A hasty stream of options at hand rushed through your mind. To try and snipe the demonic shell from where you are? To risk someone - maybe even Seph - to make the thing expose itself for your burst? Or, perhaps, something else entirely? The survivor seemed to be in a cavern branch below and behind your position, with the entrance to that branch most likely being on the lower level of the cave. The dim light of the speckles you conjured did not reach the opposite side of the cavern, but your senses suggested that the "conduit" of the voidling was at the opposite side of the cave. Even if not highly trained, your sense of spatial orientation hinted that the anchor of the demon might be lying under the grand manor or, perhaps, in its cellars. But regardless, the voidling was overlooking the only chokepoint.
Even though the temptation of the first strike crossed your mind, you made a couple of unsure steps forward, bypassing Elgar and gesturing him to create distance and watch. Before you raised your hands and conjured a luminal globe around yourself, you saw Loїс dropping the torch neath his feet and reaching for his holstered bow. But, dead-set on thwarting the ambush by letting the demonic shell gnaw on something it can't swallow, you began to slowly thread through the narrow bridge. The sphere you conjured illuminated much more of the cave's hollow, revealing it to be perhaps a bit larger than you expected at first. At some distance ahead of you, there was an element of hand-made geometry: a doorway in the stone-clad wall, exposing the darkness behind what looked like a rusty metallic grate. Apparently, the original family did not enjoy things crawling into their basement unhindered.
As you slowly paced, your eyes locked at the soggy dirt beneath you while your senses tracked the anti-spark of the possessed shell. It was silent and motionless. Disturbingly so and up to the degree you could hear the droplets of condensation falling down from the natural ceiling, the sporadic flops of the lurks in the black waters beneath, and the slowly-distancing shuffling of your companions behind your back. Each moment became tense, reminding you of a tight string of a cello in Rosaline's hall. Your mind became awash with assumptions: won't the voidling see through your act? Is it going to strike now, the other second, or would it change its plan for the engagement? All sorts of scenarios were swarming on your mind...
...Until a low whistling sound disturbed the ambiance! The next thing you remember was the sound of a bony crash against your barrier and the recoil it sent. Behind the now-damaged globe, which was adorned by the brightly glowing crack at the strike point, you saw what amounted to be a long tail of dark meat and protruding bones. In a heartbeat, before you could even process what was going on, a lash from behind you swiped down onto the glowing luminal bubble in a wide ark, shaking your composure and then again when the follow-up came from another side. The hideous mix between hissing and growling raised your hair and oh-so-properly concealed feathers as you recomposed your poise from the strikes and instinctively pumped more power into the barrier, causing it to shine even brighter and mend the cracks.
The situation was escalating fast, but the abomination was even quicker: by the time you recovered from the tremor of the struck defensive globe, two long, clawed "legs" of the thing emerged at the edge of the bridge to the left from you. If it whiplashed you from beneath the bridge and had its frontal claws at the opposite side, then just how massive it is?
The answer did not make you wait long: with an unceasing screech, the thing sprang from beneath its cover right onto your barrier, almost causing you to fall on one's bum due to suddenness. You used to believe that you have witnessed plenty of hideous sights, but a visage of an amalgam composed of a humanoid and animal flesh mixture, with a dark-red, dripping with fleshly juices horizontal dissection in its vaguely humanoid-ish "torso" constituting for its mouth made you reconsider. The foul, demonic "cephalopod" was relentless and furious: its collision against your luminal barrier left chalking, smoldering spots on its sickly colorless flesh, which only made the thing more rabid. Rabid to the point of attempting to chew out a chunk of your glittering shelter in an attempt to squish you out.
Unfortunately for you, this maneuver of the malevolent chunk of animated flesh resulted in you witnessing the miasmic, bloody depths of the creature's "throat" sizzling against the surface of the luminal shield. Incited by the survival instinct and fueled further by disgust, you pumped more power into the barrier, expanding its walls and attempting. But despite some success in regaining poise and at least limited maneuverability, the abomination was shown no signs of withdrawing, going as far as to stand on its rear limbs to increase the pressure.
Then, by the time you metally prepared to shatter and blow the barrier into the beast's flesh before tumbling away from the chokepoint, a resonating sound of a metallic collision against your magic shield stole the focus of your attention. Two hushed fleshy chomps followed, sending a weak shiver of the chunk of animated meat. Then, at a moment's notice after the disturbances, a robust whistling sound emerged and culminated in a mighty echo of an arrow digging deep into the flesh. Black blood (or whatever was running through the amalgam's veins) splattered over the outside of the dome, chiseling out a sharp, shrill sound out of the monstrosity and staggering it to the side.
Using the opening, you blasted the stained shards of the dome onto the beast, peppering its hide with smoldering wounds and breaking away from its melee engagement radius. When you finally got an opportunity to steal a glimpse of your group, they were already bracing for the confrontation, weapons drawn, and stances taken. Before you could read it from their faces, the recollection of being the group's primary illumination source emerged, resulting in you almost instinctively conjuring a seizable light orb. In its light, you finally were able to see the voidling's shell with all the morbid details. Your initial estimation of it as a blend of human and animal flesh seemed to be correct: its core comprised of an arguably humanoid silhouette, even if bloated and disproportioned, from which five functional limbs grew out: two lesser hind "legs," two larger, bone-riddled front legs, and one hybrid between a leg and a tail protruding at a high angle from the middle of monster's back. There were also rudimentary limbs, helplessly dangling from the monster's torso. Even though you have already witnessed its "mouth," the creature also seemed to have a deformed head at the front tip of its core, molded into the torso with no neck in sight. That "head" was a disfigured lump of flesh, comprised at least from four once human faces, one of which - presumably a male one - stared you down with the milky eyes when the monster finally recovered from Loїc's lucky shot. You would not characterize the creature as overly massive - possibly the same weight Ulren has in his gearing. Still, the speed and ferociousness of the monster were incomparable to anything you've seen before.
The monster proved your last suspicion when it, with the now-familiar shriek, leaped onto the wall of the cave, hastily closing distance from the angle none of you were expecting. From below, all of you could hear a wave of gradually intensifying clicking sounds - the sign of the lurks getting alert and going out for you soon. But, as a result of your previous choice, you'd have to fight here and now.
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Fight scenario: [] Push for the cellar entrance! (faster progress, 52 team offense check, 68 team defense check) [] Hold your ground! (slower progress, 48 team offensive check, 62 team defense check, in case of insufficient team defense check, a character with the lowest defense score rolls normal balance skill check (20) and luck roll)
Lucy's engagement style: [] Full arcane style(lucy's total arcane skill scores versus voidlings are modified by 1.4 due to the thaumaturgy - void aspects hostility) -[] onslaught(full arcane skill roll for offense, 1/2 arcane skill roll defense, luck roll) -[] warding(1/2 of arcane skill roll for offense, full arcane skill roll for defense, luck roll) -[] anti-arcane burst(two arcane skill rolls for offense, no arcane skill roll for defense, luck roll, will consume hefty of remaining strengths)
Condensed into mere seconds, your mind processed the tactical layout while the voidling was already aiming down for a lunge at the middle of your group's formation. All things considered, moving across the narrow pathway while having an agile and rabid pursuer was more complicated than entrenching. However, you could not afford any self-imposed hitches without the risk of setting off an entire cavern full of lurks. Besides, should you only manage to wrestle out the initiative and exploit the chokepoint, the tables will be turned. "Rush to the other side. Now!" you yelled out to everyone, perhaps even taken aback a little by your own sporadic assertiveness. Although, the "now!" part was drowned in the ferocious screech of the monster leaping down at you with tremendous speed. Its frontal legs sprang like sickles, ready to shred you to steamy chunks of meat upon impact, and its bloated "faces'" mouths were opened in a grotesque, inhuman raving. This sight alone might have been something that would paralyze many with fear.
But you were fast and raised a protective dome measly fragments of a moment before the collision. The impact was so mighty that two hefty chunks of the radiant barrier were shattered nearly instantly, the wet dirt around you displaced under the force of your aegis taking the hit, and the nerves in your palms echoed in numb, mild pain. But you stood your ground and neutralize the horrible force, buying others precious moments. The monstrosity knew no mercy, though, supplementing its initial impact strike with a frenzied series of consecutive lashes with its frontal legs and event tail. Left, right, up, left, up, and then from both sides... you had to forcefully pump a substantial degree of your arcane strengths into maintaining the barrier's remnants sufficiently sized and sturdy to withstand the beating, meanwhile blocking strikes from various directions and even splitting it when the monster went for a pincer strike.
But you endured this series, shielding yourself and, potentially, someone else from the damage that could've easily turned lethal. With each contact, the monster's flesh smoldered more and more, contributing to its loss of momentum and poise. When it finally ran out of steam, you noticed the movement of your companions with the side vision. Seph rushed behind you, outpacing Loїс, and a javelin thrown by Elgar during a micro pause on his strafe to the natural bridge sunk into the monster's fleshy "mane." As frenzied as the creature was, it did not seem to be stupid by any degree, disengaging as swift as swoon down earlier, it jumped to the wall, pushed off of it, and after an unreal leap, landed on the bridge ahead of Seph, blocking her path.
This, however, did not stop your oriental friend, whose reaction to the obstruction was a shallow parabolic trajectory shift and a tighter grip onto the longsword's handle. What happened next was nothing short of spectacular: Seph dodged the demon's frontal leg, with which it intended to nail your fellow daeva like a mantis its prey, slashed the beast's grounded limb in a moving, whirly counter, jumped off from the impact point of the beast's other leg, and finally, somersaulted over the creature. And it wasn't just a somersault: utilizing the aerial spin and own acceleration, Seph managed to land a powerful cut on the monster's ill-placed "tail," cutting it clean off with a juicy rasp and sending it down into the dark waters below. Enraged by such insolence, the monster tried to kick Seph with its rear legs, but even then, the horned dancer was nimbler, tumbling away from the strike's direction while simultaneously tossing a couple of knives into the foe's... rear. The chomping twin sounds confirmed the hits.
Unable to follow Seph in her acrobatic footsteps, Loїс referred to something that was within his grasp: a head-on, foolhardily aggressive charge at the distracted monster. With your sword in hands and audible roar, Loїс piled onto the demon's front, immediately starting to stab it in the top of the torso, frontal "shoulders," and even the amalgam "head," paying no heed to the stream of creature's black blood fountaining from the tail stump. In this furious attempt to kill what was essentially a malicious, reanimated pile of meat, Loїс failed to notice the cue of the monster's poise recovery and the impending retaliation. And who knows where the archer would've been if you did not rush in time to deflect the demon's lash and a ram attack with a freshly-conjured shield of light. In a fleeting moment when the cocky lad finally looked at you, with the delay realizing the danger his hide was a moment ago, he might have been more disheveled than from seeing the monstrosity. You had no time to gloat, though, as you were far too busy applying Ren's favorite tactic of "bash their brains out with a shield" on the target at hand. The latter did not seem to enjoy being repeatedly smashed by an orbiting shield that, apparently, felt like a hot skillet upon contact direct. Finally suppressed beyond its threshold, the monster nimbly retreated under the bridge, from where it conducted its ambush.
Exploiting the opening, Loїс and you dashed through the remainder of the bridging, but while the former sprinted ahead without even looking backward, you turned around to monitor Elgar's movement. Not taking risks of lobbing more of his javelins while his brother was engaged in melee with the target, he took the brief respite to uncork a new torch and to shorten the distance with you. However, by the time you recognized that it might have been a good idea to retract a little and provide him with a cover just in case, the voidling's limb emerged from under its hidey-hole, landing a couple steps away from the black-haired hunter. The latter, "motivated" by the proximity of danger and what seemed the sheer luck for avoiding it, legged up harder, almost tossing himself out of reach of the re-emerging beast.
The beast did not even think to give up, though: it stood up on its rear legs, exposing the horizontal "mouth" slit in the intersection of its torso, and then, after a second of loud, boiling sound, ejected something from its disfigured gap. This "something" swirled nearby Elgar, who even let out a sharp yelp when the unidentified projectile flew past, nearly hitting him in the back. When the beastmaster finally trespassed the line of your shoulder, the monster repeated its trick but now trained at you. And, just like before, you took the hit onto a translucent shield of light. After sustaining the impact, the projectile crumbled against the guard, leaving dark red - nearly black - splatter mark on its outer surface, mixed with fragments of bone and flesh chunks. Twitching flesh chunks.
But you had neither time nor desire to investigate what did the voidling lob at you - especially not when the malicious pile of meat kicked off its crash course wallop straight at you. In its earlier strides, another one of Elgar's javelins pierced the abomination's flesh, now falling straight at the lump of disfigured faces at the tip of its torso and sticking out from one of them. This hit neither stopped the monster nor chiseled any sign of the pain out of it. It appeared as if it were unable to feel any pain at all.
To take another hit on the barrier? To dodge away? To burst out the anti-magic field in hopes of exorcising the voidling from its flesh vessel? You did not act on any of these options. Instead, you dispelled the remaining barrier before you, consolidating more of the readily available magic powers. Somewhere from behind you, Seph's "The damn are you doing?!" shriek - without a doubt aimed at you, and then followed by her hastily approaching footsteps. But after biding enough time to catch the perfect moment and before Seph could push you out of the way, you enacted on the sudden idea that struck you a moment earlier: you shaped the accumulated powers into three wedges of solid light, growing out towards the approaching enemy like a row of halberds. Monster's inertia did the rest, impaling the possessed flesh onto your evocation with the hissing compared to Karl's conjuration of fireballs. You even had no need to jump away from the trajectory of the beast: it got pierced so severely that all you had to do to get out of the reach of its thrashing limbs was to make a few squeamish steps backward while concentrating your powers on maintaining the wedges. Who would have thought that timely remembering a cover illustration from that "The dusk of the heavy cavalry era" book, which you scouted in Rosaline manor's guard rooms, would turn so destructive? Definitely not the voidling.
A couple of moments later, a hand squeezed your left shoulder from behind; it was Seph, whom you managed to both scare mightily and impress in the end. Then, a couple more javelins bitten into the core of the thrashing monster, who rabidly attempted to pull itself off the glittering blades. While you tried to maintain the conjuration a bit longer, Seph managed to land a heavy lash at the demon's flailing frontal leg, which she slashed earlier but now succeeded in cutting clean a half off it. The beatdown of the abomination did not extend any further, though, as the creature somehow managed to pull itself off your shimmering pikes, recovering and regaining some distance for another maneuver.
A short moment of respite presented itself, which you used for reconnaissance. Behind your group were the rusted bar's door, blocking away the entrance to the cellar in which you could sense the location of the voidling's phylactery object. In the shimmer of the light sphere orbiting you, an improvised lock could be seen holding the corroded grating shut. The cavern platform on which you now occupied offered more space for evasion, decreasing the risk of anyone being grappled and tossed down into the black waters by the fiend of this dungeon. But as your newly acquired position offered better tactical defenses, a new issue popped up when you turned your head to the sound of incessant, insect-like crackling. The sound was emitted by a short, dark-skinned bipedal creature with a snout resembling a hybrid between reptile and fish heads. Loїс slammed down your sword at the beast and then delivered a kick onto its brood mate nearby. The lurks' colony has found you...
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Voidling shell: 36 offense score 40 defense score(approximate condition: badly maimed, slowed down, and missing one limb and a half)
Lurks hoard: 20 offense score 24 defense score(approximate condition: the early wave made out of less than ten scout specimens. Will start getting reinforcements shortly)
Command the priority targeting (will fill the offense/defense score requirement first for the correspondent threat. One priority target per character.):
[] The barred door action (selecting a method and a character to attempt it will make them unavailable for the skirmish. You can pick more than one character but only for different methods, with all the characters involved withdrawn from the skirmish.):
-[] Break it open(Normal strength attribute check (15)) --[] Lucy
--[] Sephorah
--[] Elgar
--[] Loїс
-[] Lockpick it(Very easy burglary skill check (14)) --[] Lucy
--[] Sephorah
--[] Elgar
--[] Loїс
-[] Blast it open with magic (Hard arcane skill check (24)) --[] Lucy
Lucy's engagement style: [] Full arcane style(lucy's total arcane skill scores versus voidlings are modified by 1.4 due to the thaumaturgy - void aspects hostility. Lucy's offensive arcane skill check score adds up 0.3 of its total value to the defensive arcane skill score when dealing with lurks) -[] onslaught(full arcane skill roll for offense, 1/2 arcane skill roll defense, luck roll. This action provides a bonus defense score against lurks) -[] warding(1/2 of arcane skill roll for offense, full arcane skill roll for defense, luck roll. This action provides a bonus defense score against lurks) -[] anti-arcane burst(two arcane skill rolls for offense, no arcane skill roll for defense, luck roll, will consume hefty of remaining strengths, has a chance to finish the voidling's vessel off. This action does not provide a bonus defense score against lurks)
Companions engagement styles:
[locked] Sephorah: melee/combined melee (melee skill roll OR 1/2 melee skill roll + 1/2 objects usage skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll, *1.3 to offensive score when dealing with lurks)
[locked] Elgar: objects usage/combined melee (objects usage roll OR 1/2 melee skill roll + 1/2 objects usage skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll, *1.3 to offensive score when dealing with lurks. Will run out of spare javelins after this round)
[locked] Loїс: melee (melee skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll)
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4.2.8 Bloom 10 of the year 1469. Blood, dirt, and curses.
"It's fastened!" a duo of sharp metallic clangs followed by Seph's cry-out breached your flimsy sense of the relative security which you gained from the earlier successful traverse through the cave. The ever-growing, incessant clicks and snarls of lurks catalyzed the emergence of a simple realization: the group was short on manpower, facing three issues and being able to allot a duo only against one of them. Inga's absence made you think that, perhaps, taking some time to scout the lakeshore for a better entrance point was a good idea. Alas, it was too late now, and the sole option within your powers was generating a plan everyone wordlessly expected from you.
Out of concern for everyone's safety (because what would be the reason for a rescue operation if not everyone returns or they do so in poor health?), you fancied a thought of collectively holding out in hopes that the voidling's vessel would hopefully get crippled enough to discount as a threat. However, the comprehension of the lurks swarm inevitably increasing in both numbers and ardor, same as the need to neutralize the voidling as soon as possible pushed you to consider a gamble for infiltrating the cellar, which was both your first destination and the sole advantageous spot available.
Then, after letting a heavy heartbeat sink, you made your decision, hastily voicing it before the chaos would ensue: "Seph, crack it open! Loїс, swap with Elgar and assist me against the demon!". You intended to voice command for Elgar, but the maimed voidling's shell cut you short with its swoop and a tricky uppercut with its right hind leg from beneath its torso. You barely raised the defenses before the collision, which resulted in the lack of manoeuvering space and stability to work around the impact force. Resigned to the strike's impact, you got pushed backward and even lifted from your tiptoes for a brief moment before landing near the wall. Fiercely clambering up to the freshly-evoked shining aegis of yours, the demon got no guard opening from you.
But before you got a window to counter, the meaty menace kneeled on its remaining limbs, sprang up, and spewed a compressed stream of pitch-black liquid from one of its deformed "head's" mouths, rendering most of your magic barrier opaque. Evidently, it was adapting to your tactics, and now it forced you to either lower the guard or go into the blind defense.
It would likely remain a mystery whether it was the cold awareness and tactical calculus or raw instinct and blind luck that made you tumble and roll to the side instead of keeping the compromised guards up, but it led you away from the demon's ramming course. A loud, wet, meaty crash echoed through the cavern's walls, penetrating through the cacophony of lurk's incessant clicking and hissing, also heralding what force you saved yourself from.
While recovering from both the jump and the noise, you caught a glimpse of Elgar rapidly lobbing javelins at the moving silhouettes in the half-darkness, caring not about them running out. His brother, who wasn't the primary target of the demon's shell fury, closed by and ran past you, seeking to exploit the abomination's opening to deliver free strikes. They were few and insignificant, alas, as the monstrosity - heeding not to the pain an actual living being would've felt from the ensued collision - swiftly recovered and began to prance and spin around its vertical axis. Not only it made landing any strikes riskier due to the rabid hind legs kicks, but the beast was also getting closer to lockpick-bound Seph with each leap.
"Seph, what takes you so long?!" You cried out while trying to both shield yourself from the kicks and to push the rabidly jumping demonic vessel away from your fellow daeva.
"It has a rear shaft! I'm doing what I can as fast as I can!" She cried back in both stress and annoyance.
And as if her response wasn't distressing enough in the given situation, the gnarls and clicks of lurks nearby transformed into a loud hissing, punctuated by wet cuts, Elgar's bawls, and curses. You did not need to look at him to understand that he engaged in a direct brawl with carnivorous amphibians.
Trying to win Seph as much time as possible, you had to push yourself against the whirl of the voidling's kicks and butting, ducking under the strikes that might have sent you flying, taking onto the arcane shields what you had no chance to evade, and bursting scattered volleys of shattered luminal materia onto the rampaging monster. But the best your exertions were provining was a shaky stalemate: neither you were damaging the pile of meat animated by the chaos magic, nor it was advancing at Seph reasonably fast.
Loїс made a couple attempts to harm the aberration. Still, those couple of stab dives that he made yielded no reaction from the monster, and, on the third attempt to enclose, a moment of his hesitation cost him a sustained kick that knocked him over. When you funneled more of your strengths into a temporary dome to shield the recovering archer, somewhere behind you, Elgar's growls became as ferocious as those of lurks he was now brawling with. You could clearly hear the sounds of ripping flesh, which made you not want to look back. The situation was getting quite bad pretty fast.
... Or so was your thought, dictated by the guttural feel and the sinking heart until the salvatory metallic clang disrupted the savage cacophony. Seph did not even finish her "Opened!" yell when you bolted to her side and then into the depths of the estate's cellar, throwing back "Drag boys inside!" without even looking at your friend onto whom so much has hinged a moment ago.
After all that transpired today, you were morally ready for even more twists of fate like yet another blockage or another sort of barrier between you and what you identified as the voidling's anchor. But, contrary to your fears, it took only a few moments for you to sprint past what seemed as a vault with rotten barrels and crates and into the narrow corridor with urns & keepsakes-filled alcoves by the sides. You passed two rows of such when they all began to shiver. A moment later, an invisible force lifted some of the objects up and tossed them at you. A few urns crashed against the shimmering shield of solid light you held before you, and a few bricks fell down behind you. The same happened with the stones below: an invisible force knocked up some of them, attempting to stumble or otherwise unbalance you. Fortunately, you were too determined to reaching the phylactery item, crushing through the voidling's desperate opposition as it knew what you will do, and you knew these poltergeist-type phenomena to be its last line of defense.
You were so focused on reach and destroying the vessel that revealing it to be an old, dirty, and moldy child's cloth&straw doll resting atop of one of the altars chiseled no thoughts or reflexes out of you. Neither did the animation of the humanoid-shaped object and what you can only describe as its attempt to hide while all the space around you was crumbling down. You were fast and determined, nabbing the resisting vessel and charging back to your teammates as the crypt began to collapse behind you. You had to zig-zag to avoid the urns and rubble flying at you from behind and then had to roll over the crates and barrels the chaotic spirit pushed on your way.
With the wild heartbeat, rabidly resisting doll in your hands, and chased by the worsening building ruination, you made it back to the cellar's corridor to the cavern, training eyes on Loїс sending arrows into the darkness to cover Sephorah, who was leading leaning onto her Elgar to the iron doorway.
"A torch, quick!" You yelled at them while simultaneously blockading the pathway behind you with a luminal barrier. Having none, Loїс could not oblige you, receiving his bloodied brother from Seph's shoulder instead and hence freeing her up to lob the group's last burning torch at you. By the second it fell down nearby you, the final problem arose: the doll was desperately resisting your grip, less so remaining still enough to be incinerated. Adhering to a rather menacing idea that popped up in your mind, propelled by the sense of urgency, you reached for a knife - not the ceremonial one, but the old and now-dull small chopper Ulren gave you during the encounter with wargs. Not losing a second to hesitation, you pierced the knife through the "torso" of the rabidly resisting toy, nailing it to the oily head of the burning torch and thus giving it to fire.
With the hope for your plan's success in your heart, you blankly stared at the gradually decelerating conduit of the demon. You expected a howl, a tremor, or whatever menacing event could've taken place due to the exorcism of a demon from the object and surroundings it possessed, but nothing of a kind followed. The only extraordinary event that took place in this tense, prayer-like moment was the doll slowly clutching to the chalked blade of the old knife with its nigh-disintegrated "hands" like a real person would if they were to be sacrificed. Some silent moments later, the fetish turned to ash completely. A concurrent attempt to scan the surroundings for the arcane signatures reaffirmed your hope: despite the presence of residual void magic traces, the chaos spawn itself was no longer around.
In the gentle luminescence of a tiny orb floating around you, Loїс ignited his last spare torch before kneeling over his brother, who was leaning against the wall. The latter did not look pretty: bloodied face, crimson bites and scratches marks on his arms and thighs, no javelins left in the quiver on his back, and the edge of his left ear missing... Seph pensively glimpsed through the bars of the door she shuttered when you were taking care of the possessed doll; whatever she saw before the lurks piled at the metal, obstructing the view, made her grimace in disgust.
"Please, tell me that's the end of it," she said to you, paying absolutely no heed to the rioting by the door lurks and staring at the receding dust behind you.
"I no longer sense the voidspawn's presence, so... yes - the likely cause of local disappearances has been taken care of."
"Means Amalia and Inga are safe now," she concluded with a relieved sigh.
"Saint Aethlig's buttock..." Loїс crouched against his sitting brother, "El, you look like crap."
"So thoughtful of you to notice it," Elgar snarked. Despite the uneven breathing, his voice sounded somewhat normal. With that, he tried to reach for his own left ear, immediately having his wrist slapped.
"Don't touch it: there's a bleeding stump there." Saying this, the archer dug into his own pockets, shortly procuring a wrapped roll of sanitized bandages.
"How bad?"
"I'd say a third or so now's missing."
"Eh, could've been worse." The beastmaster replied, lifting his hands in a bid to evaluate his own mobility. "Guess I look worse than I really am; not even half as bad as after that raid on baavghurs two years ago."
"Shut up and sit still: I don't want to remember that, and you don't want me to mess you up more," the ordinarily cocky sibling answered grimly, "Can you move?"
"As I said - it could've been worse. Not sure how good of a brawler I'm gonna be in this state, but I can move alright." After getting his head bandaged, he obediently lifted the right arm for Loїс to continue with the field aid. "Shame I ran out of javelins. Might've saved some for later only if I knew that the walking pile of flesh gonna go into some sort of stupor and then crumble into puss, meat, and turd."
While helping his sibling, Loїс looked your way, clearly directing his question to you: "Have you encountered these... things before?"
"Yes," you answered dryly, "One roaming and two settled. In the former case, we had to extract the conduit object from the carcass of the demon, and in the latter two, we had to devastate their shells completely."
"Are there also nomadic demons?"
You nodded in confirmation, "When the memory trace, emotion, or an idea ingrained into the object upon which a voidling feeds isn't bound to a particular place, there is a chance it would develop the capacity to roam around."
"Sounds like some high-brow academic drivel, if you ask me. But for as long as it allowed you to kill that thing, I have nothing against it."
"Oh, quit this bitching, Lo." Elgar clang in, "If not for her 'high-brow academics,' who knows what we had to do. Besides, it sounds pretty logical for anyone taking an interest in the animal world. One can even draw parallels with some of the mollusks' and spiders' behavior."
Aside from its old track record and the recent usage as a cursed doll restrainer, the old kife offered you a chance to dodge siblings' petty squabble by proceeding with its extraction from the torch. On which you carefully - if not precisely diplomatically - acted upon, beating the head of the burning torch against the wall until the dulled shank fell off on the dusty floor. You could almost feel Loїc's frustration from the lack of your response to his indirect characteristic of you.
"You better focus your wits on what we should do now." Somewhat annoyed, Loїс returned to speaking to his brother, "Don't forget we came here to get Altan, who might be in a better shape than you now."
"I'm fine..." Elgar groaned while standing up and shaking his bloodstained handaxe off the lurks (and maybe some of his own) blood, "These scumlets are time and a half bigger than they should be. Even as effing scouts. And they are now damnably sure smelled fresh blood and just wait for us to make a move."
"I saw the outlines of at least five," Seph said while peering through the locked grated door. "They sometimes try to approach the door but scatter away when threatened."
"No wonder," Elgar shrugged with one shoulder, "they are an odd case of immense carnivorousness restrained by the rudimentary intelligence. Contrary to how they look, their wits can be compared to those of infants. Bloodthirsty, tribal, ruthless human kids. I'm sure their hive is now completely alarmed, with scouts and fighters lured here by the scent of my blood."
"So, what you want to say is that we're trapped here and that they know of all our movements, right?"
"Wouldn't say "trapped" is the best word: the feral arse on four legs is now a pile of rot, and the lurks - even if oversized - are pretty predictable."
You did not listen to Seph's reply to Elgar's comment, and whatever banter that might have followed. Instead, you ceased your slow tread by the doors, summoning a larger orb behind bars and witnessing at least a trio of lurks scattering back, away from the light. Apparently, Elgar was right about their intolerance of illumination. Eyes closed, you took a few moments to scan the surroundings once again after liquidating the haunt. The reported "pile of puss and turd," which remained after the demon's shell still emitted chaotic aethers, but the malevolent being was no longer around. However, despite the banishment of the voidling, the dungeon still pulsated with the low-frequency body arcane aspect - the chaosit wasn't the source of it after all. Opting not to dwell on the remaining mystery, you took count of the dim, animalistic soul sparks of lurks, ending up with the count of two and a half dozens at least. Some were nearby, preparing to rush in the soonest your group unbolts the shelter. At the same time, two-thirds appeared to be concentrated below and further ahead - at the bottom of the grotto - the presumable nesting spot. The spark of the survivor was beyond your perceivable range, but you still had their dislocation in mind relative to the entrance spot.
"Say, Elgar, what would happen if we take out their nest?" You finally voiced your musings by the time there no longer was any banter, Seph inspected the collapsed corridor's rubble, and Elgar stared numbly into the darkness of the cave.
"If what you want to know is whether or not beheading a hive can crumble its resistance, then no. Even if we take out the colony's brood mother, her entourage won't scatter around and flee."
"I see. Is there anything else we can use to our advantage?"
The lad looked at Seph and the rubble-filled section of the corridor, "When we have to weed such colonies out, we use fire and oil, poison, or smoke. Nothing from what we can find here, it seems, so it's all down to culling their numbers first-hand."
He paused for a moment, staring at the reddish bandage-covered bite mark on his hand.
"This breed, though... Not only are they huge, but even their scouts seem to have shelled backs, so don't waste time trying to slash down onto them. Instead, seek out for their bellies or limbs." He shook his hand just to estimate how it would hurt, "Will hate to see their fighters. Freaky bastards..." (all party members get +1 to melee rolls)
As you had to mentally skip the man's very last remark, you tried to 'feel' the moment. Even though not mentioning it out loud, your companions were enjoying a moment of respite that this chunk of the corridor offered. Too bad that the voidling's last-ditch attempt to secure itself caused the collapse of the cellar and a segment of the passage, so neither you could investigate it for a possible escape, nor you were able to scour the basement for flammables and whatnot. With no other reason to stay in relative safety than catching one's breath, you had to cut it short regardless of how much you disliked stressing others. Moreover, you had to develop a new plan, as the endowment of you with the informal leadership in this group seemed like fait accompli.
[]"We must press on. Even though the main threat has been neutralized, we achieve nothing by sitting here. Besides, with lurks rattled like this, we don't know how safe the survivor is."(faster progress, team offense score check: 52 team defense score check: 62) []"Here, we can alleviate the lurks' numeric advantage should we open the doors and hold the spot for as long as they dare to come. Eventually, they would either run out of either courage or numbers."(slower progress, team offense score check: 46 team defense score check: 28)
Your gaze glided at Elgar, who was still leaning against the wall, clutching to the bandaged arm and staring back at you.
[]"If you still feel like fighting, I'm not the one to stop you. If so, then perhaps...(Elgar participates in a skirmish. Team defense score failure would put him at risk) -[]"Seophorah would share her knives with you"(Supplies Elgar with one more round of projectiles. Sephorah will be locked to pure melee style) -[]"Loїс would give you his bow should you try to cover us"(Elgar will be locked to ranged roll without such for defense. Loїс won't be able to provide cover fire anymore) -[]"You would be able to clear out the undershoots while we take on the main brunt."(Elgar will be locked to pure melee style. Tea, defense score failure would put him at even greater risk) [] "It would be better for everyone if you stay behind us for now"(Elgar does not participate in a skirmish, and does not take any further risks for now) -[] "And give your hatchet to your brother: I would like to have my sword back."(Regain mixed combat style capability, but Elgar would be defenseless if everything goes horribly bad) -[] "Keep your hatchet, just in case."(You will be locked to the full arcane style, but Elgar would have his last resort weapon.)
Your own style: Lucy's engagement style:
[] combined(Applicable only via previous option. 1/2 arcane skill roll + 1/2 melee skill roll, 1/2 arcane skill roll + 1/2 defense skill roll, luck roll, per -4 to total offense and defense requirements for the target you are engaging. The offensive arcane score adds up 0.3 of its total value to Lucy's total defense score against lurks) [] physical(Applicable only via previous option. melee skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll) [] Full arcane style (Lucy's offensive arcane skill check score adds up 0.3 of its total value to the defensive arcane skill score when dealing with lurks) -[] onslaught(full arcane skill roll for offense, 1/2 arcane skill roll defense, luck roll. This action provides a bonus defense score against lurks) -[] warding(1/2 of arcane skill roll for offense, full arcane skill roll for defense, luck roll. This action provides a bonus defense score against lurks)
Your companions' preferable styles (unless overdriven by previous voting options)
[preferable] Sephorah: melee/combined melee (melee skill roll OR 1/2 melee skill roll + 1/2 objects usage skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll)
[preferable] Elgar: objects usage/combined melee (objects usage roll OR 1/2 melee skill roll + 1/2 objects usage skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll)
[preferable] Loїс: melee (melee skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll)
"We must press on. Even though the main threat has been neutralized, we achieve nothing by sitting here. Besides, with lurks rattled like this, we don't know how safe the survivor is."
"Damn right!" cried out Loїс, drawing Sephorah's unamused glance, which then gravitated to Elgar and, in the end, to you.
"Are you sure about that?" She asked you, "We can cull their numbers more or less safer in here. Which is not a small thing when we have one person injured."
"I understand your concern, Seph, but biding our time in relative safety incurs its own risks. For one, I'm concerned about the survivor and whether or not lurks would attempt to smoke him out from wherever he is hiding. Secondly, I can still feel the pulsation of the bodily arcane aspect - the reason behind local plant life and animals' abnormal sizes. It's still somewhere deeper in the cave."
"Wait, do you mean that this ugly chunk of meat was not the source of all this?" Archer's inquiry carried fretting vibes.
"No," you replied dryly, "Chaos spawns are conceptually inept of creating anything. All they could do is possess, distort, consume, or destroy. This means that whatever infused local life with excessive vigor isn't something we have faced directly. Moreover, it appears the voidling we got rid of formerly established a symbiosis of a sort with this source of power."
"Blast it," muttered Loїс under his breath.
"If you feel like fighting, I'm not the one to stop you," were your words when you stepped closer to leaning on the wall Elgar, to which he just produced an "uhuh" sound.
"If so, then perhaps Seophorah would share her knives with you," you continued while looking at Seph. She wasn't pleased about your idea, but after a moment of pondering, she took the last five knives from her flank pouches and handed them to the beastmaster, who nodded in return. It appeared as she doesn't seem to dislike the raven-haired sibling like the other one.
"That settles it, then," you commented the exchange, "Our goal is deeper down the cavern - somewhere below the entry point through which we came in. In a way, our course resembles a downward spiral, and we are in the middle of it. The greatest threat has been eliminated, but there are still scores of lurks waiting for our next move right beyond the grate and even more of them on the way down. Our plan is to aggressively push towards the survivor's location, maintain the momentum, and neutralize the opposition to the best of our capabilities. Should we be successful, lurks' further resistance might be crippled."
"Fine by me," grumbled Elgar; Loїс spared a humble "aye," Seph just shrugged, not entirely enthusiastic but neither skeptical to the point of arguing for alternatives.
"Good. Seph, take my left side. Elgar, take my right, and Loїс secures us from the rear. Once the gate opens, I go in first to disperse the crowd, and then you follow to clear it out."
Without any injections, your teammates proceeded with the plan. Elgar leaned away from the wall, leaving a bloody imprint of the top of his back on it due to earlier bleeding; he did not even notice it behind fiddling with one of Seph's knives, possibly to determine their weight balance. Seph slinked close to the door, throwing a single glance behind bars before putting her arm onto the lock and staring at you for a signal. It followed shortly, taking the form of your slight nod to Seph, which you gave after a moment of apprehension. After all, it was you who pushed everyone to take even more risks, and, despite shrugging it off, Elgar did not look so well after the last gamble. Should he get hurt any further, this whole raid might lose its purpose of saving a life. But it was a bit too late for second thoughts, and the only thing left for you was the idea that you must lead out everyone safely from this.
With this thought weighing on your chest and the soonest Seph slid the doorlock's bar, you rushed out into the darkness of the grotto. With an unstable light orb gravitating in between your palms, you yelled cried out "Flash!" to let get up the guards of your groupmates to what was about to follow. A heartbeat after, the promised explosion of light momentarily ripped the darkness, casting shadows onto the cavern's uncut walls and chiseling an agonizing choir of the dark dwellers. Although, your part has only begun, with you conjuring two luminal shields and swiping around with them relentlessly, overpowering three or four disoriented lurks and shoving one or two of them down into the watery pit.
Right by the time you had to recover your poise from kicking off the assault, Seph stormed forth to your left in her dance-like fashion. Under the ensued circumstances, her new lethal choreography consisted of the methodic combinations of forwarding steps with vertical windmill slashes shuffled with the phases of retractions and diagonally ascending feints. What she performed could've been confused for a fiery folk dance during a seasonal fair if not for the act's harmful intent and lurks' limbs flying around in its result. Her ferocious flings were perfectly timed, given that it did not take long for the lurks' hoard to recover from your initial suppressive maneuver, and those species that weren't ramming, gnawing, and beating against your aegises of hard light had to be taken off your flanks, which she did pretty well.
Contrary to your friendly descendant from the Kathor valley, Elgar was slaughtering the scattered lurks in a manner a butcher would slice meat in the heat of a business day - impassively, unceremoniously, and pretty routinely. Sparing no more than one grapple and up to swings per beast, Elgar tirelessly sent the beast's nasty limbs flying, sometimes sinking Seph's knife into the throats of the occasional specimens. Despite the lack of flashiness, the beastmaster's praxis was ruthlessly effective; whether it was fuelled by previous experience or the thirst for payback remained your guess.
With both of your flanks secured and Loїс taking care of the scarce leftovers, you, true to the announced plan, pushed deeper down the cave, breaking the carnivorous, dark-scaled hoard with your radiant barriers. As you did so, the opposition grew; not only in numbers but also in the class, as the crowds of predators began to dazzle with taller and bulkier specimens. These beasts - the nest's fighters - turned out more problematic than the shorter drones. Taking advantage of their higher mass and referring to the synchronous flings tactic, your reaction and attention were tested under the unceasing attempts of the fighter lurks' flocks to overpower you or create a gap in your defenses and exploit it. With you wrestled into pure defense, the group's advance has been slowed down almost to a crawl.
While you were stubbornly rotating your shimmering shields to take the hits and lunges on, Seph's dance with a sword lost a lot of its elegance, replaced with rather underhanded moves.
"That's why one never..." she grunted out while delivering a slash onto lurk's side shortly before twirling to the side.
"throws out food..." she continued a second before hopping over a lunging lurk fighter.
"for button-eyed scum to get fat on," she growled while backstabbing the lurk that she just somersaulted over, following up the stab with a mighty kick on its scaly fanny.
It's unclear whether her humor was awoken under pressure or was it her deliberate attempt to keep the morale up, but you wouldn't say it was uncharacteristic of her. Who knows, maybe a part of her even enjoyed this confrontation to a degree, which can't be said about Elgar, who had the debatable "fun" of being ganged on by a trio of lurk fighters. Elgar was quick and precise enough to neutralize one of the charging lurks with a staggering toss of a knife into its eye but not solid and steady enough to withstand the tackle of the remaining two. Unlike the last time, however, Loїс was close enough to forcefully pick out one of his brother's assailants, moving in from the rearguard and furiously piercing the blood-crazed amphibian.
You did not need to be a tactical genius to understand the nearing collapse of the formation's right flank and its potentially disastrous implications. Just a couple of steps to your right, Elgar was wrestling for his life, with you realistically being his best chance for salvation. Unable to refocus onto the high priority target without collapsing the frontal guard and exposing Seph to encirclement, there was only one viable move, the idea of which struck your mind.
"Flash!" you screamed out into the putrid, growling darkness of the grotto at the exact second you shattered the shields and their simmering shards onto the mass of fanged and clawed scaly flesh. A heartbeat after, you pumped a generous dose of vigor converted into thaumaturgic mana through your hands, blasting a blinding burst right in front of you. The exertion raised up the residual echoes of pain in your palms from the strain sustained in the cursed valley, but it also granted a crucial couple of seconds for your companions. Taking advantage of the poisoned and dazed state of his attacker, Elgar lodged a knife into its throat before aggressively kicking off the maimed beast. Loїс, after running the blade through the guts of the other lurk he dragged off his sibling, immediately helped the latter on his feet. Seph used the narrow pause of the scuffle to finally swap the stance into which she was forced by the ceaseless stream of hostiles while you reformed a couple of glowing shields in front of you, anticipating the continuation of the slaughter.
And your expectations were indeed met: unlike your first promenade of mass suppression, this time, the lurks' contingency resumed their counter-offense without even rubbing off the dazzle you subjected them to, aiming to simply bury your party under the mass of their flesh. Seph's elegant choreography turned into an array of underhanded strikes and rough moves, more characteristic to alleyway ambushes than dignified tourneys. Elgar's butchery spree decelerated noticeably, pushing his brother to his side to manage the relentless onslaught. The moment's pressure wasn't merciful to you either: with all the thoughts streamlined towards making it through this horde, you clench-bashed the limbs and heads with the left barrier's dexter and the right one's sinister, slammed the downed and kneeling beasts with the bases of both baffles, and frenziedly bashed forward with the fess zones, at times breaking a step or two ahead of the formation.
But regardless of how desperate you fought, there seemed to be no end to the beast's numbers: the entire pit seemed to be filled with this clicking and hissing wave. At some point, a thought pierced your mind like a searing needle: despite your best efforts and focus, your mind opened to the possibility of you not being able to stand the pressure any longer. Spurred by the disgust of this idea, you prepared to push yourself even harder, fancying the border between fervor and recklessness. But, for once, the tide began to turn to your favor before your very eyes.
The wave began to rapidly disperse, with some of the beasts throwing their last-ditch attempts to stall your progress and others breaking off from the crumbled horde and retreating back to where they emerged from. With the intensity of the fight rapidly dropping, everyone finally got a breather and enough leeway to reinspect their surroundings. Your charge has led you to the bottom of the cavern's main "hall". Above you, there was the outline of the natural bridge from below which the voidling ambushed you. Ahead of you - around at the water level - there was a natural sidewalk branching and cutting through two subterrane ponds of unequal sizes. Cairns made out of dirt, debris, dead fish, and eggs pierced the dark tides of the ponds, increasingly so further and to the side of your position - in the spot where you could see the lurk's shapes and sense the sparks of the remaining beasts in significant numbers. Without a doubt, you were staring towards the center of their nest.
To the side of it, there was a sizeable hollow in the wall, hosting four structures resembling pillars, a pile of something indistinguishable from where you stood, and a rectangular object in its center. An altar, perhaps? Witnessing the signs of people's involvement, you took a look around, noticing fragmentally polished walls with rough drawings on them, vaguely depicting various scenes from peasants or tribesmen's lives. There were pieces of pottery by the walls and all around the floor, with scarce pitchers surviving all this time and an active infestation more or less intact. All the clues suggested that this place had a ceremonial function. This hypothesis became immutable after you sensed the strength of the bodily arcane aspect vibrations from the cavern's hollow with an altar. A further probe into the nature of the magic anomaly revealed no further details on its source or principle, but the memories harvested from the ceremonial dagger filled in the gaps left by your underdeveloped spiritual senses. You haven't figured out the tenet on which it worked, but you found the local mystical nexus on top of getting hold of its key item.
Yet, the central insight came not from uncovering the distanced chamber but rather what was beyond it - the soul spark of a survivor appeared to emanate from the tunnel branching out of the cell. All you had to do now was to cross the ponds through one of the few available pathways, pass the altar chamber, and retrieve the person from the passageway they were hiding in.
A gentle tap on your left shoulder made you face Seph, who nodded in the lurk's nest's general direction.
"Do you sense them?" she whispered, in reaction to which you levitated the trusty light orb in the mentioned direction, scaring away one or two lurks who took the risks of testing how close they can get to you. The shifted light source illuminated the dark waters in which your group saw the movement of the amphibians; some of the beasties were sitting on the sidewalk, occasionally hopping into the water after voicing one or two intimidating warbles.
"There's about twenty of them. Maybe up to two dozens. Not sure why they stopped charging at us, though."
"Survival tactics," Elgar clang in after exhausting a vague grunt, "We've culled their vanguard fast and adequately enough for the colony to resort to regrouping into the last line of defense, utilizing the terrain advantage and the remaining numbers the best they could."
"Do you mean they won't try to charge at us anymore?" For once, Seph sounded hopeful. You struggled to recall the last time she sounded this way.
"Not exactly. They would likely dispatch small groups to prod us for focus unless we charge straight at them. I don't think they would leave their hotbed all in one in hopes of swarming us, though."
Suddenly, a faint echo of someone's voice reverberated from the walls, coming from the direction of the podium with an altar. The voice sounded male; the most likely language was Turanian; the tone was cautiously inquiring. Apparently, the person must have heard the sounds not characteristic to lurks or the demon shell, hence sending forth a cautious que.
"I'll be damned if that's not Altan!" Loїс's voice burst out, raising a wave of hisses from the remaining lurks.
"And there we were, having such a good run relatively the uncanny odds..." Seph needled Loїc's blind eagerness and got blatantly ignored by him.
"Do we have any torches left?" you inquired in a purposeful tone, trying to stave off Loїс from breaking off and running to, presumably, Altan.
"The last one," Elgar answered uneasy, confirming your suspicion of unavoidably becoming the sole source of light for the group soon enough.
"What's with the projectiles?" you asked again, with an even more urgent tone.
"None left," Elgar answered somewhat apologetically, "no javelins or knives..."
The impatient shuffling of Loїc's feet signaled that you have but a couple of moments to come up with a decision of how to proceed further.
[] Take the remaining lurks head-on!(57 team offense check, 68 team defense check) [] Send someone to fetch the survivor while the rest cover them before evacuating!(34 team offense check, 41 team defense check, the selected party member won't participate in a fight) -[] Yourself
-[] Sephorah
-[] Elgar
-[] Loїс
Lucy's engagement style:
[] Full arcane style (Lucy's offensive arcane skill check score adds up 0.3 of its total value to the defensive arcane skill score when dealing with lurks) -[] onslaught(full arcane skill roll for offense, 1/2 arcane skill roll defense, luck roll. This action provides a bonus defense score against lurks) -[] warding(1/2 of arcane skill roll for offense, full arcane skill roll for defense, luck roll. This action provides a bonus defense score against lurks)
Your companions' preferable styles (unless overdriven by previous voting options)
[locked] Sephorah: melee skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll (still has 1.3 melee score modifier from poison and +1 melee bonus against lurks)
[locked] Elgar: melee skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll (still has 1.3 melee score modifier from poison and +1 melee bonus against lurks)
[locked] Loїс: melee skill roll, defense skill roll, luck roll (has +1 melee bonus against lurks)
A tiny but shimmering spark of light gathered at the tip of your index finger only to levitate into your loosely clenched fist a moment later, casting a focused cone of light at the hollow with the altar rock.
"The presence is there," you commented the placement of the limelight, "there must be a corridor somewhere behind the ritual site. Be wary of the place and of the chance the person in question somehow blocked themself from lurks and the voidling." You did not specify who should be wary, but it was pretty obvious, evidently from Elgar lighting up the last torch and handing it to his sibling. "We will stay here and prevent lurks' intervention. Call out if you run into trouble," you concluded, to which Loїс merely held your stare for a couple of moments and then wordlessly started off in the mentioned direction, not even sparing a head nod.
This act of unintentional (most likely) rudeness did not phase you: you have had a day to get used to this lad's conduct, and while his pulsing soul spark swiftly distanced away from you, your spirit sense was retrained onto the remaining lurks. Although many of the scaly menaces were culled out on your way down, about twenty-five of them were still around, cutting through the dark cavernous waters and hissing menacingly from the corners and hollows. In accord to the (kind of) agreed plan, you trod closer to the altar cavern, separating its entrance from the pond with lurks, the soft clatter of Seph's gear accompanied by a tired shuffling of Elgar's feet followed you. But with it, lurks began to react to your relocation, exploiting the advantage of swift movement underneath the dark tide; they swam closer and closer from different angles, testing your reaction. To stave off their rising insolence, you conjured a bright light orb, enclosing it in the coupled palms and hence producing an unnervingly bright beam, pointing it into the waters and scaring away their aggressive dwellers.
Less than a minute after the scarce lurks began their aquatic motions nearby you, they were joined by more of their nest kin, forcing you to chase their shapes with the cone of light erratically. "What are they doing?" You asked out loud, barely hiding the concern of what might grow into a new onslaught.
"Waiting for a chance," Elgar answered while brandishing his hatchet, "or seeking for an opening to create such a chance."
Seph remained silent regarding your inquiry, with a soft crunch of her predominantly leather panoply signaling her expectancy of trouble. Unlike the reactions of your companions, the emergence of voices' echoes from the altar cave's dark depths covered the gap where good news should be. Loїс reached the survivor and would soon be on his way back, after which you would all finally be free to leave this pest-infested, mushroom & moss overtaken cursed hole.
A sharp change in the lurks' motions flushed you out of the daydreams about clear air: the slowly increasing number of lurks circling in the subterranean pond grouped up in a couple of schools and rushed towards your position. A blinding beam of light deterred most of them, but it wasn't enough to avert their rush. Seph and Elgar jolted in alarm when a massive - heavier than you and all the previous lurks - chitinous beast sprung out of the water in an attempt to knock you down. You were faster and more prescient, though, evocating the shields right in time to deflect the clawed tackle. The attacker retreated into the waters as fast as it emerged, going for the second lap but not before vocalizing a fierce hiss.
"What on earth was that?" you nearly cried out while recovering the stance.
"The nest's dominant male," Elgar commented dryly, "Watch out for more as they went for hit-and-run tactics."
It was easier said than done as you now had to deter the lurks from assembling into schools and at the same time stay up on your tiptoes for the consecutive charges. The only good thing in this situation was that Seph and Elgar moved closer to you, most likely planning to intercept the beast when it would emerge again.
And it did not take long for the lurks to enact their tactic but in reinforced numbers: the second attack saw the nest's alpha and a couple of lurk fighters jumping out of the waters. While trying to dodge, you scattered out a volley of luminal shards, grazing a couple of nasty amphibians with about a half of it and sending the rest into the darkness of the cavernous grotto. Elgar and Seph were more successful in countering, though, with the prior succeeding in showing off one lurk and striking the neck of the other one, and the latter landing a quick but precise strike in between the neck plates of the alpha lurk.
Your party's counter did not stop the aggression, still. As the alpha lurk wriggled out back to the water, you ineffectively attempted to nail it with a luminal wedge to the pond's bottom, quickly realizing that conjuring a dome would be more appropriate in this situation. The tremendous lurk did not take as much time to prepare for the third leap, probably flared up by your audacity of trying to strike him in his native element. Predictably, you conjured a thin luminal dome, but this time you weren't fast enough, succeeding only in separating the alpha from his entourage. Fortunately, Elgar and Seph reacted quickly and with precision, with the lad shoving the beast away from its trajectory and the daeva taking this opportunity to sting the assaulter with her longsword in quick succession. The beast, weakened by poison and the earlier blow, barely broke off from Seph's melee reach but was prevented from fleeing back into the waters by the inner wall of the glowing dome. One mighty collision of Seph's heel against its ugly head, the consecutive kick down, and half a dozen piercing strikes on its belly later, the menace exhausted its final, fading mixture of hisses and clicks.
The sound of this agony appeared to cool down the remaining lurks, at least for a few moments - the moments in which Loїс finally emerged from the dark, leading out a man leaning on his shoulder. This person appeared to be a middle-aged, average-sized dirt & grime-covered lander, with a warm complexion marred by the signs of exhaustion. Perhaps you would describe him as mindbogglingly unremarkable if not for one detail - a broad, infectious smile the likes of which you had never seen before: the grin from receiving salvation past the point when all the hope was lost. This sight of reignited thirst for life carved itself in your mind. However, it was too early for complacency: a dozen or more meters of dirt and rock was still separating all of you from the safety of the surface, the only light sources at your party's disposal was that of your conjurations, and three people were either hurt, exhausted, or busy supporting others, decreasing the group's capacity for skirmishes.
Without any negotiating, the group took the course to the entrance through which you came. Elgar's, Loїс's, and the recovered man's excited banter on Turanian language was a dead giveaway that this person was indeed the missing Altan. And you would've gladly listened to their enthusiastic chirping if not for several soul signatures entering the rear of your perception range, causing you to look around and witness numerous shapes cutting the surface of the black pond.
"Elgar, you told us that they wouldn't go all-in at us..." a nervous remark escaped you.
"I said they wouldn't try to take us head-on, not that they won't chase us," Elgar retorted just as nervously.
"Cease clattering, start skedaddling!" Seph bawled out, landing the type of a clap on you with which one would encourage a capricious horse. This gesture of hers chiseled out a high-pitched "Weh!" out of you and set the group in motion, presumably convinced by the example. And so you kicked off, focusing on maintaining a light orb in front of you, on not tripping on the wet rocks, and moving just fast enough on the bulk of the rattled lurks to catch up and slow enough to not outrun Loїс, Elgar, and Altan, who had little choice but to lean on each other. As the most mobile in the group, Seph referred to orbiting the formation, keeping an eye on the rest, and stabbing the most daring lurks where it hurts.
After about a minute of this chaotic run, nearby the doorway to the collapsed cellar, someone from the trio of kheree hunters slipped, most likely on scattered around butchered lurks' guts or decomposing chunks of the exorcised voidling's shell. Without any other choice, you had to conjure a wide barrier, temporarily cutting off the pursuers while Seph helped up the landers.
"Ayo, ye left some major mess in here, kids," the older hunter spoke out, unnervingly cheery considering the immediate threat looming over.
"For someone with pants half-filled with soil, you sound terribly happy" Seph vocalized what was circling on your tongue but, perhaps, in a less polite manner.
"I'd have the luxury to change the pants before being put to the pyre!" The man riposted, somehow even more enthusiastic, "Besides, have we, perhaps, met before fai... uh... obsidian maiden?"
"Unbelievable..." Sephorah muttered aloud with a voice just as pleasant as a wet slap with a dead fish across one's face, "Sing this tune any further, and lurks might accidentally bite off a chunk of yours. Guess which one."
"Hah! So it's not the death door's rave after all!" Altan concluded, prompting Elgar and Loїс to suppress their giggles with little success. You refrained from looking to Seph's reaction: the tone of the word "accidentally" explained it all, and you had your attention occupied by the chasing lurks' suppression anyway.
About couple more minutes forward, your group finally reached the entrance to the cave from the well's shaft. Seph's and Elgars yells to Amalia and Inga resurfaced your concerns over their safety in your absence, but they were short-lived as the girls' voices came back along with the now-adorned with a wide cloth sling chain, just like Amalia planned out. Running out of breath, you were showering the advancing lurks with the smoldering luminal shrapnel while Altan, Elgar, and Loїс were lifted one by one.
"Seph, hop in while I ward them off. I'll go right after you," was the message that you spoke over your shoulder, confident in your efficiency against the lurks in such a cramped space. Sephorah did not reply immediately, though. For a short moment, you felt like stealing a glimpse from the rear if only to see if Seph was still there, but her "The heck you will!" rendered your idea obsolete. Then, with a surely-aimed grapple, she dragged you away from the line at which you dissuaded lurks' interference, once again squeezing out a surprised (or maybe somewhat indignant) "Wah!" sound. In less than a heartbeat, you found yourself nested in a sling, with Inga's "Pull!" cry announcing your wave-motioned ascent to the surface.
Sounds of struggle coming from the cave made you clutch to the linen sling made out of old bedsheets, and the sight of a lurk's shape falling down the shaft nearly made you wriggle out of the sling. You focused on Seph's spark, which was still moving back and forth in the distancing cave; to say you were worried about her would've been an understatement. But, after a few painfully long moments, just when you were hanging half the way to the top, the outline of Seph's silver bush of hair appeared below. The daeva jumped from the edge, pushed against and upwards from the opposing wall of the shaft with her legs, and reached to the other shaft's side with her hands, suspending herself like an arachnid in its web tunnel. Just as she did so, a few bodies of lurks fell out of the cave, just like pickles out of the jar, causing series of splashes below just a moment later.
"Dumbasses," Sephorah commented the acrobatic inferiority of lurks not without pleasure before looking up at you with a grin and proceeding with getting out of the well one limb step at a time. At long last, you exhaled with relief.
_________________________________
"... And then we ran from there like from that cursed valley. I barely remembered to take my sword back from Loїс, even." Irrepressibly excited, you were recounting all the details of today's raid to Ulren. It was already a dark, late evening. The sounds of liveliness were coming from the barn behind Ulren's back; apparently, Amalia provided the same information as you but for a different audience. Not caring about etiquette in the slightest, you clang to Ulren's collar with your hands and your knees on his laps, trying to shake him in futility whenever you elaborated on the tensest of the raid's moments. The feathers on your finally unbound wings were also just as stirred, vividly reflecting the gentle light from a conjured glowing orb.
"Wait-wait-wait. How exactly did that Altan guy even end up there? And did he explain how he survived a day in absolute darkness, surrounded by pests and a demon?"
"He said that the voidling intercepted him on the surface. The demon's shell caught him and began to drag towards the well, but he managed to free himself and take shelter in one of the houses - the one Seph and the guys went in first. The voidling attempted to claw him out of there, so he took the risk of diving down what he thought was a cellar hatch. We have missed that secret passage, apparently. But anyway - he ended up in the cave, with a dying torch, and without a way to go back. Shortly after, he was chased by the lurks and the voidling to the corner of the cave, where he stuffed himself into a hollow in the rocks, unreachable by the enemies but also unable to leave."
You fixed your flowing hair, sniffed from the briskness of the evening air, and gasped for some extra air before continuing, "The torch went off shortly, leaving him to wave off the lurks' attempts to get him essentially blind. He said he had lost any hope to see the new day, and the only thing that prevented him from going mad or lethargic was the childish denial to cede his assaulters what seemed to be the already obtained victory."
"I see..." Ulren responded pensively, "And what about that ceremonial dagger which Amalia discovered?"
Your thoughts darted in the specified direction, tracing back the fate of the item and then retracting it from your pocket, where it was all this time. The light touched its eery shape and exotic texture when you brought it 'ere oneself, chaining Ulren's gaze to its wickedness for a moment before his steely eyes retrained on your sapphire pair.
"Uhm... This fetish is streaked with regrets and tainted with shattered souls," you told Ren, "It's a small miracle that the voidling inhabited a doll instead of this knife. I think it would be for the best if you dispose of it as there won't be any good coming from it."
As you offered the foul dagger to Ulren, he took it in his hands, evaluating its surface and, most likely, guessing what exactly it was made of. "Feels like some exotic lumber or a root," he commented, "I'll shatter it this evening and toss it into the forge tomorrow when Hjorn and I would go for another round at the smithy."
You grinned at him, but then something else crossed your mind. "Speaking of knives!" you produced the old, dulled and now-charred knife which Ulren gave you long ago on your way to Beilford.
The bhiroth recognized the item in a heartbeat: "Still clinging to this old shank?" he asked.
For some reason, his statement offended you a little: "Hey, it served me well before and was pretty instrumental in the most crucial moment today!" unwittingly, you supplemented this input with a cutesy pout.
"So?..." He proceeded, unsure of your request and refraining from teasing you by offering to dispose of this old edge as well.
"Can you... reforge it into a new one?"
"I can, but it would be easier to make a new one from scratch than to melt and reform." He answered, taking his eyes up from the old knife to you, "... Unless you have some sentiments entangled to it."
Smiling, you nodded in confirmation, perfectly sure that his apparent unwillingness to waste time on it was just a trick to make you confirm your recollections and the emotional attachment to those times when you were just a wide-eyed and confused larva of a person. After all, his own armaments bear numerous signs of prior use and symbolics, from which his exploits can be deduced; no way he was oblivious to the attachment to keepsakes.
With an understanding grin, he took your very first weapon and hid it in a side pocket, saying: "I see. You might still be a bit too petite for a baselard, but a rondel should be just fine." His massive hand reached for the side of your head, giving it a gentle, ticklish stroke. "A fitting name would also be appropriate," he said, hinting that it is you who should probably title it.
"Whatever you would think of," you refrained while smiling contently to his gesture. Yet, your eyes widened in a sudden realization shortly after.
"Oh! I almost forgot something!" Your hand slipped down to your belt bag, procuring the hefty bone trinket from it. Lively, you raised the periapt before Ren, turning it around in your hands for showcasing purposes.
"I told you about this charm that was among our findings but did not tell that I kept it for you!" The crack of your grin must have been stretching from ear to ear. "Inga said that it was made from a liehval's bone, and I can confirm that it is enchanted. It hardens one's body and provides better control over it at the price of making a wearer a bit more...hasteless. But don't worry: the tradeoff is insignificant, and the item harbors no malevolent ghasts or voidspawns."
You shifted the amulet closer to Ren in an offering gesture, supplementing the motion with a sincere "do you like it?" question, to which Ulren just stared at the object somewhat confused.
"I-it may not be the most practical artifact of all, and definitely not the prettiest one, b-but it plays to your strengths, so it crossed my mind as a good idea to..." You made another feeble pitch, in the result of which his confused gaze shifted from the object to you.
"..."
"..."
Still holding up the stretched hand with an offering, the incertitude crept into your heart. Your grin began to slowly fade in light of how you were perhaps a bit too desperate for appreciation, instead of providing which Ren just looked at you, seemingly unsure what to make of it all. And then...
"Come 'ere," he said in a soft voice while taking the piece of loot from your hands and sending his arms beneath your armpits in an attempt to shift your posture. Contrary to the advisory nature of his line, he sat you on his left lap on his own volition. Honestly: why does everyone see it as their holy devoir to misplace you at least once today?! This question, among all others, was flushed out of your mind the moment Ren's left hand brushed your hair and made it to your occiput, delivering gentle rubs 'neath your long hair. The tables have turned, and now it was you staring at him puppy-eyed.
"Among adherents for the Kin's chain philosophy, there is a widespread tradition to pick up second names based on the deeds that, in a sense, served as a rite of passage. Surviving through a battle somewhere, translating an ancient text, or managing to supply a settlement with some good - a great deal of roths prefers to use these references to their deeds instead of the family names. I am not suggesting you call yourself "Lucifina Lurkchaser" or "Lucifina of Old Talab" - these don't have a ring to them - but rather give a thought to the idea behind this tradition."
You haven't even noticed the mixture of a wondering hum and a cattish purr that left your lungs in response to what Ulren just told you.
"Earlier today, you ventured out burdened with self-doubts and manners of insecurities piled up lately. It was written across your face that you weren't sure of how smooth this run would go and whether or not your presence would be to any benefit. Then, you acted according to your judgment and within your merits, not overlooked by me nor limited by anyone else's authority. As a result, not only you managed to bail out the missing person but root out a menace that took and would've likely taken more lives in the future, and All of this without losing anyone," his voice changed to playful on this infrequent occasion. "what can you say in your defense?"
"I... Haven't really thought about it yet," you muttered awkwardly while processing what he just said, "Not from this point of view, at least..."
"But you really should because today you proved to yourself and the world at large that you are a resourceful being, capable of acting beneficially in this realm, even if you still don't fully understand it or your role in it. You established the validity of your judgment and the diligence to act in accordance to it as a proven fact, which not all people manage to do in their lifetimes."
"Ren, you big meanie, would you stop teasing me like this?" you retorted with a voice slightly shivering. There was nothing of essence to arm your protests with, so it was the best you could say. The squashing sensation in your chest recurred, shortly followed by the feeling of cheeks catching up an illusory fire. And to make matters worse, it was at this moment when he decided to give your crown a good, warm caress with his paw-of-a-palm.
"Just look at yourself: smitten already. Actually, you should have at least some shame, young lady! For I have always been open about how you appear to be a good seed, but it took you a pretty dangerous nosedive into the unknown to finally believe in it yourself. Skepticism is reasonable and all, but being at its receiving end isn't exactly pleasant, you know."
Your emotions were stirring up hastily, and your heart was drumming a hurrying beat. Did he just say that he always believed in you, even when you doubted yourself? He did. He surely did... Is this another facet of happiness? Why does it feel so good? Why does confirming his confidence in you feel so right, so natural? "Ren, you indeed are a bully for making me so soppy again," you barely formed a flimsy answer.
"It's alright, Lu," he chuckled, "No one will judge you for it. All I want to say is that, despite not having much of my hand in how you formed as a person, you made me proud, Lu, and not just today. No longer may you be a moon-eyed nugget of innocence, but you aren't any lesser for it, and your feet are already trying the pathway to becoming something magnificent. I'm sure of it, and Rosie would concur if she was here, too. So, please, no more rant sprees about how monstrous you may be. Deal?"
Damn it. Your emotions - primarily positive - have gathered in a tangled ball that stuck somewhere between your heart and your throat. The control over your faculties began to shake, and you surrendered yourself to this pull, wrapping your delicate hands around the massive hand of the person to whom you owe much - if not everything - you have and are. For a moment, this overwhelming feeling of joy felt almost unbearable, and you felt like pouring it out at him. Alas, you found no words to capture it all, and even if you did, it would've been a challenge to deliver them coherently. And so, you resigned to an awkward hug, by which you attempted to rekindle that particular unadulterated feeling of bond that you shared in those early weeks before reaching Kirhol. And, despite how much you have changed in all this time, it was still there. Perhaps, it is something that will always be with you.
"And as an addendum to the deal," he grumbled into your ear after a heartfelt minute, "don't you even think you'd ever leave me behind like today."
"Huh? Didn't you just praise how independent I become?" You turned the question around teasingly, still unwilling to let go of him.
"I did, but are you that cruel as to leave me hanging in nescience again, leaving me to wonder if I would regret letting you run around unchecked?"
"No, I'm not! What gives?"
"If no, then why protest?"
Letting yourself be dragged into this silly banter, the minutes passed in a familiar sort of merriment. The emotional tension bottled up in you was almost gone when you left to commit to some evening routines before going to bed. Still, a shimmering sparkling of validation by the person closest to you was now shining within your soul, making this uncertain world look a little bit brighter. Never have you suspected how much you needed this, but there it was now.
_________________________________
Was it the parting with the invigorating amulet or the post-emotional fatigue, but the amassing weight in your limbs suggested that it might be a high time to prepare to call the night. After piling your travel attire in a heap and placing it by the even more imposing for-Lia-to-wash pile of clothes, you changed into the old light dress that was your companion in Rosaline's mansion adventures. Perhaps not entirely unexpected, but it felt a little bit smaller this time, or was it you who grew a little? This question needed naught the answer, so you slinked behind the barn, where Hjorn stored spare barrels with water from the Talab lake.
Intentionally or not, someone left one of the barrels opened and, as the brief inspection with the help of a tiny light sparkling revealed, with unused water. Dipping your weary palms into a wooden ladle with cool water sent goosebumps down your spine: chillness soothed the vestiges of the physical strain from all the profuse spellcasting of the last week. A similar sensation followed when you poured some water on your feet, swapping soreness from all the running around for the breezy evening freshness. But what gave you a nigh-ecstatic sense of relief was when you unfolded your wings wide and made a few strong claps with them, shedding a few misplaced and damaged feathers. The only thing that could match the enravishment from emancipating the long-strained limbs was the silver lining of not getting them stained by all the filth, organic and not. Softly puffing out air, you let the pleasurable pulses sink in for a couple of minutes to come. Fresh springtime air, satisfaction from success, and some humble recuperation from the day's load - not a half-bad combo, you thought to yourself.
But there was the last ritual for you to perform before calling it a night - to clean your wheat-gold hair. Perhaps feeling guilty for planning to waste the rest of the barrel for this rather selfish purpose, you sent a pulse of your spirit senses, registering that most of your companions were already taking shelter in the shed, Hjorn was heading towards his humble hut, with only Seph and Ulren still hanging around the entrance to your temporary hideout. Predicting that others' interference or eavesdropping was unlikely, you bit your lower lip with a guilty grin and dipped your high-maintenance locks into the opened barrel.
It may not look so from the side, but keeping a chevelure like yours neat and healthy is pretty laborious. Capitulating before this liability, you let moments slip by unnoticed while you were busy washing. The fullness of perceptions returned to you only by the time you were squeezing the water out of the twisted braid of your blonde. And, to your surprise, it was the sounds of Ren's and Seph's banter that reached you through the veil of splashes, sporadic distanced dog barks, and ambient crickets' serenade. Their conversation was taking place on the other end of the structure, right by its entrance.
"Aww... what a sight to see: our sapient hasher can't possibly be this cute!"
"... Are you having fun yet? Or do I need to reply with something?"
"No-no, I'm fine, thank you. Although, if you keep playing a quiescent rock pillar, don't blame me for swindling away your precious little birdy. After all, I did your job today, and quite nicely, dare I say so myself."
"If you are seeking attention, why not openly ask Lucifina to patron you instead? From what I've heard and seen, it's her who shows more maturity than you."
"Oh my, feeling clever today? That's some fresh breath of air. But before playing the delegation game, have you considered that in such a scenario, should she be inaccessible, it would fall onto you to listen to my fears and concerns," Seph's ironic voice morphed into grotesquely feigned sadness. "Would you try walking in my shoes? Tell me that it all will be alright and that there's still hope for me?"
"..."
"..."
Seph tried to sound sardonic so hard that, for a heartbeat, you almost believed that there might be something more aside from satire in her words. But regardless, your imagination swiftly painted a mental picture of Ren giving Sephorah the "are you serious?"-kind of a look, with a half-opened mouth and the raised right brow.
"..."
"Oh, pox and gonorrhea! Don't give me that look! You do know that I'm just jesting~."
"Right..."
"Anyway, how's it been today? The mage, I mean."
"Irritated, restless, and nearly snapped on Isaac."
"Him being aggressive towards the healer boy? Just how much irritated he was?"
"Hm. good question, I guess..." Ren's voice held brief suspense, "Imagine your arms and legs shackled with a swarm of bugs marching on your face. This degree of peeved."
"Eugh." Seph "Why, thank you for not finding a better allegory at this hour of the night and after we just returned from one of the foulest caves in the north."
"Now that you mentioned the bounty, how did the Kherees react to Lucy's exploits?"
"The arrogant blonde moron seemed unphased at first, but Sparkling guiding him to retrieve his mentor and saving his petty clod for a couple of times must have broken through his dense skull in the end. The hound master chap and the Roth miss were pretty impressed, though." Seph's voice changed once again, now to playful, "Oh! I'll be magnanimous tonight and won't charge you for a little secret. Maybe you'd want to know that she asked us about you~. Who knows: maybe, if the two of you get acquainted, she might even teach you how to be a lesser bore than you can be at your worst."
"What exactly do you mean by "impressed"?" Ulren blatantly ignored Seph's impish jab in his trademark, no-nonsense way, "Did they promise better rewards? Or was it their conduct towards Lucy at the time?"
"Well, rest assured, Sparkling certainly dazzled them with her magic tricks. As for compensations - we did not have a chance to settle down on the return run, but the beefy girl said Kherees owe us favors. Not sure if she was speaking as a functionary or a private person, but we'll have some high reputation with the local enforcers for sure."
"Call me a paranoid all you want, but the type of goals that had been faced oddly mirror Lucy's mettle. It wouldn't be astounding if recovery of the missing patrolman was a goal secondary to verifying Lucy's merits."
"Mmmh, nope. A conspiracy connoisseur - yes, a blue-blood & white-bone manic paranoid - no. You'd have to claim that title by sermonizing the hunters knew about the demonic thing under the cursed mansion all along, which, I can testify, wasn't the case. But now that you mentioned it, hardly there would've been a success hadn't Sparkling been involved."
You heard Ulren sigh and then continuing: "Please, tell me they haven't seen or had any suspicions about her wings."
"Rest assured they didn't - a little too dense and a bit too narrow-sighted on the task at hand." Seph also held a tiny pause before picking up her thought, "That trio must be yapping non-stop about the event this very moment, with Lucy's hexes having a significant part in it. Albeit I'd not be worried about the possible information leak just yet."
"The information will spread out eventually - it's not like there are scores of lander-looking mages prancing around to blend in. Also - there's barely a chance this would be our last "favor" for the kherees: should we refuse to "cooperate," they might use a hook on us being convenient scapegoats for those recent murders. If today's mission was just a means to test Lu's usefulness, then it is only a matter of days before the hunters call in again." You could hear Ren puff out loudly, "It feels fishy."
"Fishy?"
"Just a guttural feeling that they know more about this streak of murders than they let off."
Hushed sounds of Seph's footsteps, crowned with the singular beat of her heel against the wood, punctuated Ren's input. Your imagination painted her stomping around while pondering and then leaning against the wall, with arms crossed and one leg bent in a knee.
"The spiciest thing about the leash play - both literal and metaphorical - is it being a game of perspective, in which power shifts with but a few right moves. Applied to your theory, it is them who might be stuck with us, should we grasp the context and play the field properly." The latter part of her phrase sounded more like a suggestion than a statement.
"Considering they know about our link to Hjorn, which bars us from simply slipping out from their grip, your plan might be the most rational of what is within our grasp. Just try not to sink us deeper than we already are."
Seph's satisfied chuckle brushed your ears, "Trying is the only thing I can promise~. By the way, you look duller than you are in reality. Who knows: you might have even survived in Bael for a few years had you ever winded up there."
"Wish I could pass back the flattery, but if Karadan cuisine would not end you, then highland winter surely will. And that's if you somehow manage not to cross the law and get your bum shipped to gaol mines."
Seph's amused grunt announces a pause in the banter of your two oldest companions. A break during which you snapped back to your senses, still holding to the soggy braid of hair a bit dumbstruck. It might have been the very first proper conversation between them you ever overheard. Sweet rolls and chocolate! They sure can hang out! - a thought flashed in your mind, utterly overriding any possible shame for blatantly spying on your friends. Perhaps, Rosaline would not be proud of it, but maybe, she would understand your actions from a researcher's perspective. Hence, you quietly leaned over the barrel, grating its top with your arms for support and shifting weight from one foot to another due to the evening chill creeping up.
"How's the day, though?" Seph finally broke the silence.
"In what sense?"
"How was your day, silly," Seph reiterated in an overemphasized voice, "You know pretty much everything we did, so it would only be fair if you now tell of your exploits... unless they were limited to rolling from one side to another with breaks to scratch."
"Looked over the mage - as already mentioned, his condition is without changes. Then fiddled at the smithy with Hjorn - helped with the joints designs and drafting." Ren's voice sounded slightly annoyed at first, but it gradually normalized the more he talked. "Now that you made me recall the project of your armament, we need some extra measures of yours."
"Excuse me?" Seph countered in the voice of having her dignity a heartbeat from being offended.
"Your horns," Ren specified in a way that would see his interlocutor throw out unsolicited assumptions, "they are massive, and we need to make a design that would permit a headpiece. Helmets are an incredible invention, just saying."
"Hmph!" Daeva's tone bordered somewhere between the injured pride and the low-key disappointment.
"Then, I've had to get out to the town for some basic recon and resupply; took the craven with me just in case there would be any tensions with landers. There weren't any, but the lil' mollycoddle was pushing the idea of seeking out local medicasters. Don't know what struck him after Lucy's verbal lashing, but I advised him to keep it to himself and focus on a more nascent issue: we are running out of food."
Seph, uncharacteristically, did not interrupt Ulren, letting him lay down more intel on what was going around.
"We found some desperate locals willing to sell their limited provisions just so they could afford merks to guide them somewhere safer. The price was steep, and it would only get higher as the troubles besiege Tevon Talab. Thinking of it, kherees offer of services might be a better alternative to buying. By joining their hunt raids and leveraging the right of the quarry, we might mitigate the sustenance issue."
"And to start unveiling the scheme of which they made us a part of via cultivating some connections."
"Deft thinking," Ren commented, "as for the situation at large, Baatorians keep amassing near the town, indigenous folks keep flocking to the city as well, shrinking the limited supplies, and the animal murrain hasn't gone anywhere. Strolling around is still dangerous."
"I see..." Seph replied in a bit melancholic voice, "Oh well. I'm spent for today. Some quick sleep before tomorrow and then a midday nap would be grand."
"One more thing, though."
"Huh? Did you forget something?" her voice gathered some impish vibes, "perhaps, something so unfortunate that you decided to push it to the last moment and spell it out as if in between the lines?"
"No. Just want to say not half-bad. The today's sortie, I mean."
"..."
"..."
Your mouth unconsciously opened ever so slightly. Did he just... compliment her? Amalia would never believe you and discard it on exhaustion!
"Oh?... Oh! You're not half-bad either when left to the housekeeping role. Now I wish Amalia had taken her old maid headdress so we could test if it would make you even nicer~."
Dropping the final, merry, and melodic chirp after her jab, Seph's soul spark slinked into the barn. Ulren's heavy sigh of annoyance concluded the dialog. It made you feel somewhat guilty: he was obviously sticking to the earlier promise to try to get along with Sephorah, and with undeniable diligence, at that. But the daeva did not seem to adjust to it just yet, continuing to poke him out of selfish amusement. Perhaps, she's overdue for the second attempt for a talk on this issue. Nevertheless, it would have to wait: unless catching cold was what you sought, getting inside and calling it a day was the final thing to do, now. And so you followed on this plan, closing the doors of the barn behind yourself some minutes after.
_________________________________
But to plan on taking rest and practically departing to the neverland proved to be drastically different things as your mind simply refused to settle down and let the sleep claim you. Long after Lia began to sniff in her dream and Seph piled one of her long legs onto your bedroll in sleepy ignorance, your mind was still processing the events of today. You persisted with these thoughts and recollections until your mental streams rolled into an analog of a messy yarn ball. And in this worsening mess, one thing stood out in particular:
[] The sense of self-proof, accomplishment, and familial endorsement. Ulren was right - by no means are you powerless, constrained, or idle. Not anymore. He never doubted your ability to gain subjectiveness and to lay your path forward. He, sometimes vocally but more often quietly, supported you in obtaining this agency and self-confidence. And now that you achieved it, you want nothing more than to make him even more proud of you. (Charisma and willpower boost, tiny chance to increase attributes & skills yields from training, bonus to skills and attributes rolls when Ulren is in the party)
[] The call of your mystical nature.
It is undeniable that today's raid would not have been a success if not for your magic talents. Sure, you do not fully understand or impeccably command them, and some facets of the arcane aspects are outright terrifying, to say the least, but, for better or worse, this is who you are and always will be. (Intelligence and arcane skill boost, slight chance to increase magic aspects progress from training, the next arcane training session will yield one whole level)
[] The tender sprout of leadership
Today, you made something you never thought you would: you took responsibility for achieving a clear goal and for the lives of others while doing so. And despite recognizing the few mistakes you made, you can't deny the allure of having to guide others to achieve together much more than they could hope for separately. (Intelligence and charisma boost, you will get more options to influence others)
[] The link between you and luck.
Despite all that you had to go through, you can't say you weren't fortunate. From the very first night when no one else but Ulren found you and to numerous opportunities that presented themselves during today's raid, such ephemeral thing as luck had an immense influence on your life. But is something perfectly uncontrolled, or can it be handled properly? You are starting to lean towards the latter. (Big increase of the luck range, a tiny increase of the misfortune range, luck might have effect in more situations)
You clutched to this idea as if it was a treasure. In a sense, it indeed was for you. But regardless of your efforts, nature came up on top, with you slowly fading into the sweet oblivion, holding to this hard-won truth about yourself like little children clutch to their beloved toys.
_________________________________
*Thump!*
You slowly half-opened your eyes, groggily retaking awareness from the soft embrace of sleep. The tranquility resists, but it loses its grip on you under the oppressive rays of sunlight, which make it through the windows and gaps between the shed's wall planks. Somewhere nearby, the sounds of gentle metallic clattering emerge, prompting you to at least sit up and look around.
*Thump!*
The sound repeated itself, originating somewhere by the opposite side of the wall and finally rebooting your wits. If you had to describe it, this noise was made by something thin but sharp sinking into a wood. Lazily, you sat up and looked around, noticing Sephorah sitting on a flimsy stool in her undies and legs stretched forward. In her hands was a compact wooden cube with lock mechanisms mounted on its sides. She was prodding and poking them with a lockpick in a lively manner. And then, with the corner of her eye, she registered your awakening.
"You've got tired yesterday and all, but today you slept like a typical baelian asharite, if short on the alcoholic odor."
"Mhhhmmhnnn..." you hummed at her incoherently.
"Now-now. Don't be grumpy - I did not even have to tickle you awake before catching some noon nap myslef~."
"Wheresh othersh?" you mumbled.
"Our host is back to his forge, doing the smithy things and such. Isaac and Jory are fetching water from the lake; we've dirtied pretty badly after yesterday's spelunking to our maid's great woe. And the bhiroth is teaching Amalia how to shoot outside."
*Thump!*
Seph theatrically pointed the lockpick in the direction of the sound as if to support her words.
"Thanks," you said while leaving your bedroll and dressing up for the day.
"And good morning," you concluded while giving her a loose half-hug on your way to the shed's entrance. She reacted with a lopsided smile and a satisfied purr.
"Morning!" you rang out after regaining vision from the day's first direct contact with the sunrays. Before you, lying on her belly with a crossbow in hands, was Amalia, while Ulren sat on his bum by her right side.
"Don't lose the focus before the shot," the latter said in a commanding tone, "Inhale, exhale, hold your breath, and then carefully pull."
The former maid obediently followed the instruction, sending a bolt at the timber tied to a beam of a mop with a crudely painted grimace on its side. The bolt scratched the log's surface, ending up deflected and stuck in the barn's wall.
"Next time, don't yank the trigger. Know that it's the most delicate part of a crossbow, proper handling of which amounts to about half of the weapon's precision."
Amalia nodded enthusiastically to Ren before retraining her hazel eyes on you with a broad smile.
"Morning, Lu," Ulren answered to your hail with delay. "Took your sweet time, ey?". To this, you could only smile wryly and innocently shrug with your wings and shoulders.
"It's fine," the man chuckled, "You undoubtedly earned it yesterday."
"And it's not like I'd let all of you run around stained up to your ears with substances of dubious origins. No one - and I mean NO ONE - would ever think that I'm traveling with some violent vagrants!"
Amalia's half-joking and half-authoritarian comment put a grin on Ren's face. "You've heard the boss," he addressed you again, "we're taking things easy today. But don't fret - you're a girl big enough to plan out how to fill this downtime."
Even though the faint smile did not fade from his face when he was finishing the last sentence, the look of his eyes gained some earnest vibes. There could be no mistake: he referred to Karl's affliction and the task you took upon yourself to aid him.
"Sure," you answered with a tiny grin, "I believe it can be helped."
_________________________________
Lucifina's actions quota: 3 major actions, 5 minor actions.
Regardless of the vote, Karl will make ailment rolls.
Karl's void contamination state:
3 (base) * 4 (severity) X 2 (spread) -> d2 12 willpower checks for resistance.
In case of failure(s), the CON / WIS attribute check(s) against harm is 7
- each set of resistance checks would happen after each story day or two
- each failed willpower check warranties +1 to severity for the next round
- two or more failed resistance checks warranty +1 to spread for the next round
- if the sum of willpower rolls surpasses the sum of willpower checks warranty by twice, 1 spread is subtracted for the next round
- if the sum of willpower rolls does not surpass the sum of willpower checks by twice, the target receives -1 to willpower for the duration of contamination.
- each failed willpower check leads to either CON or WIS attribute checks, which are the sum of the base and severity
Lucifina's treatment capabilities:
3 (base) * 4 (severity) X 5 (incompetency) -> 3 independent arcane skill checks -3 VS 3 base * severity tests (12)
- to cure the contamination, all the tests must be beaten
- each point of incompetency decreases the arcane roll result by 1 and increases the number of tests by 1
- to decrease incompetency, Lucifina must practice manipulating with soul sparks or seek help from other characters proficient with spiritology
- in case of unsuccessful curing checks, the severity and/or spread of the contamination will increase for the next turn.
[] Attempt to treat Karl at your current incompetency level (3)
[] Study Karl's condition more, catalog and compare to your yesterday insights regarding voidlings' sparks properties (-1 to incompetency, ???)
[] Seek out Mia's help to learn interactions with soul sparks and spirits at large (hard (18) Charisma check for -2 to incompetency, ???)
[] Do nothing
Other major actions (each option costs 1, repeatability varies):
[] Go with Ulren on a joint hunt with kherees. (Non-repeatable, free arcane, melee, defense, sneaking, recon, huntsmanship, natural lore (and ranged skill for ulren) checks to determine the material yields. Lucifina gets a guaranteed skill up for a random skill she rolls. For every pair of checks she scores over the normal difficulty (20), the number of randomly distributed skill-ups increases by 1 to the maximum of 4, including the base)
[] Go shopping and information gathering with Sephorah and Amalia. (Non-repeatable, free persuasion, haggle, performance, intimidation, social and cultural lore, lingual lore (and seduction skill for Sephorah) checks to determine the material yields. Lucifina gets a guaranteed skill up for a random skill she rolls. For every pair of checks she scores over the normal difficulty (20), the number of randomly distributed skill-ups increases by 1 to the maximum of 4, including the base)
[] Join Isaac and Jory for in-house experimentation & supplies production, medication, and inventory management efforts. (Non-repeatable, free willpower, arcane lore, craft lore, daily craft, pharma and treatment, and alchemy checks to determine the material yields. Lucifina gets a guaranteed skill up for a random skill she rolls. For every pair of checks she scores over the normal difficulty (20), the number of randomly distributed skill-ups increases by 1 to the maximum of 4, including the base)
[] Intensive training of attributes
-[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA (Repeatable, each round raises an attribute by 1/2 if the base attribute is X < 14, by 1/3 if the base attribute is 14 =< X =< 17, and by 1/4 if the base attribute is X => 18)
[] Practice and study your magic disciplines!
-[] Practice thaumaturgy
-[] Study soul aspect (Repeatable. For thaumaturgy: current level 7 (+0/7 of the next level), above hard wisdom attribute (18), above hard intelligence attribute (18), hard arcane skill (24) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment. For soul aspect: current level 6 (+0/6 of the next level), above normal wisdom attribute check (17), above normal intelligence attribute check (16), normal arcane skill (20) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment, Mia's +1/6 yield applies after hard (18) charisma check)
Minor actions (each option costs 1, repeatability varies):
[] Targeted skill training
-[] Melee combat
-[] Ranged combat
-[] Defense
-[] Objects usage
-[] Willpower
-[] Balance
-[] Sneaking
-[] Reconnaissance
-[] Persuasion
-[] Intimidation
-[] Haggle
-[] Performance
-[] Cultural and social lore
-[] Daily craft
-[] Weaponsmithing
-[] Armorsmithing
-[] Artificeiry
-[] Pharma and treatment
-[] Tailoring (Repeatable, but no more than two times on one skill)
[] Routine attribute training
-[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA (Repeatable, each round raises an attribute by 1/4 if the base attribute is X < 14, by 1/5 if the base attribute is 14 =< X =< 17, and by 1/6 if the base attribute is X => 18.).
[] Try bonding with someone
-[] Ulren
-[] Sephorah
-[] Karl
-[] Amalia
-[] Isaac
-[] Jory (Repeatable, but can only be one bonding attempt per person. Free Charisma attribute check for extra effect. Write the addition of the topic for the bonding if you have something specific in mind.)
It is true that, with the end of yesterday's run, Karl's affliction stole the spotlight of your thoughts. Despite the comments of others about how the mage is holding up, you knew better than to tempt your luck and delay his case any further. But, alas, waking up Mia before dark and "asking" her for help would be about as productive as waking you at night and asking for the complete chronicle of the Pherin empire. And so, having half a day to spend before trying to learn new tricks in souls biology and manipulations, you decided to spend some time with dear to you people, quietly sitting down on the ground, bending legs and knees, and planting your chin on top of them.
For once, observing your little tribe in a silent company felt reassuring: despite Ren's unapproachability on the surface, he has always been a big, caring softball, which wasn't a secret to more than just yourself. And as for Amalia's interest in things martial, you did not need to have deep talks or inspect her soul spark to understand that she feels inadequate compared to others in the face of dangers you've gone through and those that still lie on the horizon. Knowing how valuable of a group member she is seemingly did nothing to allay her worries. And while learning combative skills had no ill on its own, you sure hope Lia won't get reckless ideas from growing more capable in terms of self-defense. Perhaps, you'd need to talk to her about it just to make sure she won't take unnecessary risks for others' sake sometime in the future, but for now, just observing her building up confidence would do just fine.
But boys got back with barrels from the lake soon, cutting short Amalia's downtime from catering to the entirety of your group. Jumping on the chance, you asked Ren to train you a bit, too. As for the lesson itself, you opted for some self-defense training. It has been quite a while since he had to teach you practical skills, so your request was met with enthusiasm. With the help of a branch, he estimated how far you have progressed in all kinds of harm avoidance like dodging and blocking in a few minutes. And even though he said that you've likely moved a little since the last time he taught you how to evade, the ease with which he poked you with that blasted stick reflected the titanic gap between his decades of experience and your bare enthusiasm with assiduity. But the mild humbling did not make the lesson any worse - maybe even to the contrary: he showed you what feints and feint combinations are, how to react to them. And if that wasn't enough, he helped you find a couple of defensive stances that fit your constitution, taught you when to shift the guards, and when blocking is preferential to evading. This well-digested session was supplemented by a complimentary head pat in the end; you could easily see it in him: he loves to be relied upon, especially by those he cares about.
But just like Amalia got snatched with Isaac's and Jory's return, Awakening of Seph from her short midday nap blew Ren away from you and into the smithy, along with Hjorn the horned femme. And so, you ended up alone in the yard, free to pursue your own devices. Not pondering for long, you dived back into the shed to retrieve ink and your journal, then fiding a cozy spot outside to proceed with writing at lengths about yesterday's raid and attempting to find parallels between Karl's condition and observations of the banished voidling's properties.
"Evident from the encounter, voidspawns are capable of symbiosis to the environments they are bound to. The strength of their adaptation may or may not vary depending on the properties of the bounding object and the memory engraving it retains. If so, then there might be a dependency between voidlings' behavior, powers, and weaknesses that are inherited from the feed-upon memory bulks. Unfortunately, we weren't able to probe this assumption in any meaningful way as it wasn't a part of our main objective."
The motions of the quill feather froze at the moment you've heard the doors of the smithy open, and two familiar voices rolled out.
"So, was it really that necessary? I honestly expected the second act of "Daevish physiology for dummies" play, but the two of you just took two measly measures and then dived back into boys talk."
"Well, too bad you did not find it entertaining, but those two measurements were necessary anyway... Unless you want to scrape that comely phiz of yours away from someone's weapon or something's claws."
You again registered yourself in yesterday's peculiar spot on the bench by the water keg, once more overhearing your two oldest companions without them acknowledging your presence. For some reason, you did not feel guilty this time - just curious of which way this exchange of theirs will proceed.
"Oooh, am I being..." Seph held a dramatic pause before continuing with a theatrically amused/amazed voice as if she's about to swoon, "flattered?"
"Is that wishful thinking I'm hearing?"
"Phah!" Seph's jolly grunt emerged, "For someone that massive, you seem to struggle with pushing matters through. But don't worry - we won't leave you behind. Who knows, maybe one day we would take you to a gala, and you'd become the darling of the evening~."
"Unless the place mysteriously loses half of its silverware and your horns pull down the curtains onto your head while you try to sneak out through the window with all the loot. A mess that would be, but a potentially hilarious one. What would you prefer: to drop down the window like a sack of turnips or to trash blindly indoors like a cat tangled in bedsheets?"
"Aww..." Her voice changed to fakely hurt, swiftly changing to somewhat impish during her following input, "even Amalia could've come up with a more creative retort. And thank you - knowing that someone envies my horns somehow gives me a warm feel~."
"There is little reason to envy something I possess not, less so without a reason to have it."
"Do you bhiroths never open your eyes when you wash your faces, or is it some awkward blind spots that prevent you from seeing those two tiny horns you have in whatever reflections?"
"First: we see just fine. Second: those are not horns - those are brow spikes."
Seph could not hold herself from laughing at that comment; you frowned a little - the atmosphere between these two was still an enigma to you, but there were just a few positive ways you imagined this exchange could proceed. Please, no quarrels. Pleeease... your inner voice whimpered.
"You know," Seph's voice was merrily shaky from the laughter, "If a thing looks, feels, and functions just like it supposed to, it may truly be just that thing."
You've heard a slightly annoyed sigh and Ren's heavy footsteps, a couple of them. It did not give you a reassuring feeling, somehow.
"Hey! Are your senses alright, buddy? The yard is large enough to fit your hide without obstructing me..."
"Touch them."
"Wh..." Seph did not even manage to express her bewilderment adequately. Your mouth opened ever so slightly in surprise, and brows threatened to stretch past their highest orbits. The imagination inside your blonde head began to draw scenes of debatable appropriateness.
"It took me to sing for you to stop nagging the last time, so that's just it: touch them and quench your curiosity. Otherwise, I consider it as an agreement that rhoth brow spikes aren't horns."
"Hold your horses there," Seph's voice now sounded amused, and... you don't really know the proper adjective, but it gave you strange vibes, "Before doing something like that, I want dinner first!" the dusky damsel then added shortly: "and with a cake dessert, no less!"
Damn... I want a cake. Your inner voice muttered. No offense to Lia's culinary prowess, but the gap of time that separated you from the last dessert savored filled your mind with gloom. A "three kinds of milk" cake would've been perfect just about now. A tiny, mouse-ish squeak escaped through your lips due to the sudden yet still suppressed frustration.
"The dinner is still roaming the wilds so, are you touching them, or those are not horns like you're claiming?"
"Was it some beetle that stung your sack or my comment regarding not pushing things through? Frankly, not sure whether should I be flattered or terrified, but being your auxiliary tamer, I must mention that coercing a fine lady into having a tactile contact with yourself is not how polite societies work~."
"..."
"Ah, fine."
As she said that, you could hear the hushed squeaks of her leathers, indicating that she performed a hasteless, leaning motion regardless. Then, there was a noticeable pause without a single sound. You could imagine that Seph complied with Ren's request, but the absence of her reaction was exacerbating the suspense a bit too much. And then, when you could no longer think of what was about to come, there was Seph's squeal. High-pitched, short, resonating. A squeal you have never heard from her before.
"Goodness!" the daeva exclaimed, "These... These are like those of little babies!" Her voice shifted from excited to hooting in a manner of seconds, "Tiny, silky-smooth, without a rib or a furrow! Do you use something to keep them like that? No way the walking meat mincers could have the horns sooo cuuute!"
Ren's plan apparently failed, prompting him to awkwardly defend his point: "Because they are not: those are brow spikes - the unique frontal skull bone formations that come in seven types across all the roth branches." But Seph had none of it, continuing to croon about how they are similar to those of daevish babies, who can be bathed in a small soapy washbowl and swaddled into adorable cocoons. At this point, you ceased any attempts to understand what was going on between these two. It was way above you - at least without Amalia's expert opinion, which was unreachable at the moment regardless. Hence, there was little choice but to let the teamies be and refocus back on cataloging, hoping that their interaction won't take a violent spin out of the blue.
"In addition to the presumed inheritance of traits via the host-parasite link, the previously-encountered voidling showcased a capacity to take advantage of the immediate surrounding area of its vessel item. This way, the voidling's "puppet" integrated some biological material from the cave into itself, including lurks' and the lake's fish flesh. Also, it acted against us with a clear understanding of the surroundings and tactical advantages that they offered. Must admit, if not the most menacing one, this particular void spawn was probably the most developed from those few I witnessed so far. And to judge whether void entities have an innately high development ceiling or the encounter happened with a rare offshoot, a verification needs more cake."
Once again, the writing feather froze in your hands. This time because of the mistake you've made, noticing it only with the help of the internal voice's reciting. Seems like Seph's unrelated phrase unearthed the growing urge for sweets in you. The sudden growl of your stomach supported the idea of asking Amalia for whatever resembling a pastry. Truth to be told, you'd be happy even for an oatmeal cookie...
But along with the return to the desire for something sweet, your senses returned to the persisting exchange between your companions. Both their soul sparks were still in the yard, and you could still hear their voices.
"Seasoning of all the things? Why?"
"I plan to go out with kherees on a hunt tomorrow. Unless it would turn into an utter failure, some meat will be obtained, and you don't want to eat plain roasted meat - believe me."
"Uh, thank you, but I still have those recollections without any extra reminding... But I get you anyway: to procure anything that can be used as a marinade."
"Yes, that would be helpful."
"Will do, then. Just, please, turn in something worthwhile: something with juice to it would be a welcome change."
"That's the goal. But what about you: what's your plan for tomorrow?"
"Well, aside from the mentioned shopping stroll, I'll try to sniff out some information on the latest events around the town. You know - the things we discussed yesterday."
"Right. That plan. Do you intend to go alone?"
"I'll ask Amalia to join - as practice showed, it is a good idea to have her at hand whenever dealing with whatever items is expected. Locals would also freak out a little less if they see their kindred with me, as you can imagine. Thinking of it, Sparkling might also be of help and have some use out of this stroll: she's a charming girl, but her quiver of tricks is dreadfully narrow. It's a huge shame she doesn't recognize the tremendous power her glamor can have when properly polished."
"Well, she is a resourceful girl with a lot weighing on her shoulders right now. It might be best to leave her to sort through her devices if you'd ask me. It also goes without mention that the less we flash her on public, the fewer are the odds of us being revealed."
"Hmm... You may be right about Lucy, but I'm not that pessimistic with the Dalgaard's assaulters: we've done a bloody good job hiding our trail so far. Hardly anyone would have a lead on us except for the general assumption that we might still be somewhere in the northern realms. So, it might not be that risky to let her roam now and there."
"That stands valid only if they don't have any planted or sleeper agents in all the settlements. We don't know who they are except for their access to substantial resources, trained personnel, and disturbingly good planning, which does not prompt complacency. Besides, no one's limiting Lu's freedom: she wandered plenty yesterday, and there's just a difference between necessity and leisure."
"All the work and no play, again?"
"Unfortunately, that's how the matters are."
"Confess: you just hate the idea of fun, don't you?" Seph sighed lightly while saying that, "But even if you do, don't think I was joking about the dinner - you better bring something tastier than an old boot sole."
"Maybe, if you keep on playing a good girl like the last few days."
Seph's mocking "Huh" punctuated the exchange, but even five minutes after it was over, you could not gather your mind on how exactly it ended on the tone it did. You tend to think that you know each of them pretty well separately, but when they come into contact... Perhaps, some mysteries are better left unsolved, especially if they appear as welcome developments.
After finishing with the journal entry and peeking on your companions, the natural choice for the next activity was trying to coax Mia to help you with a better understanding of the principles of interactions with soul sparks. So, after a brief period of idle observation of the sunset, you procured the silver token from your bag and fiddled with it in your arms. The ghostly cat's soul reacted, albeit without much enthusiasm. Then, you took a short moment to concentrate and switch to the nether vision, registering with relief that Hjorn's barn and yard looked just about the same in the Limbus as they did in the material world. But since studying Limbus wasn't your goal at the time, you got back to Mia's anchor item, prodding it with the imprint of your soul.
Mia, come play, you encrypted a signal and sent it through the freshly-reestablished channel to her spark, using the recollections of sensations you experienced during former playtimes. However, the ghostly feline did not react. Then, again, you browsed for a remembrance of a Kirhol stroll, supplementing it with harmless tomfoolery and sending it to the wilful feline. Its misty shape slowly formed after the second prompt, gathering its sparsely-sparkling mist into a vague cat shape. Two circles shining yellow stared at you from the cloud that made up the ghostly cat. Finally having the attention of your moody pet (?), you leaned forward and half-crouched, smiling widely, lightly clapping your knees, and otherwise depicting enthusiasm to the best of your ability. You packed and sent yet another memory trace of your earlier night walks with Mia to supplement the performance.
But, regardless of all the effort, the ghostly cat reacted only by briefly turning its mug in the direction of the gate, lifting its misty tail upwards, and then retraining its amber pair at you. Hopeful, you tried to give off an enthusiastic smile, still retaining a half-squatting pose. But alas, the phantom cat just dissolved onto bleakly glowing mist, which crept back into your pocket with the silver collar amulet. The answer was pretty self-evident, and at this notion of feline reliability at its finest, your cheery smile transformed into a pout.
It appeared that there was nothing more you could do in terms of studying Karl's condition that evening, so you turned in for the night a bit earlier, trying not to get too upset or angry from not receiving any help from your kind of familiar. But regardless of this particular hindrance, little did you suspect how much progress you would make the following night after waking up from yet another cryptic dream long before the dawn hour.
Your awakening felt more like a gradual squeeze-out from the dream rather than an abrupt waking for no apparent reason. Following the old habit, you attempted to clutch to as many details of the vanishing vision as possible. However, the best your memory could capture were vague visual allusions, among which was a lonely mountain covered with a golden mist, from which shapes and figures emerged, floating upwards to the sun. But where memory failed you, the introspection came in handy: you reached for the remnants of emotions caused by the dream, gathering those vestiges of wonderment, curiosity, and even comprehension. Since they felt more like a dream within a dream, the solidity of such clues would be debatable, but it did feel like a cosmological slice was laid bare in this nocturnal mirage, tying Limbus, overworld, memory traces, and souls into the intertwined system. The system you haven't yet comprehended.
Tantalized by this sentiment, your consciousness drifted back to yesterday night's realization: you are too deep into the arcane - it is a part of your nature, and not even dreams would keep you from facing it. And seeing how there would be no hiding from it, the only question that remained was whether you would be idly dragged by these powers or would you master them and steer in the direction you see fit.
With this question stuck in your mind, you scanned the surroundings: everyone was sleeping; even Seph had her brief nighttime nap. Their sparks shimmered with different patterns and frequencies, in accord with the states of their souls. Like various instruments in an orchestra, there was some innate harmony to their sparks. All except Karl's, reminding once again that you might be the only hope for his soul's integrity and that there are skills and knowledge to be gained before you could safely try your hand at it.
More than once did you ponder whether or not inspecting others' souls without their consent is a moral thing to do. Still, in this particular setting and under the ensued circumstances, the price for obtaining practical skills on how to inspect soul sparks never seemed more justified. A few silent moments passed while you weighted pros and cons. Then, not vocally but with your inner voice, you spoke, "I'm sorry," to no one in particular, deciding to take a chance to learn how to perceive souls better. As icky as it felt, gaining expertise in spiritism without others knowing would benefit Karl and everyone else.
And so, you carried out the plan, recalling the material you've learned from the books about the empathy principle of the life belt aspects, Bartholomew Dalgaard's comment on the peculiarity of your soul spark, and the tricks you've learned because of Mia's antics. Your main goal was to learn how to reliably inspect Karl's spark, so you would know more about the spread of contamination and where to apply powers.
For over an hour, you tried to focus on Karl's spark, gazing into his compromised soul from and beyond Limbus. Aware of how spirits view Limbus differently, you also tried to go into the deeper state of trance in hopes of gaining the ability to see more details - to sense the memory traces and, maybe, even decipher the soul core. But it was to no avail - no matter how many times you applied the Limbus vision, with or without focus on the memory traces, regardless of the concentration levels, you failed to see more details than you did during that desperate attempt to save the maimed militiaman.
But the failure to reach the desired result by studying the most straightforward hypothesis did not dissuade you from trying. Browsing through the harvested snippets of knowledge, you decided to mimic the channel you are establishing with Mia to exchange message-packed soul signals. Perhaps, if you try to imitate it but without the messaging part and parsing intermediary, you would be able to "sense" others' souls against yours, like a mold giving shape to softer materials. It did not even cross your mind that this "imprinting" method could've been dangerous when you sat nearby sleeping Ren. You picked him as your test subject because, if you wake him up, it would be trivial to explain to him your actions and because he tends to sleep so deep that you doubt even a couple of landers waltzing on his back would reliably wake him up.
And so, with the hushed rustle of your wings, you leaned over his prostrated massive frame. Whenever possible, he sleeps on his belly, with arms stretched to the sides as if he was giving earth a hug. For whatever reason, you found it cute, but you weren't there to admire your designated caretaker - you attempted to replicate the link you've had with Mia, even if modified. At first, your attempts brought no success, but it changed when you subliminally put your hand on his back. The skewed response sensation came through, and you understood that when someone can't parse and reciprocate your signal for one reason or another, you need to establish a more solid link yourself. The least obstructer access to his spark appeared when you carefully placed your hand on his forehead. Did it mean that souls are stored in heads or better rooted to them otherwise? A curious theory it might have been, but you had an even more thrilling task at hand - to attempt to read Ren's soul's imprint via a new method. And so, you closed your eyes, focused, and gave it your best shot.
The first thing that surprised you was the ease with which you reached Ren's soul spark: it appears that the state of sleep lowers the defenses against infiltrations into one's mind, emotions, or soulscape. Even then, you acted with great care and guardedness, focusing on tuning up your own soul spark to Ulren's and recording the ensued resonance. The procedure took less than seven seconds, and you hastily withdrew your arm, looking down at Ren - he was just as profoundly asleep as before your test, chuffing softly and rhythmically. However, you were now feeling an alien and somewhat confusing sensation - the output of Ren's soul spark. The bulk of borrowed trepidations, joys, and senses was now stuck in your mind, dissipating slowly, akin to a snowball nested in one's hands. Because of it, there was no time to lose, and, following some instinctive whim, you metaphorically embraced this bulk, parsing its contents and projection against your own soul.
Just like the very first time when you attempted to read his soul before you reached Kirhol, the first thing that struck you was the saturation and complexity of his soul spark. If back then you could only vaguely sense the traces of ordeals he had to go through on his life path, now they were weighing on your own soul. It was a hard sensation to swallow - doubts, regrets, some pride, and some acceptance: Ulren went through much in his lifetime. There were many times when he despaired or had no hope left, but each time he retreated back to his very core, finding strengths in something profound, something intimate and precious. If his soul could be described as a battered but still formidable fortress withstanding the siege of the cruel outside world, this inner place of strength was this fortresses' holy banner. It was woven deep into Ulren's very nature, giving root to his conduct, judgment, and self-view. You tried to parse what this core element of his identity was, but pinning it down proved to be a bit too difficult; the most distilled result that you've got was a vague idea of a promise.
A promise?You thought while still sitting nearby the person who yanked you out from harm's way and gave you the lifepath you now walk on. What promise? To whom and about what? The questions kept on mounting, but you stopped yourself there abruptly - prying as you did felt wrong, so it would only be right if he, should such day come at all, give you the answers of his own volition. You grinned to yourself sarcastically, registering that you allowed yourself to be carried away. But again - the experiment was a success, and you would now be able to inspect Karl's soul in deeper details should it be necessary.
"I'm sorry," you quietly whispered to sleeping Ulren. He, predictably, did not react to it, so you took a chance to relieve your conscience by fixing his blanket, tucking him better, giving his head a gentle brush, and then just sitting nearby for a couple of minutes. What you've just gathered explained his tendency to react painfully to those occasions when he had to step over the deals or promises earlier given and shed light on why he seemed to live his life with his gaze and thoughts always directed at the past. By holding to it all - the deeds done and not, decisions made and abstained from, promises fulfilled and failed, all conducted through the prism of that profound inner pledge, he, against all odds, retained his integrity as a being. It must be hard for him to carry this construct at all times, but still, you felt grateful to him that he does.
After you left your oldest companion be, a tiny echo within your inner voice tried to seduce you into assaying the souls of others. Still, you resisted the temptation by redirecting your efforts into working on the nether vision. If the spirit of Bartholomew Dalgaard saw the Limbus in more detail than you ever did, then there must have been a way for you to attain this skill. Moreover, in that encyclopedia that you were reading, it was said that spiritologists and shamans can sometimes sense not just souls but also ideas and phantasms. Applying such a skill in yesterday's manors raid would have been invaluable for untangling the mystery of the place, not even mentioning all the possible applications of such ability.
With this progression lead in mind, you quietly slipped out of the barn. The brisk night air brushed your frame, and the night sky greeted you with a glimmering scatter of innumerable stars. The night was windless and warmer than the previous one, with the vibe of mystery in the air. You could've easily marveled at this scenery, but your goal was to take a peek under this enchanting ambiance. And so you, after taking a seat at your now-favorite place near the water barrels behind the shelter, gazed into the nether. Just like on your earlier night walks, the shimmering haze above Tevon-Talab stole your focus with its intricacy. The dark vortexes that are Limbus versions of Baudur and Sophrona hung in the skies, dimming the green sepia ambient hues.
In contrast, the momentary sparks and flashes of the dream mist added life to the scene. For a heartbeat, you felt like this cloud of thoughts, ideas, and imaginations was readily reachable should you just try and reach out to it and dive into it. But fleeting emotions and cold facts are as far from each other as the moons are from the land. And so, you set your mind on learning how to improve one's perceptions of memory traces in particular and Limbus' thoughtscape in general.
With trial and error, you explored the paths to the nether vision trance, experimenting with the techniques of reaching it. Again, you shifted the focus point and the degree of concentration, attempting to alter your perceptions of the nether realm. It took you so long that Seph had enough time to wake up the first among the group and find you in the yard, briefly distracting you from your exertions. After a brief exchange, she let you practice further in peace, somewhat irked by the ghostly-white glow of your eyes but refraining from admitting it aloud.
Perhaps, this little distraction promoted you to change the approach and attempt slipping into the nether gaze while focusing on the idea of memory traces and the resonance between those emitted by your soul and the general ambiance. But regardless, after a considerable effort and iron focus, you finally managed to see changes in Limbus: the dream haze over the town began to look like a cloudly amalgam of different shapes, forms, and imageries. On top of that, you noticed a sparse presence of weak memory residue imprinted onto the objects and scattered in the air. Without second thoughts, you reached out to it, sampling its contents. The feedback came immediately: this residue was composed of uncertainty, anxiety, but also hope. Is this how the residents of Tevon feel right now on average? You settled on this answer as it seemed pretty logical: approaching hunger, risk of a new war, a threat from creatures outside the walls, and a series of murders within them indeed gave Tevonians hard times.
But as you thought, your eyes fell on a new phenomenon: the Limbus version of Hjorn's smithy was now producing a glowing haze from which shimmering geometrical shapes flew off like snowflakes in winter, dissipating in the air mid-flight. Curious, you left your favorite spot and approached the anomaly, reaching out to it with your will and trying to interpret it. Like the ambient traces, this glow happened to be Hjorn's ideas and thoughts engraved onto the building, although in much higher concentration. Sampling these traces and looking around his yard for more gave you a vague idea that Hjorn indeed is passionate about his craft: he finds refuge in it from the circumstances of daily life and tragedies he lived through. In a way, he lives for his art, which, however, has left his heart emptier. He did not seem to have many dreams and aspirations beyond coming up with new designs or discovering new materials for weapon and armor smithing. The traces you sampled contained some notions of old and new friendships, but they were relatively scarce, suggesting that your host is a pretty lonely person in reality. You would not be surprised if one hand's fingers would be sufficient to cover all of the people Hjorn deems close, including Ulren. Once again, you stopped yourself from delving any deeper: your exercise was a success, and there was no reason to infringe others' privacy any further. However, you could not shake off the sad feeling for the kind man who sheltered your party.
With your companions waking up one by one and the rising sun submerging Limbus in darkness, the only remaining venue for you to practice further was to meditate and inspect your own soul. Feeling energized by today's successes, you spared no extra thoughts about it. After going through the morning routines before others used all the water, you made your way back into the shed, sitting on top of your bedroll, closing your eyes, narrowing down on your own soul spark. Hours passed as you scrutinized the flows and glow of your spirit, from the soul's coronal shine of memory traces to its very core. Surprisingly, studying your own spark proved more difficult than gazing into others'; the shuffling of your companions did not help it either. However, Ren left early (most likely to join the hunt, as he told Seph yesterday). Sephorah went outside with Amalia later in the morning, and Karl, Isaac, and Jory weren't particularly noisy, letting you have some time in peace.
Unlike the nightly praxis, this meditation session did not yield any new abilities or augment those you already had. Although trying to interpret the soul core in futility made you conceive a new theory: what if the soul core does not belong to the spirit arcane aspect? When you tried to analyze it, the obtained feedback was unintelligible according to the spiritological decyphering method, yet, there was something familiar in those energy readings. What if the soul core is a product of thaumaturgy?You asked yourself in your thoughts, hastily reaching out for "The introduction to arcane aspects" cyclopedia by Leofric Vaughan and glimpsing once again at the aspects archetypical tree. It... It looks like an intricate soul spark, in a way! The inner voice rang after drawing analogies between the elemental belt and the soul's vitality shell and life aspects belt with soul's convectrix and relievo layers. Then, agitated, you dived in for another book: "Advanced theses of arcane art for practitioners" by professor Meredith Swansbrough; the "twin and multiple arcane aspects affiliations" chapter. You gave it one more read and applied it to the nascent assumption in your mind. Then, slowly, you raised your eyes to the improvised cloth wall, separating the boy's part of the barn, where Karl was supposed to be lying. In one of your earliest conversations, he mentioned that Pherinians used to call those capable of both thaumaturgy and spirification "seers"...
Something in your mind clicked like several cogs finding their proper placing. A grin began to form on your face, becoming wider and wider with each moment of realization: what if thaumaturgy and spiritology are consonant or even merge into a quasi element? What if you can learn how to apply thaumaturgy on the level of nether? What if you can learn to banish voidlings in the stages preceding a vessel possession? This would make saving Karl from the demonic takeover so much easier! And beyond that: the possibilities can be numerous! This hypothesis would've made you extraordinarily excited if not for two factors: you don't yet know how to test it, and you were feeling pretty tired after hours of intensive training. And you just got to the thrilling part. What a bummer...
With Ren out for a hunt, Amalia and Seph away for supplies, and no fresh munchies in sight, the only thing left for you to do was to get a quick nap. And that was precisely your course of action. Even grumbling stomach and sporadic thoughts that catching up with Isaac might be appropriate failed to obstruct you from lazing a little. This "a little" stretched for a few hours past afternoon. Isaac and Jory were busy fiddling with the portable alchemic kit and those serums they made out of the Baathor manticore's abscess ichor. For once, Jory sounded actually focused on the process, lively commenting on each and any development in their endeavor. But before you could conduct your sly intrusion and questioning, you sensed girls hastily returning to Hjorn's yard from their town promenade. It is not like you did not care for how the boys were doing, but Lia and Seph were bound to bring edibles, among other things, so the soonest the gates creaked, you were already outside, ready to greet them.
Yet the circumstances that drew them back to the hideout also made them less interested in your warm greeting as both girls immediately barricaded the gates with their frames, breathing heavy and holding to bags.
"Goodness gracious! What if he dies?!" Amalia inquired with an uncharacteristically squealy voice. Anyone would see how shaken she was.
"Dies? Naaaah," Seph's voice also carried the constraints of irregular breathing. Albeit because of suppressed laughter. "Although he might find fiddlin' with his diddle problematic now unless he's into painful kinks."
"You stabbed him squarely in... into... there. Right there, for saint Aethlig's sake!"
"Our warnings to not approach or intimidate us didn't work, remember? What else there was left for us to do?"
"Wasn't he one of those hunters from the Raider's Halt? You know, those who got into a tavern brawl with us? Like, we've just added insult to injury... or injury to an insult, rather!" Slowly, but Amalia began to subside, "There must have been another way..."
"Do believe me when by the time a pumped-up man threatens to make you swallow your freshly-torn-out spleen, there's normally no venue left for negotiation. And who knew we'd encounter some of their lot here, anyway?"
To this, Lia just shook her head in fading shock and disbelief.
"Come, now! Almost everyone's happy: we have our merchandise, and locals don't have a reason to take the smith's walls by storm and burn the barn with us inside. All it took was a sad & lonely militiaman, a bit of lash batting, and a kiss on a cheek in return for sorting out that mess.~"
Lia's understanding of the futility behind any attempts to reason with Seph took a headshake form. "I dread to imagine what sort of chaos your city promenades left in Kirhol."
"Aw! Even if your role model is a senior matron, it does not mean you have to be patronizing. Besides, how good can a shopping spree be if it does not carve any new impressions? And who saved the local townsfolk from you haggling them out of their pants, huh?!"
Instead of replying to daeva's comment, Amalia finally acknowledged your presence, trying to smile sweetly: "Oh, hello Lucy!". This acknowledgment made Seph also take notice of you, with her raising one of her hands and shaking it energetically, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary happened at all. Na-ah, not one bit.
Blank-mindedly, you raised your hand and waved it in response weakly. Head tilted to a side, mouth slightly opened, and a lonely thought on your mind: Help. If this continues this way, I'll need help. Damn it, Ren, where are you?
Thankfully, within the walls, neither Lia nor Seph showed any intention to cause trouble. With the former proceeding to whip out some snacks, you jumped on a chance to interrogate Sephorah firsthand. Without much resistance but with some playfulness, she yielded that they went out to gather intel on town's goings and buy supplies. The first task was spectacularly failed, as locals were not predisposed by the obvious outlanders despite hesitantly engaging in conversations. But unlike with the town's gossip, supplies hunt turn out more than fruitful. With all the seasoning, spices, and herbs procured, it would be possible to prepare ratios to last over a week and a half, depending on what Ulren would bring from the hunt. On top of it, Amalia sniffed out a prospect to obtain a whole bundle of cloth and leather ridiculously cheap, so now there was enough material to not just repair everyone's garbs but to make an outfit or some extra bags. Replenishing medicine and making other deals was the icing on a metaphorical mercantile cake.
She did try to swindle from mentioning the "misunderstanding," the discussion of which you overlooked by the gates, though. But you thwarted her heist, leaving without a choice but to explain what happened. According to her testimony, one of the hunters who participated in a bar brawl at Narvic (maybe even the one she smashed with a chair) recognized them in the market square. She said that, luckily, the man was more angry than insidious and attempted to take some of the girls' possessions on his own instead of turning the crowd against them. Attempts to dissuade or to intimidate him failed, so Seph had to apply "precise retaliation," which led to even more stirring of unrest. Fortunately, one of the nearby militiamen did not make premature conclusions and, with some "wiles," Seph convinced him to "clear out the mess started by an inadequate roughneck assaulting two tender maidens in the light of day with no shame." Amalia had to be her involuntary translator for most of the event's duration, though, so it wasn't much of an enigma as to why she was so rattled back at the gates. To this, you could only sigh and shake your head: at least, the potential issues with the citizens at large and local authorities were avoided.
But as Seph finished her... unbiased report, you jumped on a chance to ask her for a favor. A favor of teaching you how to talk yourself out of troubles and not only. Sephorah received your request enthusiastically, almost instantaneously submerging you into the lecture on negotiation and how it drives nearly everything around us. Truth to be told, you always noticed how she could skillfully play with words while you had to rely on your charm and sincerity, so a request like this was long overdue. But whatever were your motives, Seph looked thrilled to oblige you, and she did her best to be not just informative but also entertaining - a rare flavor among all of your tutors.
"So, what is the main question behind any interpersonal interaction?" Seph quizzed you after quite some hours of an active lecture, which also brought you and her to your behind-the-barn spot on the bench.
"The 'what do you want?' question?" you answered like a dutiful student.
"And what does everyone want in the most broader terms?"
"Procurement of desires and avoidance of severities," you worded the answer the best you could.
"Aw, come now - don't give me this Rosaline's stuff."
"To cover needs and wants and to avoid repercussions," you reiterated with a tiny eye roll and a lopsided grin.
"And, how does persuasion work on the deepest level?" Seph was grinning wide, clearly satisfied about having to teach you something and by the prolonged interaction as it was.
"By showcasing the listener the superior reward versus risk balance of the solution that branches out of your own interests."
"Aaand, that's enough for today," Seph concluded cheerily, not even trying to hide her amusement. "You learn pretty fast, you know that? We'd better get out on occasion and sharpen your skills live," she said, to which you just shrugged innocently. Yet, there was some hesitation in you, as if you did not just spend a few hours in the rapscallion daeva's company and wanted more of it.
"Seph, mind if I ask you something?"
"Oh, is it something about what you just learned?"
"No. It's actually about you."
"About me? Did I do something wrong, again?" Seph jested, "or did the bhiroth perceive me doing something wrong in his opinion, so he went snitching to you?"
You shook your head before retorting. Of course, you could've mentioned her digging in your host's private chamber the other day, but this wasn't something of great importance. At least not for now.
"I just would love to learn more about you. And, perhaps, how did you end up on Pheotor, so far away from your homeland."
"That... would be a pretty long story, Sparkling," Seph tried to apply a sardonic tone, "There are surely more interesting pastimes you could find for yourself."
"But I want to know more about you!" you replied innocently, "Besides, is there a chance if you'd feel better and lighter if you finally tell your story to someone?"
"Are you..." she gasped theatrically exaggeratedly, "Are you seriously trying to use the lesson I thought against me?"
To this, you smiled innocently and provided an answer: "No! It's just... I hold this belief that people who trust each other might be content to share their thoughts, aspirations, burdens, and whatnot. For example, I would've been happy to tell you more of what I've seen or experienced if only you did not know most of it already," You gave her an endearing and a bit guilty smile as if the lack of memories was somehow your fault, "so, I just extrapolated this thought onto you. Pardon me if that's not the case." You looked to the side when you were finished.
Scrambling for a reply took her a few long moments, during which her facial expression got adorned with vibes of seriousness for a few fleeting heartbeats.
"It's not that I don't trust you, Sparkling, but some stories might be better left untold." She skipped a lengthy pause before following up with: "If I go into details, there's a chance you will no longer see me in the same light. And I don't want to risk turning away the person whom I considered a close friend."
Suddenly, you felt like this was no longer a leisure conversation. At least not for Seph. Thinking briefly of whether or not it is worth a shot, you decided to proceed. After all, each member of your pack directly or indirectly relies on each other, meaning that ignoring the tapestries of their fates, troubles, and aspirations would be unwise at best and callous at worst. Thereby, you shifted a bit closer to her on the bench, saying: "I have always seen you like a big, caring, even if a tiny bit rowdy sister whom I can trust unconditionally. Thus, know that I will not think ill of you regardless of what you would or would not tell me, and shan't ask for anything you won't share of your own volition."
She looked you in the eyes with her bright orange pair, pondering. And then, after raising her brow in a gesture of capitulating to your request, she leaned against the barn's wall, sighing and then mumbling: "Don't say I did not warn you..."
Her body language suggested that it would be a lengthy confession, so you followed her suit and leaned against the wall, too.
"You might still remember the time when I told you and Amalia of my origins, which is the house Terphor. Heck, I even told you why I left in broad terms, but, to understand the principal reason I left my homeland, you must also know the Kathorian way of life. As a part of the kin whose lifespan is dramatically dependent on the living conditions, houses - or clans, how landers call them - are paramount. They are the fabric of daevish society and determine the life paths of their living and unborn members. In this sense, I was pretty privileged, being the youngest child of a rather famous clan, which supplied Bael with the finest entertainers, finery manufacturers, and... uh, companions. One of my grandmothers even rivaled the now-ruling High Queen Jahnara during the latter's climb to the top of society over two centuries ago. But in any case, what matters is that your house and family decide your fate more often than not.
My mother did not even try to hide from me that one day, I would be presented with a fact of what I shall practice and who will be my spouse. Such treatment isn't limited to the youngest children in dynasties, but they are the prime targets to be considered trading assets for the house, while the older ones enjoy more leniency or even freedom. To say that I hated such a perspective would be to not say anything at all. Even before I grew old enough to understand what awaited me, running off into the streets, hiding from the family, and disobeying the elder's directives were something I overindulged. Thinking of it now, I feel sorry for Simin - she was the only sibling who truly cared about me while I caused her so much trouble..."
Seph's gaze drifted somewhere far as she paused for a few moments. You kept silent company, quietly observing her expression, which was melancholic and a tiny bit nostalgic. It wasn't hard to perceive some hints of her hankering for the person she mentioned. Then, she exhaled and continued.
"Perhaps, you already composed a mental picture of me trying to run away from home now and then, listening to the poetry of celestines - a group that praises freedom and calls for everyone to follow their inner sun -, and daydreaming about a broader, freer world across the sea, where, one day, I would undoubtedly find my happiness. While the family did all they could to temper me down, I kept gathering whatever small snippets about the world outside Kathor from travelers, scholars, books, and just about any sources at hand. And one day, my cup of foolhardiness was filled to the brim. Strangely, I can no longer recall what sprung this "now or never" panic feeling, but the recollection of me sneaking into a trading raft floating down to Ussar and then sneaking into a vessel bound for Pheotor is fresh as if it happened the last week."
As Seph paused for yet another time, her face curved in a wistful smile. Perhaps, thrills, adventurism, or naivety, these memories seemed to warm her at least a little even now. Or, mayhaps, there was another reason tied to these memories, which put a bittersweet smile on her face.
"I knew that there would be no coming back, but the taste of freedom clouded my mind, completely overriding any worries or concerns I might have had back then. Even shapeless and underdefined, the dream seemed but a stretched hand away, and when I landed in Ebongale, my eyes were ablaze. But alas, bare enthusiasm does not fill the stomach and cover from the elements. Without even knowing Pherinian or any other Pheotorian language, I struggled to get a grip on anything. The money I've got from clumsily pawning my jewelry was running out fast. Now, I'm pretty sure that I did not get even a quarter of their actual worth, but I could not know any better back then. When my euphoria began to wear out, I located a couple of tiny daevish communities searching for help. Unlucky for the younger me, the most they could spare was advice on where I could seek menial jobs like cleaning, washing pints, or doing laundry.
Gvuroths weren't particularly impressed by the dancing and singing skills I was taught back in Kathor - for them, I was too outlandish to bring in any profit, among other things. So, without much else to offer, I had to attend the humdrum jobs, barely scraping by while learning the Pherinian language, meanwhile planning my ascent from insignificance and poverty. There, I began to suspect that my escapade could have been nothing but an act of extravagant debauchery, while the consequences of my actions were a figurative hangover. But even then, my dream was still glaring, staving off the bleak tide of cynism that, perhaps, could've saved me in the long run.
It happened at the "Spotty Albatros" inn. It was a kind of a portside tavern which had brawls only once a few months instead of the biweekly, and where the bedsheets were changed after each customer instead once a week; a pretty fine establishment compared to the analogs. After switching establishments, I tried to work my way up in this one, jumping on a chance to sing a song or two for patrons when invited entertainers weren't at hand, and laborious tasks weren't pressing.
It was after yet another such attempt to build up my reputation when a sharply-dressed lander called me to his table. He was smarmy and charitable, showering me with compliments, praising my talent, and even ordering me some hearty meal. At first, I suspected he was trying to honey talk his way under my skirt. However, when I interrogated his motives directly, he said that he was one of the middle-level executives of the Phaivean royal theater, finishing his tour in search of new talents willing to relocate and perform."
The change of Seph's voice and the earlier "saved me in the long run" line prompted you to steal a glimpse of her. Speaking of which, her eyes were staring into nothingness, as if she was back in space and time to the place she mentioned. Her face also looked neutral and not just apathetic, but forcibly passionless, as if she tried to suppress any emotions that may stir up from digging in the past.
"He claimed to lose any hope to attract new actors and singers for the budget he was given and was already preparing the excuses for the failed trip before his superiors. And then, he heard me singing a day before the planned departure. So, he asked me if I would like to take up this offer and move to the kingdom to the north from Ebongale Polises. The monthly compensation he advertised was equal to a year and a half of me doing the lowly jobs. And yes, I know you think that "it must have sounded too good to be true" - even back then, the still-naive-me had the same doubt. But a feeling of skipping a chance to elevate in life felt too punishing. And so, I packed up what little there was in my possession and agreed to follow north the next day.
Odd, but there's not much left in my memory related to that journey. Possibly, the blend of excitement, dreams, and agitation overshadowed everything on my mind. Not sure it would be even possible to nail down the mood I had back then - it felt like too much was happening too fast, rendering it impossible to sit down and internalize what was going on. This rolling tide of emotions gave way only when we had already arrived at the destination. Instead of a grand building with columns in a respectable plaza, the property turned out to look more like a pretty inconspicuous tavern in an old district. I had a sudden burst of this... uncanny feeling as if everything was wrong and this was not a place for me to be in..."
Without any change in her physiognomy, Seph took a tiny pause, shaking her head sideways. "How I wish now I just dropped everything and ran away before entering that cursed place, because the minute the doors shut behind us, I was knocked out cold and woke up in a cell, tied, and with a fresh brand on my neck." You have seen a scar on the right side of her neck, but never did you assume it originated from Seph, most likely on her own, shaving off a brand mark. This thought gave you chills; meanwhile, Seph gasped for air and took a few moments to gather up words and prepare to relay her story further. Her irises began to twitch a little, betraying the stern look on her face and her voice losing the icy tone.
"And that's how I became a slave of a criminal syndicate for over six torturous years. There were other hapless girls like me, some newly kidnapped and others serving for years on end, growing to tolerate or even enjoy their newfound existence. We were assigned roles depending on the looks, race, talents, and other traits, but most of us, including myself..." Her face morphed as if pained from her intestines churning. You could say she was about to vomit from recalling it, so she spared you the details: "we had to lie, steal, be obedient, do other horrible acts and allow disgusting things to be done to us. Those whose minds or bodies could not handle it anymore were disposed of. Those who tried to run were forcibly brought back and dealt with in front of others, dissuading potential escapees. Those who complied but performed below expectations were kept hungry until they "improved" or starved out. Everyone was chugged with foul concoctions to prevent us from multiplying mouths and losing usefulness. The only glimmer of hope that kept us from going insane or suicidal was a tiny share from the assignments we were sent on and a chance to buy out our freedom if we somehow amassed enough."
Things turn from suspicious to morbid fast, and to say you felt shocked would've been an understatement. For once, you suppressed your imagination from painting the "horrible acts" and "disgusting things" Seph purposedly left vague. As for your interlocutor, she persisted with holding up an impenetrable face, but other cues such as shivering hands, eyes, and voice were betraying the internal storm that was raging behind her facade.
"But what was inflicted to us was just one side of the problem: existence we've had also degraded us from inside. Even bound by the same chains, some of us tried to steal and scheme against others in hopes of bringing their liberation closer at others' expense. So, we had to organize into smaller groups and watch out backs at all times, trusting nearly no one. Some abandoned the dream of buying themselves out, opting to plunge into the underground life with both legs. And then, some simply didn't make it through, losing themselves a few months before their emancipation.
Like, an alvizian girl named Lenore. She got enslaved about a year before myself, and for everyone who came after her, she was like a motherly figure - always enduring, well-wishing, and understanding. She tried to take care of those of us who needed it most. Never once did she complain or lament, even though it was apparent she did not enjoy her situation. She kept our hope alive to the best of her abilities. But, one day, when she nearly gathered enough money to buy herself out, something broke in her. A spark that kept her alive all these years was gone, and after sharing with us her painstakingly-earned money, she just refused to cooperate or respond to anyone. Even the thugs who oversaw us were surprised, but the rules were rules, and, like anyone who no longer was profitable, she wasted away within a week."
Unconsciously, your mouth opened. Chaotic thoughts and emotions cloud your mind like swarms of furious insects. You did not know what to think or how to take it all. Meanwhile, Sephorah took a longer pause to shake off her strain from digging through what she would've happily forgotten. It seemed that she succeeded to a minor degree, as her voice evened up prior to the next part of her story.
"A couple of months since Lenore's demise, me and a couple of girls - less than a half from the original size of our clique, have finally hoarded enough coins to buy back our freedom. And so, at long last, were allowed to leave. You may be wondering how come they just open the door to us after all we've done and seen, but I'll get back to the reason why it was so a bit later.
Shoved back into the world, the three of us now had little to nothing except the skillset of spies, thieves, and courtesans. Yet, we decided to stick together and try to settle somewhere away from the city and its vices. My both companions were landers, so for them, it was their last chance to find an honest living and, maybe, to start their families. As for me, I had just a vague idea of amassing enough money for a journey and a fresh start in Eiborea. I've heard rumors of how cosmopolitan and hospitable that land is. Perhaps, I should've gone for it instead of trying to settle among gvuroths in the first place.
Anyway, for the first time in a long, long while, it felt like life could return to normal. We settled in a village, and the community accepted us eventually. Through back-breaking labor, we eked up a humble existence, but it was a fair life nevertheless. One of my companions even managed to find herself a groom among local men. I had a bit harder time, though, as Eastlanders were not accustomed to daevas, yet it was still incomparably better to what we had to endure prior. Buy then, one evening..."
Seph's last phrase came out rather forcefully, with hints of anger. Her breath yet again began to lose the normal rhythm, and the shape of her eyes exuded furious vibes.
"They came after us. You see - while Roths can be uncaring, humans can be corrupt to the core. The syndicate we worked on was just a patch of a grand criminal cobweb, stretching through all parts of the kingdoms and all slices of its society. Nearly every guardsman, border patrol, or city guard knew of the existence of criminal organizations and knew better than to cross them. Lords of the land and even clergy took part or "conveniently looked away" from the doings of the underground groups. The same was true even to the commoners, plenty of whom were snitches to the slavers, human traffickers, and enforcers. Turned out, our former masters always knew where we were, and one day, the syndicate decided that it would prefer us dead if not returned.
I still have no idea if it was the change in the leadership that had led to the "reacquisition" of "loose assets," or if our liberation was nothing but a decoy for the network to plant their associates and see if they would be of any use in their "new" roles. Regardless, one evening the thugs came for us. My companion, who found herself a man tried to flee while her groom attempted to win her some time, and alas, both got slain. My other friend surrendered to their mercy and was dragged away from our humble shack. And as for me, the head of this enforcers lance - one of the overseers who remembered me from my captivity days - ordered his pals to vacate the premise. His intent towards me was clear, for even back then, he made moves to use me for his pleasure, and now he seemingly had all the power to act upon his desire unobstructed. The hog did not account for one minor, but a lethal thing, though: the dagger, which I learned to keep with me at all times and which I sank into his foul neck when he tried to pin me to the wall with his hosepipe in hand.
It was the first time I took someone's life directly. I can still feel the searing sensation of fury that I felt back then and the warmth of the scum's blood on my hands. I did not just stab that son of a bitch, I lashed out all the humiliation, woe, pain, and rage I had as if the scumbag was a personification of all those years I was but a tool and toy in others hands. I stabbed, sliced, and stabbed again until his still-living bastard pals began to bang on the door. Then, I took the crud's shortsword, his purse, and then squeezed out through the window, bolting away as fast as I never ran in my life."
If before this, Seph's visage retained only hints of anger, the recounting of this event, in particular, broke any restraints she had, making her voice seething with rage, her eyes filled with shock, pain, and hatred, and her fists clutching so hard you could see the white of her bones. Her state was rapidly deteriorating, and it caused you to think if it might be the prime time for her to stop. But, she herself saw no stop to this flow.
"They sure damn chased me, but I was faster, galloping forth like an animal dumbstruck with fear. I no longer recall where I took shelter after that flight, but I remember the foreboding feeling of recognizing myself a prey for the entire criminal network of Phaivea. And it did not wait long to prove me correct: at first, there were groups of thugs, then, they began to send out hitmen. My life turned into a neverending game of cat-and-mice. To survive, I had to steal, seek for, and squat in temporary hideouts. I had to avoid the law enforcers and the headhunters at all cost, although a few of those who got too close I had to ambush.
This foul game continued up until I made it to the northern border of Phaivea. And, if you read about the geography of the Riverland kingdoms, there was a fort at the chokepoint separating me from freedom. By that time, a quarter of all Phaivean walls were plastered with banners depicting me as a dangerous murderer at large; the churls even gave me a nickname, "the murder martlet." What a career for a dumb girl: from a weaponized prostitute to a full-fledged murderer, eh? Bet no one from my family would've guessed I'd get this far!"
Seph, no longer controlling her emotions, surrendered a sinister giggle. Her voice was now ferocious, if not manic. This was getting out of hand way too fast, and, perhaps, you had to do something to calm her down before others could hear her.
"The plan to use the captain of the fort as a hostage went belly-up in the most critical moment, granting the smuggler-kissing scumbag with an extra orifice. To die to a former slave, into ignoring the transit of hundreds of such you are bribed regularly. What an irony! But, one arson and wild chase later, I left that rotten kingdom behind for the first time in seven years. The bad news was my dubious "glory" made it up into the ears of the monarch and his bishop, who promised a rich reward for my head, causing scores of mercenaries to continue the chase. And that's how the once-naive, dumb, and scared girl ended up bolted in a dying northern city, ridden with disease, ghouls, marauders, mercenaries, and a zealous army marching to raze it all. But by that, I was no longer giving the slightest damn! To freeze to death along with refugees, to get skinned alive by the westlanders, or to..."
You had enough of it, and, following some deep-seated urge, you heeded to the whim of your arcane side, placing a hand on rambling daeva's forehead and linking to her soul to assess its state. A moment forward, Seph's rattled and restless soul resonated against yours. You could sense the distressing condition it was in, spasmed further by the whole recollections experience. However, one thing caught your closer attention: the source of her inner torment was not as much in the scars left on her by the days of enslavement as in the more profound inner turmoil. It was as if her current persona was nothing more than a reaction to the restless, deeply wounded true self, serving the primary purpose of not making her feel even more pain. Whatever could have been the root of her turmoil was not disclosed or hinted at yet. So, for all intents and purposes, her case seemed to be even more complicated than you thought.
With a soft exhale, you severed the link between your soul sparks after measuring her state. When you opened your eyes, still retaining your palm on her forehead, you registered Seph staring back at you with wide eyes and mouth slightly opened. Perhaps, you even startled her. Uncertain if her reaction was caused by you parsing her soul or the sudden touch of her head, you now had to somehow wriggle out of this awkward situation.
"Please, that's enough," you said with a soft voice, gently leading her nape to your laps, "I can attest what happened later on my own, so, please, no more."
Utterly dazed, Seph yielded to your gestures, obediently lying onto the bench and placing her head at your legs, not daring to break the eye contact. In retaliation, you made an attempt to smile at her reassuredly, but it must have come out somewhat bittersweet; your hand continued to gently stroke her silvery forelocks as she smoothly began to come back to her senses.
Realizing just how much she dumped onto you, she diverted her gaze eventually, muttering, "now, your view of me must have changed..." This comment carried a somber tone; the fear of you turning away from her after learning of her past was painfully obvious.
"It did, Sephie," You answered just as soft as before, "it sure did..." the daeva, however, did not reply anything to this, either out of fear or shame. You decided to take matters into your hands, carefully touching her chin and prompting her to face you once again.
"Remember the time you climbed up into the window of my room just to make sure that I was alright? I did not have all the context back then, but now it is more than evident you sought to prevent me - a person you barely knew - from following your fate. That was pretty noble of you." As you said this, she shifted her gaze for a brief moment, likely not seeing how to reply.
"Or that time you ventured into the valley to search for me? Or when you agreed to go and save Jory from the slavers? Or even how dutifully you oversaw and protected me when we were searching for the disappeared hunter, despite not agreeing with my plan? You are a courageous person, Sephie, and exceptionally strong for carrying your kindness through the captivity that broke many others. So, the one thing that changed in the way I see you is that you became more relatable in my eyes."
Her face gained some notes of confusion or even embarrassment. "But how? Why?" she muttered quietly, not finding a place to train her eyes on.
"Because both of us lived through that moment of life when we were alone in the world we knew little to nothing about, doomed to rely on the mercy of others. I have no moral right to judge you for what you had to go through because I could've easily been in your shoes. If nothing else, I feel guilty for how fortunate I was back on that fateful night when I was found. So now, be sure I won't let this disparity go unfixed and won't abandon my brave, caring, and a bit rowdy big sis."
Your words pierced through her defenses if there were any left standing after this long evening of shrift. Seph struggled to find a direction to divert her eyes to, clearly smitten, but to no avail. Her warm orange pair also began to well up with tears, which she desperately tried to hold. Her breath began to get interrupted. Seeing her state for what she was: a lost, lonely, and scared girl that made a leap of faith in the pursuit of her dream, you did what some people would call a pygmalion effect, but what seemed like the only right thing to do: you offered her acceptance and reassurance that once was given to you.
Quietly, you leaned over her trembling frame, carefully wrapping your hands around her and unfolding wings a little; you pressed her to your chest, with her trembling arms clutching to your back. Her grip around you tightened after a momentary twitch, which could've been a reaction to the first embrace in so long.
"I'm afraid there is no spell that would allow me to fix your past or make you forget it all. Mending this damage is something only you can do, but be sure that I, Amalia, and even Ren would be glad to help you the best we can if only you give us a chance. And carve it somewhere in your mind that we will never let anyone hurt you again. Never again, did you hear me?" you whispered to her.
Her reply came through via an even tighter squeeze of your frame, her face burying into your neck; hushed sobs and light spasms followed. You let her have all the time, though, because havens see she needed it badly. Luckily, no one came out and interrupted you before Seph regained her composure. Otherwise, it would've been a pretty awkward situation to explain.
"Thank you, Lu," Seph spoke back with her normal - if a bit tired - voice while she was regaining a seat to the right from you. "I would ask you a couple more things, though."
"Uhm. Sure, what are they?"
"First of all, do take note of my story. There were times when I could only wish to be rid of my memories entirely. I hate when someone tells me what to do and won't tell you so either, but please, do think carefully if you truly want to regain the memories you might have lost, keeping in mind my story and how this world treats its denizens." Seph's stare at you was dead serious.
"Maybe through other words, but you reiterated what others told me before, and I'll tell you same I sad to them: I will consider when or if the time comes." Hearing this, Seph quietly nodded to you.
"And what's the second thing?"
"Ah, right - the second thing! Please, don't tell the bhiroth of our conversation here. Otherwise, he will taunt me with his smug face till the end of time."
"Oh, you~. Back at it again, I see," your face cracked in a lopsided grin, and you nudged her playfully.
The rest of the evening came by peacefully. Amalia whipped out some snacks, which you enjoyed in the company of your caravan. You were still affected by Seph's story, but now the center of your worries was the unavoidable feeling of emptiness made by Ren's absence. You hoped to sense the readings of his soul spark at the perimeter of your senses any minute, but he did not come. Late into the night, when everyone went to rest, you could not fall asleep because of this growing anxiety.
"Having trouble relaxing?" Sephorah spoke to you quietly sometime past midnight, noticing you were still awake.
"Ren isn't back. I'm worried." You whispered back plainly, not even trying to hide your concern.
"Hmmm... That's indeed uncommon to him. But I would not be so worried yet in your place: depending on what and how far they hunt, it might take them one more day."
"The last time Ren disappeared, I've got my face smacked by one of his kinsmen, and we both ended up arrested."
"Oh? When was it?"
"The very night he found me. We got out because the bhiroths patrol was intercepted by some giant beast, and Ren convinced the guard to help his mates instead of guarding us and then grabbed his items and me before fleeing."
"Huh. So much for conspiracy."
"Well, those soldiers in Beilford saw me, too. And the spy that infiltrated Rosaline's mansion also might have spread the rumor about me. We seem to lack in secrecy, don't we?"
"Now, don't you just know how to blow one's self-esteem, nay?"
"Sorry. I just fear Ren might have been caught by those agents that assaulted Rosaline's house."
Seph sighed softly before answering, "Alright, I see your point. What would you say if we search for him in the morning, and before that, I'll keep watch? Just in case."
"But haven't you slept at all?"
"I've got a quick nap, so it should suffice. Now, don't worry about me and have you rest. If our pet bhiroth doesn't show up on his own, we'll find and drag him from wherever he stuck in."
"Alright," you agreed, "Good night, Sephie."
"Night, Lu," she answered.
With that, you stretched your wings a little towards Seph. If she would keep a vigil, it would at least be fair to provide her with some comfort. And so, with her words easing up your mind a little and her fingers gently brushing your feathers, you fell into an uneasy sleep.
Be it due to all the practice with magic or because of filtering Seph's less-than-happy background, but you woke up in the late morning. Albeit, it would be more correct to specify that you were woken up and by the town's horn, no less. You ran out of the shed to have Hjorn interpret it, and he said it was a signal of a hunt's conclusion without any casualties. However, there was an evident commotion in town, spreading like a wave from a yar to a yard. The one-legged blacksmith took it on himself to venture outside and scout out the situation. Half an hour later, he limped back to the yard, relaying that kherees have apparently hunted something so massive that the town would have to send groups of scavengers to retrieve the prey piece by piece from the place of its takedown. You inquired what could it possibly be, but the branded bhiroth just shrugged vaguely.
Stirred by this development, you were about to pester Sephie to gather up and start searching for Ren when the reading of his soul spark entered your range, drifting slowly to the gates to the smithy yard. Excited, you spurred everyone except Karl to meet Ren and to help him out with the spoils. But notwithstanding how you pictured his arrival in your mind, the even went a bit different...
If it wasn't for his proportions and weapons loadout, you might have struggled to recognize Ulren at all: he entered the yard with a slow, tired gait; his armor was almost entirely cacked with layers of soot and dried blood; the pole of the glaive on his back seemed bent a little; the stench of iron and fire that he exuded overpowered even that of the living forge nearby; in his hands were two dirty bags of about your size. Exhausted, he dropped these bags before the congregation, with the spoils producing a wet, juicy plash sound upon colliding with the ground. Then, he opened the lid of his helmet, revealing the somewhat-less-sooted sleepy face and staring back at you all. The "did I do well?" question was written all over his face.
"Wh... What's this?" Amalia inquired, pointing at the humongous bloodied sacks.
"It's meat," Ren replied nonchalantly, leaning down to unwrap the top of one bag and reveal the meat's texture, "Lindwurm meat," he added after exposing the juicy, fat, pinkish hunk of flesh.
Amalia's eyes widened when she took notice of the "spoil," then she looked back at Ren and then at the meat again, inquiring: "Just... How am I supposed to cook it?!"
To this, Ren sniffled and brushed his face with the gauntlet's outer side, unknowingly smearing soot across his face. "The hunter folks said it tastes like poultry, but I have never seen a chicken this fat if you ask me." To this, Amalia threw her hands to the air without a single word but with the face just as shocked.
"Um... If that seems complex, we've also got some baavgur meat," saying this, he unwrapped the second sack, revealing two gigantic rib segments that could've easily belonged to a beast akin to those two that caused havoc at Baator's gates. "There was also a wyvern, but I could not carry more. Sorry," he added.
At this notion, Amalia inhaled loudly, covering her face with palms for a couple of moments, after which she massaged her eyes, straightened up, and spoke out in a commanding tone: "Jory and Lucy - you come with me to marinade this gore."
"Oi, missy!" Hjorn clanged in, "The fuel's on me!"
"I can help with cuttin'&marinadin' as well!" Seph's voice rang out.
"Why me?!" Jory protested, to which he got an instant light slap from Lia.
"Because if you keep acting like a sissy kid-glove and disobey me, you will be eating moss and bugs in the coming weeks. Did I make myself clear?"
In a defeated manner, Jory vocalized a sound resembling a tomcat in indignation, not daring to object to the bossy ex-maid. Enthusiasm washed over the rest of the assembly, evoked by the promise of an abundant evening feast. You, however, did not fail to register something others might have not noticed behind the excitement: Ren seemed a bit... light-headed? Or maybe frustrated? There was a feeling of absence to him that bothered you, but even so, you decided to let him clean himself up and rest before interrogating. For now, you were just relieved that your worst fears did not come to life.
In grim determination to process and ration such copious amounts of meat, Amalia bossed everyone to prepare the marinade, sauce, organize a bonfire of the fitting size and temperature, and make side treats. You've got a break from this exercise far past noon, opting to use the time window to check up on Karl. However, your plan got somewhat derailed when you noticed Isaac coming out of the boys' part of the shed after having his shift of tending to Karl. In fact, it was an excellent opportunity to have another bout of chat with your group's shiest and most quiet member.
"Hey," you addressed him with a warm smile and a tilt of your head, "How's it going with Karl?"
Isaac wasn't exactly expecting you to grace him with your attention, so his answer written on the wooden board came forth after a brief moment of confusion: His body's intact, but something causes him shakes. I don't know what.
"I see... Ren told me that Karl snapped at you earlier. Did he give you too much trouble?"
Isaac winced weakly before scribbling another answer: No. I've seen worse. People often act like this when scared or hurt.
"By this, do you mean that you had to treat people who were aggressive toward you?"
Isaac nodded to you before writing yet another answer: "Claudius had many different patients, some docile, some fierce. All deserve mercy."
"I wish more people in this world thought the way you do, Isaac," you replied with a faint smile.
The healer lad blushed a little and diverted his eyes, but then, something sparked on his mind. Making him scribble enthusiastically on a belt-strapped wooden plate.
About mercy: can I ask you to help Jory?
"Sure, but how can I be of his help, and would he even let me aid him?"
With a glint of enthusiasm in his eyes, Isaac wiped off the previous scribbles and deftly proceeded to draw doodles, shapes, and pointers. It took him about a minute to produce a schematic illustration.
"Sooo... If I read this correctly, you guys broke down two out of three potions from that manticore's mutated ichor into five base solutions and now need help consulting local alchemists to determine which nearby ingredients might fit for effects saturation..."
Hearing your interpretation, Isaac nodded with even more excitement, pointing with one hand at Ren's shield, which he left indoors, and with the other to the palisade.
"... And you need Ulren or Seph to go with you outside to get the consultation and to gather the ingredients? Basically, you need us to organize a harvest raid."
Isaac's grin grew even wider, and he weaved a "correct" or "alright" sign with his hands.
"I'll keep in mind this request. Not going to lie: we are currently working with the local authorities, but, on the other hand, we might use some of their help applied to this plea."
Hearing this, Isaac gifted you with a warm grin and a grateful nod. You returned the gesture, but as he passed by you, he abruptly stopped in his tracks and turned back to you. His face was puzzled for a moment, but then he wrote a couple more lines with chalk on the wooden plate.
Saw you look after Karl here and there. Do you know his ailment?
"I... have a suspicion." you answered hesitantly, wondering if it would be the correct thing to disclose what you know, "It cropped up after we escaped the cursed valley, and I suspect the void contamination of his soul. For now, he resists it, in large part thanks to you attending his vital shell, which reduces the strain on his mind. I am trying to figure out how to cure him and ask you not to disclose to others what I've just told you. Can you keep it between us?"
Isaac's eyes lost their focus for a couple of seconds, probably betraying him intensively processing the new intel. Then, he wrote the final answer: Sure, and let me know if I can be of any help.
Even though you did not know Isaac that closely, your intuition told you to rely on him. So you smiled back and let him go with an acknowledging nod.
Your break did not last long enough to allow you to check on Karl or to catch up with Ren. When determined, Amalia can be quite a pusher, letting you go only in the evening when the first batch of roasted meaty goodness was ready, and the crew was dragging to the front yard any flat-surfaced objects to compensate for the lack of large tables. Everyone except Karl and Ulren that is. So, with each hand occupied with a wooden tray with streaming, spicy, juicy meat & ribs, you came to the perch where Ren was sulking over his worn armor.
While helping out Lia, you found out the primary reason why Ren acted so uncharacteristically. But despite having the likely answer, you still showered Ulren with a sunny smile and an innocent "Hey, Ren. Are you feeling alright?"
Your voice stole his attention from the nasty scrats on his cuirass. "Relatively, perhaps," he answered, shifting his frame to the side to make you some space nearby.
"Is it because of the lindwurm and that old expedition?" Your inquiry followed after sitting oneself next to him.
"Aye. More or less," Ulren confirmed, returning his stare to the breastplate piece right after. "Even though there is no way to confirm that the beast we took down is the monster that cut Lilian's life short, I still thought I would feel something when it falls dead, but I was wrong. There was no jubilation or satisfaction - just the cooling blood, horrendous stench, and emptiness where emotions should've been."
"But Ren, you are not a vengeful person, and I have a hard time wrapping it around my mind that this would be the real reason why you are upset."
"Yes," he sighed, "It's not as much about not feeling any rejoice at all, but the realization of how foolish I was to leave Dalgaards after failing to go through this shallow experience earlier. This makes me feel like an utter idiot who misjudged the situation and only multiplied misery of those I care about."
You took a moment to form a reply. Knowing Ren, you did not even need to dive into his soul to pick the right words. All you needed to do was come out clean in how you saw the issue from the aside.
"Ren, we all make mistakes, and, as someone who wouldn't have met should you act otherwise, It's not in my right to judge your decision to leave Lyf behind. But what I want to point out, that even with how tragic of a loss it was for you and Rosaline, you still ended up acting as an agent of good."
Slowly and silently, Ren retrained his stare at you, anticipating your explanation.
"I don't know much about Lilian Dalgaard, but what I did learn is that she was a selfless, compassionate person with a big heart for those around her. And yesterday, with the help of that harrowing experience of losing her, you managed to make Blugd-Tur a little bit safer place for everyone and to stave off the hunger that looms over Tevon-Talab," you put a hand on his massive shoulder before continuing. "My understanding of her will never match yours or Rosaline's, but what I can assume if Lily was here with us, she would have been proud of you for both using the story of her death to help others and for not surrendering your heart to vindictiveness." You gave his shoulder a gentle brush, "Mayhaps, if there is a place beyond Limbus to where the souls go and from where they look back at us, she is proudly smiling to you this very moment..."
Without saying a word, Ulren retrained his eyes on the armor piece resting in his hands, intently staring at his reflection distorted by the slain beast's claw mark. One would think he did not give much thought to what you just said, but you knew it was the opposite: he weighted and judged and applied your reasoning to what he believed himself. And then, after a couple of stretched silent minutes, he tiredly put the chest plate on the ground, leaning against the supporting column of the smithy's canopy and tiredly looking upwards.
"Yes. I think you are right there: that indeed sounds terribly like Lilian." He exhaled loudly and wiped his nape tiredly after making this conclusion.
"Haven't felt this weary in years," he stated, and you took it for a sign that he moved on from the issue that harrowed him.
"Then, what would you think about regaining strengths with us?" You reapplied your smile, took the trays, and stood up against Ren, offering him treats, "Amalia outdone herself today, so, how about giving it a bite and telling me which one you like more?"
The bhiroth grinned at you and stretched his hand, which took a chunky piece of ribs. After all, he did not seem to like lindwurms, even in a cooked form.
"You folks are planning to throw a party, eh?"
"Us? Oh no, no-no-nooo. I'm afraid you misunderstood something essential there, Ren: you are going to party with us. Excuses do not apply."
Sephorah peeked out from around the barn's corner, crying out: "Hey you there, if you plan on conferring privately any longer, you risk not having any chunks left for you: others and especially Hjorn are utterly destroying 'em delicious bits."
Hearing that, you looked at Ulren again with a playfully smug face, making it painfully evident that you don't need any more arguments. With a chuckle, Ren surrendered.
For the first time in many weeks, your party got to enjoy a merry time together, with issues and problems sidelined. As expected, Amalia's cooking was delectable, even though she constantly apologized for how she could've made the treats tastier. Ren and Hjorn spun out some stories about life in Eldhaetaed. Amalia also enacted her storyteller talent, enthralling those present with tidbits of folklore and tales of the faraway lands. Even Isaac's and Jory's goofing fell nicely into the atmosphere of a small celebration.
But as such uncommon moments of communal gladness went by, an uncalled guest came to Hjorn's grounds when the sun had already set. After checking who it was, Ren and Hjorn came back to you, relaying the news that it was Elgar with his hound, asking to have a talk with you. Amalia and Seph haphazardly covered your wings with cloaks before you went out to the gates to hear what Elgar had to say. He stood there, with a burning torch in his hand and a fresh bandage wrapped around his head.
"Fair evening to you, Elgar," You initiated a dialogue, peeking from the gateway, "Is there something of the matter? And how's your ear?"
"I-I... I'm sorry for disturbing you so late. And the ear is as good as it could be when half-chomped-out, I guess."
You tilted your head a little; it was apparent that there was something on Elgar's mind that he had trouble putting into words.
"Uhm. I came to ask you for help. Not on behalf of kherees, but myself. Before venturing on that rescue raid for Altan, I could not imagine the scope of your talents when it comes to reading places and sensing entities, so I thought maybe you would be willing to help me find out about my mentor too?"
"Did he also disappear?"
"No. Well, yes, but not in the way you might have thought. You see - he's dead. And was reported dead for several months now. He went on an extermination raid with other experienced hunters and never came back. Those who returned stated that he was torn to bits and devoured by a frenzied behemoth, but..." Elgar stumbled for a couple of moments, thinking how to better relay what was going on in his head. "I know it must sound pathetically sentimental, but I did not have a chance to say goodbye to him or to ask the questions that now will never be answered, so, I just thought, if you could help me to get at least some answers from the memories he might have had in his last days?"
While Elgar looked at you for an answer to his request, Krom - his oversized bear of a dog - proceeded with tickling you by licking your meat-smelling fingers. Good thing Ren was nearby to take care of the frolicsome pooch while you scrambled for an answer, which was...
[] Yes. With a party made out of yourself and
-[Locked] Ulren.Did you think he was kidding when he said he wouldn't let you go without him? -[] Sephorah
-[] Karl
-[] Amalia
-[] Isaac
-[] Jory Pick up two more party members and venture on a smaller investigative adventure.
[] No. You have other business to take care of.
-[] Spend some time with Amalia and
--[] Ask her to expand your wardrobe.(An extra set for Lucifina. Design and details will be customizable) --[] Help her make new bags, belts, and other items over a chat.(+1 to tailoring skill, some bonding with Amalia) -[] Ask Ulren, Seph, or both to escort you to town with Jory, and/or Isaac to see the local alchemists or their analogs. (Might unlock extra possibilities for Jory and Isaac, and provide some bonding with them) -[] With Ulren's supervision, explore the Limbus side for Tevon-Talab in hopes to butter Mia into helping you to practice spiritology or gather new leads on your own.(-1 Karl's affliction treatment incompetency level, ???) As stated, spend some free time on other venues. Not going for them right now WILL NOT MAKE THEM UNAVAILABLE in the future.
Uh... Sorry. It ended up larger than I expected. And there's still no cake in it >__< unless you consider Seph a cake, then, this update is half-cake.
Sorry again for the size. Gonna update ship-o-meters and char sheets tomorrow.
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4.4.1 Bloom 14 of the year 1469. Turanian nocturnes
Another night, another town promenade with Ren and Mia. It was just a week since the last time you had a night like this, but so much has changed over this week that it felt like an entire month, if not more. So, tonight, you treaded through the dusty streets with both confidence and awareness that anything unexpected may transpire. Fortunately, the warm, windless weather, clear sky, and the town succumbing to slumber established a magical atmosphere - something further enhanced by your ability to glimpse into the backside of this idyllic scenery.
Tonight, Mia's motions were sluggish in a way, ridden of the briskness during the first nighttime stroll. Clearly, she was getting used to your attempts of pampering her, but it's not like you haven't learned to enjoy moments like this yourself. Ren, whom you expected to be grumpy or at least pretending not to be such, was in an uplifted mood all of a sudden, humming some tune to himself. Apparently, almost a full day at the smithy did that to him, or maybe it was due to the lack of quarrels with Sephie of late - a streak worth mentioning in your journal, no less! He appeared to be content on just following you with these awkward humming on his lips, but even aware of his presence, you yearned for the more dynamic company - something you began to register regarding yourself in the last week.
With your fingers gliding over the new leather sheath attached to your belt and a pommel of an old knife "reborn" into a high-quality rondel, you initiated an exchange with Ren, aiming to clear out some remaining questions from when he presented it to you earlier today.
"Hey Ren, thank you again for reforging the knife. I hope my sentimental attachment to it did not bother you much."
"Hm? No - not at all. We - Bhiroths - experience attachment to trusty tools and items all the time. There are numerous traditions among hermadurs regarding their weapons of choice, starting from materials and design selection, crafting them, testing them, using and storing them, and ultimately passing or putting them to rest. Even the naming is seen as an essential step and a ritual."
"So, if it's ruled by a tradition, how exactly did you end up calling it Mercy?"
"First of all, the right of naming belongs to a smith, who names the weapon based on its design and their view of the intended owner. The last time you had to use that old knife was to banish the voidling from the conduit, which can be considered purification and, in a way, benevolence. Then, the temper of its intended owner. I don't imagine you using it for any malicious or even belligerent intent, narrowing it down to the last resort or a deliverance tool. And finally, it just fits way better than "heartseeker," "mailbreaker," or some other unimaginative nonsense upstarting smiths like to give."
"I see," you replied, brushing the engraved handle with a faint smile, "Now that you elaborated, I think the name suits it. Although, it does have an ominous vibe to it."
"How so?"
"The implication that the name might also mean putting someone out of their misery through taking their life, which if quite foreboding on its own, not even mentioning how anxious I am about ever winding up in a situation like that."
"Huh. If it disturbs you, then I can rename it to something of your choice. Unorthodox it may be, but as long as it would make you happier..."
"No. There's no need for it - it's just me having a hard time wrapping around my head the idea that mercy can be harsh sometimes, and for some souls, there's just no better way out. Even after us exorcising two void-possessed entities." You looked to the side at Ren, who was eyeing you back with an understanding, almost parental glance. "But never mind my grumbling - thank you again~" you chirped merrily, which instantly put a faint grin on the man's face.
"So, where are we heading tonight?" Ren made an attempt to keep up the chatter, "Or are we just strolling until your ghost cat calls it quits?"
"Oh!" you perked up as this was something you wanted to bring up, "Good thing you asked. Do you remember that night when a local patrol got assaulted?"
"What of it?"
"Before we ran to the scene of the clash, we approached an old ruin that once was a belltower. There was an improvised shrine in the place of its basement, inhabited by a peculiar spirit who even registered our approach. It seemed pretty harmless and definitely not a voidling, so I thought trying to communicate with it would supplement my recent spirification studies with much-needed practice."
"Are you sure about it? I mean the place and that event..."
"Yes, Ren. I've put it behind me already. I'll stay wary for this time and hope nothing of the kind comes to pass yet again. In this specific order."
In response, Ulren just grunted with satisfaction to your rather resolute statement.
"So, how are you progressing in studying this spirit magic of yours?"
"Pretty well, actually," you replied eagerly, motivated by Ren's interest in this facet of yours, "after the recovery raid, I moved closer to accepting this side of my nature and spent the coming days deepening its understanding and proficiency. Guess, this is what people call 'inspiration'"
Ren was about to specify something, but you found it hard to stop now: "For example, yesterday I've learned how to better assess others' souls through contrasting the readings against my own soul spark. And then, I managed to refine the ability to glimpse onto Limbus and witness concentrations of memory traces' on the level of ideas in the ambiance!"
Ren lifted a finger in a gesture that probably meant his intent to specify or ask something, which got ignored under the wave of your excitement. "Also, there seems to be a deep connection between thaumaturgy and arcane spirit aspect even on the level of soul's anatomy. This means if comprehended, treating Karl would be closer to arcane surgery in terms of precision than trying to cut a loaf of bread with an axe, which corresponds to my current metaphorical toolkit."
"So," Ren low-key interrupted you before you bathed him with your theory of how dispersing the thaumaturgic light onto a spectrum can theoretically change the ways it reacts with energies of different arcane aspects, "We are here tonight, so you could both coax the dead cat to be your test subject and for you to practice out the amassed theories in a field environment, which should ideally lead to your better control of the magic needed to get the mage back into shape without side effects?"
"Yes!" you chirped back with a happy ring to your voice, almost like a little gilded bell. However, a moment after this reply, it dawned onto you that you supercharged Ren with cuteness, making it hard for him to pick up the conversation. And so, you proceeded: "But enough about me; how was your day?"
"Mostly around the anvil and workbenches. The news of the day: Hjorn told that baathorians departed from the town this morning, meaning they might have presumed us dead or otherwise missing on the way to Tevon."
You knew Ulren well enough to notice something quite uncharacteristic of him: he wasn't displaying any signs of frustration from the party ultimately breaking a promise, even if a commercial one. Was he, perhaps, suspicious of something?
"You don't seem even half as upset compared to when we were approaching Tevon-Talab. Why?"
"The rouge told that she counted about three dozen baathorians in the suburbs and around the town, with many remaining untagged. Even without us among them, that's a host too large for a hunting party. Even if the mark is as humongous as behemoths or other Turanian apex beasts, that many people would compile three to five groups." Ulren flexed his shoulders and took a look somewhere ahead before nailing down his theory: "With the signs of tensions between Ertanghalians and Baathorians abound, there's a chance Aela might have concealed the true purpose of the build-up from us. The monster may or may not be an excuse or an asset in whatever she devised."
"So... do you presume we might have dodged an entanglement in the regional affairs at the cost of now having to get back to Lyf via the southern shore of Tzuh-Aran?"
"Can be." He answered dryly, then falling silent for a short moment as if trying to recall something, "Might be more probable than we think given how... what Aela's brother name was? Egon? Argon?"
"Ergon, I recall."
"Right. The way he approached us regarding this mission unseen by his sibling, who is also a nominal clan head, makes it even shadier."
You wanted to tell Ren how things turned out for the better despite his earlier worries. However, since the situation's resolution was still hung in the air, you refrained from voicing a prematurely optimistic comment, changing the topic instead: "Pretty busy day at the smithy then?"
"Aye. Hjorn spent the whole day over the set for the rogue. He back-shelved some mundane orders just to play with the parts and overall construction. Had to back him up with regular clientele so they wouldn't burn his fence out of spite over delays. Felt like nostalgia."
"There's some evidence that he lives in the smithy rather than in his hut."
"Uh-huh. And should you dingle his imagination, you'd never hear him shut up about the design and materials. Like, today, we've argued whether to make hip plates a part of the legs armature or to hang them to the belt. And just when we sorted it out, he mentioned how hard it would be to armor you." After saying that, Ren loudly inhaled some fresh springtime air, "Just like in the field arsenals during the days of the reservists' counteroffensive campaign."
You were about to voice your wonderment of how did they plot to "armor" you without even being polite enough to inform you about it, but an unexpected pulse ruined your plans: you've sensed the reading of Seph's soul spark at some distance behind you.
"Ren, I dearly hope you don't mind surprises..."
"What? Why would you say that?"
You turned around and spoke out, training your eyes at the corner of a typical Turanian loghouse with a carved doorframe: "Sephie, I know you're stalking us - you may as well come out now." Sounds not-so-different from those of an annoyed feline followed, punctuated with an impish grunt a moment before a familiar figure peeked out from around the corner.
"Why in Mother of Pain's grace are you following us?!" Ren, apparently, did not have an appetite for surprises at that eventing.
"Maybe because letting you two roam on your own sometimes ends up in unforeseen obligations?" She replied while approaching you with a heavily emphasized cocky gait. Ren grumbled something incoherent but did not try to protest - her claim wasn't wrong in the end.
"Maybe it is the weather or some unexhausted vim, but stretching legs seemed like a good idea along with preventing you from getting into even more trouble."
"Says the one who nearly set off half the town on us."
"But I would never!" Seph retorted with theatrically exaggerated indignation of a noblewoman while giving your blonde head a greeting brush. Somewhy, you smiled warmly.
"Regardless, do you have a plan in mind or just let your buttocks guide you toward awkward situations and mishap adventures?" Seph inquired while lining up with you and Ren.
"Sure, go on: pretend that you're not with us, and it certainly wasn't you who put us in long-winding trouble at Narvic."
"Ren, don't be a grump," you nudged him into his side with half of your punny strength, "you know she's just teasing you."
"Aw! Here goes my fun!" Seph answered after an exaggeratingly fake gasp, "Quick: chug him with liquor, cast your magic, or bash him over the head with something heavy so he might forget what you just said!" Ren's incoherent but pretty annoyed mumble followed to the other side from you.
"Sephie, I know you like Ren in your own strange way, but yanking him to acknowledge it so incessantly might be counterproductive~."
Ren made his best effort to pretend he did not hear what you just said but, before looking away, he twitched so hard that you almost felt it physically.
"Hah?! Now there, missy, you will leave me no choice but to raise the price for the next session of sweet-talking lessons if you'd use them against me like this. A dish of bagels would be a nice starter."
"I'm afraid there are no pastries to which Mia would guide us, and neither we would find any by the ruined - and likely haunted - belltower we're heading to. So, would letting you brush my wings be sufficient?"
A smile emerged on daeva's face; it was hard to miss her enjoyment from the companionship and being played with verbally. "A haunted tower? Again?! And who's Mia?"
"When we promenaded like this the last time, we approached a place where a belltower once stood. In its foundation, there was a shade - not a hostile one, from the look of it. And Mia is a phantom cat bound to the silver amulet I've picked up from a cave not far from Baitszun bridge." Following this answer, you produced the mentioned knick-knack from your pocket. You summoned a tiny speckle of light for Seph to distinguish the partial " ia" engraving on its back. "Yes, a letter is missing, so I just assumed it was M: it has a nice ring to it, does not clash with Lia, whom we have in our group already, and I'm almost sure it's she."
"Ooh. Do tell me, is she... fluffy?"
"Come again?"
"You know, if you can see her, maybe you can touch her too, and if so, did she feel flossy?"
"Ah, well, it'll disappoint you, but when she taught me how to interact with ghostly shades like herself, she felt like a lukewarm steamy mist."
"Guess with this daeva around, the critter's lucky to be dead already," Ren commented suddenly, reemerging from the earlier "I'm not with them" pretense, "Not much of its fur would've endured, otherwise."
"You do appear like someone who would secretly play with critters when nobody's watching. Are you sure you haven't used to bring home all the stray kittens and now deny it?" You almost suspected the implication of Seph drawing an analogy between you and kittens.
"I prefer warg mutts and other pooches. Thank you for your concern."
Nigh-immediately, a lively exchange followed, with Seph stressing how fabulous cats are and how she wished to have a pet desert lynx when she was little. Ren recounted the types of northern wildcats to daeva's unconcealed amusement, especially when he mentioned grumpy, chubby, and lonesome grassland wildcats, whose fur is denser than of any other animal. The observation of their latest exchanges getting friendlier behind the initial "tease wall" did not elude you. But as you followed them like a quiet listener you were, you noticed Mia's spark stopping spontaneously. In reaction, you took a moment to glimpse into the Nether, spotting the misty menace frozen on the spot with the tail lifted up and its tip angled at 90 degrees to the side.
Shegoat be clingy. The cat transmitted a message to you through the bond.
In response, you frowned lightly and formed a reply weaved from the memory traces:Some affection from you might do good, too.
Apparently, the cat took your remark as an act of insolence, not even worthy of a counter-point. All that you've got was a singular scornful twitch of the spectral critter's tail. Oddly enough, it fell perfectly within your expectations. Thankfully, Seph's reminding call-out for you saved you the embarrassment, prompting you to pick the pace and not make others wait.
Uneventfully, by the time the exchange between your oldest companions began to resemble a dying bonfire burning through some mundane small talk, you had reached the destination. Just like on that night of the urban incident, the limbus side of the town greeted you with its trademark green sepia. But due to your improved ability to see through Limbus, the eery yellowish phantom lights and a starry mist above the city, to which you were accustomed, were supplemented by cyan-ish hues spread across the town like a cobweb. From certain places where living souls emitted the most of collective ideas, concepts, and imaginations, glowing shapes like the ones you saw flowing from Hjorn's nether version of the smithy gradually soared up to the overhanging dream fog. The mist blazed with short-living localized flashes of cyan, pale green, and dim gold whenever they touched it. Until now, you knew Limbus for its terrors and mysteries, but this scenery made you ponder that the Nether realm isn't all made of grotesque and dread. Mayhaps it's not that bad after all?
Your somewhat mesmerized surveillance spree was rudely interrupted by what you reckoned to be Mia's angry hiss malformed by the Nether's dense ambiance. The ghost critter's cloudy shape has bent in an ark, with its phantom tail turning into a small but thick bush of gray hues. Following its instincts from life, the specter cat trained its glowing eyes at unfamiliar ghostly figure shyly peeking from the ruins of what once was either a belltower or a watchtower post. Momentarily startled (even though you were expecting an encounter like this), you waved your hand to your companions, signaling them to be at the ready; Ren reached for the handle of his mace while Seph's stance cocked up, prepared to spring at any moment.
There, below the weakly glowing spectral outlines of what seemed to be a belltower, a faintly glowing humanoid shape found refuge midst the old bricks and debris. It was hiding behind a pile of stones and weathered lumber, resembling an improvised altar of sorts. However, as if radiating from the times long gone, the specter's dim light lit up and reflected from the interior and objects long-missing - a proof of the entity dwelling the place and reigniting the mirage with its own memories. Although, the being itself did nothing except study you from the ruins of its abode. Even though the shade did not have a face, you've got a feeling that it was more afraid of you than you of it.
Judging by the shrinking of her tail, Mia came to the same conclusion, too, easing up her cattish attempt to look terrifying.
Thoughts? You inquired of your undead familiar.
Old, tired, curious. The cat responded by planting back the associations into your mind. Weirdly enough, if not for the "tired" part, this could've fit as Mia's self-characteristic.
It took you a couple of moments to brave through doubts. Still, in the end, you came up with a decision to directly communicate with the entity the same way you do with Mia. Hence, you reached for the memories of receiving amicable treatment and associated feelings in your heart, packing them into a short signal roughly meaning "Friendly?".
One heartbeat after, the figure startled you for the second time. Albeit, this time with the cheeriness of its reaction and cues: it made a tiny jump characteristic to a child who was offered goodies and even glimmered brighter for a heartbeat. Then, it left its hideout, standing where the entry doors had been and stretching its hand to you. Not the type of response you anticipated, but neither is something threatening.
The "what is going on?" question was written on the faces of your companions who had to witness you look at and interact with something they had no chance to see, and all while having your eyes glow with the light which Sephie characterized as "spooky." Aware of their rapidly growing puzzlement, you made an "it's alright" comment before approaching the spirit and extending your arm towards it.
Friendly. Help. Give? The weak and rough memory traces missives began to flow once your fingers touched the chilly haze of the spirit's form. Apparently, the ghost was so feeble that it needed contact with a medium to interact.
Perhaps, but what sort of help? Your answer took some time to assemble from the vestiges of former experiences and emotions.
Upon receiving your unspoken reply, the spirit also took a moment to process and compile a set of recollections, associations, and visages to form its plea. Then, for a moment, you felt the sentiments of durance and the feeling of being where you don't belong. But before you could inquire if the spirit wants you to liberate it, more signals came through: other, locked, ring, stolen. Upon receiving and parsing the message through the tactile link, you noticed the shimmer of the spirit noticeably fading. Evidently, it was running out of strengths from communicating with you, meaning a prolonged conversation was unfeasible.
But who stole it, or where it could be? And who are you? You weaved the latest reply, having little faith the spirit would sustain enough to answer it all.
Sunset. Leather. Dry. House. Ring. Bring. The faint glow of the phantom faded even more, making it barely visible in Limbuse's ambiance. As the spirit communicated this string of clues, it retracted its hand from you a bit, taking a long moment to gaze upon the mirage of his abode, either pondering or desperately trying to remember something. Then, it slowly touched your index finger again, delivering a labored follow-up: Rene. Guide.
Before you could think of anything, the Limbus gamma disrupted first and faded after due to a careful but insistent shake of your left shoulder. Ulren's concerned face staring down at you.
"What in paragons' grace is going on and are you fine?"
"I... I'm alright, thank you," you answered while regaining faculties, "Say, do you, perchance, know where townsfolk of Tevon-Talab dry up leather and hides?"
"Uhm... With the significance of hunting to the locals, nearly every yard in Tevon has a rack for skin drying. But if you'd ask me where most of the skinning and leatherworking takes place, it would be the tanneries not far from here - by the western edge of the town. Why?"
Without glimpsing back into Limbus, you felt the hidden presence of the fading spirit who identified itself Rene (you're not even sure if it was a man or a woman in life, and of which race). Apparently, it was recovering its meager strengths after interacting with you. It must be genuinely ancient to be so... weathered? But still, it pleaded for your help and, whether out of pity or the sense of duty, you felt like giving it a try.
"Ren, Sephie, I hope you don't mind a small adventurous detour?"
"Normally, I'm all for adventurous detours, but you better explain yourself and your odd behavior, lady," Even though Seph was kidding, there was some mild shock in her voice.
"Ren, would you kindly lead the way while I explain what did just happen?" you smiled charmingly to bhiroth as if nothing happened at all, getting an uncertain nod in return.
______________________________
And so you did, relaying all the details regarding the encounter. But no matter how thorough you were, the stream of questions from Seph and Ren saw no end. Why did the spirit want your help? If there is another soul bound to the ring, what does this ghost have to do with it? Who and from where stole this ring? Why was this ghost so weak? Even if the ring is found and brought back, what's the point of it? You had no answers to these legitimately reasonable questions flowing from your companions; it felt almost like they teamed up to interrogate you. Even so, some additional spirit magic practice could not hurt, just like a chance to do something good while at it.
While conversing and following Ren's lead, you were scanning the houses and their inhabitants' soul sparks. Most of them were landers, with some roths and even a few alvizians; young, adult, and senior alike. Despite sensing some aged voidling traces in the surrounding, there were no anomalies, no imps, demons, or other ghosts up until a peculiar reading entered your range of senses: it was unmistakenly a spirit bounded to an object. And a volatile one, at that.
You stopped in your tracks abruptly after processing the reading. It was coming from a decently-maintained two-storied loghouse with a decorated porch. Aside from the anomalous spirit, two more souls were inside - both landers, rather young-ish, conceivably a male and a female. You raised your hand and plainly stated: "There."
"Damn it," Ren mumbled when you pointed your finger at the premise of interest, and he saw candlelight coming from the slits of the window shutters, "was too much to hope for it to be abandoned, wasn't it?"
"I see no problem for as long as you don't charge in and turn everything and everyone upside-down, causing half the town to think that a new murder is taking place," Seph commented.
"Why would I do such a thing? And what do you mean by "see no problem"? We are asked to take property from unsuspecting townsfolk on their own turf!"
"The ring is on the second floor," you hushedly commented before the argument between Seph and Ren could escalate enough for citizens to hear, "there is a lander woman and a man on the first floor right now."
"Dining so late? Or maybe..." Seph smirked at the thought without completing it, "Might make the work easier in any case."
"Lu, please tell me there's a hound in the house before our horned rouge broke into it."
"Not in this one," you responded neutrally, "but that's a legitimate point: we might want to consider how do we get the bound item and avoid troubles."
"I sneak in, take the thing, and we get back to that ghost of Rene," Seph whispered nonchalantly, "If it to be believed, we'd be requisitioning a previously stolen good, so it's not even a thievery."
"And what if you get caught or fail to find the ring in time? Don't tell me you expect us to tear down the doors and bail you out."
"Why, thank you so much for having such high confidence in me~. If you were just as creative, I'm sure we would've been unstoppable."
"Maybe, just maybe, we should try talking to them?" You clanged in just in time to diffuse an argument.
"Oh, you sweet summer child, what makes you think they would be hospitable enough to hear out three absolute strangers who came to low-key accuse them of thievery? Like, do we have any sort of leverage that would keep them from flat-out denying possessing the item in the first place?"
"We do - it might raise some eyebrows among kherees once the rumor spreads out, but I can mention having friends in high places, who may or may not be interested in hearing of small-time thieves within the walls if that would help."
"Ooh, feeling creative today? Why won't you come up with a backup plan for my scenario, too? That would be the most flattering~."
"I may try stressing out the dangers of keeping a haunted item indoors. And if things go awry, then, perhaps, some distraction with light would let us retreat safely?"
"Lu, listen, magic is practical and all, but you are aware of just how much we need to keep others oblivious of what you can do."
You did not reply to that - just whined like an upset puppy.
"No time to kill, boys & girls. I'm not going to babysit you 'till dawn." Seph said excitedly, prompting you to make your mind already.
[] Diplomacy (Lucy's or Seph's hard persuasion skill check (24) OR Lucy's and Seph's easy performance skill checks (17), luck rolls)
-[] contingency: bribery (Lucy's or Seph's easy haggling skill check (17), luck rolls)
-[] contingency: intimidation (Lucy's, Seph's, or Ren's normal intimidation skill check (20), luck rolls)
-[] contingency: connections (small hit to reputation with Kheree hunters)
[] Burglary (Seph's very easy burglary skill check (14), Seph's easy sneaking check (17), Seph's normal balance skill check (20), Seph's luck roll)
-[] contingency: outside distraction (individual easy mobility checks (13), luck rolls)
-[] contingency: lights in and out (Lucy's easy arcane skill check (17), luck roll, public magic exposure, individual very easy mobility attribute checks (11), luck rolls)
-[] contingency: violence (big hit to reputation with Tevon-Talab and Kherees)
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4.4.2 Bloom 14 of the year 1469. Midnight mischiefs
"Be careful," your murmur aimed at Seph put an end to the collective brainstorming. Daeva's amber eyes glinted; Ulren was not as impressed.
"Seriously?"
"Why not?" you countered Ren, "There won't be any rumors about outlanders seeking accessories they could not have normally known about in the middle of the night."
"And if trouble takes place."
"Then I would be immensely grateful if you make what you do best: some noise, annoying and loud enough for me to slink away unnoticed."
Instead of supplementing Seph's idea, you just faced Ren, demonstratively glimpsed at Seph before training your eyes back at skeptical bhiroth and pleadingly squinted. As his visage began to shift from perturbed to just tired, it became clear that he accepted your unspoken request.
"Fine..." He grumbled, "Not liking this one bit, but it can be beneficial if pulled out flawlessly."
With a faint but grateful smile, you distracted Ren long enough for him not to witness Seph's triumphantly smug physiognomy.
"Lu, could you point at the approximate spot where the thing is?" Seph stole your attention, "it would be a crucial help if you will."
A couple of steps closer and one moment of focus later, you lifted your hand, pointing at the window above the parade canopy. "There, upper floor, below the window facing the entrance."
"Not exactly bright, are we?" Seph mumbled, likely commenting on the estate owners' security layout and safekeeping habits, "Hey, bhiroth, would you give me a lift?" she added while eyeing the verandah. The only response was Ren's confused silence.
"Awww," she mocked the absence of response of his, "don't be afraid: I don't bite. Normally." The slight but unavoidable tilt of her head indicated that she'd prefer to be lifted on top of the porch. Deeming it not worth arguing over, Ren passed by Seph on the way to the estate, turned around, and formed his hands in a sling, expecting the daeva to take advantage of his cooperation. And sure she did: stepping forth with a cat-ish grace, putting the tip of her feet into an improvised "stirrup," and dexterously climbing up with some assistance and next to no noise. Although, while doing so, she also stepped on top of Ulren's head for a moment, causing him to look at you with the mug of a betrayed puppy and you returning him an awkwardly apologetic shrug.
To you, this antic of hers felt a bit too intentional. But the horned, silvery-haired tease demonstrated, shown not cues or remorse or acknowledgment of the fact, now entirely submerged into acrobatics and balancing. And marvelously so: she moved on the sloped verandah roof without a hitch, stumble, or any sound. Shortly, she reached the window of interest and stopped by its side, browsing for some tools on her belt and running them through the shutters' gaps. It is hard to tell what exact feedback she got from the manipulation, but it made Seph backtrail to another window with the same feline grace. After repeating the same trick with the dipstick, she paused by the new entrance-to-be.
Since you and Ulren were resigned to tracking the inhabitants on the first floor and standing at the ready, respectively, Seph's "streetwise magic" with cutters and other tools remained largely unnoticed. You only noticed the silver of her hair submerging into the dark of the house's second floor. Even though everything seemed to be going according to the plan, you began to feel a bit worried. Judging by the stare and the posture, the same could be said about Ren, too. A few times, the soul sparks on the first floor moved, and at least once, you were close to giving Ren a signal to wake the neighborhood. But things went the other way, with the reading of the possessed ring shifting its location and Seph reappearing in the moonlight-lit window frame.
With the mischievous face you could see in the half-dark, she elegantly vaulted over the windowsill and closed the uncapped set of window shutters. Then, she cautiously approached the edge of the porch's roofing. Ren stretched his hands in what you could only describe as his readiness to catch her should she decide to jump down. However, the amber-eyed minx rejected any assistance, clutching to the roofing, stretching down, bending her frame, and landing in a smooth wheel-like flip, emitting no sound whatsoever.
You could've marveled more at Seph's pretty evident showing-off if not the fact that one of the soul signatures began to move upstairs, prompting you to hurriedly wave at your companions to hide. And so all of you did, taking cover behind the property's fence, hearing one of the windows open and then close after a tiny gap of time. Only then, when the scene fell silent yet again, Seph produced the item of interest from her pocket - an intricate silver ring encrusted with what you considered to be amethyst. Despite the morbidity of holding to a haunted object, her grin from a job well done was absolutely posh.
_________________________
"So, it is customary to leave offerings at desert rock pillars and oases, so the spirits of those lost in the desert would be distracted from considering snatching hapless travelers to add to their ranks."
"That sounds pretty capricious. And malignant. Why would the dead want to mess with their own living kindred in such a way?"
You were probing the haunted ring while quietly following Ren and Seph. The soul bound to it appeared freshly disbodied, confused, anxious, and angry. The memory traces indicated an abrupt and tragic end of the owner's life, leaving the soul desperately vying for answers.
Meanwhile, sparked by your explanation of why the stolen ring is significant, your companions got engaged in a discussion about the paranormal. Seph spun that story of the desert shades she mentioned during the raid to the burnt farm.
"Is it you implying that my people are malignant and capricious too, or are the tales of evil spirits not commonplace among your kind?"
"I'm sure your people have their share of both scoundrels and paragons, but... Well, yes. Despite how many phantom and ancestral ghosts legends there are, the ones described as destructive are in the minority."
"Oh? Then, mind spinning one? Like, the most common out of the bag."
You opted to keep quiet: the phenomenon of Seph and Ren acting friendly was taking place once again, prompting you to abstain from interfering and study the event. Also, a tale would be a little bonus to this study.
"Alright then," Ren answered with oddly no resistance whatsoever, "Don't suppose you've heard about the broken Raufdur?"
"Rauf-what?"
"Aye, figured as much," Ren sighed, albeit not out of annoyance, "The story is about a lad from the outskirts of Hermsdir. Variations of this story have him go under different names, among which Patros and Vinnet are the most frequent, but it is hardly relevant to the story itself. The lad in question was born to parents who both belonged to the Hrofdur caste, which unites all of bhiroths' artisans, prospectors, and tradesmen. Following his father's example, the lad planned to become a blacksmith and learned from the prior as much as he could. But, when the lad's Initiation decade came, the mentors soon figured out that he had little talent at blacksmithing and was much better at keeping track of supplies, logistics, and scheduling."
"What is this Initiation decade?"
"Exactly what's written on the tin," Ren commented, "It is a decade when all young bhiroths are grouped, examined for predispositions, and then taught all the skills, tricks, and wisdom needed to become efficient members of the castes they were designated to after initial appraisal."
"How do you even... evaluate all of your younglings?"
"It's a centralized process, of course. The state and all the castes facilitate this process in all the major regions of the meritocracy. Each and every bhiroth aged from 30 to 40 undergoes it. But, that's not important to the story..."
"Sure, sorry. 'Twas just the novelty of the thought." Seph apologized awkwardly. The tone of her voice suggested she was both bemused and amazed in equal measures.
"So, the hapless lad had been deemed as a waste of potential should he be oriented as a craftsman. Hence, he was set up for the path of Raudfur - the caste of logisticians, small-time militia, caravaners, and rangers. Disheartened he might have been at first, but, just as any bhiroth, he came to accept the way in which he would be the most beneficial to the kin, directing all his efforts into the new role."
Registering yourself listening to Ren rather than probing the possessed ring, you slipped the latter into a pocket next to Mia's chocker amulet, focusing all of your attention back.
"The last four years of the Initiation decade is spent as actual apprentices at designated jobs, and this lad was sent to carry out the ranger duties to the Bordalrun valley, south of Midilreid passage. Life in mountains differs from flatlands, especially in logistics. It is in rangers' duties to monitor those limited routes that connect settlements of valleys with the outside world, register passings of caravans, and warn them beforehand if any danger is ahead.
And on winter of his last apprenticeship year, the weather was fierce in the valley: the south-eastern passage to Karadan was cut off by an avalanche, the snowstorms raged all over Eldhaetaed mountains, and the only way in for supply caravans was through the northern neck linked to Midilreid passage. The valley's rangers were spread thin, trying to predict avalanche risks, evacuate the locals, and otherwise minimize the damage from the weather. And even worse: a large caravan from Karadan was past its due time of going through the northern passage that was bound to experience an avalanche any minute. The rangers from the evacuated passageway post dispatched one of theirs to seek the lost convoy by the other side of the pass with what little odds they had and relayed this news.
In this situation, where the fate of many lives was no longer clear due to three unknowns, the Raufdur-to-be volunteered to go back to the outpost and do all he could to alert the late-on-time caravan in case it was not too late. And so, he ventured alone into the mountainous snowstorm at what already was an early dusk hour. It is unknown how he got back to the outpost in time, but witnesses from the caravan testify they stopped in their tracks when they saw the blinking fire signal relaying the alarm message through the snow veil and darkness. Then, less than a dozen minutes later, the terrific din echoed against the mountains, and darkness consumed the desperately blinking light in the distance. The avalanche took place, cutting off the northern passage minutes before the caravan might have followed through it.
The ranger who went to seek for the convoy before his comrades fled deeper into the valley found it only after the pass was blocked. The lad flashing the signal into the darkness was never found. The caravan returned to Karadan and reached the valley three weeks later when the south-eastern route was unblocked. But after that harsh winter, travelers and rangers of the Bordalrun valley began to witness a phantom of the disappeared lad. Sometimes with a lantern and sometimes with a banner, it is said to appear minutes before disasters strike. Never seen it myself, but I knew some who claimed to. So, eventually, this phantom became the unofficial patron of the valley. Given that the rope road to the valley isn't mentioned, I assume the legend is about five hundred years old and became a significant element of raufdur's occupational mythos."
"But why did they call the ghost "broken"?" If Seph's prolonged silence for the duration of the tale felt uncommon, the unironical pensiveness of her tone felt outright uncharacteristic.
"They called it so because it is said that the shape has its head tilted to the side as if its neck is broken."
"That's tragic..." Seph commented, "Not only to fail to reach one's dream, but to die young and to be doomed to oversee the realm in perfect loneliness while all the world goes by." Despite the questionable validity of the story, judging by her face, Seph was pondering quite seriously.
"Uhm... All the bhiroths view this story more as a lesson in bravery and perseverance. That even a single soul can make things right. And that one is capable of great deeds regardless of former failures for as long as they are prepared internally."
As both of the interlocutors fell silent, you sensed that odd atmosphere of rising tension. None opted to voice any extra arguments or clarifications, preferring this dense silence. It felt like each side was internally judging the paradigm of the other, but comprehending in detail what is going on between these two felt just as unreachable as before, so...
"Hey, Ren!" you ruined the stalemate, "How do you think: is this phantom, if it exists, is it bound to an object to which it had a strong emotional attachment in life like a standard ghost, or is it sustained - like a phantasm - by the collective idea of such a heroic person carrying out their vigil? Or can it be something in between?"
"I'm afraid you found the wrong person to ask about such occult intricacies, Lu..."
"Huh," you pretended to sigh disappointedly, "Now I wish I could witness this spirit myself."
Ren shook his head to your idea with a hit of sadness: "The odds are, you would sooner find the answer to that question elsewhere."
Seph skipped a step or two to line up with you and give you an encouraging head pat. It felt oddly warm to be in the company of your closest companions when they were not at each other's throats. Making you vainly wish for them to be at least like this sooner. But, better late than never, eh?
_________________________
Rene was waiting for your return, and you did not disappoint. The withered spirit appeared from the ruin even before you approached its habitat. This time, it did not seem to demonstrate any cautiousness towards your person, outright pointing at the pile of ancient bricks, gesturing to put the ring there. You wondered of what interest a possessed accessory might be to an old-deceased soul, but everything became clearer when Rene prompted you to touch it with one hand and his shade with another.
By hesitantly obliging the ancient spirit, you found yourself connected to a tridirectional link between the anxious soul in the ring, Rene, and yourself the moment your fingers brushed the cold aether of the belltower's guardian. Your suspicions of Rene once being a spirifier only strengthened when they began to prod the ring-bound spirit with bits of accumulated memory traces. The latter ignored any form of contact at first yet grew more and more restless in its prison. After some threshold, the spirit replied, not through materializing or otherwise affecting the world around, but by surrendering the vestiges of its life's last moments.
And the bulk of the soul's last throes was gut-wrenching: anger and disbelief of falling prey to other people, fury and regret for failing to protect from raiders those he (you were pretty sure that it was a man bound to a ring) held dear, and devastating sense of uncertainty of what happened to them after he drew last breath. And if that wasn't enough, there was the insult of his mortal remains being left to wild animals and, as it happened, looters.
Among all these negative emotions, the sense of uncertainty for those the man once accompanied was the most oppressing, evidently serving as the shackle that held the spirit. Rene did try to message the vibes of torments that unbodied existence entailed, but, predictably, it was to no avail. You knew that your help was needed even before the plea was brushed against your inner voice. And reaching deep into your memories, you assembled a series of experiences from that time your party ran at the river slavers. You transmitted the shame of not risking to help, the tormenting suspense when your teammates went into the lair without you, and the shock when hostages and your groupmates conducted a messy retreat from the den.
Your wrapped experiences changed the bound spirit's behavior: after a brief consideration, the soul's volatility began to decrease. Not plummet, but slowly stabilize from the faint (even if far-fetched) hope your experiences gave him. The probability of your group running across the raiders that butchered this man and led away his close ones was minuscule, just as the odds of them fleeing after the assault. Still, the spirit was desperate to clutch to the faint hope you gave it, which alleviated the pull of his shackling sense of uncertainty. Gathering what minor powers Rene had, they siphoned some of their energy to the core of the bounded spirit, causing the latter to slip from under their weakened bindings. Less than ten heartbeats after, the hope-clutching soul was pulled by whatever responsible laws of the universe into its further journey.
You were a shaman? Was the first thing you inquired of Rene through the yet-holding link after processing what just happened.
Then, behind a lengthy pause, the soul responded, for a moment glimmering a bit brighter after watching around and down at the now-exorcised ring and then rapidly losing the newfound brightness.
Yes. A simple answer returned, followed by a fainting string of new signals. Help again. Mill. Water. Waits... Hurting...
The spirit vanished into the aether of Limbus, unable to finish the sting of thoughts after burning too much of limited energy. They (you still did not know whether Rene was a male or female) were still around but too weakened to maintain a shady shape. With this, you had no more reasons to glimpse through the limbus veil, recoiling from the state which was seen by your teammates as fifteen minutes of dumb staring at a heap of bricks with eyes glowing like stars.
"Ahm... Wouldn't you mind if we go for one more little detour?" You tried to sound as least annoying as possible. Seph raised her eyebrow; Ren tilted his head; neither protested.
_________________________
After playing a round of landmark charades with Ren, and then Seph inventing for the guards a story justifying you checking up on your not-so-slightly-neurotic horse left in the suburban stables, your party ended up by the destination point. Crickets sang out their nocturnal warble and the gentle night breeze carried the subtle fragrance of springtime blossoms. You and your teammates stared at the darkened bones of what once was a humble but still solid house neighboring an old mill overlooking the lakeside scene. The decrepit condition of the estate contrasted the otherwise idyllic location. But despite the surface-level ruin, you sensed that the walls secured a secret within them. An undead secret, with tints of entropic energies.
"Lu?" Seph murmured to you without turning her face away from the landmark of interest, "Lu, please don't tell me there are more of 'em "voidlings" like that quadruped meat bundle inside."
"You want the good or the bad news first?"
"Eh? There's something good this time?"
"Yes - whatever the entity is inside, it does not feel all that mighty and actively malicious."
"But?"
"But indeed - the place is haunted, and I sense chaotic aether readings inside. Not highly concentrated, but equal to that of an imp. So..."
"So, just like that bounty at Baathor?" Ulren, true to himself, picked the best timing to clang in.
"If you discount that we won't be likely paid and that this entity feels rather afflicted by void instead of being its spawn, then yes." You furrowed a little bit.
"Then, I go in first and take the brunt, the daeva watches our back, and Lu does what she does best, aye?"
"Perhaps, we should not let ghosts ride us like this after all, especially for free?"
"Oh, look who's afraid." Ren commented in an unbearably faked tone, "Don't worry: even if I won't shield you from a spook, Lu, as your caretaker, would certainly make it go away."
Seph's right eyelid twitched, and for a heartbeat, she looked like biting Ren's ear with no regard to the circumstances. The measured gait of the bhiroth saved Seph from such a temptation, though. Awkwardly, you nodded in confirmation to no one in particular and followed your bulky companion. With her suggestion diplomatically discarded and after emitting a singular tiny whineSeph had little choice but to follow you.
You sensed the activation of the entity moments before Ren shattered the rotten wood of the collapsed entrance doors. The feeling of presence strengthened, but it did not feel oppressing compared to the experience at the burnt manor a few days ago. With Ren clearing the way and swearing dirtily at the low landers' doorways, you slinked in, mentally marking the locations of two points of interest: the spirit's projection and its anchor item. Seph was right behind you, even though she was even more quiet than usual.
The entity reacted to your intrusion in a manner that made Seph jump up like a cat from the sudden sight of a cucumber: by obstructing the corridor behind her with debris falling down from the rotten ceiling. Ren took just a moment to look back and assume an aggressive stance. You conjured four small light orbs to cover almost the entirety of the interiors. While moving to the main hall, your eyes trailed movements of the spirit, who was now avoiding exposure to the arcane light. Even without direct visual contact with the apparition, you knew that it was studying your group. It dodged from one corner to another once, twice, thrice, and then, a distorted chuckle of a young woman or child emerged from the darkness, heralding the flight of a palm-sized wooden splinter in Seph's direction.
The lousily-launched projectile was intercepted by the swipe of Ren's hand, with the former loudly clattering against the interior. Most likely baffled by such a rude reaction to its mischievous behavior, the spirit tried to shadow-leap from one corner of the room to another. Yet, your eyes and calculations were faster, with you trapping the cloud of dark haze in a translucent orb of luminal energy. Now, it was the spirit who was scared, trying to break free from the energy cage, at least partially hostile to its nature to no avail. The trick you've learned during that bounty for an imp in Baathor's rich district has proved its effectiveness against minor demonic spirits indeed. But, what now?
[] This spirit shows signs of partial void contamination but is still a soul of a once-living being. If Rene sent you here, they must expect you to guide it to the other side in a gentle manner witnessed and partaken in earlier.
[] This soul can be viewed as an analog to Karl's case, with the sole difference being already dead. Try to separate the restless soul from its emerging void contamination for practice's sake, perhaps even forcibly. Should all go well - good; if not, the worse for the spirit. (normal (20) arcane skill check, luck roll)
[] This spirit is tainted by the void, even if partially. This fact alone somehow makes the hair on your hands stand up as if your very nature protested against its existence. Smite it and destroy its anchor before it could pose a real threat like its more menacing kindred you exorcised.
[] Write-in something else?
4.4.3 Bloom 15 of the year 1469. Who watches the watcher?
With the restless spirit encaged inside of a luminous orb, the decrepit objects predictably stopped falling down or flying at your companions. While your eyes were locked on the dark haze within the enclosed barrier, you cast a cone of light at the spot where you sensed the spirit's anchoring item.
"The bound is there," you commented your action, "please, make haste, for I don't know how long the ghost will be disoriented."
Instead of a vocal reply, the sounds of your companions digging through indoor debris reached your ears. Some moments after, you sensed the shift of the item's location, and a few seconds later, a wooden to the touch object was shoved into your free palm. As it did, the disturbance of the shade grew, with it starting to bang at the inner walls of the sphere.
"Please, watch over me, for I'll release it now and work on the conduit." You proceeded to take a seat on a ruined heap that once might have been furniture once you spoke out, studying the item in your hands. It was an old, mildew-covered wooden figurine of a horse, donkey, or another hoofed creature, roughly cut out from wood by an amateur. Most likely, it was hastily carved from a chunk of firewood, so the gifter would buy some moments of peace by distracting a child. This notion narrowed down the possible personae of the spirit, which only made you feel tenser.
But regardless of your sentiments, there was nary any time to waste. And with this sense of urgency, you dropped the barrier and lightly basked the toy in some arcane energy to make the host pull back its projection into the object. It worked as predicted, after which you covered the small item with your hands and focused on the soul spark trapped within it, finding out that your initial fear was correct: the soul in question lacked the complexity and inevitable scaring of a mature one. The soul's memory whirls were scant compared to the relative sizes of the psycho-emotional layers and the core. But even then, an ugly singular abscess with signs of corruption protruded from the poor child's soul, rendering their soul unfit to slink from the realm they would never be able to experience in full.
Cautious and disheartened in equal measures, you sighed and attempted to focus on the wayward soul harder, just like you did with your unsuspecting companions earlier. The resonating feedback came in almost immediately, filling you with a sense of helplessness, fear, and loneliness. Due to one reason or another, no one has witnessed the last moments of this kid's life. There was no one around to save them or at least to grant the comfort of a company in the final moments. And even more: midst the great fear of the world outside and crippling helplessness, this child seemed to yearn for a particular company - a presence that never came. Even after its mortal body perished, the soul remained paralyzed by the incomprehensible worlds outside, still yearning for that particular companionship to allay its fears. Times went by, and something began to fester in the poor soul, filling it with bitterness and grudge for everything living, which likely included the looters who picked this place clean yet failed to meaningfully interact with its last dweller. This grudge began to overtake the soul and corrupt its memories fiber.
You recoiled from the surge of sensations, but the aftertaste lingered. Realizing all this made you even more anxious: you wanted to help the poor spirit in the same manner as the one bound to the ring, but... But what if the infant's soul won't be able to fight back the corruption? What if granting the poor child's its final wish of companionship won't neutralize the chaotic infestation and won't let it pass on? What if you won't get another chance to practice separating a soul from the tendrils of chaos anytime soon while Karl needs your urgent intervention? One, two, three seconds of considerations passed, and then you exhaled and sent the "I'm sorry, little one" signal to the soul concealed within a wooden horse.
And you indeed had reasons to apologize in advance: with one hand still clutching to the toy and with the other one conjuring a concentrated fang of thaumaturgic energy set onto cleansing aspects, you set your mind on trying to carve out the corruption from the spirit. Slowly, you sunk the shimmering cone into the binding object while maintaining the link to the soul inside it to get track of the readings of possible changes caused by your manipulations.
The developments came in instantly: the exact moment the thaumaturgic beam touched the gaping dark spot of the void contamination, the latter unfurled itself onto the afflicted spirit, digging deeper towards its core and contorting the soul's memory, reason, and emotional layers. You haven't even fully realized what happened when nigh-immediately, an overpowering mix of dread and anguish surged through the established link to the "patient" spirit. The feeling was that of being abandoned in an endless, cold, unfamiliar ocean, prompting only one desire: finding a shelter and eliminating everything from the "outside" in it.
The sudden yet oppressive burst of dread and tension burst in so suddenly and intensely that you nearly blacked out of your own senses, not even noticing the disruption of the link to the target spirit. By some wonder or your natural resilience, the faculties began to come back to you within a few moments since the overload. You could hear the debris within the hut rattling and flying chaotically, causing Ren and Seph to themselves and you from this havoc. You felt disgusting - not as much physically but psychologically, with the echo of the abnormal anguish the spirit was experiencing stuck in your mind and heart. But all the malaise paled before the rapidly-emerging acknowledgment of what you just did: you made a mistake that deteriorated the state of the spirit you were sent to allay. Perhaps, terminally so.
A flash of recollection from the night when you failed to save that dying man forced its way up in your mind, followed by an indescribable cocktail of regret and defiance. This sensation gave way to a ray of reason: you still had to act now and postpone regrets for later, as this wasn't over yet.
This internal directive rendered you deaf to the unaddressed comments of your groupmates and senseless to what was on your mind in favor of narrowing back on the possessed fetish in your hands.
And the damage was extensive: the memory traces exuded from the soul spark were tattered, and so were the deeper layers, riddled with the entropic tendrils in the same manner diseased flesh would be with abscesses. Bar the core, over the one-third of the soul saw the damage, with voidling contamination burying deeper with each passing second, even with if noticeable deceleration. Your first thought was of the ways to limit the spread of the contorting energies while you work on burning it out. The only method that came to your mind was an attempt to artificially bind the soul to its anchor in the same way you tried with the assault victim a week ago. Hence, you proceeded with phase-like attempts to "freeze" the "patient" and chisel out the contamination.
Your hypothesis was only partially correct: the binding did limit the spread of entropic processes, but patches in a complete artificial stasis also proved to be more persistent against your magic. Extrapolating from this observation, you changed the tactic to combining stasis phases to keep the voidling tendrils' motions above zero but still manageable. With trial and error, you acted on this hastily-generated plan. The manipulation performed on the ghast's anchor also seemed to decrease the intensity of the poltergeist activity, giving your companions enough breath to wonder if "it's over?" and exchange nervous looks.
Eventually, you burned out all the entropic energy from the soul's layers, but the inflicted damage now stretched to under a half of the spark. Forcefully detaining the spirit through pulling the metaphorical leash between it and its bound object, you realized that, if only it was a living person, you would've either driven them irrevocably rabid or just killed them. All because of a grave mistake at the start of "treatment." Regardless, there was no way a soul like that could see peace, so even while you technically succeeded in separating it from the aethers of the void, you still failed. Or did you?
Not daring to look up at Seph and Ren, who were likely perplexed by the sourness of your physiognomy, you settled down on making the last-ditch attempt to send this spirit off. If your theory on soul structure and functions was correct, you still had an option to "cut out" the core from its destroyed outer layers, freeing the spirit from its memories and, effectively, from its "self." Yes - it sounded insane if not preposterous, but the alternatives were even worse, and it wasn't like the spirit in question had much to lose anymore.
With a nervous sniffle and shivering hands, you enacted the plan under the gazes of your friends, who caught wind that not everything was going well. To achieve the projected result, you proceeded with "cluttering" the core with highly concentrated volumes of thaumaturgic energy focused into a narrow beam. You were afraid that bombarding the soul's heart with thaumaturgic force would damage it, but as if in confirmation of your theory, its structure proved resilient to the anti-arcane effect. After a few more moments of the procedure, you nervously released the bind upon the spirit to see how it would react to what you have done.
To your mild relief, the soul's processes did not kickstart with the intensity it demonstrated at the beginning of the failed "treatment." The soul's intact halve's flows appeared more harmonious, if not slower, similar to those either sleeping or close to awakening. This hinted that your idea might have worked, but there was only one way to test it: re-establish the link and see what's left. Hesitant and somewhat guilty, you proceeded with probing the mangled remains of the spirit, fearing if you shattered it completely. The imprint's first results remitted your anxiety: what once was a scared, abandoned, lonely child desiring to see itself led to the end of its existence and increasingly malign for the denial of this comfort was now a creature no longer aware of anything including itself. It felt confusion and a sense of emptiness that was. However, this emptiness was slowly filling up with the fragments of memories you thought you'd cut out, sipping back like from someone else's nightmare.
The urgency was apparent: the cut you've made in its soul would soon self-mend, and the way to non-existence would again be blocked. Mustering the courage to face the result of your decisions, you invoked a weave of thoughts and emotions, transmitting to the confused ghost what amounted to "You must go now. Forgive me, and may you find peace."If only you were able of the mind magic or if this ghost knew how to reply, you might have got to know its final thoughts before you nudged it into non-existence with the spirit arcana, but it was not meant to be. All you've got left was an old, darkened toy horse in your hands, no longer bounding anyone.
"Ren," you spoke quietly while resisting tearing up, "The spirit has departed, but the residual memories engraved onto this toy can easily attract and sustain a voidling. Would you please..." It felt harder to finish the input than to begin it, but Ren understood you anyway, taking the toy from your hands and fiddling with the torch without dropping a word.
"Lu, are you alright?" Sephorah squatted near you, putting a hand on your shoulder and looking at you concerned, "you got us worried, especially when you seemed like passing out."
"I'm fine," you retorted while covering Seph's palm with your own. Still shaken a little and with the vestiges of the poor soul's imprints on your mind, you weren't that fine but opted to keep up appearances anyway: "things could've gone smoother, but what's done is done."
"Oh please," Seph muttered while giving you a squeeze, "that ghost did not pay us anything for you to be down in the dumps over this."
Instead of responding, you forced a smile while staring at Ren reducing the formerly haunted toy to ashes.
_________________________
The route back to Rene's ruined belltower was somewhat awkward. While you were thinking of the ways to elaborate the events to your "contractor," Seph and Ren aimed the fulness of their collective attention at you, with the awkward part being them pretending to not monitor all your motions and body language. With all their superficial differences, you found it hilarious how they tend to act similarly in some cases. It felt like they were participating in some undeclared game of who would keep a closer eye on you. Maybe it was due to the remnants of the departed ghost's experiences or otherwise absolutely unreasonable, but you found this attitude of Sephie and Ulren toward you as heartwarming.
Although, even with this distraction, the final form of an answer to Rene was eluding your grasp, making a part of you wish to just turn, head home, and forget about these nocturnal adventures and their dispenser. But, feeling ashamed from catching oneself musing such thoughts, you deemed your consistency in higher regard than a chance to avoid responsibility.
When you arrived at the spot and glimpsed at it through the nether eyes, Limbus had a brand new surprise for you. Instead of the glowing yellow-ish walls of the once intact belltower, you witnessed raindrop-like faintly-glowing gray particles ascending nearby and emerging from the invisible barriers. It was like observing heavy rain in reverse from inside a building made of immaculate glass. In the depth of the surreal shelter, you saw outlines of furniture: baskets, tables, chairs, and even bowls and candelabras as if drawn from the awoken memories of their owner and given shape by the netherworld's weird aethers.
There was also a glowing figure of the presumed owner resting by what could only have been a window once. Rene's spectral cloud seemed brighter than a couple of hours before, pulsing steadily if slowly. The well-being of the once-collapsing spirit appeared to perk up noticeably with the resurfacing of its memories, but the "body" language of the person in question wasn't hinting at any form of jubilation. You could feel that they were aware of your presence, but, on some deeper level, it did not feel like there was much happiness tied to this knowledge.
We have unshackled the child's spirit You weaved a signal for Rene, to which they replied nothing.
Did you know it already? you followed up with less confidence, to which the fog-like shape barely nodded.
Choice. Why? was the first patchy response the spirit gave you after a long pause that almost made you consider leaving. This response was also a confirmation of your inquiry.
They weren't beating around the bush, didn't they? Uncertain of outcomes. A friend in a similar condition. Must learn to help. You formed the answers, even if faint-heartedly.
The spirit's "head" part of the haze turned towards you for a few long moments and then back to the phantom window through with they were staring at the ancient rainfall from their recollections. There was no other feedback, and even without any magic, you could feel the air of disappointment hanging in this phantasmagorical abode. Acknowledging that even the dead might have limits to hospitality, you formed one last request, hoping there would be an answer as gratitude for the first gig: A few nights ago, three men were killed nearby. Do you know who did it?
The glowing shape looked at you again before standing up and, presumably by you, turning in the direction of the event. It took fewer moments for them to form an answer than before. Hunter. Raven. Betrayal. Overtaken. Vengeance... Just as you parsed this string of words and associations, the shade looked at you for the last time and added up to the previous missive: Alone, please. And with this, Rene's form gradually dissipated into the green ambiance of Limbus. They returned to whatever was their anchor to this world, with their parting message, even if ridden of anger, hinting at the end of your exchange. But now, you had something to be more concerned about.
"Sephie, Ren," you drew the attention of your companions while slinking out of the Limbus and momentarily massaging your sore eyes. "The entity who killed those kherees might have been one of them before being overtaken by a demonic presence. And, allegedly, it hunts their own out of vengeance."
Ren's impenetrably neutral face cracked in wonderment. Seph's amber eyes widened in surprise.
_________________________
On the return way to Hjorn's yard, Ulren and Sephorah were absorbed in a conversation way too lively and heated for the hour of the night it was taking place on. Profusely using uncertain or rather conspiratorial nouns like "them," "that party," and "the subject," they were going through all the possible versions of how and why a kheree hunter would seek to hunt down their own former comrades and if the testimony of the "unlikely witness" can even be trusted. And when they ran out of versions, they began to think aloud whether it was worthwhile to "play the cards" or keep them for a better chance.
Resigned to your own devices, you reflected on the ghost's "treatment" experience in depths, synthesizing some postulates that might be crucial for when you would try to treat Karl. Namely, the reaction of void corruption to thaumaturgic influence, the adverse dependency between the contamination's activity and resilience, and the role of haber vitae - the innate vitality - in the subject's overall resistance to manipulations. With these insights, you also thought of how Isaac's help might play a big part in remedying Karl.
Lost in thoughts, your hand brushed against the silver medallion that harbored Mia, which made you recall the original reason for the nocturnal detour. But along with it, a distressing assumption caused the latest exploit emerged in your mind, forcing you to stop in your tread and to slink into the Limbus.
Have you strolled enough? You addressed the wondering message to the beast in the amulet, but no reply came.
Mia, are you there? You procured the trinket from the pocket, suppressing the rising suspicions. And yet, no answer was obtained.
Are you afraid of me now? You decided to come out clean instead of beating around the bush or feeding yourself with baseless optimism.
No. The short answer finally came in, wrapped in annoyance vibes similar to those of a living cat distracted from such essential activities as self-grooming or sleeping. Still, her typically feline-style haughty feedback made you exhale with relief; perhaps, even puzzling yourself about why you care so much about this.
Are you afraid of yourself? The ghost cat's sudden follow-up shot down your easement abruptly. As random as it felt coming from her, the inquiry made you instantaneously pout, frown, and indignantly chunk the possessed trinket back to the pocket without any answer. You'd struggle to pinpoint what exactly struck your nerve, but before you had a chance to vent, your gaze fell on Seph, waving a hand at you; "are you coming or what?" was written across her face. Of course, you obliged, rustling with feathers under the cape while catching up with the exotic duo, a bit embarrassed for creeping them out with your supernatural acts.
Less than ten minutes later, the outline of the now-so-familiar smithy's palisade came into view. It was only about a week since you found - even if a humble one - shelter behind it, but the feeling of secureness and coziness were already cropping up. Considering the springy and cheerful gait in which Sephorah flit into the yard the soonest Ren opened the gates, she was also beginning to feel at home. By the time she cheerily slinked back to the shed, most likely content about herself tonight, you and Ren were still slugging through the yard, both lost in thoughts. You continued to digest the night's spirification activities, and Ren almost certainly pondered on the hint regarding the local murderer's identity. Struck by a sudden realization of time and place, you saw a perfect opportunity to communicate a thought to conclude this night.
Gently if a bit suddenly, you clutched to Ren's palm and froze on the spot, drawing his attention and preventing him from going further.
"Hey, Ren..." you spoke quietly.
[] "After Seph revealed to me her story, I can guarantee that her unforeseen companionship tonight translates as "I have nothing and no one except for you, so I want to be helpful." Doubt she would say it out loud anytime soon, but it does not change the fact she really cares for us. I see how you are sticking to the promise of not antagonizing her, but would it be too much of me to also ask you to show her at least a little appreciation? Perhaps, something even tiny or symbolic, just so she would know that she isn't alone and we care about her, too."
[] "In front of others, you can pretend to be an impenetrable wall all you want, but I see how nervous you are about our involvement with kherees, the reveal we've just got, and this whole expedition in general. And if this wasn't enough trouble, I swear you feel somewhat regretful around Hjorn, not even mentioning other things you hold inside from before we met. You told me that I'm the reason you altered your course in the past. Should this be how you really feel, it would only be fair for me to hear your concerns and help however I can. If you believe I can be of your help, that is..."
[] Write-in
[] Actually, no - you don't have anything you'd like him to ponder on in particular. At least not yet. So, just give him a grin, pass it as playfulness, and maybe pass it as a cute gesture of gratefulness for him watching over you despite all the entailing inconveniences.
Your sudden move predictably caught Ren at a disadvantage, causing him to grumble something under his nose in a pretty confused manner. You, however, are confident that his attention was picked. And the proof of that didn't hesitate to show itself: it was now Ren who clutched to your hand, preventing you from heading to the "shed hotel," as your group nicknamed your shelter. Needless to say, you weren't expecting this turn of events.
"Hey, Lu," Ren softened the grip of his massive paw on your palm and squatted in front of you, more or less lining up with your face, "you don't look all that cheery behind this "I'm so deep in thoughts that you'd have to knock on wood to catch my attention" face of yours. Did something happen during these eerie errands that sour your mood?"
His tone was simultaneously tired, soft, and somewhat concerned. Even without conjuring any light, you could feel him seeing through you and your body language. The backside of the coin of knowing someone well: the chances are, they would know you about as good. All you could do in this situation was to come out clean and dry; after all, you promised yourself not to make him coddle and comfort you into the sound state of mind like he did after that failed attempt of yours to save the assault victim.
"Yes, in a way." You began, steeling your voice and stiffening up, "Rene - the spirit of an ancient shaman - expected me trying to be a gentle guide for the soul trapped in the abandoned house. But instead, due to the poor thing's void contamination, much like what threatens Karl, I chose to try removing it first. It did not go well, and I effectively butchered out the poor soul out of its binding for having no other options left. In the end, the child's soul was freed but not without harm, I learned a lot about how to treat Karl, but Rene saw his trust in me misplaced. Regardless of their possible hopes on my account, it is no longer relevant."
"I see," Ren commented, holding out a slight pause while staring at you, "Deciding to act on what you think would be best despite what's expected from you. Now, this brings back memories... But think of it this way: the lil' ghost no longer toils; we are better off in terms of intel than just a few hours ago, and you have a firmer grasp on what to do with the mage. It may not be perfect, but it's still net positive overall."
"You... aren't wrong," you muttered. Even though it was clear as day he simplified the situation to make you feel better about it, there was hardly anything you could've used to argue for the contrary.
"You are a fine lass, Lu, and I endorse what you do and did. So, don't let the frustration or uncertainty weigh on you - there's a lot good you are doing and plan to do." With saying that, he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. Maybe it was the lingering vibe of loneliness imprinted from probing the now-departed child's soul, or, perhaps, Ren's palms and words were just that warm, but you felt this warmth rubbing inside of you.
"Thank you," was your heartfelt if a bit shy response over a faint involuntary grin, "As you said - there's a lot of busy work waiting for us, so let's have some rest while we can afford it."
"Sure thing, Sunny," Ulren replied and gently patted your blonde head in his benchmark manner. You tried to put up an act of being embarrassed, but you loved each moment of it.
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Comfort, softness, and warmth. You experience all of these at the border of awareness and drowsiness. Your fingers return the sensation of brushing against feathers. Big, warm, silky feathers. You purr like a cat and try to dig your hands and frame deeper into this comfy surface. These sensations make you feel safe, wanting to leave the daily troubles behind. But as you luxuriate, the cozy superficies in front of you twitch, shaking off some of your content obliviousness.
You try to resist the advance of awareness, but the entity in front of you repeatedly moves, leaving you no choice but to slink out of the comfy oblivion and see what's happening. With a grumpy moan, you open your eyes and witness yourself clutching to an enormous mound made out of well-groomed brown & beige feathers. They shake more actively as you release them and step back.
Huh? I think I've seen this pattern somewhere; a random thought sparks in your reactivating brain.
As you begin to suspect something, the "hill" turns around, revealing a crooked beak and two humongous amber eyes. They are unblinking, and their gargantuan pupils appear to stare into your very soul, emotionlessly and almost insultingly studying.
It's... an owl? A chunky fat owl?! Wait a moment, where have I seen this before?From the very depths of your memory, a specific recollection desperately tries to break free from under the layers of information and experiences you've accumulated. And the closer it gets to the metaphorical limelight of your attention, the more you feel the unease as if you won't like what would come next if the association proves correct.
As you struggle with the resurfacing recollection, the humongous owl head twitches weirdly, blinks, and turns around, re-exposing its "nape" to you. But not even a moment passes, the feathery surface shakes again, and from below, a pair of jumbo-sized glowing jade eyes accompanied with a second beak emerge. The creature opens the latter and produces a loud, uncanny screechs. You see the reflections of a solemn mountain and a tower in the void-like pupil of the monster's glowing eyes before the sheer surprise and intensity of the scene washes you away from the dream.
You wake up with a gasp to the mad pounding of your heart and the shock of what you have just witnessed.
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For the next ten minutes, you sat in your bedroll, wiping the light sweat from your forehead and then trying to rationalize the nightly delusion. Contrary to the feverish state you found yourself in upon awakening, your mind was now in full swing, and memories appeared to flow unobstructed. That creature... wasn't it the very first living being you saw after waking up in the middle of the Vustmark woods? How come you still remember it to see in your dreams, and what does it have to do with you? And, if this is one of your "special" seer dreams, what is it about a mountain and a tower? Can the prior one be from Eldhaetaed where the Rhoths reside, or, perhaps, that mythical one Amalia mentioned - Grathofd? Same for the building - it could easily be either Bael or the Westlander's holy Obsidian peak. Can this whole dream, if it is to symbolize something, hint at you being watched by something or someone associated with those landmarks? All these questions give you a headache; better to ask Amalia when she wakes up.
Speaking of which, you finally looked around, finding your friend fast asleep and noticing the first dim rays of light making their way through the cracks and crannies between the wooden planks. The hour must be right before the early dawn, with the sun peeking up within less than ten minutes. Putting aside the securely-memorized dream, you proceeded to fix Amalia's blanket, which she probably pushed away during her own dreamscape adventures. She does not produce any sound after you enacted your caring intentions, but the corners of her lips lifted up a little.
Done with Amalia and witnessing Seph missing, you drowsily wake up your supernatural senses, registering her soul spark giving off readings of methodical movements in the yard. Curious, you lifted up your frame and peeked through the tiny window hole, catching glimpses of your exotic friend performing well-measured, smooth moves. Apparently, she had her short night's rest and was now practicing choreography outside while everyone else was enjoying their last dreams. Even entranced by her motions a little, you found this scene of her lonesome exercises somewhat sad: she doesn't appear eager on letting others witness the multitude of her facets as a person, preferring to hide behind the mask of an unconcerned swindler. It wasn't something from the realm of unexpected, considering how much she was hurt in the past, but perhaps, you still harbored hope for her to get her share of healing and shine on the world like she dreamed of a long time ago.
After reassuring oneself on Sep's whereabouts, you shifted your inner gaze towards the boys. Ren's spark appeared to be situated by the wall and somewhat elevated but still dormant. Apparently, Ulren got snuffed out while taking off his armaments or having a seat before making it into his bedding. Poor Ren - if it wasn't for Rosaline's etiquette lessons in which she forbade you from ever encroaching on unsuspecting men's privacy, you would've definitely snuck behind the curtain separating the boys' side of the shed from the girls one if only to cover him with a blanket. After all, the group's most stoic member deserves care too, even (or especially) if he never asks for it.
As for Isaac and Jory, you did not need to use your souls' reading to verify their presence: the healer was snoring a bit (did he have his nose broken sometime in the past?), and the alchemist was mumbling incoherently, possibly haunted by some of his many fears. Karl's soul was of more interest to you: miraculously, the degree of the chaos aether infestation spread remained stagnant after all these days. But alas, the strength of his soul spark's shimmer, and the density of the intermediate layers felt enfeebled. Karl might have withstood the deterioration until now, but the resource of his soul for prolonged resistance was now significantly depleted.
With all your groupmates ' statuses acknowledged, you flopped back into the sleeping roll, staring at the ceiling. It didn't feel like you'd snatch any more rest after that freakish dream, so you might as well plan out the coming day.
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Unless the treatment option is picked, Karl will make ailment rolls.
Karl's void contamination state:
3 (base) * 4 (severity) X 2 (spread) -> d2 12 willpower checks for resistance.
In case of failure(s), the CON / WIS attribute check(s) against harm is 7
- each set of resistance checks would happen after each story day or two
- each failed willpower check warranties +1 to severity for the next round
- two or more failed resistance checks warranty +1 to spread for the next round
- if the sum of willpower rolls surpasses the sum of willpower checks warranty by twice, 1 spread is subtracted for the next round
- if the sum of willpower rolls does not surpass the sum of willpower checks by twice, the target receives -1 to willpower for the duration of contamination.
- each failed willpower check leads to either CON or WIS attribute checks, which are the sum of the base and severity
[] Come in contact with Elgar. Perhaps, it's not too late to oblige his plea for help shedding light on his Mentor's disappearance(Karl's state might deteriorate. A new quest will be enacted. Will expire if not picked). [] Attend Karl. Luckily, his state did not degrade, making this the best time to solve this problem(An event sequence will be started. Lucy's proficiency and Karl's state guarantee success) [] Attend domestic and provisional issues. Namely, rearming, asking for a new outfit, trying to learn about Jory's "pet project", and maybe asking for an armor piece? (An event sequence. It will not expire if not picked this turn. Karl's state might deteriorate.).
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4.5 Bloom 15 of the year 1469. Tried and appraised.
"Let us go through it one final time, shall we?" You spoke while eyeing the curtain separating Karl's "quarantine" from the rest of the barn's space. Isaac nodded to your suggestion in a bust-like manner.
"I need you to constantly track his vitals and to numb his senses to the best of your ability when I ask to. The void contamination acts like a parasite, and similarly to one, it might resist our attempts to burn it out. If during the procedure things go awry and Karl - or what possesses him - gets violent, I immediately neutralize the arcane aspects in the area. At the same time, you rush out to alert Sephie, and she does the tackling. If the contamination would build up to harm either of us directly, we cease the procedure immediately and think of another approach. Are you fine with this plan?"
Notwithstanding the faint anxious frown that stained Isaac's face at the mention of the word "violent," he slowly nodded in agreement. With the algorithm and backup plans done, you took a few moments to reflect on the situation, if only to calm your nerves. It was late afternoon, meaning you still had some hours of the arcane boost advantage. Ulren prompted the idea of going into the town with Hjorn to get the supplies and took Amalia and Jory with him to give you and Isaac some breathing room. There was no point in keeping away from Seph the information regarding Karl, so you asked her to stay on guard, just in case. And as for yourself, you felt nervous even after practicing some more with Mia and compiling a thorough plan on how to operate Karl's affliction. After all, this is where more than a week of your efforts, experiences, and emotions went into, about to get tested.
"Right... let's dilly and dally no more," you finally concluded, pushing the curtaining cloth to the side and entering Karl's place; Isaac's careful tread followed you. The patient-to-be was lying on the thick pile of fabric layered upon old dry hay. Contrary to the chaotic bedding, the man himself retained the rather tense straight posture like an old carcass pulled out of their burial mound. While looking more or less healthy overall, his unnervingly unfocused eyes were the giveaway of his not-so-well condition. Even more unsettling, despite arguably retaining the capacity of discerning anything, they were following your motions.
Aware of how creepy the symptoms of soul damage might be from that night when you failed to bind a man to his dying flesh, you inhaled and steeled up your nerves, sitting on one's knees right above Karl's head. Isaac took place to the mage's side, reaching for the hands the latter folded on their chest. Unsure whether it was for the better that Karl didn't drop a single comment while most likely registering your and Isaac's presence, you inquired of the healer: "What's the physical state?"
Signs of recurring minor fever. Otherwise normal. Isaac scribbled on his belt-chained board with a piece of coal after scanning Karl's condition.
Hearing that, you looked down at Karl's face; he stared back at you through the veil of partial unawareness with his mouth slightly open. Perhaps, he was still sleeping or residing in another borderline-unconscious state. But in any case, the surface-level readings from his soul spark were not that harrowing in terms of damage. Speaking metaphorically, he was like a fortified tower that withstood a few waves of assault but ran out of supplies and began to run out of defenders; any further postponing would've resulted in the first severe damages.
Unwillingly swallowing the thought of not having a right to mistake now, you slowly lowered your hands and touched the man's sparsely sweat-dripped forehead. You needed the fullest intel on the state of his soul, and to procure it, you dived into the transient state, minting the imprint of his spirit against your own, just like you did with Ulren and Sephorah earlier.
Surprisingly, you found at least some similarities between Karl's soul and those of your closest companions. Like Sephie's, Karl's being had an unavoidable division on metaphorical "before" and "after" states - the unmistakable evidence of a life-changing event. Still, unlike the daeva's case, the mage's lifepath before the "threshold" wasn't his nemesis beast from which he tried to hide or run away desperately. Meanwhile, just like with Ulren's soul, there seemed to be a specific centerpiece element around which the whirls of thoughts, emotions, and beliefs were formed. But at the same time, this "article" wasn't a metaphorical treasure to which he clutched with all his essence like Ren, but rather a peculiar irritator (or, perhaps, an unanswered question) that simultaneously prevented him from finding peace while also holding him together. The void-originated irritant didn't seem to corrupt this central element yet, even though it did stir the thoughts and emotions around it. Apparently, your intervention was right on time after all.
Mildly relieved by the findings, you narrowed down on the seed of chaos that stirred memories and emotions sealed in the "before" part of the mage's spirit, right next to the "centerpiece's" roots. And ho boy was the younger Karl a complicated individual: brazen ambitions, constant thirst for passions, unrelenting if also blind drive further amplified by cunning and ruthlessness - the young version of Karl was anything but the cynical, indifferent, and reserved man who was now lying before you. After all, they say that the brightest blazes are the first to go out for a reason. Nevertheless, the chaotic contaminant appeared to attach itself to those echoes of the long-gone fervors, attempting to erode the sealing "centerpiece" element and reignite the flame Karl once was, even if in a malformed state.
That was it: you have located and confirmed the "damaged" zone, so not it was time to undo the harm. However, recalling yesterday's experiences of the reaction of void contamination in the static state to tampering attempts, you had to amplify its volatility in a controlled manner before proceeding with any manipulations. The only feasible way to do so was to mimic its behavior and strike Karl's chords.
"Isaac, what is about to follow might appear unpleasant or uncanny. Please, remain calm and know that I'm doing it for Karl's sake. Now, can you make him a bit more lucid?"
For a moment, it seemed like your message only made Isaac more unsettled, but whether it was your voice or a momentary flair of confidence, he did oblige your request. The feeling of the arcane bodily aspect activating next to you emerged shortly, and in a few more moments, the micromotions of Karl's fingers and twitches of his eyes indicated the change of his state closer to that of clarity.
"My word, you boys really slack on keeping up the order, don't you? With those piles of... mental grot, it's hardly a wonder Amalia tends to steer clear from you - she had never faced such debris."
Isaac looked at you with dish-round eyes, hardly understanding why you would say that. Karl, in reaction, made an attempt to speak up, but the soreness of his throat caused him a short coughing fit.
"Why, would you look at that - our precious seer has finally yielded to the call of her arcane bonds," Karl's voice was noticeably hoarse, almost creating a feeling that it was some imposter speaking instead of him. Perhaps, it was even true, as the being replying might have been the "old" Karl or a voidling proxy of him - a shadow, so to speak.
"Foresight, bending of all the aspects, soul-seeing, and the capacity to dig into the stories of things living and not. And that is not even all you can do." After counting your talents, a rough hybrid between coughing and laughing escaped Karl's lungs, "Oh, Erika, I always knew you were far less what others saw in you - not just to betray the patron who thought of you as a friend, but to do it for so cheap, letting such an asset slip to whatever the bidder was." He sighed self-content before continuing: "Friendship between women is outstanding in its oxymoron, isn't it? But what about you, Lucifina? How does it feel to possess the powers that cause the actors of the grand leagues to orchestrate lives and fates-shattering maelstroms only to obtain you?"
His words on lady Erika's and your account might've shaken you a bit, although there still was a possibility it wasn't the "real" Karl speaking. Or was he? The readings of your spiritual senses indicated energization of the void tendrils in the median layers of his soul. The patent was ripe for the procedure, so you said:
[] "Is that envy, nostalgia, or both that I hear, Norskov?"
[] "The talents I was given brought me and others up to this point through rather bleak situations. In my book, this outweighs the associated inconveniences."
[] "It is how it is. You are not thinking about advocating against my intervention for the absence of a more defined answer, right?"
[] "I have never asked for these endowments, and I would've gladly traded them for a simple, happy life if only there was a chance. But alas, this is something I'd have to learn to live with." [] "I hate it. I fear and hate every waking moment of this realization."
[] Nothing. Be it due to the perceived irrelevance of such, the annoyance from having to compile an answer, or other reasons, your response was nothing but silence.
After which, you gestured to Isaac to sedate Karl immediately. It took the young healer a couple of moments to snap back from the shock of witnessing the surreal exchange between you and Karl, but still, he obliged. The intensity of the mage's restless soul spark's glow toned down, caused by the Haber Vitae deceleration under Isaac's manipulation. After studying and interacting with the spirits of both living and ethereal in the last week, you figured out the axiom of ethereals' emotions and thoughts soul layers were more vulnerable due to their vitality shell being substituted with memory traces alone. Meanwhile, the median soul layers of the living entities are stabilized and interconnected with the vitality shell, meaning they can be manipulated. As a result, Isaac's sedation of Karl soon caused the breached mind slice of the latter's soul to metaphorically ossify it, limiting the potential spread and damage of the contamination.
Without losing a moment, you narrowed the focus on Karl's spirit, paralyzing most of his spark except for the compromised spot. The volume of the defect wasn't even half as large compared to the ghost child's from yesterday before your intervention. However, knowing the danger of trying to remove static tendrils, which were now slowed down by the meso layer's stiffening, you had but a tiny window for the actual removal attempts, with the need to repeat the algorithm becoming a certainty. And that you did, operating cautiously with the compressed fang of thaumaturgic energy.
You disposed of about one-third of the alien cells before the light-consuming sprouts fell idle again. Taught by the bitter experience, you knew it was time to go for the second round, which reflected in you removing the clutch on Karl's soul, a handwave to Isaac, and the instruction to wake the pyromancer.
"Just to think how much the event that set you on this life course would make a difference from whom you used to be..." You tried to chisel out a reaction from Karl verbally without sounding too acrimonious and possibly scaring Isaac further, "was it, at least, for something?"
"Fascinating!" While struggling to suppress a malformed laugh, Karl blurted out, "Not a single encounter with another thaumaturgist but as judgemental as all of them! This - this is the only intrigue about this whole dull and mirthless voyage! Tell me, is it a call inside of you proclaiming you have a right to judge? Do you hear your inner voice whispering things you ought to do? Or, perhaps, the avatar of your bound to the arcane core aspect bestows duties on you in your dreams?"
This... was an even stranger question coming from him than the last time. But, with the grip of the void affliction weakened, you had fewer excuses to suppose it was the "shadow" or voidling version of Karl speaking. You were not alone in shock: having to observe all of this, the expression on Isaac's face became equivalent to "I no longer have the slightest idea of what's going on."
"Doubt you still remember my words regarding whether it is yourself or the source of your arcane powers that is fundamental to who you are as a complex, living construct. Give it thought on a leisure occasion and who knows - maybe fate would spare you from what she served me."
[] "No one can or should resist their nature. Otherwise, they would likely end up like a person before me."
[] "Even if one can't fight or ignore their nature, fitting oneself to route it towards the best outcomes is still a choice."
[] "I won't argue with you on this, but do know that I am attending you right now out of my own volition and not because of mystical premonitions or visions telling me to."
[] "Not yielding to temptations of the powers has never been an issue for me - I had more problems trusting those energies when situations called for it." [] "Purposefully or not, there may be a chance of you confusing the inner urges for esoterics, depending on the context I don't follow."
[] "..." You are not here to fancy his feverish debates, so you remained deliberately, even demonstratively silent.
Yet again, you caught Isaac's stare with a hand motion and pointed him to do his part. The sequence started over, but unlike the last time, the activity of the void nodes in Karl's spirit appeared to be higher, causing you to ponder if his prior inquiry of you was of higher personal importance than the one before it. Although this speculation occupied your mind but for a fleeting moment before you reconjured the thaumaturgic beam and proceeded with the expulsion of chaos nodules. Without the nighttime advantage of narrowing down at the soul through Limbus, it took extra effort to locate and verify the placements of the damaged areas, bogging you down significantly. Still, you took no additional risks, as there was no option to sweep failure under the rug by pushing your patient to the afterlife.
"What is his physical state, again?" you asked Isaac after running out of time and having to go for the third round to remove the remaining tenths part of the contamination. To this, Isaac pointed up his thumb, then straightened his palm horizontally and shook it. Apparently, according to the healer apprentice, Karl's vitals were statically normal.
"Splendid." you commented, "Wake him up and prepare for the third lap. Here's hope it would be the last one."
To that, Isaac nodded and obliged your request. A brief moment of observing vitae manipulation by the healer, and the elementalist drowsily flashed ques of waking up. In this round, however, he appeared to be noticeably worn down: breathing heavily with audible wheezing and with fingers shivering. The activity of the remaining chaotic aether nodules appeared to be inversely proportional to the original "size" of the infestation, with you not even needing to poke Karl in his exposed nerves and memories anymore. He, however, still insisted on interacting with you, which took the form of a tired (if with mild tones of desperation) question, "Why? Why are you doing this?". Perhaps, you even found his curiosity about your person somewhat obsessive, but the answer you gave him was...
[] "Because I want to."
[] "Because I can."
[] "Because it needs to be done."
[] "Because the alternatives are worse." [] "Because there is no other choice."
[] "One day, I might barter my answer if you would find one after asking yourself first."
[] Silence. Neither he was in a position to demand anything, nor did you find it necessary to get yourself distracted over this.
Then, you nodded to Isaac, intently watching you handle a surprisingly troublesome patient. And for the last time, you narrowed down on the mage's coarse spirit. The time was no longer the issue, unlike the problem of keeping focused on the few remaining hotbeds of the soul's erosion. But, in part, thanks to all the hours spent over the general spellcasting discipline build-up, you managed to eradicate the remaining aberrations without serious issues, releasing your clutch over Karl's soul at last.
"I'm done," You said with a relieved exhale while sitting further from the bedding and leaning against the wall, immediately adding: "done in a good sense." Unmistakingly, the addendum made Isaac visibly ease his expression and pose, too.
"Please, if it's not too straining on you, would you check him one more time? Those sedation sprees were called to mitigate or minimize the damage, but it would be better if we ensure the state of his wellbeing anyway."
The lad nodded in a manner that you began to find familiar and took a couple of minutes to touch Karl's palms and forehead, measuring his vitae energies against his own. Ultimately, the dark-haired lad turned to you and exposed his wooden tablet to you after some moments of scribbling with a coal piece. Fatigued but in a recovering sleep. The ague is no more, meaning he should be better after a mighty nap. What's on your side?
"The contamination is no more, and there seems to be no irrevocable damage. Even though it would be wise to confirm this after he wakes up, the source of his affliction is no longer there. Although it did nettle a part of his long-buried memories and emotions, I'm sure he would feel a little erratic and restless for some time. But hopefully, it won't be as bad as it was with the void pushing onto his soul spark, and he would get over it on his own."
Hearing your conclusion, the young healer's face morphed with relief, with him sitting down by the wall you were leaning against. Then, he grinned, looked at you for a moment, and extended his hand towards you, exposing the front of his clenched fist and holding it before you.
"Uhm... excuse me?" you looked down at his hand gesture and then up at his face, "Do you... want me to touch it?" As you said this, his grin gained some vibes of awkwardness, but the now-familiar affirmative nod still followed, even if not so confident as before.
"Err. If I must..." unsure of what he wanted from this, you extended your right hand and touched the offered fist with the index finger for a brief moment. "Would this do?" you inquired while slightly tilting your head. What was a cheery if a bit tired grin on the lad's face was now a sunset-themed painting with all shades of pink. Hadn't you been aware of his sphere in the arcane arts and never witnessed him in the state of fluter, you might have suspected him feeling unwell. Boys - what mysterious creatures they can sometimes be. Although, after this whole ordeal with Karl, this loosening of Isaac's conduct around you felt like a windfall of him finding a solid reason to trust you.
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It wasn't that long before Hjorn, Ren, and their entourage returned to the property's vast yard. But you left the shed only after the returnees spread out a little, proceeding with their whims and routines. Sensing Sephie's and Ren's presence at your favorite spot behind the shed, you waddled in the pinpointed direction. It wasn't until you came out and inhaled the fresh evening air before the realization of just how tired you felt struck you. It wasn't even the amount of strengths you spent on liberating Karl from the uncanny menace but the sheer emotional exhaustion tied to doing so.
As soon as you got in the line of sight of your older companions, two pairs of eyes trained on you, and whatever chat they were having while obviously waiting for you was abruptly stopped.
"It's done," you broke the pause before it stretched to theatric-like lengths, "Karl is resting. Isaac and I think he should be fine from now." Hearing that, Sephie could not withhold a broad grin accompanied by a triplet of small claps with her hands; Ulren visibly relaxed his poise, giving away the face of mild relief.
"The contamination stung him into the memories he tried to bury, so..." you stopped yourself before spilling out finer details: regardless of what you thought of him, it felt like a wrong thing to do, given that anyone could've been in his place. "Uhh. Imagine a cauldron with boiling contents hanging above a fireplace. That is, perhaps, the most straightforward analogy to the state in which Karl was. What Isaac and I did today was extinguishing the fire beneath the said cauldron. The contents will keep on boiling for a short time, though. In other words, Karl might still be a bit... turbulent for a time, but he is no longer endangered, and we expect him to get better."
"A fitting end for a long week, wouldn't you say?" Despite the wording, Ren's presumption of your hard time of trial, error, and dedication was on the surface.
"Yes, it was," You replied and approached your companions sitting on a bench, "And I must thank you for supporting me through this. The both of you. If it wasn't for your support, I might have given up the night I failed to save that last man from the militia's trio. And you too, Sephie - we might not have told you of the situation outright, but you still saw yourself helping us with the sorties, that nightly stroll, and today as well. And it means a lot, really." From hearing that, something odd happened to Seph's grimace: you could be wrong, but there might have been a tiny inkling of short-lasting yet genuine happiness hidden under her faint grin.
"But," you tried to sound theatrically solemn for what you were about to say, "I'm not going to just praise you: the malady that struck Karl found sustenance in the old scars of his soul. Both of you have been through a lot, which incurs serious baggage of doubts, regrets, and pain, meaning you could have easily been in Karl's place..." Your somber tone began to slip away, giving place to emotionality, "Please, the both of you can be pretty stubborn and somewhat handful at times, but for your own and my sake - do not lock up and let traumas gnaw on you from the inside. If you ever considered lightening your burdens by voicing them out and whatnot, please, I will do all I can to help. And if that makes you feel uncomfortable, consider seeking help from each other. It is just... I implore you to not be like Karl." You ended up your request almost half-whispering. Your emotional plea surprised Ulren and Seph, causing their eyes to swiftly shift from you to each other and then back at you again.
"Pardon me," you attempted to shift the topic after realizing the situation's awkwardness, "it must have been just the fatigue weighing on me and causing me to make a scene."
"Eh, tosh. C'mere," Ren replied while gently nabbing and seating you on the bench between himself and Seph, "you've put a lot of heart into accomplishing what you set before yourself. You've been through pretty rough moments and probably have a lot on your mind now, so you deserve all the rest." Seph didn't say anything, but her warm look and a faint smile were the best indications of sharing the sentiment. With that, Ren's hand covered your left side almost like a warm blanket. You tried to reply with something, but it most likely resulted in a couple of incoherent blurts before you nearly passed out while being squished in between your dearest people.
You did not fall deep asleep, but the blurriness of the queues from around also suggested you weren't exactly awake. Locked in this strange but comfy state, you had a few options than to reflect on the week that passed. All the troubles and challenges, the costs you and others incurred, the things you did, and even your reaction to Karl (if it indeed was him) trying to dig under your skin today: there was a lot to unpack. But at the bare minimum, you somehow felt more confident... and maybe even older in more than one sense.
"You think she's asleep?" the veil on your perceptions thinned, letting through Seph's voice as your brain decided to spring up.
"Seems close to it." Ren was talking to Sephie noticeably without that usual steely tint to his voice, "Would you help her to bed in a while?"
"I don't mind, but isn't it your job?" it was too much to hope for Seph not to mess with him, wasn't it? "Or, perhaps, you are wary of trespassing the threshold of the ladies' space?"
"Each soldier worth his salt knows which terrain not to traverse," Ren answered with a fake sage accent.
"Oh! Sons of Pheotor, beware the boudoirs and garters that dwell in them as they would take your lives and freedom!" Now, she was just plain silly.
"Hmm... garters. It does have a menacing ring to it, you know. Almost like an utterly smashed yrslander trying to find an original name to the terrifying monster they certainly slain with their bare hands the other day."
"Not sure if you are being plain silly or actually not knowing what that is and trying to handwave it in such a long-winded way, making it even sillier."
Pampered in the warmth and comforting presence of your friends, you tried to yelp that it's likely the latter, but the only sound you produced was a pretty funny squeak. Still, thinking on the topic, Sephie could've been so glamorous if Rosaline had spared some of her wardrobe. The mental picture of it almost made you want it to become truth...
"The world is full of mysteries." Ulren summed up with the same mockingly sage-like voice and, drawn by your squeaking sound, gave you a soft, warm squeeze, almost making you doze off again. "But thank you anyway."
"What happened with the "do, not tell" approach to gratitudes you told me Roths are sharing?"
"Who said I'll thank you only verbally? Hjorn is almost done with the armor set for you, so guess who will be teaching you how to wear it tomorrow?"
"Right, because what girl does not want a set of armor made out of some plagued murder beast that had an attempt at her life~" Seph tried to either joke or snark. Most likely the prior. "but what do you mean by "teaching"? Like, doesn't one just dons it on, and that's about it?"
"Girls might not fancy armor sets over other things, but they might dislike the idea of getting extra orifices or losing some of their fancy parts even more. And as for the armor-wearing skill... I'm surprised you survived to this point with that level of knowledge."
"Could not have possibly disappointed you with my absence, didn't I? Imagine how dull the life would've been~."
It felt surreal, but it seemed like they were finally getting along. Too bad you missed what might have been a hefty chunk of the banter, drowsily reemerging from the brink of sleep only when the topic has shifted.
"Do you think there are others?"
"Perhaps. Pheotor hosts a lot of strangeness. Stories about people and even settlements disappearing or popping out of the air aren't that rare. Damn - they are relatively commonplace, even. However, it is possible that Lu came from so far away in space or, perhaps, even in time, that even if we somehow find out the truth, she still won't have another kin except for us if she considers us as such. And your thoughts?"
"I... honestly don't know. My mind tells me that there should be her family somewhere far away. Perhaps, if she is lucky, they are even looking for her as we speak. Yet, my intuition tells me that anything can be possible when it comes to her origins. But regardless of whether we would find it out or not, she will always be one of a kind in my eyes."
Ren, Sephie, I... barely clutching to consciousness, you attempted to say something. Perhaps, something ridiculously sentimental, to which you struggled to find the right words, but even then, the only thing that left your lips was a soft, sleepy meowl.
Something delicate touched your hair and carefully brushed it as if in response to it. Something you might have suspected to be Sephie's palm if only, lulled by the sensation, you did not fall asleep properly.
____________________________________________
Lucy's plan for the next day (pick up to three)
[] Amalia is reported to be planning a tailoring project or two. Maybe, ask her for some new outfit options?
[] With the Seph's armor set out of his pipeline, there's a chance Hjorn would be willing to armor you up, too?
[] Try checking on Jory's project Isaac told you about earlier. Perhaps, he could use some help, even if from you.
[] Intensive training of attributes (A round raises an attribute by 1/2 if the base attribute is X < 14, by 1/3 if the base attribute is 14 =< X =< 17, and by 1/4 if the base attribute is X => 18) -[] STR
-[] END
-[] MOB
-[] PER
-[] COOR
-[] MICR
-[] INT
-[] WIS
-[] CHA
[] Practice and study your magic disciplines! (For thaumaturgy: current level 7 (+0/7 of the next level), above hard wisdom attribute (18), above hard intelligence attribute (18), hard arcane skill (24) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment. For soul aspect: current level 7 (+0/7 of the next level), above hard wisdom attribute check (18), above hard intelligence attribute check (18), hard arcane skill (24) each yields 1/x of the next level + 1/x default for investment, Mia's +1/6 yield applies after hard (18) charisma check) -[] Practice thaumaturgy
-[] Study soul aspect
[] Targeted skill training -[] Melee combat
-[] Ranged combat
-[] Defense
-[] Objects usage
-[] Willpower -[] Balance -[] Sneaking
-[] Reconnaissance
-[] Persuasion
-[] Intimidation
-[] Haggle -[] Performance
-[] Cultural and social lore
-[] Daily craft -[] Weaponsmithing -[] Armorsmithing -[] Artificeiry
-[] Pharma and treatment
-[] Tailoring
[] Try bonding with someone (insert the flavor text to set the course/goal of interaction) -[] Ulren busy -[] Sephorah busy -[] Karl
-[] Amalia
-[] Isaac
-[] Jory -[] Hjorn busy
