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Sepulcher
Eastern Archenland Graveyard


This is a small dark room of dark red stone, with no windows or furnishings. Ragged remnants of once-fine tapestries hang on the walls, and grime dulls the fine marble paving. There is a smell of must and decay, though faint with age, and a few dead leaves lie colorless and desiccated in a corner.

A stone sarcophagus sits in the center of the room, its polished cover engraved with the name of some long-dead king.


Lanisen seems to have not moved from his position in the last few hours.

Vinri slowly opens the door again. Once it is open far enough, she pulls a newly-acquired shawl over her head and the lower part of her face, tucking it in to stay at least mostly on its own.

Lanisen doesn’t move, still too sick and drowsy from the poison to rouse at the soft sound of the door opening.

Vinri turns back to grab a lit candle, set aside while she opened the door. Slipping in, she walks quickly over to and around Lanisen, crouching down so that she can still see the door.

Lanisen’s face squinches up in discomfort as the candlelight falls on it, but he doesn’t otherwise move.

Vinri’s eyes glitter in the flickering candlelight as she looks over him. Setting her light onto the sarcophagus, she begins to check his pockets.

Lanisen has very little in his pockets: a button, a roped piece of string tied in a loop, a handful of walnut muffin crumbs, and his coinpurse.

Vinri pauses when her fingers close around the muffin crumbs. Her eyebrows draw together briefly. Then she continues to rifle, pulling the string out to look at it in the candlelight. However, she replaces it, and only pulls out the coinpurse to peer inside before putting it back in as well. Lifting a finger to tap against her shawl-covered mouth, she sits back on her heels.

Lanisen shifts, beginning to rouse. He pulls at the bonds on his wrists, and his face creases with not-quite-conscious distress. There is blood smeared on his skin where he has struggled with the coarse rope.

Vinri inhales, sharp enough to move the cloth. Her hand curls into a fist and, with a quick glance at the door, she resumes searching him, this time checking his neck for any cords or chains.

Lanisen’s shoulders hunch and his tied hands come up automatically to push the touching thing away from his neck. His breath comes quick and shallow, and he struggles to open his eyes.

Vinri narrows her eyes. Attempting to wrangle his bound hands with one of her own, she doesn’t relent her search with the other. She tips her head as her fingers find the cord, then gives a frustrated hiss at his squirming.

Lanisen blinks several times, flinching away from the candlelight and squeezing his eyes shut again. He lurches away from her with a sudden convulsive motion and hits the end of his rope with an abrupt jerk.

Vinri whips her hands back as he lunges aside. As the rope is jerked taut, however, it makes enough of a sound to draw her gaze. Standing, she closes the distance again, grips the rope, and pulls, trying to keep his bound hands away from his torso.

Lanisen pulls his knees up and kicks out at her frantically.
>>> Lanisen kicks Vinri hard! Vinri is bruised!

Vinri, bent over as she is, is struck hard. She barely manages to straighten enough to avoid getting kicked in the face; as it is, he hits her shoulder. The shawl, not secure enough for this sort of movement, begins to fall away from her face.

Lanisen reclaims the rope and scrambles further away from her, shielding his eyes from the candlelight with his hands.

Vinri ducks her head and hunches away. She’s breathing hard as she reorders the shawl, more tightly this time. One hand still holding it in place, she turns back towards the bound man.

Lanisen is also breathing heavily, more heavily than the brief struggle would justify, and he seems to be having trouble getting enough air. He watches her warily.

Vinri’s eyes flick between him, the rope, and the sarcophagus. She takes a step to the side and advances again, at an angle where, should he retreat directly away from her, he’d have to pull the rope tight against the corner of the stone tomb.

Lanisen seems not to be thinking clearly, because he does exactly that.

Vinri lunges forward as he runs out of room to retreat, snatching at the length of cord that is visible beneath his collar.
Vinri steals Lanisen’s Thin Leather Pouch!

Lanisen cringes as she lunges, his shoulders raised and head tucked down, expecting a blow. As the string snaps and the pouch is pulled out of his shirt, he makes a small, breathless noise of surprise, then cries, “No!”

Vinri’s brows raise slightly and her breath comes out in a quick ‘heh’ as she claims her prize. She backs up rapidly, almost as wary of another blow as he. Finally looking down to see what she has claimed, she frowns slightly and begins to open it. Then she pauses, looks back at him, and closes her fist around the pouch.

Lanisen begs, scrambling to give himself some slack rope, “Please, ‘s mine, ‘s no use to, to anybody else, /please/–”

Vinri tips her head, eyes narrowing. She doesn’t reply, instead walking as close to the wall as she can around to the opposite side of the sarcophagus.

Lanisen follows her on the other side of the sarcophagus, scuffling on the grimy floor, until the rope stops him. “Please,” he says desperately. “Please, please– ‘s not– it’s, no value, please–”

Vinri’s eyes don’t soften in the slightest. In fact, little wrinkles form at the outer corners, though with the poor lighting, this probably can’t be seen. She steps forward, reaching for the candle.

Lanisen’s eyes shift to the candle in realization, and he lunges for it, reaching clumsily with both hands.

Vinri withdraws her own hand, tipping her head in the opposite direction as before. She stands for a moment, then strides towards the door, giving a wide arc around where Lanisen might be able to reach.

Lanisen closes his hand around the candle’s base jealously and watches her.

Vinri, once she is entirely sure she is out of range, turns her back on him and slips out the door once again, not bothering to even check the scuff marks they undoubtedly made.

Lanisen’s chest rises and falls with a shaking breath as she leaves, but he looks down at the little flame.

The door appears to be stuck on something. A grunt comes from outside, some scraping of feet against stone… and the door gives, slamming shut with a burst of air.

The candle flickers out.

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