The logs are on the desks, and the Intercessor finishes up the final touches of the evidence they made, placing it on the desks.

There is no chanting on the stage. The dragon, also, seems to be gone, leaving only traces of arms and legs and goo. So, the Intercessor simply goes and sits on the stairs, looking at the remaining survivors. They sound tired as they speak.]

All right. your best. Take your time, and...good luck.

[The trial of Raphtalia, the Dreamstrider, and Farkas, the Outcast, has begun.]



[A week has passed. Food supply is starting to get low, despite the group's best efforts. It's only a matter of time before the food runs out or becomes more difficult to procure. Not to mention the trash that has been accumulating since the beginning of the week, with no one changing or cleaning it up. Not exactly the healthiest environment.

And, as the day dawns, there is - unfortunately - that very worrisome feeling that something is very, very wrong. It's quiet. Too quiet. The feeling of being watched has increased tenfold.

And there is a smell in the air, even above the garbage, as people step into the second floor hallway.]

The Second Victim


[It was getting unbearable. The illness, the stress, the threat of death, either by oneself or by another. The worry about finding a cure for a disease that, in this comparatively primitive world, might not even exist outside of the Depths.

However, on Friday morning - or what the Titled could at least conceive as Friday - all the Titled will wake up with the remnants of a very soothing sensation in their throats. Cool and at the same time almost burning, like someone had dropped liquid menthol down their throat while they were sleeping.

They will also find something else, especially if they had been infected: their perception of time is back to normal. Which means one of two things. One of the Titled actually managed to create the potion needed to cure the disease, or...the Titled might have an Inquisition looming on the horizon.

There is only one way to find out.

((OOC: Just a reminder that, due to the nature of the motive this week, there may be references to self-harm and suicide, along with other possible triggers, during this Inquisition, including during the Investigation, and that potentially triggering comments should (and comments by the mods will) be given a trigger heading on those comments.))]]



[Friday morning is quiet enough.

Everything seems to be normal, as before. Normal and boring, even with the strange things happening around the Depths. After all, no one's killed yet. Why would they? Surely something as ridiculous as a weird fruit and a fleeting promise wouldn't provoke anyone to kill to see if something like that was actually true, right?


Still, if anyone was worried, they would at least feel justified at being tense. People were told to kill another in return for the safety and life of a loved one, after all. And it included a way out for someone who succeeded in getting away with it. There may be someone more than willing to kill for that chance.

And that's when you don't consider the two empty rooms, one of which was opened and resulted in more strange things happening. And what happened last week? It hasn't been solved, has it? And no one expected that.

Perhaps it's a thought to look around to make sure there's nothing off this morning.

Certainly, it couldn't hurt.]


[The morning atmosphere is quiet, when the Titled wake up. Not just quiet, but almost relieving. The strange sensation that they had felt since they received those terrible letters is, if not completely gone, certainly much lessened. It seems like whoever issued the threats has backed down.

It feels wonderful, doesn't it?

Though the faint, strange smell which greets their noses as they open their doors into the hallway of the Barracks might not be as wonderful as the weight that has lifted off their chests. It lingers in the air, hangs on the tongue. Its almost a bit annoying.

Perhaps someone ought to see what's causing it.]