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Martin "Certainly seems that way. Lucky she likes us, eh? And I do think she's capable." He grins, then starts over towards Fenton, intent to begin getting camp ready. "Isit dear, care to give me a hand with some of this? May as well start setting up now, since it sounds as if we're decided."
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May 9, 2013 04:51
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Dolan "Fair enough," the dwarf concedes. Dismounting, he begins to help set up camp. It had been a long few days away from Noah and, while it would be nice to continue travelling to get back sooner, going further today would be pointless.
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May 9, 2013 07:04
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Lo'el The faun too dismounts and proceeds to set about making camp for the night, somewhat happy to be sleeping on firm ground, even if he had stated indifference. As the others talk of Skoll, he grabs a large piece of saved meat from the Queen's camp and throws it over to the wolf, deciding to keep his distance when the creature bares it's teeth, just on the off chance that she should view his goat legs as desert. When the others settle somewhat, he makes a grab for a saved wineskin hidden on Fenton. "The talks may not have gone as well as we had hoped they would, but perhaps we can share a quick drink each in celebration of being together again. We can also never be too grateful that we are still alive and well." At least well enough for now. Will I see Spider tonight? Spun into another trick of hers or to be surrounded by the dead? Gods, he would rather take the restless sleep over another meeting with her any day. He coughs and straightens slightly, realizing he must have a faraway look in his eyes. "Cheers." He takes a healthy swig and passes the skin on to whoever might also wish to partake.
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May 9, 2013 08:07
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Ecstatic at the attention, Skoll all but capers when given sole guard duties once more- though if the wolf sleeps, she certainly gives no indication of it and rather slobbers on Isit's hand. Sleep time now?
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May 10, 2013 04:18
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Martin After a bit of helping set things up, Martin nods to Lo'el, grabs the wine and takes a generous sip. "Cheers," he agrees during his short break, before passing it off to whomever seems to want it next. "Wish there was more tonight, but there will be some day soon." Soon enough, Martin finds himself sitting on the sparse bedding available to him, out here in the wilderness. He whispers something to himself - a near-silent prayer - before addressing the others. "Let us try to be careful tonight, if we can," says the Baron softly - though he hoped to end up on friendly territory at least for a little while this night. Lo'el, he reflected, might not be so lucky, but there was something they could do about that. "And meet up before we wake, if we can." Ultimately, he moves to more of a reclining position, and gestures for Isit to join him. "Hope to see you all before morning, but also to see you all in the morning either way." Sleep time now.
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May 10, 2013 05:15
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Lette She looks over the developing campsite, eyes all but vanishing under the night's cover. The realization that it would probably not be appropriate to bed down alongside Lo'el, comfortable as it had been, adds to the general gloom. Counting on close proximity to yield a way to avoid the Spider had proven futile, anyway. Has night always been this... smothering? The offer of wine is a brief reprieve. "Gods, yes," she says, accepting the wineskin and helping herself to no modest portion. No one raised on lore could be fool enough to turn down an offered drink from a loved one — even if, as here, one comes from a relatively dry family. "Don't worry," she says, wiping her mouth. "Anyone I don't see, I'm hunting down." Aeolius fucked around with this message at 15:05 on May 10, 2013 |
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May 10, 2013 08:13
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Isit Setting a pack down, Isit yawns. "Yes, bed time. If we have any dreams, I just might start shrieking and never stop. If they are annoying. You know the ones. Fields of dead men and all."
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May 11, 2013 04:47
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Settling one by one on the brink of the swamp, the party beds down with Skoll occasionally bounding from bedroll to bedroll to give an encouraging face lick to those seemingly late to slumber. Though this seems instinctively as though it should be unhelpful, the dark and stillness (leavened only by distant chirps of insect swarms) soon lull all present to sleep despite canine distractions. (Huh?) ... ...Wake up! The Baron de Mignolet-D'Avre woke up. His bed was soft, as it always was. Early morning sunlight streamed through a window, through colored glass patterned in ways that the best artisans could devise; for a few moments, he could have sworn the window over his head was in the image of a vast jade serpent, coiling in and on itself with each scale a separate piece of finely arranged green glass... but no. A few blinks of the eye to get residual detritus out, and it rearranged into the familiar, comforting pattern of his family's ancestral coat of arms complete with Martin's own recent addition of a wolf rampant in one corner. It never did to forget your roots. The day was young, and held much promise- the only thing the night had lacked was his wife. Well, she was busy, as she often was. The border situation was unsettled, the fairies had asked for Isit to help them out with some security matters, and what could a husband say against the request of a mother-in-law? At least the fairies hadn't pleaded to have dear young Lette with them- they so loved doting on the young tyke. No, she was safe and sound in her nursery, and her tutor would be preparing lessons for the day. A priestess, of course. Continued puttering around the room that had once been his fathers, the scene of many disappointments and much distrust, until he'd dressed for the day and his scraggly, aged majordomo came to the door precisely on schedule to get him. "My lordship," he greets, bowing just the right amount. "Little fresh news overnight for you to stew on for the morning session. The latest wave of refugees from Noah are petitioning for entry, it seems there's been another battle there between... well, frankly, two more factions neither of us have ever heard of." The majordomo shrugged- the city had been an open sore for years now, seemingly the bone every mangy junkyard dog wanted to bite down on. "Her ladyship sent one of her... sisters..." the old man had never been entirely comfortable with the fae folk, "...and it seems she's found another hive of Spider cultists. She'll burn them out again, of course, but felt you should be aware. And-" he raises an eyebrow. "-all her love, of course." --- Blood stank the same, whoever you were. Isit had smelled enough in her time. No soft bed for her, she was out on patrol- but with her fairy sisters, so instead it was a soft set of cushions on the ground. Big as she was compared to them, comfort was hardly something to compromise on. Morning air felt wonderful, and she fluttered her wings a few times to get the dew off; she'd long since stopped being surprised or uncomfortable with them. Still a pity she was just too big to properly fly with them, though being able to fall surprisingly long distances without getting hurt still came in useful occasionally. There was always magic to shrink her down to a proper fairy size when she felt the urge to get air underneath her too strongly, but large size was bigger for some other things. And Martin, of course. Still, sometimes, family and domestic life just got too... boring. A soldier had to fight occasionally. And with the fairies having cheerfully transferred their deal onto their barony (with a renegotiation of terms- a friendly one! Mother had called it a belated wedding gift), she had the perfect excuse to go clear her head whenever she needed. The Barony had never been completely stable, but entirely because of external factors. After they'd left Noah in such a shaky state, it hadn't recovered. By now, the poor people there had been conquered a dozen times by a dozen warlords. That all meant refugees, lots of them, and where you had refugees, you had bandits. Of course, it was a brave group that tried anything inside the barony proper, so there was always the urge to push out a little further- and it wasn't like there was anyone to object... but that wasn't it today. "Still there, big sis." A familiar voice chirped, Larisa landing on Isit's shoulder. "Looks like eight of them in a little cave down there. Place reeks of Spider, but it's not really a fresh scent." Over the past few years, they- and everyone else- had become queasily familiar with the subtleties of the Devourer's aspect. "Also, blood- but you smelled that already, didn't you?" Larisa sighs. "I think they've already sacrificed someone." Which, itself, wasn't unknown. --- Time to run again. Lo'el had dreamed of being some sort of friend, or having some sort of job with the Baron once. He'd dreamed of going home, once. That didn't work out so well. Things weren't as bad as they could be, but... no matter what his friends did for him, the spiderwebs just kept growing back. To be sure, She never made him do things he'd prefer not to do. He never murdered, never attacked anyone, never did any of the despicable things that in the dark times years ago he'd wondered if he'd need to resort to drastic measures to avoid becoming a monster. Perhaps not a monster, but certainly not what he had been, and after some time and trials he'd been driven to flee. They couldn't see the danger, see what lived behind the innocent faun's eyes. Of course he'd never... really... hurt them, but... he couldn't risk it. And so he left, but not to home for fear of tainting them; until he could be rid of his curse, all there was for him was to wander. Spider didn't mind; when he saw Her, She carried herself with the mien of someone who didn't quite know what to do with a gamepiece that had lost its usefulness, but of someone too stubborn to get rid of anything. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that those who worshipped Spider could See him. And the cultists... they seemed... nice, the one or two times they'd managed to catch him. Definitely violent. But the way they kept looking at him, the expectant gaze they pinned him with, the wait they ever so politely waited for something he didn't know even as the throbbing in the back of his head kept getting sharper, he just... couldn't take it. So he ran. And when they caught up, he ran again, and ran from those who might recognize him, ran from the cultists, ran from everything. And it was time to run again. He'd gone to sleep in a cave, and when he woke up, there were eight of them, all smiling, all with that slightly faraway look on their faces. There was a ninth. But he'd... died overnight. All he could do was run. In the air, far behind him- he'd gotten good at running- there were flashes of color in the air, butterflies. Would have been safer to stay away from the area. Fewer eyes to remember him. There was a small little collection of huts up ahead. The fairies would probably take care of the cultists, so... he could stand to stay for a few days, probably. Before he had to run- --- Lette ran too. Wanderlust was all. It was nice to have a place of her own. Nicer to have a bunch of places her own. But when she started staying in one place again and again, and other places called to her, she just had to... get out. For a while, she'd stayed in the swamp, a welcome guest of the two she'd helped earlier- besides, they needed her help to keep Acanthi proof against roving bandits and warbands seeking to trespass. Sometimes, those times ended... poorly. But it was nature, or at least that's what Lette had to accept as the weeks and then months wore on. At last, driven by an urge to wander once more, she left- and only on leaving realized that it had been months and not days, as time seemed to stretch out dizzyingly when so thoroughly linked to the plant-heavy life of the swamp. Simpler, pleasant, but- no way to tell how long she would stay before she no longer wished to leave. And there was still work to do. So Lette ran. The rumors in the inn had talked about fire fae, the only hint of her mother and father she'd had since the night a lifetime ago where her eyes had changed and nearly far more of her body and soul. She chased those, and when they turned out to be nothing, she chased others. Time distorted again; perhaps this was the proper routine of a fae. She was needed, at least. She often wandered through lands where war had been fought, or was being fought, and more than once with a start realized she'd traced her steps back to a location she'd been years ago with the others... only now it was a battlefield. That happened a lot, as though the fights were drawn to where they'd been. Knowledge of plants, knowledge of magic, knowledge of life- and even the simple pleasure of music, with a repaired lyre that never seemed quite Right compared to her first one. She was useful. It wasn't bad. But then she heard another rumor of fire. It was a boneyard, a bleached and barren thing. Once, forever ago, they had slept there not too far from where they'd found their first Spider cultist site. A year ago it would have been a reeking, uninhabitable charnel house. But fire had run through here, charring the remains, and as the seasons had passed there were merely macabre charcoal-gray bones sticking from rich black soil with plants shooting eagerly up, everywhere. It seemed a good place to sit a while, and rest. Especially because there was another hauntingly familiar gray-skinned humanoid sitting crosslegged and nude in the middle of it all, looking at Lette with patient, mirror-like calm. --- All Asha knew was fighting. But then, it wasn't as though she wasn't in demand. There were probably two dozen or so mercenary groups, back when things around Noah went... wrong... that offered her extremely good money to lead their 'cavalry'. Not that Asha would deign to do that. She'd made a promise, and so she took her place as head of the new Baron's palace guard. It wasn't entirely unpleasant; getting to keep the Baron, Lady Isit, and later their firstborn daughter safe was an honor, there were plenty of priestesses of Caria around who always seemed to enjoy the centaur's company, and there was even a small apple orchard just outside the castle. Sometimes, though, she simply needed to get the old armor back on (it was a pity Lo'el had left- none of the other incompetents she suffered through seemed to know the first thing about how to fit her despite patient, exasperated instruction) and go running. Other times, she needed a fight to remind herself that she was a knight. This was one of those times. She and a few others had gone out to try to retrieve a column of refugees from the increasingly-uninhabitable Noah, only to find that they'd been set upon by a small group of bandits first. Almost as soon as Asha noticed them, arrows began to come from the bandits as they turned from their prize to a threat, cheerful wooshing sounds coming as they pass her helmet; there are already too many refugees down and not moving on the pass, the survivors with a motley assortment of weapons weakly holding loose formation around some children. Like others recently, this group of refugees wasn't mostly human- instead, half or more was of monstrous descent, with some of the younger ones clearly a mixing of human or elf and one of the species that had followed Naantali back before the great war erupted. Whatever shape they took, they were defenseless, and being attacked by armed and armored men- wherever the legal border was, there was no way a knight could not help, and no way a baron would expect her not to. --- Dolan hid. As far as he was concerned, his mission was over when the "threat" had been "handled". The collateral damage, well, that wasn't his mess to clean up. There were always others to handle that sort of thing. And with the suspicions, the secrets... he couldn't stay, of course. They knew that at some level. But Dolan didn't truly have anywhere else to go, and so he... stayed in the war zone. It wasn't bad. This many "armies" (pathetic things, really) in one area fighting for dominance, there was always, always a need for an information broker. He could even justify it to himself as keeping a bloody balance of power in working order, so that nothing would break out of this hellhole and threaten good, decent people afield. It wasn't a bad theory. But eventually as the death toll mounted, and they all kept on with their lunatic, petty schemes, the words in his head just got too... hard to listen to. So he tore them out. He tore them all out, his shadow, Iklist, everything, so that he could have some quiet when he tried to sleep and not have to hear who he was. It didn't work, and it inhibited his magic, but... it helped a little. This was just another day. A splinter faction of the old Queen's army had managed to take control of what was left of Noah, and was trying to get other splinters to unite with it. That couldn't be helped. There were some orcish mercenaries in a ramshackle inn Dolan had begun using as his own, and they seemed just the type to through the city ruins back into confusion. Their leader, a bulky, dour-looking woman near to seven feet tall with an underbite that could have held an entire lucnh platter, was sitting across the table. Dolan knew all they'd need to about defenses, since he'd helped build them back before That Day. And so, another little war, another battle, more dead. More refugees. Most of them escaped the field of battle, at least. Sometimes, when he had time, he saw to that. There's a sigil on the armor over the orc chieftainess's left breast; a green snake, coiling and coiling around itself to where beginnings and ends seemed clouded. Dolan blinked, and it became a simple green circle-and-square geometrical design. Odd that he'd thought it had been a snake. Leaving this open to if people want to treat this as knowing it's a dream, or just rolling with it; I imagine some have IC justifications as to why they'd treat it one way or another! Also, just in case, if anyone's planning on interacting directly with anything else, don't do so until I have a chance to post. 
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May 13, 2013 03:36
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Lette What's changed? When everything had started, months were lost in pursuit of her family. She'd instead found, again and again, new families. Families of swamp and manor, of gods and elements. Martin and Isit (and her wee godchild!), Lahti and Acanthi. Her very bloodline, where mingled with the fae, is supposedly "of" Plyussa in some sense she'd never bothered to investigate — but then, who knew these things for sure? And through it all, the ones she sought had appeared once, as whispers at the edges of a ravaged dream, indistinct and shifting. But one detail pierces the veil every time: "you'll be welcome when you're Ready," da had said. That she hadn't found them yet... was it merely an inadequacy on her own part? Time falls away in fits and starts. Had it been years already? Memory is hardly a guide. She has a vague sense that this ought to unsettle her. The fires call her, as they are wont to do. She can no longer recall a time when it had not been so; latent tendencies realized at one point in life are, in time, read back into events earlier and earlier. By now she could swear she was something of a firebug as a child. Perhaps she had been. Probably no one left to say otherwise. Even if she hadn't been, this way of looking at it is just so much more comfortable... She arrives at the edge of the clearing, a kind of fresh, clean brimstone smell still in the air. And as she traces a rough radius, here sits the source. One of her own. More, even; she peers at the face staring back at her, recognition flashing. "...A lovely painting," she compliments the other finally, resting on her heels. "Pity I missed whomever worked the brush." She smiles. It is a gentle flicker of a thing, still with some warmth after all it had seen. "Been searching for some time. And now, after all the ground I've covered, why would I find you... here?" Not the first charred, bone-littered site she'd happened upon, certainly. Aeolius fucked around with this message at 04:48 on May 14, 2013 |
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May 13, 2013 22:50
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Lo'el Vo'Rintel ? How long had it been like this? Had months long since turned into years? Every day was nearly so much like the last that it made it hard to tell. So much running... Yet still they followed him and still She was there to occasionally greet him when exhaustion gave way to sleep. Why did those that worship Her follow him so fiercely? What do they think I know? So many questions he asked and so very few answers he got in return. Hope is still held for some way out of this curse, but until he finds it; all he can do is run for fear of bringing his troubles to others. Never had he hurt anyone or been forced to act to her will, but danger still followed. Those cultists could see him. Magic. It had to be. How else could they have found him so easily? He had always hidden his tracks, boasted in inns and taverns he had visited about taking one path then secretly taking the other in the dead of night and even had he taken to moving through the trees when they bunched up close enough for him to move from branch to branch. He had foolishly thought himself safe in that cave. Yet still they found him... ? ? When he stirred and opened a wary eye, they were standing over him with those fiendishly fake smiles and the glazed look in their eyes that hinted of sinister acts he was now all too familiar with. It made him sick to look at them when they looked at him so longingly, as if he held some secret answer. The body of the ninth gave him chills when he laid eyes on it, but he found himself happy to think of one less to follow him. A thought was given to how exactly this one died, but he reckoned he knew the dark answer to that already... As it so often did these days, any thoughts of fighting soon turned to the decision of running. He dodged, jumped and ran past them easily enough. Gods, he was getting good at running now that he had to do it more then ever. He moved with haste away from them, dashing as fast as he could. He did not have to stop and gather his things for he had long since taken to wearing his pack at all times in places where his safety was not guaranteed. After some minutes -was it only minutes?- of running, he spared a look behind him, only then noticing the flashes of colour in the distance and the sight of butterflies. Looking back ahead of him, he saw the collection of huts further on and he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Perhaps he would be safe here. At least for a little while. Stay too long and more cultists would come to burn out his havens and take him away. I should warn them of the cultists at least. Whatever made me so damned special to give them reason to follow me? Barely an hour went past when he did not think that later thought. Surely others had suffered the same fate as that poisoned arrow bought him? Others must be in Her grasp the same as he. But the cultists looked at him as if he was the one and only. Even worse was when they treated him nicely when he had been foolish enough to be caught by them. But he ran then too. Never would he help them or allow himself to remain their prisoner. ? ? ? Days like this made him miss home all the more. A place where only song, dance and joy filled the air, not fear and misery. But he had long since given up trying to return there. They would follow him. She would follow him. He played his flute sometimes to remind himself of those carefree days, but joyous songs had long since turned to sad songs and now he rarely played at all. He missed the others too. His old friends. Thoughts drifted all too often to them and what might have been if he had taken Martin up on his offer. He could have been close to Asha there too. He could have learned from her and become the knight he dreamed of being sometimes. But he could not risk them just as he could not risk The Herd. He may not be a danger himself, but danger follows him closely and he cannot remain with them or anyone until he finds some way of throwing off this curse once and for all. Gods, how had it all gone so wrong? If only he had taken more care to avoid that poison during their first fight with the Eagles and misled cultists. Who knows what he could be now. Maybe then he could have even found a way to preserve Noah, if he weren't so focused on his own troubles. ? ? He turns to look back at the flashing colours, and for a hint of the cultists that may very well be giving chase. The fairies will deal with them easily enough. He should have avoided this place really, but he had truly not known he was heading this way until he was close enough that a desire for a chance of seeing a familiar face all but prevented him from turning back. He wanted a fire's warmth and the opportunity to ask after his friends, so long had it been since he last heard of them. He would not stay any longer then a day or two, for fear of bringing more danger here then he had already bought with him. But being so close to something familiar, he can hardly turn away now, especially with those mad men not far behind. Maybe they know of Lette ahead, or she may even be here. It would be beyond a blessing to see her again, if not, then at least he might hear of her and the others. Moving swiftly as ever he does these days, he moves for the huts ahead of him. ?
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May 13, 2013 23:15
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His Lordship Baron Martin, First of His Name, Lord of Wallin, of the House de Mignolet-D'Avre Martin awakes comfortably in a bed simultaneously familiar and foreign. He remembered earth and ground and thin bedding, his wife beside him, and all his friends present. He also remembered seeing his wife off with a kiss before she left to hunt, and bedding down at the end of a long day of tending to the affairs of state. In this bed. In his father's hall. He had been, or was, dreaming. Martin realized that. The fleeting glimpse of the snake made him wonder - though perhaps that was merely an illusion from the sleep still in his eyes. And he certainly remembered things, things from the time in between now and then, things it would seem he would not recall were this a dream. And yet...Martin still could not say for sure whether he had woken from a dream of days gone past, or if this was, at last, the promised glimpse of things-not-yet-to-be. Regardless of the memories, he knew one thing: Isit wasn't here. Even without the memory of why she was not, Martin could have figured it out on his own, having an instinctive sense of when she was or wasn't there. The Baron accepted it with grace; both of them, from time to time, had their business afield, and of course it was part of the deal they'd made, their responsibilities, the chains of command. Somehow he remembered that. And after all: absence oft made the heart grow stronger, and there were certainly enough times that he could recall from foggy memories that she and he were both at home. He could recall the time spent together, helping make their corner of the world a little better, the time spent helping raise their daughter, and the rare times that they could simply be husband and wife together and be left to their own devices, rather than Baron and Baroness and the obligations that came with that. So there was no worry in his mind that she was not there. It was an occasion where Isit was called on to hunt, this day, and how could he stand in the way of that? She would return, and he would be there to greet her with open arms, as always. They'd gotten what they wanted, somehow. Not that everything was orderly in paradise. Not that everyone was there that he would have liked, or at least that was what his memories told him. A particular cousin of his had not been seen in a very long time; Lette, his daughter's namesake was...somewhere else. A little brother - metaphorical, of course - who'd once been supposed to be his herald, was gone too; Lo'el had not been seen in ages. So too was one other, a stranger sort of former companion, whom perhaps Martin never quite knew how to classify, but whose absence still felt wrong; Dolan he had not heard from in much time either. But at least Martin, the First of his Name, had his wife and daughter. He had his homeland. And at least one of his other old friends had not left for greener pastures. The knight had her own responsibilities, of course, and from time to time was also away in his service, but the Baron surely trusted Asha, and there were in his mind few if any of his retainers who could match her loyalty. Soon enough he is out of bed and dressed, his morning prayer done. He remembered a time when he was on the road constantly, and the clothes were less nice than this...or was that the present, and this just a vision? Regardless, here he had comfort, and a job that he and his beloved did well as they could hope. He had what he had sought - not just the office, but the proof that he could do it, that he could live up to the name and the potential. But there had been costs. Costs he was reminded of when his wake-up call arrived. The Baron listens intently, even not fully awake as he is. "Of course," he says at last with a nod. "And mine in return to her." He smirks slightly. "I do so love seeing her return from battle, at any rate. Magnificent, she is." "Never mind that for now," declares Martin with a wave of the hand. "Certainly it is not the first time, so I won't burden myself with the details; I'll simply trust her to it. I will burden myself with the details on the other matter, though." He motions toward the hallway. "You say these refugees have new news of new influences. Good. I should like to ask them some questions in that case, so take me to them, if you would." He pauses, in thought. "How many this time? Finding room and food and work for refugees is beginning to get tricky, but you know I am also not one to turn the needy away..." The Baron shakes his head. "If there is nothing else after that, I should like also to check in on my daughter before every one of my advisers descends on me at once."
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May 14, 2013 00:17
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Tosid Vukrigkeskal The situation was imperfect. By no means was it as dire and hopeless as it had been months ago, but it was imperfect, and improving. It had taken some expert wrangling and a few choice "accidents" to bring things to where they now stood. The situation was at least contained, and should this new warlord succeed in her plans, would remain contained for close to another year. The current lord of Noah -- damned if he could remember the fool's name right now -- was not long for this world, not at this rate. With Toshid's help he had been installed with the hope of being easily controlled. That dream had lasted only a few weeks. The idiot had tried to reach too far, and when his hand was burned he grabbed on and held firm instead of recoiling and licking his wounds. Toshid would see the fire consume him, and his ashes scattered to the wind. This one, definitely, would be more easily controlled. Of course, that is what he had thought of the current lord. It was hard to keep track of some things now. He was certain that was the source of his error, that he had conflated two individuals and had the wrong one installed. An utterly unforgivable mistake, but one he found himself making all the more frequently ever since his attempted surgery. And even with his new deficiencies he was uncertain whether he had made the right choice or not. They were still there -- he could feel them, always -- but they could not speak unless he allowed them. Sometimes he felt Iklist screaming, trying to break free, trying to tear herself free. He couldn't let her go now, not after how tightly they had been bonded. he kept her there, chained up inside his mind and unable to influence him anymore. He had won their little game, just like he said he would. Ubas just laughed like he always did, but the laughter was that of a madman now. Perhaps that was what Dolan would have become, had he not become Toshid. "You understand that this is not guaranteed," he told the orc, only half questioning her. "The information I have given you will help, but it is up to you and your men to make it work." He slid the parchment towards her. "I trust you have someone in your party that could make use of this." Of course she did. She would not seek information of this sort if she didn't; this one was clever, in her own way.
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May 14, 2013 00:45
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Baroness Isit "Of course they sacrificed someone already. What a waste. Well, perhaps the others can be of some use. My arrows all are coated and ready to go. Or I could just blow them up. Nice ricochet in a cave like that. And the survivors would be poisoned. So long as they can't magic the shards back at us it should be a done deal. I do hope some survive, my nieces need some diversions." Drawing an arrow, she frowns. The region was a mess, but at least they got their own barony. If it wasn't bandits it was cultists. Larisa was delightful on a hunt, but sometimes she missed the old days, in spite of herself. She tried to keep tabs on them all, of course. Potential threats needed watching. And perhaps one or two of them were, like the dwarf. Poor fucker had become paranoid, even by her standards. Isit had heard the rumors, of course, and if they were true it was sad indeed how far he'd fallen. Lo'el too, poor little thing had buckled under pressure, and proven to be a coward in truth. And he had potential. Such were the way of things. Least she saw Asha and Lette often. Her cousin always had a way about her that put her mind at ease. And the centaur proved to be competent as always. She'd been gifted an orchard as a reward for some exploit or other. Perhaps some day she'd get use out of it. Shaking her head, she smiles. Least she had Martin. He really deserved all the happiness that came his way. Doted on young Lette too much perhaps, but he was a fine father. She'd promised to clear out these lands for her family, and clear she would. "Think we should give them a chance to surrender, or should I blow them to bits? Ugh, these cultists never surrender though. Just babble then stab themselves. Where's the fun in that?"
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May 14, 2013 04:28
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Dame Asha Blackwood It had survived--through will, determination and the gracious support of fond friends, the Order of the Argent Ram had seen banners sailed high--and with it, her heart had soared. Courage, not coin, had always been the root of it all--Asha had never sought riches or fame through her actions--but rather, a means by which to mete her mettle, to bring mien and steely resolve to bear afield and serve as a vanguard to good and wholesome folk, that they may be spared misery and tyranny. They were lofty notions, stars knew--perhaps in no small part a grand charade to keep her spirit intact and her heart strong. All too well, she'd known the men and women who had fallen deep within their cups--who had broken themselves against causes lost or brought blade to bear unto themselves to embrace that final slumber. But not here, not any longer--there were no notions of such grim finalities, no restraining shadows or smothering uncertainties choking away all conscious clarity. Here, there was honor, duty and a just cause into which Asha's heart could be poured--and pour she did, that her vigilance might insure those she had grown to love would never again know the cruelties of gods and men. Long past were the needs of a hungry mercenary, of sold sword and lance for hire; now, Asha would train a new generation, hone their resolve, tenacity and courage and sow once more the seeds of a proud and righteous order. The Baron would be host to the finest knights of the realm--she would see to it, with a certainty. Any noble whose lands bore such marvelous fruit was bound for a fortuitous future--it was known. Lo'el's departure had left perhaps the broadest absence to be found in Asha's heart henceforth; the young, brazen and feckless lads and lasses she disciplined in daily drills served faint reminders of the time she had shared with the faun afield. Caria's clergy were suitable enough companions--and stars knew, as loathe as she had been to accept much at all a notion of gods and goddesses, Asha had taken to a certain fondness for their creed. It was only proper, failing all else, to show absolute support for the Baron--that all friends and foe alike would know clearly the discipline and respect the man commanded and deserved. Errant thoughts of eagles and their ilk still found her from time to time, though Asha endeavored to make scarcer still such worries; despite this, dreams still found her frequently--and every now and again the centaur would startle awake in a cold sweat, heart racing and ready for war. Time enough to grow lax when one was gray--stars willing, Asha would see to the safe tutelage and blossoming of many children by way of her lord and lady; just the same, she could not help but long for a good brawl from time to time. Efforts from the aftermath of Noah proved ever prevalent, but Asha's vigilance was unwavering; amidst fond and eager fellowship she'd taken to fresh foes--a frightful figure of muscle and steel if ever there was one so imposing. Come, cowards and curs! Her bellows and yawps would fill the field. Face me and find the death you seek so earnestly! Neither arrow, bludgeon nor blade could possible abate the wrath the knight would unleash--stars knew, whatever the cost, she would fight to her last for those she sought to protect.
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May 14, 2013 19:30
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Martin's head spins briefly, perceptions squeezing inward with the confusion of what was real and what was not; soon enough, his mind clears, letting him deal with what is rather than what may be. "Of course, my Lord." the reply comes, a blank face not conveying much in the way of response to the rote sentiments of love expressed. "I'll have this batch of refugees pick a spokesman and have them ready for an audience with you directly. There were about two dozen in the caravan, if memory serves." Unspoken, his eyes seem to add, 'and it always does.' Nevertheless, at the Baron's request, he nods his head once and begins walking through hallways familiar and somehow distant, taking turns before Martin's mind can quite recall which way to go. It all feels quite natural after he takes the turns, though. Without too much delay, or waylaying from importunate advisors, they arrive at the nursery. Inside, young Lette already seems engrossed in playing a small red ball (though most tots wouldn't be including some very basic spells in their play before even being able to speak); the familiar governess, dressed in her modest gray dress with a wolfs-head brooch, smiles at Martin and stays out of the man's way as Lette looks up and gurgles something that may, in a few months, be recognizable as an attempt at "Dada!" --- On Isit's shoulder, Larisa shrugs. "Crazy's crazy. They're not gonna get better, even if they surrender. Never do. Once they're mad enough to let themselves get in Spider's embrace- she doesn't let go easy." She pauses. "Poor Lo'el." With an uncomfortable shift, Larisa clears her throat; the cave remains quiet, to all appearances deserted with only the scent and magic to tell them there was anyone there. "Honestly, we're starting to run out of room for slaves back home." The fairy says with frank and easy matter-of-factness. "And the ones Spider's kissed, who even wants them? If you ask me, just burn them all out and let's go home. Your daughter's much more fun than this lot." Larisa had bonded with Isit's niece readily, and likely (though never caught at it) was giving the tot her own rudimentary magic lessons- no real harm in that, and she seemed to have the gift even so young. "Want to bother with arrows, or just fire magic in until there's nothing moving in there? Not like this is important enough a fight for you to really be out here, you know." --- Lo'el got away clean. He always did. None bothered him as he slipped away, free from whatever prying eyes and spells might have brought an unwanted, awkward reunion between him and friends; there was only him and the plains stretching on. Huts in his way, and he headed there with a surge of relief. A safe harbor- surely all the nearby cultists were presently being taken care of by his old 'friends', giving him some leeway. That meant a few days of peace, at least, before he continued his wanderings as though he were a plaguebearer. Bread is baking in the huts as the faun approaches, warm and savory spells setting a still-greedy stomach to rumble with the hope of succor soon. Nothing is amiss around the huts, and he approaches to knock- the door swings open at his slightest touch, and an odd, familiar feeling pulls at the base of his stomach. "Ahh, there you are." Spider says, reclining on a comfortable chair in her more humanoid form; she seems alone, dressed in her plain white dress contrasting with shiny ebony skin. One hand languidly gestures at Lo'el. "You may sit down, dear faun! Hard enough to keep track of you normally, let alone here." She indicates, apparently, the world around her with a wave. --- There's an odd, persistent static about Lette's thoughts once more- more? Had it happened before? Whenever she thinks of the past and present, thoughts attempt to cross and jumble in her head, as though she were walking underwater in her head alone. Better when she thinks on the here-and-now; easier. This clearing is as pretty as she could ask for, stark evidence of the healing powers of harm. The ashen fae before her cocks a head. "But you were. Or will be. If you wish to be. Perhaps it was even you that did it... or are we having trouble thinking about specifics like that?" Lette gets to her feet, stretching with a pop. "Perhaps it will be one of our favorite places to contemplate and think. Isn't it odd how little luck we've had finding Mother and Father, though? Given how long it's been- how long has it been, anyway?" She gives Lette that peculiar, sideways grin that others would have (had, always) mocked her for. --- So much and so few remain for the centaur to protect and serve, at the same time. Old friends left, new souls came by her area. There was always fighting- there was always killing. All a knight could ask was that it be in good cause. With a roar, Asha charged into the crowd of bandits. Those defending had no energy to spare to look at her, and the bandits were too intent on their prey to look until it was too late to evade. No quarter, no threats or pleas- urges to offer or grant such had been burnt away in days gone by. Sure enough, with the level of Asha's skill, there was no contest in such callow prey (the others had been much more interesting) and she smashes through the bandit formation like a living siege engine. Armor does not allow through unaimed blows, and her own strike true again and again. It seems as though mere seconds pass, and the knight has scattered an entire bandit covey almost by herself with evidence of suffering and battle all around her. The survivors- of the group being chased- slump, exhausted from their own ordeal, save one. A man with slitted eyes and a hairless mean (though evidently human beside that) eyes Asha and blurts, "We have to talk to your Baron! It's important- everyone's lives depend on it!" --- Odd, the way Dolan- Tosid's- mind shied away from some details. Of course he knew who the current lord of Noah was! It was... it was... obvious, is what it was. He helped put the fool on the throne, after all. But- well, maybe he was just getting old long before his time. Or maybe the stress was just getting to him. He hadn't caught himself missing much, so probably this was just one of those odd unexplained lacunae that everyone got sometimes. Whatever the reason- best to focus on this. Far better than to speculate on paths not taken and paths closed forever. The orc chieftainess in front of him snorts and bites the air irritably. "Of course, bite-size." she growls. She never had very good manners, but she was at least predictable. Grabbing the parchment, she shoves it into the waist of her pants without looking, somehow managing to sneer despite a gigantic underbite. "You and yours," she growls, "best know. Something's coming, and it's gonna knock all this cozy-" she waves around the ramshackle inn, "to pieces. Me and mine, just trying to find a safe place to ride out the storm." She spits. Sorry for the long delay for such a light post- Head has not been Right Mukaikubo fucked around with this message at 18:56 on May 19, 2013 |
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May 19, 2013 05:25
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Lette "It's been... a long while." There is more of that same sensation — white noise in her brain. "At least, it feels that way. With Acanthi, time can be odd, I think." Why doesn't that bother her more? She'd been wandering, sure enough, but shouldn't at least a few particulars be clear? Had she visited her cousins at the barony? What was through the gate? Vague outlines, details she may as well be making up on the spot. Had she even met her godchild? Lette reaches for a more recent thought: the swamp. What was the last thing Lahti had said to me? Nothing. Nothing comes to the fore. She racks her brain. She had left Lahti a note. Surely in all that time, she'd have asked if she had read it...? The first clear memory emerges. That was the last time I saw her. Then the queen's camp. And then... "...Oh. Never mind." She sighs. "Well, I feel silly, now. "But it's pretty convincing, isn't it? All these vague senses of things — even opinions, something about the soup at the barony being bland. It all feels real enough, until I dwell on any of it." She returns the grin. "No foundation for a proper dwelling, I guess." She looks around at the other's handiwork. Or perhaps her own. "Could be," she says with a nod. "Much of what you had said has become... more agreeable. But you know that; you've been along for the ride. And in some sense 'growing,' if I'm not mistaken," she says to the reification of her faeric essence. Or perhaps 'incubating' is the word? "Either way, it's clear I'm not following any particular map along this way, what with the detours and such." Lette shrugs, brushing a leaf off her forehead. "But I'd hear you tell it: how are you faring? And what do you make of this dream? Really an impressive sort of construction, I should think. Those impressions, the false memories, I think they're most telling where my friends are concerned. "Think Meleuz would mind if I tried to peek in on them?" Aeolius fucked around with this message at 07:45 on May 19, 2013 |
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May 19, 2013 07:38
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Lo'el Vo'Rintel ??? A few brief glances are spared back to the flashes of colour behind him as he makes his way swiftly to the huts ahead. Even if he were to turn back and help the fairies, there is no guarantee that any of his friends will be among them. And if they are not, then there is nothing he can likely do or say to convince the winged people that he is not also a devout of Spider, especially when the cultists look at him with such wonder-filled eyes. No, it would be best to avoid putting himself between their fight for now. If the fairies are hunting the cultists, as he suspects, -How do I suspect that?- then he does not doubt they will kill the Spider worshipers swiftly and easily enough without his help. Perhaps he will turn back and cautiously greet the fairies when the cultists have been dealt with, depending on what and who he finds at these huts ahead. ???? He runs quickly and effortlessly as he is so used to doing these days. How had all this running started? After Noah's fall, that was for certain. But how exactly? Why then? So much is remembered from before then, but why not after? His mind wanders as his eyes stay fixed on the huts before him and he lets his legs carry him there, one long and fast step after another. There are gaps in his mind when he tries to recall certain details. Things he knows, but cannot quiet remember how he knows. Noah's fall. The departure from his friends. Further meetings with her. They had all happened, but how did they happen? A once keen memory falters here as he tries to focus, only adding further strength to the nagging pain in his head. Maybe I am just going mad as I always feared I would... ??? His nose catches the whiff of baking bread in the air and his wandering thoughts shift to a more basic desire. He hesitates briefly at simply walking up to the door of the hut that the sweet smell emanates from, but he cannot resist the chance of snatching a meal. Besides, he soon finds himself undeterred after a few steps to the door, for how could he face a danger from this risk here that is worse then what he has already experienced? And it is not a new danger he finds inside, but one he is sadly getting quite used to. Still, he does not feel quite so hungry anymore. There she sits in such a form that one who does not know her might think her to be beautiful. But it is all a lie, much like the ones she utters at times. The faun steps inside, coming to a chair facing her but far enough away. There is no use in running here, she will only find him again. "Although it may be for you, I would say there is nothing normal about the way you usually keep track of me." His voice is ragged and he has to clear it more then once, telling that these may be the first words he has uttered in days. "Something feels...wrong here. More so then usual." He looks up into her eyes, almost as if she is not a soul-devouring destroyer of lives. "Why are you here?"
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May 20, 2013 11:00
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Tosid With so many stray thoughts intruding upon his mind, Tosid tries to concentrate on the orc, and only marginally succeeds. Things felt odd right now, uncertain. Even more uncertain than usual. Senses finely honed over more than a century seemed almost to want to inform him of something, but couldn't decide what. Something familiar, like a long-lost clue somehow becoming relevant. Though with his mind in tatters as it was, he could barely trust his own senses now. "I will be fine," he says. "I've weathered worse storms than you know, far worse than what is coming. Don't worry about me. You just stick to that plan, and you'll have all the power and resources you need." Something about her confused him. Who was she? What was her name? Even in his usual state it was not this bad. Something was interfering with his thoughts, with his memories, but he couldn't make out what, other than that it was a familiar feeling. Almost like-- "You have what you need. Unless there's anything else, I have some business to take care of. And of course, this meeting never happened." --Almost like Iklist's presence. But that was impossible; he had sealed himself off. He'd be damned if he shot half his power away and hastened his descent into madness getting rid of those three just to have another one latch onto him. Three? No, there were only two. Iklist and... Ubas. But Ubas didn't even have a name yet, did he? He couldn't remember giving him that name, but at the same time he could remember the justification. He refused to name him Qurik, not wanting to legitimize his identity, so he had called him Scream. Ubas. Who was the third? When did he find a third? Why can't he remember? Is he truly going senile this fast? Why did the whole world feel so vague? He looked down at the orc's badge again, seeing the emblem that, for a brief instant, he had thought was a snake, and he remembered. The world shot back into focus, or at least as much focus as a dream of a future of senility and madness could have. "I trust you can show yourselves out," he finished, face betraying nothing.
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May 20, 2013 18:46
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His Lordship Baron Martin, First of His Name, Lord of Wallin, of the House de Mignolet-D'Avre "That will do nicely, thank you," replies Martin to his aide's intent regarding the refugees. Certainly it was not the first time it had been done that way. Standard protocol really, Martin thinks. A slight headache and a spot of dizziness come and go, as he tries to remember the path, and can only remember the steps once taken, and only by following his majordomo. Memories blur as he saunters through the hallways to go see about happier news. Through the haze and the strangeness, his awareness seems to snap back into place - for now. Most of his mind is in the present again (though he was not exactly aware of how strange a concept 'the present' was at the moment), enough to deal with things as if it was, even if perhaps some lost, overwhelmed voice in the back of his mind suspects something. But then, didn't he want to believe this was real? He can't help but positively beam upon entering the nursery and seeing his daughter. Martin stands there a second or two, simply smiling, before snapping out of it and nodding to the governess. "Good morning," he says politely but with great cheer. Even with the ill tidings he would have to deal with later, seeing his firstborn was a wonder every time. Soon enough, Martin sits cross-legged in front of the little tyke and grins. "And good morning to you too, little Lette!" He reaches out and gently taps her on the nose. "You like playing with that thing, don't you? You're getting very good," notes the Baron, using a tone of wonder and pride reserved for speaking to the youngest of children - pride amplified by the youngster's magical talent. It was still something he didn't quite grasp very well, magic was, but he knew enough to be suitably and legitimately impressed. Yet for all his happiness, a layer of doubt remained lurking underneath. Doubt, and perhaps no small amount of guilt. Even not remembering everything at the moment, the impressions remain strong enough in his mind - perhaps brought forth by the sight of his daughter, whom he loved as much as any father could care for their own child. This was all so close to what he wanted. A wonderful marriage, a worthy successor and fine daughter, his homeland in his hands with a chance to do good for others, and yes, the comforts of his old station. There was scarcely more any noble scion could ask for. But it was incomplete without all those that should be present, without having managed to create order elsewhere also, without having ended Spider. And so the questions weighed his mind as he tries to put the pieces of this morning's news and his own mental fog together. Was this all there was, riding out the storm and making Wallin into a bastion of safety? Taking in refugees, making schools, investing in the future - was there more to do? Should he feel responsible for Noah's fall, should he not have been able to save it? Was allowing Spider and her followers to persist simply part of the price of his own victories? What about his absent friends - were they part of the price? Had he missed the chance to do all of this the right way, to find the best answer for everyone? Martin tries to remember, to think; the questions seemed familiar, as if he had often wondered them. And all the while he keeps the feelings off of his face, busying himself with chattering at Lette the Younger, playing, trying to be the father he wanted to be. Round and round his internal interrogation goes, until finally landing on something more optimistic: none of this is over. It has only just begun. Spider's threat can be ended even now. Noah can be repaired. All those that flee can find a place here. The others can be found; whether there is hope for everyone, I do not know, but this is hardly the darkest hour. Isit and I can - will - make things right. It was something he had always believed, that last part; why would it be any less true today? Minutes pass as he chatters and plays, before he finally says, "Daddy's got to get some work done." He hugs little Lette, and adds, "But I will be back soon. You just be good and play and listen to your lessons and have a grand old time." Standing, Martin looks to the governess with a proper, polite smile. "If anything happens that I should know about, do send for me, or at least send word to me." And then he is off to see about this refugee problem, a constant dilemma that never seemed to end. Surely now his other advisers would manage to pin him down for a moment or three with some problem or another, too. He would deal with it all. It was the responsibility he took on, and he was going to fix it all, this time.
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May 21, 2013 00:49
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Isit She waves a hand and shrugs. "Let's just blow them up. Or collapse the tunnel with magic. So long as they die, and I don't have to bother with them." Isit frowns at Larisa's mention of Lo'el. The poor faun was rightly hosed. "Yeah, poor Lo'el, I'd say suicide might be the answer to most problems, but not his, there is no way out, and at this point, he might be prolonging the inevitable. Perhaps if we had found a way to kill spider...." She shrugs again. "But how do you kill something that strong? No point setting yourself up for failure, and everything besides that turned out alright. Mostly. Young Lette is the best baby ever. She's learning so fast...Perhaps I'll adopt. She needs siblings after all." Where was she? These days she spread herself so thin, she didn't know if she was a baroness, a fairy, or a general. Too many hats. "At any rate, our barony will pick up the pieces at some point. If everyone doesn't kill themselves first. Probably will." Gesturing to her other relatives, she points at the cave. "Light it up."
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May 21, 2013 04:44
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Asha Hammer the gap, overrun, divide and conquer; tonnage of strength and steel brought to bear against brigands and bandits--another charge to drive away the encroach of ill-willed and unscrupulous souls. Still bristling with adrenaline as her heart pounds, it would be a lie to suggest the exhiliration of it all had not been welcome in spite of the circumstances--and almost distractedly the knight begins to trot a quick step about the perimeter of pilgrims and refugees. The threat was gone, for the nonce--those who had fled the scene, perhaps, might warn others of the argent protector's prowess that they might think twice about such villainy henceforth. A voice catches the flick of an ear and Asha rears and rounds towards its source--head cocking briefly as she spies the unusual man before his words register more clearly. With a grunt, Asha steps quickly alongside the man before foisting him promptly to her back--a quick, curt gesture to the others as she re-orients towards the Barony with a stomp. "With me, then, and make haste!" Inclining her head, she notes swiftly to the man astride. "Hold tight, sirrah--speed will be ours." Demonstration, thus, began.
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May 22, 2013 14:09
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As he thinks, and tries to buttress himself against the less appetizing portions of his life, Martin's daughter seems unconcerned with such rarified thoughts. There was much good to the world, and she was in his arms; she giggles and flails as she's touched and praised, but thankfully has tutoring competent enough to have already taught her not to use magic against People. Undoing that particular teaching... well, the fairies would probably wait until she was a teenager for that. At length, he hands Lette off to her nurse, and with a smile she says, "Of course, my lord." And that was that; he walked out from the room, ready to face the tribulations of the day. Standard procedure, of course- so many refugees had come, because there was so much misery elsewhere. The urge to help them, to do something more than protect his own had come up again and again. Why should this time be different than any other? So much safer to know one's place, to tend one's family. Hadn't he done his bit for goddess and barony? The rest of the world... was it even worth saving/ as he walks, a faint odd feeling like scales brushing across his cheek sends Martin woozy, and he tumbles quite limp to the floor. --- "Will do." Larisa flutters her wings, rising into the air and gives a sharp whistle before she and a dozen other sisters begin firing off magical power in various guises at the cave just over a rise. Nothing new- flashes and rumbles sound as hell is unleashed on a small patch of Isit's barony. No screams, no pleas for mercy. Those hadn't been heard from cultists for years, it seemed. After a pitifully brief few seconds of long range bombardment, the flow of magic trickles to a halt. The deed was done, but needed to be recorded; over the rise, the mouth of the cave still glows and the dirt around the outside has been converted to some sort of dark, glassy material. There's nothing inside by warm crystals, no sign of what had just been seared away- a boil cauterized. In a few days they'd be cool enough to collect, sometimes the crystals would be kind of pretty. Without any particular ceremony, the fairies move on. There were always threats trying to lap up against the shoreline of any islands of stability. The Barony was just one more, and this nothing special. As they go, there's a tiny green garden snake resting on the top of the ridge. As it looks at Isit, she feels the eyes rolling back in her head. --- Lo'el's chair is soft and comfortable, and Spider nods Her approval at Her wayward... toy? not even trying to run. "Well, I do have an unfair advantage," Spider says without any particular shame or abashment. She waves one long-fingered, delicate hand. "Can't say I'm upset at how things turn out, though. Or perhaps turned out." She smiles, not bothering to conceal fangs. "Here I am, physical and real as anything else at last... well, more or less. Why am I here?" She laughs. "Because you are, of course! Why do I need any other reason! Look at you," and She leans forward, peering into Lo'els eyes. "Do you ever do anything to just do something? To act? Always reacting, always letting others impose on your. You're such a natural prey creature it makes my teeth ache. Even here!" She nods to the ceiling. "Always running from the mortals foolish enough to worship me. Is this the path you always wanted? And even if so, would you rather comfort yourself that it's too late after so long or so short to do anything else, or try to fix it?" Spider leans back, apparent brief storm broken. "I could eat you if you'd just prefer someone else make all the decisions. It sure seems like that's your goal to me." The woman stands, rolling Her neck around- and as She does, a snakeskin belt shows, holding Her robe tight around Her waist. "Time to go to sleep..." --- Lette grins at Lette as the fog starts to lift. "That's right! Trying to keep you down submerged in the dream- probably thinks it'll be easiest to pick up the moral of the story that way. Pity we don't like being toyed with." Lette stretches out on the ground, staring up at the sky. "Nah. Can't be anything particular or you'll get lost. But you're not denying any of who you are, so that's all to the good. I would have been upset if you'd try to smother me in mud, though." There's a muffled, familiar giggle from the ash-skinned fae laying before Lette. "But really, this whole prophecy thing... don't buy it. Does the snake really see the future, or just what he thinks should or will happen and shows bits of it to people to make them fulfill it? If he really knew everything, he'd be more powerful than any god. I mean, look at what you do remember and what you don't. Think that got edited?" She rolls up on her elbows. "So many happy but you? This place being an island in a sea of chaos? You wandering, cut off from your family- you think there's anything he's not showing?" She snorts. "Mark my words, he's trying to get us to stay near Noah. And I'll just bet he'd let you show up if it'd help the-" she stops talking, staring upward- and then just points at the sky, where a cloudbank has begun to rearrange itself into a massive poofy snake. Staring on it seems to drain the energy from Lette, and she joins her 'self' on the ground. --- At some distant point, Asha would have reared, perhaps bolted away from the man with the serpentine features. Not anymore- such worries hadn't been conquered, but other horrors have driven them to the recesses of her mind. What mattered now was that this refugee had information about a threat to her.. family, in a way. No further words of warning were needed, simply to just grab the man and begin running- though he yelped, he soon just held on for dear life. "It came from the southeast!" He yells too loudly, feeling as though he'll go so fast that the wind would snatch his words away- just the trace of sibilants is enough to send slight prickles down Asha's L-shaped spine. "Don't even know what they are! They just keep coming, and laugh at swords- don't know if they're alive, dead, human, spirit, or what! Fire fixes 'em- kinda- gotta tell your Baron!" And so it went, another deathly threat cooked up in the cauldron of madness outside the Barony's borders. Oddly, knowing that it was 'just' one of those almost tempted the centaur to slow down. It couldn't be that much more dire than the other hazards the burned lands held, after all. A hand on her shoulder, and for an instant it feels more scaled than human flesh- the sensation sets her skin to crawl, and before she knows what's happening consciousness slips from the knight once more. --- The orc chieftainess grunts, and scratches under one arm before spitting over in the corner. "Sure you will. Kind of hammer that's coming, even the short nails get pounded flat, dwarf." Evidently pleased at her own wit, she laughs and gets up, ambling out with a sort of slow motion swagger to leave the dwarf with his thoughts- fractured as though they may be. She calls out behind her, "Keep yer torches hot!" before slamming the door. That was fine. He was done with her. Despite his growing awareness at where and when he actually was, neither voice seems to respond to him- he still is, however briefly, alone in his head. On further pitilessly logical examination, details seem... out of focus. What had happened when they returned to Noah? Vague impressions, and the more they're focused on the less clear they seem. So- the prophet didn't want to be specific, even if he could. Useful. The wood grain seems to slip and slide under his fingertips, rearranging itself into a serpentine pattern. A rush of dizziness assails Dolan (still Dolan!), trying to forcibly put him out cold... but aware and capable, he resists the draw for quite a while. Your glimpse is over, a distance and sibilant voice calls. Having failed to simply put him back in the waking world, the world around Dolan simply dissolves into inky blackness- and then, without much to latch onto, the dwarf's mind reflexively grabs backward for its body lest it be lost in the void. --- Morning, despite the prophecy lasting so brief a time, and being so thin a window into the future; Skoll greets those that wake up with slobber to the face as they wake up as the eastern sky begins to lighten. She has not, this time, procured a deer for the group.
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May 26, 2013 00:12
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Lette "Well, he's the god of prophecy. I guess that's different than the 'god of the future'?" Lette had never considered how Meleuz felt about prophecies that didn't come to pass. Surely more prognostications happen in a day than one can possibly guess at. But then again, suppose the ones that don't come true aren't really prophecies? That's just playing games with definitions, though, to say nothing of lucky guesses... "Help what?" Focusing on the snake in the cloud first makes her dizzy, then dozy, the mud below suddenly as appealing as a bed. She falls backwards. Before she hits the ground, a thought occurs. I can just go up to him and say hello. Just focus. Move like in a dream, because, well, yeah. At some point along her interminable journey downward, she presses back, willing herself to rise up, to slip skyward and put a question or two to the god. She presses- -and finds herself sitting up in the campsite, Skoll lying nearby. The canine gets a clumsy pat as she clears her eyes. "Morning," she mutters, unsure how to feel about the various revelations of the night before. A part of herself had urged caution in the interpretation of all of them. Of course, said part of herself could just as well have been a fixture in that particular prophecy, making even her own words suspect. Probably safer to think of it that way, in fact, since it led to no particular inconsistency. Ash-Lette would probably even encourage that level of skepticism, come to think of it. "...I don't plan to leave," she says to the others, also shaking off their dreams. "In case that came up for anyone else." Whatever had spurred her in that setting, Lette concludes that for the moment at least, wandering is a low priority.
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May 26, 2013 05:17
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Lo'el ? He simply sits and listens, scrunching his face slightly as she continues to talk. The nagging sensation that something is off continues to itch inside his mind and he gets the feeling she knows exactly the reason why things feel so...wrong. Not that things ever really feel right when he finds himself in her presence... The faun shakes his head at her questions, dwelling more on the fact that something is wrong then choosing to answer. "This just does not make any sense." ?? Then she stands and he sees her belt. Snakeskin? For a creature such as she, it seems a very odd choice of clothing. Then the nagging in his mind stops and something clicks at long last. "Oh," he says as the realization hits. "The prophecy that was promised." He almost feels like laughing as it all starts to make such clear sense. "Well, that explains it all then." It is not really real, merely a glimpse of what life may become. Or, at least what the God of Prophecy thinks it may become. "I do not know what made me think running would be for the best in this...timeline?" He begins to stand, looking at those predatory eyes of hers. "But, believe me, I do not intend to act like the prey I appear to you here. I will free myself somehow, and if any of your followers follow me; they will soon wish they had not." Unless he wants this all to come true, he cannot afford to simply react as she had said. "I will live my life the way I choose to, not how somebody says or thinks I should." She speaks her last words and the faun somehow manages a smile as he thinks once more on this world which could -but will not- be. "It would appear so," he agrees. Things do seem to be getting rather dark... "Be seeing you soon, no doubt..." ? .... !? ~~~~~ He shifts and stirs on his bedroll, eyes opening to the sky above with his head then turning to see the rest of the camp just has he had last seen it. It had been just another dream, but this is no such thing. This is right, this is real. It hardly takes long for him to know this, it all just feels right. Skoll's morning slobbering receives a playful flick of the faun's tail against the wolf's side and he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Morning to you," he says back to Lette, giving her a curious look as she speaks further. "My choices did not seem well thought out either. I do not plan to simply run away from my troubles as that dream showed I had. Gods only know why I ran." He yawns and stretches. "A shared vision of a possible future... Yet another tale of ours added to the list of those that no one will ever truly believe. What a night."
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May 26, 2013 13:29
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Dolan Dolan watches the orc go without a word. Anything more he had to say was meaningless here. An illusion, responding to her in any capacity was pointless. He stands, or tries to, and finds himself dizzy, the world around him losing focus. The vision was ending, and with it would likely go some of the knowledge he had of this place, and of this time. Dolan had experience with such visions, and so he holds it. He forces his eyes to stay open, and concentrated on one single point, holding it steady as everything collapses around him. Your glimpse is over, he hears, and it was over. Except for that one point. One point from which all could be reconstructed. He closes his eyes, then opened them to the void. Stars filled the void, glittering and shining and reflecting until there was no void, no time, only their light. In the midst of it all, brighter even than the stars, was a single bar of light, focusing and refracting everything, gathering all the light of the universe. he reached out, and touched the bar, and saw it for the staff it was. His staff. He grabbed it, and wrenched it free from its place among the void. Light shone from all directions, stars streaked out of the void and into the staff, disappearing into darkness as the staff grew brighter. Soon there was no light but the staff, and it held all the brightness of existence. He allowed himself to waken... ...And immediately finds it necessary to pull his sleeping roll over his face to save it from the attentions of the wolf pup. The dog's attention on him doesn't last long (though it does alarmingly linger in the direction of previously threatened body parts) before she is off to see to someone else's awakening. Fighting through his sleep, Dolan opens his journal and begins recording. He needed to get the knowledge out of his head before it dissipated entirely. What knowledge the vision contained was undoubtedly important. Meleuz would not show him these possibilities without a reason. "I wager we all had similar experiences, then," he says.
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May 26, 2013 19:26
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Martin He doesn't have time to register the scales, or the sensation of falling. One second, Martin is in the future that he both literally and figuratively dreamed of; the next, he is back on the ground where he had gone to rest the night before. A hint of annoyance passes through his mind, for he had wanted to see more, know more. He had wanted to see the homecoming of those close to him in his father's hall, even if it was just a dream. As Martin opens his eyes, though, as senses return, he realizes that here, everyone is together once again. Even the ones who, in his memories of the dream, he would not have seen. Everyone. And this morning, unlike the one from the prophet's vision, he does wake up next to his wife. He manages to give Isit a quick peck on the cheek and a "Good morning, darling," before Skoll descends to ensure his slumber is ended. "Yes, yes, I know," he laughs, slowly sitting up, scratching Skoll behind the ears with one hand, under the chin with the other, pushing the wolf back slightly so that he can rise - though he doesn't escape without a face-washing. "You are a very good wolf, and good morning to you too, thank you." "And a good morning to the rest of you also," adds the Baron as he addresses the others. Lette and Lo'el were discussing the prophecy already, and it sounded that - as he had suspected in the dream - that they fared less well in the future Meleuz showed them. Less well to the point that Martin is almost loath to share what he saw, it seeming almost crass to do so. And yet he realizes that he must. "Similar in that there were visions, then yes, Dolan," Martin notes with a glance at the dwarf. "But perhaps the content of mine was a bit different." He drops his head slightly, and his voice drifts into something both wistful and solemn at the same time. "I saw what happens with Noah," Martin says after a moment. "Or at least, I heard news of it, and saw how it will affect everywhere else." Tilting his head at Lo'el and Lette, he frowns slightly. "I had...some sort of vague inkling the two of you had left. I could not remember why. What happened?" He pauses, then looks to to the southeast, towards home - and continues without waiting for an answer. "...I saw home again. With Isit and I ruling, with Dame Asha commanding my guard. Holding things together after Noah fell. And-" Here, Martin's voice catches just slightly. "I saw my daughter." He looks to Isit. "Our daughter, dear. Did you see? What did you see?" Slowly, his head swivels back to regard the group as a whole. "What did all of you see?" Fraction Jackson fucked around with this message at 19:56 on May 26, 2013 |
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May 26, 2013 19:49
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Dolan "I was dead," Dolan says, fishing some rations out of his bag.
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May 26, 2013 19:57
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Lo'el Dolan and Martin each receive a 'good morning' as the faun produces a saved meal from his bag to serve as a breakfast starter. "I am not really sure," he offers to Martin with a shrug. "Somehow I must have thought that running from those who would help me would solve my problems with Spider and her cultists that were following me. It was a...horrible, but interesting experience. It seems the cultists were almost worshiping me whenever they caught up with me." Even with it not actually having happened, it still makes him shudder to recall the look on their faces. "I met Spider, but I suppose that is unsurprising by now. What was shocking was that she was real. I mean, in a physical form. Or at least 'more or less', as she herself said. A dark future indeed, if she gains her real form again." All the more reason to do whatever he can to free himself from her grasp before he even thinks of the foolishness of running away. He stuffs some dry meat between two slices of bread and bites down eagerly, his stomach having commenced it's rumbling not long after he had woken up. "I recall knowing of your homeland, Martin," he says between bites. "I remember an offering to stay with you there, but turning it down for..." He shakes his head, raising the hand that isn't holding food up into the air "...running off into a hopeless situation and away from what friends I have, it seems. Very odd indeed." Dolan gets a cocked eyebrow sent his way. Truly, he does not recall knowing of the dwarf's whereabouts in the dream. "It must have been quite the experience if you were dead. Unless this is another joke I am failing to pick up on." A Velociraptor! fucked around with this message at 20:38 on May 26, 2013 |
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May 26, 2013 20:32
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Dolan "Death isn't always what we make of it," Dolan says. No falsehood there, but in reality it was the manner and necessity of the death that he had more of an issue with. "Still, the situation could have been far worse. What details I remember put the region into a state of chaos. Order was hard won, and not easily held. I remember only a vague notion of everyone else's status; you had all fallen outside of my purview."
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May 26, 2013 22:08
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Lette Lette shrugs at Martin's question, hugging her legs and resting her head on her knees. "It's... I don't know if I understand it, myself. Spend forever hunting for my family, for a home. Finally find several homes, several families, and then I guess I got restless again. Went back to looking for the folks. As I recall, I did visit from time to time, at least. But there was just so much distance." Another shrug. "But then I had a talk with myself. A part of me I've met a few times — tied to my, y'know... heritage," she says, waving a hand as if to hurry herself along. "Helped me to recognize it for what it was. And," she says, hesitating, "to question it." Hardly one to doubt the gods' intentions, Lette quietly puzzles over how a thought from within can come from so deep that it seems like from without. "Parts of it were... well, it seemed kind of..." She hunts for a word before finally giving up, looking around plaintively. "I don't know. Maybe it held together, maybe it didn't." Nevertheless, the question of Meleuz's own gain in the matter, a thought that would have been alien a month ago, still nagged. He needs prayers like any other god. And the domain of healing has obvious enough rituals, but...
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May 27, 2013 00:57
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Dolan "The future is not set in stone. This I know for a fact," Dolan says. "It takes great power to see even a glimpse of it. The difficulty of maintaining the vision is determined in part by how likely the predicted events are to occur, or by how distant from one's own course they are. It is possible that the vision was difficult to show to us with great detail -- even with the power of a god -- simply because it is unlikely to occur."
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May 27, 2013 02:16
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Lette "But glimpsing it, if it's not set in stone-... I mean, if there isn't something definite to 'glimpse'... "I don't know. Isn't that kind of like 'imagining'?" The word 'guess' had come to mind, but it had seemed too disrespectful.
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May 27, 2013 03:21
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Isit With a yawn, Isit wakes up. For a moment, she can't quite get her bearings, but finally settles on the correct location. Sitting up, she stretches with a grin. "That wasn't such a bad premonition. A barony, working with family, hunting down morons. Seems quite nice actually. I'm only a bit sad I didn't get a glimpse of our daughter. But all and all, it was a good future. Sorry you guys picked a few that sucked." Her gaze lingers on Lo'el for a moment before continuing. "Anyways, best not to put all our faith in it. Probably a trick."
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May 27, 2013 19:30
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Martin He listens to the others in turn, slowly nodding - though Dolan's comment about being dead causes raised eyebrows. But there was little for Martin to say in response to that; merely another of a long line of strangeness. To Lo'el he raises his eyebrow even further, threatening to leave his face altogether. "Well, that is certainly interesting, at least. About Spider. Perhaps not a surprise that in such a future she might have more power. But then...who knows?" Isit's admission that she hadn't seen their daughter draws a wistful look from Martin. "If that part of the prophet's vision holds true, we are going to have a wonderful child some day, angel. One to be proud of. Suppose we will have to find out the long way, though." Martin pauses, considering everything the others have said. "Might not be a trick, might not be all that unlikely a future; but it certainly was not the whole picture, either way," says the Baron after that moment of thought. "Could be things get worse after. Or it could be that what we saw is not the end; that whatever madness was wrought on the world, it can be repaired, and that there is hope for all of us," he adds with his usual confidence. "And what we saw - if Meleuz has some sort of intent for us, something he wants us to do, it'd be foolish to show us all in such different situations, unless he wants to sunder us altogether. Which also does not seem likely. ...I suppose there may be no right way to interpret what we saw," he concludes, rubbing his chin and idly noting that he could probably use a shave when they got back to Noah. That was fairly far down the list of priorities, though. The dream had lit a fire; for a time Martin had been almost resigned that he would not see Wallin again until well after the three competing crises around Noah were resolved. But maybe that did not have to be true. Maybe there was a way to get what he wanted - a throne for himself and his wife, titles for his friends, a chance to bring order and peace and justice and light - while still staying true to the needs of this land's people, too. He would have to think on it. "Maybe for now it's best if we just have breakfast and then get on the road. There will be time to think and discuss more of what it means, if it means anything."
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May 27, 2013 21:23
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Lette As much as she does not ordinarily share Isit's cynicism, her intuition — that's what it really is, isn't it? — had rung true enough to give pause. "What do you suppose Meleuz stands to gain? That answer may shed some light on it. A lot rides on our efforts, and if he wants to steer us, I would hope he'd have the courtesy to say as much. I don't mind divine guidance, but it seems other gods we've met have been forthright about their own stake in matters." At the very least, her inner fae has scarcely said a peep against any of the others, let alone raise alarm. Aeolius fucked around with this message at 01:45 on May 28, 2013 |
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May 28, 2013 01:40
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Isit "I'm sure our daughter will be delightful. With parents like us, how could she not?” She shrugs a Lette. Well, Elder Lette. "I dunno, what does any one ever stand to gain? Power? Death of someone they hate? Maybe he's just doing it for funsies. This is a very old, very powerful creature. I'd get bored if I was him."
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May 28, 2013 02:18
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Lo'el With his mouth full of bread and meat, he only shrugs at Isit when she lingers her gaze on him after the mention of the worst of their dreams. From the sound of it, he had received the worst future of the lot. A life spent running from troubles both past and present, all because he had -for some reason- been too scared to work against it all. Whilst most of the others had made the best of what they had, even with so much having gone wrong around Noah. Spider was right about one thing really; it is time to be more assertive and confident in just what he might be able to accomplish and overcome. Or else he may find his own part of the vision start to take real enough shape before he knows it. Larger events in this land may still be beyond his personal control, but something might still be done about Spider's hold on him and her cultists which may soon start to follow him. Talk continues about the night's events and the faun uses the time in which others talk to set about a breakfast suitable for everyone. He had saved more then enough rations provided during their stay in the Queen's camp and some will need to be used before they spoil. "It seems we can discuss these visions in great detail and still have many to most of our questions unanswered," he says during a lull in the conversation. "Thinking about the reasons and workings behind it all will likely just confuse me further. I am all for seeing to our immediate tasks and troubles and revisiting this all later if it might have a greater meaning." The faun then hands out saved servings of food and drinks aplenty to his companions for breakfast, along with apples for the horses and Fenton. Their trusty guard wolf is also thrown a large hunk of meat as extra thanks for keeping watch over them during the night. As Asha awakes and he serves her breakfast -consisting mostly of apples-, the faun sits down next to her and digs into his own second morning meal. "I trust your own glimpse of things that may or may not be was pleasant enough, Asha? Hopefully the absence of a certain squire was not too problematic?" He gives a shiny-eyed smile for the centaur even as his mouth works around another sandwich. "I want you to know that I do not intend to run away if there is even the smallest chance that I may one day be half the knight you are. Actually, I do not intend to run away at all. I think that if I focus more on becoming something close to you, then my personal circumstances in that dark future will remain nothing but a dream."
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May 28, 2013 12:58
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Dolan "The future is a tricky thing. What we saw could happen, exactly as we saw it. It likely was not a guess, simply a new perspective." He pauses a moment, thinking about how to word his next thought in such a way that would not discourage the others. It was not an easy task; they did not have his perspective on the matter. "Remember also that we saw one view of a long and heavily branched path. What we saw could come to pass even if we do not stray. Or we could stray, and none of it could happen. A few moments from out of years means nothing."
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May 28, 2013 16:44
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Lette She listens patiently. "...So it could either mean everything, nothing, or any point in between, at about equal odds. "Maybe I'm off-base, but it seems to me that there's no point in showing people 'the' future except to ensure that it won't happen. "I've known some people who've given a far stronger hand to fate, insisting that everything is preordained. I don't know about all that, but think about it for a moment: if there's only one future, then everything in the present determines the future, then the future will have become one of the things determining the future. So if there's only one future, then to know it would be, apart from redundant, absurd. If certainty is absurd, then any foretelling would necessarily be uncertain — a guess or an imagining, even if a very good one. "On the other hand, if there are many futures, so many that any action we take could just as well result in it coming true as not, then all prophecy might as well be true. They're all pointing to spots somewhere — some when — out there, with no roadmap attached. But if we can only have one history, then only one of all conflicting prophecies will actually be true, with no way to know. It's like they're all... true and false at the same time? After all, if one of them were actually guaranteed, it'd put us right back at 'one future,' and thus our knowing would be impossible again, and I imagine our expectations would actually propel us to some different point. "So all prophecy is wrong. Except when it's right, which one has to be when there's a prophecy for every outcome. So then THAT prophecy is right. But not certain. "Gods, I'm tying my own brain in knots." She nods at Lo'el. "Maybe you're right; this doesn't seem as helpful an exercise as I'd hoped." Aeolius fucked around with this message at 19:11 on May 28, 2013 |
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May 28, 2013 19:06
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Dolan Dolan shrugs. "Give yourself fifty or sixty years to work through it, and it will all make sense. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm going to do what I always do when this little paradox rears its ugly head. I will proceed."
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May 28, 2013 19:46
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