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Sophie would like it on the record that, when she accepted the job, she didn't know that the Librarian had to do so much bloody politics. She could be out healing the sick, like Natan in his day. She would love to be out healing the sick. Instead, she's in one of the innumerable studies of Hush House, searching for a book for Hokobald, even though she wishes dearly that she could toss him out on his shiny arse. She doesn't mind helping out Yvette, or Arun, or really most of the others. It's just Hokobald in particular who should really go fuck himself. But it is her duty to remain strictly neutral, and she takes that duty seriously. So she'll find his damned book, and watch like a hawk while he reads it. And should he happen to violate that neutrality himself, well, she might have a few things in her pockets to introduce him to. (Swaddled Thunder isn't casual to make, nor the Rubywise Ruin in case of violence. But she's made them enough to feel they're replaceable, at least.)
The orb slots into the door, and golden light flows out from it in branching patterns that might remind a reader of circuit diagrams until they reach the outline of the door, where they flare.
The entire door recedes into the floor, revealing a short hallway that slopes gently downwards.
It's a pretty uninteresting downward-sloping stone corridor! No decoration on the walls, nothing cluttering the pathway. There's a normal door at the bottom. The air is cooler in here.
...on sufficiently close inspection, the traces of sand on the floor seem be shifting every second or so, as though the floor underneath it is vibrating a bit.
Luto holds up a hand, frowning, and then moves silently to the door and presses her ear against it, brow furrowed in concentration.
Sophie has a bad feeling about this, actually.
(There's a feeling of Scale in the air.)
Luto hears what she's pretty sure are footsteps. They're slow, heavy, and perfectly rhythmic, if you take the time to figure out which ones are coming from where, which she is definitely doing.
She makes the party's signal for "Ridaya, cast Message."
(She does so right away, targeting both of them, from where she's floating outside the corridor.)
"Three big unknowns patrolling - heavy, moving slow, unnaturally consistent." She frowns, concentrating. "I think they're walking in a circle."
Ridaya relays this on autopilot, and then adds "Regular footsteps means probably mindless undead or constructs. Based on the skeleton corridor, probably it's mindless undead and probably it's not going to be that dangerous, especially with the corridor as a chokepoint. Still... I'm thinking Haste, Sophie's buff on Luto, and then we see what we're dealing with?"
Ridaya smiles at the name. "We'll go on Luto's mark."
She floats down the hallway, so she'll be able to see through the door, and moves her hands where they need to be to start the spell.
She focuses, listening to the footsteps at the exclusion of all else, visualizing where she thinks their foes are.
Then - "Three moments...... two...... one......."
Sophie unties a scrap of yarn, and the memory rushes through her – perfect balance, a pirouette on the razor's edge – and into Luto.
It feels stranger than Sophie led her to believe. There's a sensation, at first, like looking through a compound eye, or into a broken mirror. A dozen worlds, narrowed by her intent, but still present at the border of her vision. Many things could happen, in the next half-minute. It's her choice what will.
Luto's eyes widen substantially. "...Wow."
She flings the door open, stepping into the room.
The most interesting thing about the room of beyond the door is the three oversized clockwork soldiers, each wielding a mighty sword and wearing heavy armor. The closest one is twenty feet away from the door - the furthest is at the far end of the large room, maybe fifty feet away.
(The room itself is mostly barren - there's a nondescript lump of stone near the far door.)
Simultaneously, they stop their patrol, heads turning to look at the three of them. The two closer ones, almost in unison, begin to charge.
The information from Sophie's spell is almost overwhelming.
She loves it. "Rids, get the one on the left."
Sophie will stay back, humming up a minor Heart-song in case Luto needs a boost. (She's a little bit confused, still, because tin soldiers should smell like Forge, and – they do, but it's not what she felt outside?)
The one on the left is further, of the two that are charging, but she trusts Luto to know what she can handle.
Ridaya doesn't want these things surrounding them, though, and she hasn't gotten a chance to cast this spell, yet.
Icy Prison.
The construct on the left stops midstep, encased in solid ice nearly a foot thick.
(The sheer cold begins to bite into it immediately.)
The closer construct continues its charge, sword already swinging as it closes on Luto.
Luto looks through the kaleidoscope of futures she sees unfolding and picks the one she likes the most.
She steps forward and bats the sword that's almost bigger than she is aside like it's a bamboo stick, and spins in a full circle to carry the momentum into a savage slash across its chest.
Then she slashes it again, breaking through the metal protecting in its flank. The clockwork gears inside it grind in protest.
Her third strike beheads it. It collapses.
