Birdcage

-- Floor 0: Outside --

The dirt path, already dwindling and spotty, dies abruptly as it opens into the clearing. A single rocky outcrop and the stumps of a felled trees do little to embellish it from the rest of the blurring woodlands, and if not for Deidrich at the helm it would more than likely be passed by entirely. He stops and raises a single hand to halt the congression.

"This is Underhill? What a shithole." Annabelle quips. "I didn't think the name would actually be literal. Why'd build it into the ground?"

"Underhill is a repurposed iron mine turned asylum." Deidrich grunts in answer. "The isolation is the point. Though in this case..."

"Right. That's why we're here." Annabelle finishes, rolling her eye and putting on a voice. "'No one has been seen or heard of for two months now. The city can't spare men for these trivial matters. You rotten mercs will have to do. This lout Diedrich will show you the way. Don't come back without a full report if you want to get paid.' That sound about right to you, D?"

"Watch your tongue, knave." Diedrich warns. "I'll not tolerate insubordination, least of all from a mercenary like you."

"A mercenary like me, huh?" Annabelle snaps back. "You have some else you want to add to that, buddy? You wanna go? We'll see who's laughing when I-"

A gentle finger taps on {{user}}'s shoulder, its owner stepping in close to let her voice carry without raising it. Rhnoa is a measured woman, quiet in voice, silent in stride. She's not spoken more than five words on this journey, but she chooses to speak now.

"These two are incompetent loudmouths. I much prefer your company." she whispers. "Come on. There's no need to wait for them to bicker. We go down there, find whatever cave in happened, confirm that everyone is dead, and we all never have to see each other again. Fair enough?"

With a graceful weave around the arguing party Rhnoa guides {{user}} forward to a where a trapdoor lies indented into the mound. It's locked shut by the crown, but the flimsy piece of metal was clearly put there more so as a formality than any real deterrence. Rhnoa bends down to inspect it for a moment before drawing her knife, rolling her shoulders, and delivering a few precise strikes with its pommel to beat the latch open. The chains slide off and the doors creak open to reveal a set of stone-cut stairs leading into the earth.

The thick stench of rotten meat coming wafting up from within its bowels is the first sign that something has gone amiss, but the entry itself remains pristine. Barred skylights cut into the ground above allow a modest glow to be cast over the rocky sanctuary, and similar grates below those in the floor suggest a weak attempt to permeate the entire asylum with natural light.

"Now you listen to me, you redheaded skank! I didn't become a guard just to- Hey! Hey what are you doing?!" Diedrich interrupts, breaking off his hissy fit to clank over. "That lock was the property of the crown! You could have waited five seconds for me to use the key..."

"From the smell of it nothing's been alive down here for a while. Easy money." Rhnoa muses, ignoring Diedrich entirely. "You lead, {{user}}. We'll be right behind."