Even the great wastes, barren and cruel as it is, seemed to understand: for this many mountain hermits to venture through the valley, something truly abnormal was happening. No event in the hermit's history, not any Void Conclave or meeting of hands, led this many hermits to embark on pilgrimage. By all accords, the Fourth Void Conclave shouldn't be unusual - albeit, in all fairness, rare - but this time, more than the hands and the offerings embarked on the journey to the Jul'ritarzi Mountains, the traditional site of the Void Conclaves. This time, the five Lorekeeper Enclaves were summoned to the Conclave; never had the Lorekeeper Enclaves made a journey like this in the history of their path, leading many to wonder and speculate. Had the hands lost their minds, now bearing the prophecies of the keepers alongside the teachings of the minds? Or is something more complicated at work?

The Jul'ritarzi Mountains, of all the mountains of Myar, are the most unique. Some would call them grand: the tallest of the five ranges, going as far as to pierce the clouds; others would call them ominous: Gothic and unforgiving in their steep construction, with steep paths and points sharp enough to stab a man with. For many in the great wastes, it's an ominous warning: that the mountain hermits are cruel people, for only demons would live in a mountain range fit for a hellscape; many of them lack a sense of irony. It was here that all prior Voidsmen were sent out into the abyss, from the rocket ship fired from the Last Path's Reentrant on the east side of the mountain range to the sleeker vehicle more like a house in design, believed to be from the last days before the cataclysm.

From all corners of Myar, envoys for the Fourth Void Conclave have made their way to the Jul'ritarzi Mountains. Near the greatest summit of the mountain, in the ominously undisclosed depths of the Hall of the Void, the Hand and Keepers of the Jul'ritarzi Mountains wait for their distant counterparts to arrive.

As it is the day (late evening to be exact) before the beginning of the pilgrimage, Loria is still imprisoned in the Keep, waiting for the next dawn – the dawn of the day when she would finally be freed, even if that freedom wouldn’t be officially recognized among the Ar’revik until (or as most thought, if) she accomplished the mission to the Void.

However, Loria’s thoughts and worries about the situation are interrupted by the woman – 5 years’ her senior, as she is reminded constantly – leaning on a wall across from the bunk bed on which the younger is sitting. The older female is a shade paler than Loria, her skin more marred due to her recklessness and penchant for fighting, and – a trait which she is most proud of, even if it’s the hardest to discern – is a redhead.

»So, you're finally going out there to die, eh?« Ram asks with feigned resignation and disbelief, her flair for dramatics betrayed by the faint smirk at the corners of her mouth.

»No, I'm finally getting out of here,« Loria answers, truly resigned to her friend’s – the closest thing she has to a friend now, anyhow – antics.

A snort from the other side of the room leads Loria to turn her head and look at Ram directly, her reproach obvious. Her cellmate raises her hands in mock surrender, but the spreading of her smile shows she isn’t finished yet. “That’s what they all say, when they go to the Wastes,” the hint of her laughter almost audible now.

“Ram…The Wastes are just another dead-end place for the hopeless, suicidal –“ At this point, Loria is interrupted by outright laughter and although irritated slightly, she waits it out.

“Oh, please,” Ram says, still recovering from her outburst with gasps of breath “How is the Void any different?”

“It’s not here,” Loria mutters quietly, a hint of resentment apparent. Louder, she says “Shut up,” with finality. Thankfully, she is given her reprieve – her roommate (and Loria shudders at the fact she can now think of this cell as a room) just shrugging “It’s your funeral,” in response. Loria shakes her head and lies down on her bed in an attempt to sleep. It is a long time in coming.

The next morning, Loria wakes to the distinctive footsteps of the Keeper coming to unlock their cells and herd them to the common rooms with the other prisoners. This time, however, the guard indicates that Loria is to follow him, which she does. She is led to one of the staff rooms, where she is given a medium sized backpack and then, a bit more reluctantly, a belt with a knife and dagger sheeted in it. “We’ll still be keeping an eye on you,” the Keeper warns her, his tone professional. Loria nods her understanding and takes the items, but hopes the mission as a whole will be given supplies more reliable than that. They were to go to the Void, after all.

Shortly after having to wait a few minutes in tense silence, two Keepers arrive – a male and a female – and escort her outside. Together they go to the entrance and exit of their community where they meet a few Rangers who are to escort them all on the pilgrimage. About half an hour later, the Hand and Keepers arrive. Even as the previous night’s cool is beginning to dissipate, the small but important party makes their descent into the much harsher reality of the Wastes.

Beyer stood in his lab, something that had slowly grown of the last couple years consuming his little living room, dining room and kitchen. The floor and shelves are covered by the dying crops under otherwise ideal conditions. Beyer stares at the wall of black board, covered in chalk explaining in excrutiating detail how much light the plants should need, minerals, water, etc... everything that should have grown a healthy and strong plant, but the crops whithered and grew stunted fruits. In his chlenched fist he rolls the stubby pencil of chalk back and forth on his palm.

*snap*

"DAMN IT" Beyer shouted throwing his, now, two pieces of chalk against the wall to join the slowly growing pile of similar used and discarded chalk. He took the spongy eraser and began erasing the months of work he had done that had, yet again, ammounted to nothing. "It doesnt make sense, they had all the nitrates they should have needed, it was rich soil high in dissolved protiens and minerals. I even distilled the water before adding nutrient solution.... was it the light? contaiminant of the soil? damn..." Beyer was talking to himself, growing ever more agitated at his years of defeat.

'Beyer!.... Beyer?" shouted someone from outside. 'Was it realay the day for the void meeting already?' beyer thought to himself. "yes, Yes, come in!" he replied to the voice. A burly man stepped in, one of the miners he traded with for chalk and chemical precursors, Argus.. Angus... Argo? traded with the man for years and couldnt remember his name. Beyer rationalized it that the mans name wast actually that important, he was generally so distracted that he hardly spoke to the man. Partially it was intentional because he knew he was several months worth of rations in debt to him.

Argus, or whatever his name was stepped into the lab and marveled at the sight, "all this and you still cant figure out whats killin the plants?"

"Not for lack to trying..." said Beyer, "whats going on?"

"the caravan to Jul'ritarzi is starting to pack up, you said you where going to be on it."

"and i will be, i just need-

"the caravan was supposed to leave two hours ago..."

Beyer simply nodded, he was so distracted he hardly remembered that there was a meeting at Jul'ritarzi anyway. he ran to the back and started gathering up supplies, a couple days of food and a small bag of clothes, but then a heavy backpack loaded mostly with notebooks and stubby pensils and a few thick text books on Xeno-biology, planetary ecology, one on astrophysics and one on theoretical physics that he beraly understands.

after only a few minutes he was ready to depart and told angus, or argo... that he was giving his house to the community. the others of the mountain could come and raid his house for whatever they needed, including the plants. He had no intention of returning to this place, because he was going into the void..

Renin looked at the bald, dark-skinned prisoner they were tasked with escorting, wondering what made her suitable for a trip into the Void. He did not care overly much if she saw him staring at her for a moment, though it may be difficult for her to discern any more than a pair of faint green pinpricks under his hood. Even at mid-day, Myar's sky remained grey, and its land clothed in shadows. One reason among many that he sought to leave this world. The ranger did not necessarily object to a criminal accompanying the mission--though many of his fellows scoffed at it and muttered under their breath to each other, sometimes well within Loria's range of hearing, Renin remained silent.

He and she were outsiders both in this place. He had been more fortunate than her, perhaps, but he did not believe himself to be inherently superior. People did things to survive on this planet. Renin had done things in his time, before he came to these mountains, and if these folk knew of the things he'd done then, perhaps they would've imprisoned him as well. He was thus not swift to judge the crimes of others. What he had more trouble wresting with was exactly why this particular criminal was suited above all others, or why any criminal was being chosen at all. Did she possess some extraordinary hidden talent--or was she so dangerous that the Conclave simply wanted her off-planet?

Maybe he would find out soon.

"My name is Renin. We'll be crewmates soon--what's your name?" he asked Loria.

After collecting the prisoner, Renin's group had been assigned to grab a scientist who was running past schedule. Some had grumbled that they didn't see the use of a biologist who was too inept to even arrive at a proper time, but if they found a world that was even remotely habitable, the expedition absolutely needed his skills, at almost any cost. The mere inconvenience of delaying the launch proceedings wasn't that much of a price to pay if he was as knowledgeable as he was supposed to be.

OOC: This is the collab post between me and @SilverPaw

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Loria was minding her own business during the mostly silent trek, which was only occasionally interrupted by glances in her direction and what she assumed was some senseless gossip about her, when she was approached and greeted by one of the Rangers. Surprised, she looked him over, but other than the fact that he was a tall thin male, she couldn’t determine any other of his features, cloaked and hooded as he was.

“Well met, Renin,” she had been aiming for polite, but thought it might have come across as too formal, so continued a bit more casually “I’m Loria. Did you volunteer too?”

Loria's demeanor was measured, with none of the aggression or rough tones one might expect from a convict. Perhaps she hadn't even done anything particularly violent to get locked away, though it was hard for Renin to imagine what that might be. The other rangers gave him a bit of distance as he stepped alongside Loria to speak with her, and some of their mutterings were now about him as well. He hardly cared--after today, it was entirely possible that he would never see any of them again.

"That I did, though I confess it was not out of any sense of duty or sacrifice. In truth, it is my wish to leave this world. I would ask if your reasons are the same, but.... the question seems rhetorical. I'd rather know: Why do you think the Keepers have selected you for the mission? I apologize if I seem direct, but given where we'll be going and what we'll be doing together, we'll need to become quite highly acquainted, I think."

Curious about the strange Ranger – though they were now technically acquaintances, Loria reminded herself – being so polite, if inquisitive, she chose to answer in kind. “I do want to leave, yes. As for the selection,” she gave a small shrug “They just accepted when I volunteered. I doubt there are many who want to leave the safety of the mountain communities.”

After a brief pause, Loria gave the male a small but polite smile and added slightly sarcastically “I also like to think I ingratiated myself enough to the community where they no longer suspect me of intending foul play.” Loria hoped she hadn’t revealed too much about herself, but then again if Renin hadn’t been intimidated by her being a prisoner, he probably didn’t care that much for her crime.

The line about ingratiating herself was interesting. Did prisoners go out to perform supervised community service in Jul'ritarzi? Renin did not live in this region of the mountains himself, and he was not sure if this practice existed even in his home range.... he'd spent too much time outside its walls to fully familiarize himself with its customs.

"To walk the Path of the Void is a great honor.... You must have been a model prisoner indeed," Renin replied, matching her sarcasm in turn. While it could be considered a great honor to go off into the stars, just as often, it was actually a discreet to way to rid society of its undesirables, as he and Loria themselves demonstrated. If one managed to actually return, that was a different story. "I trust you. I imagine we will have little cause to betray each other once we're in space, given that any one of us may hold the lives of the others in his or her hands, at one time or another. That, and if there is foul play, well. On a voidcraft, there is nowhere to run afterwards."

Once again Renin's tone was not threatening, simply blunt.

"Any body able and willing is a boon to such an undertaking, but I would imagine you have some set of skills or another that will be of use to the mission?"

Loria smirked at Renin's sarcasm and although bemused when he professed his supposed trust in her and warned her in the same breath, the way he worded the warning started a chuckle out of her. "Nowhere to run, that's for sure," she smiled wryly. "But I agree - I think we'll get along."

Loria had a feeling that his last question had most likely been Renin's true purpose in talking to her. But that was only understandable. The mission depended on the capabilities of the involved people. "I can combat fairly well, though probably not as much as a Ranger," she indicated him. "I also have some basic knowledge in other skills. Foraging, cooking, repairing...Those might come in handy." She gave him a brief look. "And while we're on this topic, why don't you share some of your experiences?"

"You can operate and aim a rifle, then? Good, though with any luck, we'll have no need for that particular skillset. But if we do, it'll be nice to have someone who can do it besides just myself. Cooking will be most important to have when we're out there eating freeze-dried rations three times a day.... I imagine our crewmates will get past your history right quick if you can break up that monotony for them," Renin said. The faint smile was probably not visible, but it came through in his voice all the same.

"As for me, well, as you've already alluded. If we need something dead, I'll shoot it. We're not primarily a combat expedition, though. I hope to use our weapons for hunting if we can find edible fauna, and nothing more. If we encounters any serious threats, retreat should be the first course of action, and confrontation the last. In that respect, the void will be the same as the wastes. I've returned from them as many times as I have because I have these," he said, gesturing to his long legs. "More so than because of my prowess with a weapon."

"A rifle...Maybe not so much that," she showed him the knife and dagger she carried. "But you're right. We have to worry about finding a hospitable planet first and foremost." Loria nodded politely at the rest of what Renin said. She was glad that there would be at least one crewmate who didn't care about her history, but she wasn't about to admit to Renin that she enjoyed his company anymore than she already had. "I can see how being a swift runner is an advantage in your line of work," she commented but also thought that was one of those things good to keep in mind.

"Close quarters, eh?"

Renin imagined prison had its fair share of scrapes and brawls.

"That's good, we'll complement each other then."

The ranger had little else to say, having already spoken more to Loria in this brief exchange than he had to anyone else combined so far today. Though he would not say that he trusted her already, his intuition told him that he had met a kindred spirit, and he did trust his intuition. A couple of other rangers branched off from their group to look for the biologist while they continued the trek to the mountain's summit, heading for the Hall of the Void, where Renin presumed they would meet their other crewmembers and perhaps even the voidcraft itself (he did not know where it was kept or where it would launch from).

Around them, the townspeople of the Jul'ritarzi settlement went about their business, heedless of the group. Just a few rangers transporting a prisoner for some reason or another, likely to trial, best as the average man would guess--if he even bothered to spare the group a glance. Most didn't, having some craft or task to focus on instead. Renin spied more than one junkshop where greased men in overalls and masks tinkered with scrap hauled in from the waste, but few foodstalls or taverns. In his home community, the last saloon had been boarded up years ago, the food supply simply having grown too tight for such luxuries. It seemed that Jul'ritarzi was no different. At a couple of street corners, haggard figures begged, looking malnourished and too-thin. Renin tossed a piece of dried fruit to one of them as he passed, assuming he had no further need for it himself.

Even if they found somewhere new to settle, what would be left when they came back?

The sun - almost as if it was twice in the large in the wastes - rose over the pilgrims and started to dip into its descent. The various caravans making their way to the Jul'ritarzi Mountains were largely left to their own devices: bar a potential skirmish or two, the wastemen did little more but follow; it gave them the likeness of crude scavengers, waiting for a share yet too uncertain to attack themselves. It may come without surprise: only two parties this large have ever ventured beyond the mountains in their joint history, and now 4 parties were making the journey. A rare opportunity, but one too dangerous for many of the wastemen to take up.

The rangers at the gates were seemingly expecting the parties. The bridge across the two cliffs was lowered after only brief conversation, granting the caravans passage to the safety of their hold. It was certainly true what they said about the mountains: of all the hermit holds, the reaches of Jul'ritarzi was the most inhospitable, cruel and sheer cliffs and drops mostly traversed by rope ladders and gondola lifts. Many of the folk went about their business, some depraved and some starving, scrambling for their right to live against the odds. Yet, towards the summit, life just seemed to... disappear.

As the parties approached the summit, on route to the Hall of the Void, they were stopped a second time. This time many would be searched and scrutinized by watchmen, measures of security previously unheard of. Those who weren't blatantly necessary to the conclave were sent away, largely leaving the keepers, hands, and the would-be voidsmen. Yet, after time seemed to drag on, they were eventually let through.

The doors were opened for the envoys by watchmen as they arrived, where they would be sealed shut behind them. The lobby was largely barren, only a few passing souls moving onto greater things. Yet, as the second set of doors to the conference room opened, menace grew thick on the air. Torches lined the walls and tablefronts of the meeting room, casting dim light across the otherwise entirely black room; it lacked windows in its entirety, relying purely on torchlight. The tables and desks are arranged in a long and sharp-edged U, with three large chairs set at the end for the executives of the conclave. The roof is adorned with a great exhibit of sorts: a depiction of the major constellations, the stars marked by small grooves where vague cracks of sunlight peered through, not even making it as far as the floor.

A watchman would soon direct the party members to their locations. Keepers are to take seats on either side and the voidsmen are to take position in the center, behind a set of backpacks. The keepers heeded no direction: instead, they formed around the outside of the room, as if an honor guard of sorts. In the center of the room, the voidsmens objective seemed evident: sets of three backpacks were laid out in a row - some of the common variety, some more fit for stories of the void. Some were small rucksacks, some were almost as tall as a man. A set was laid out for every voidsman: seemingly, their mark.

"The meeting will begin shortly," a watchman duly informed, "please take your places."

After talking to Renin, the rest of the journey to Jul’ritarzi was of quiet contemplation. Loria didn’t mind; the chat she had had with the Ranger was more socialization sooner than she had expected and much pleasanter considering her status as a prisoner. It’s technically former prisoner, now, she smirked at the thought. Loria settled as comfortably in the caravan as she could, watching the Wastelands pass by absent-mindedly. The dreary, desolate land was enough to depress anyone. She had known it before but the long stretches of dead or dying planet awakened the sense of importance for their mission like nothing before.

The sun was steadily climbing higher and even being inactive and in the shades of her caravan, Loria still started to sweat uncomfortably. The mountains never got so bad and even working outside for hours on end wasn’t often that harsh, she knew from experience. As she wiped the accumulated sweat from her brow, she saw that the others weren’t faring that much better. Really, who’d want to live in the Wastes? She almost snorted at the humorous irony in that – living in the Wastes was obviously something that was more manageable than going into the Void. However, she was somewhat curious what exactly it was about the Void that drove people mad. It couldn’t just be the hopelessness and relative solitude…could it?

She shifted uneasily and focused her mind on something else. Thankfully, ignoring something she had no idea about wasn’t such a hardship. So what if I’ll have to face the unknown with a bunch of strangers? she thought sullenly. Well, there’s Renin at least. Loria sighed softly. She knew better than to rely on and trust someone she’d just met, but…Well. Better be careful, she warned herself. Her ex-cellmate, Ram, was proof enough how likely otherwise inconceivable friendships became in certain situations. She had had her own share of unpleasantness with or because of that woman, but Loria considered that a part of human nature. What a laugh that rascal would have if she thought I missed her, Loria shook her head, amused at the turn of her thoughts.

It was finally getting well into the afternoon when Loria became drowsy. She blamed the rhythmic sounds and caravan movements, but closed her eyes to take a nap. Time enough, she reasoned before her consciousness slowly drifted away into sleep.

“Loria,” she heard a faint call. She opened her eyes but it was already too dark to see clearly. Even so, she tried to follow the voice she had heard. But it was now eerily quiet. As she walked she realized she was in a house, rather lavishly decorated. Home? she furrowed her brow in confusion. She proceeded through an intricate labyrinth of halls, rooms and stairways and after what simultaneously felt like an eternity and as if only an instant passed, an undiscernible figure appeared in front of her.

“Loria,” the voice was clearer, sharper, and she almost gasped as she recognized it. Suddenly, she saw him just as well as she had heard him. “Avenall,” she whispered, not knowing what else to do. “Wh-why?” he asked her plaintively, as he clutched at a terribly bleeding wound in his abdomen. “I…I o-only…wa-nt…”he said quietly but with determination, slowly removing his hand. Loria watched horrified as his incision grew, spreading as if someone cut him open for dissection. He looked remarkably like one of those cadavers that doctors-to-be practiced on, but even so he took a step forward, staring at her without regard for the state of his body “wh-what…was…right,” he finished, now in front of her. Loria tried to step back, but couldn’t, as if trapped. He reached for her, gently petting her head. “Murderer,” he crooned softly.

Loria woke up with a sharp inhale of breath, her body tense and heart beating fast, as if ready for a fight. She looked around with little movement; thankfully no-one seemed to pay her any attention. With a glance she determined the sun’s position and guessed they would arrive to Jul’ritarzi in approximately two hours. Small mercies, she thought irritated. She began an exercise of breathing deeply and concentrating on each inhale, exhale, inhale…Why do I have to be haunted by that Seroux bastard when he’s not even dead, she exhaled harshly as bitterness overcame her. Inhale…One, two, three…Exhale. Loria didn’t remember where she had learned that breathing trick, but it was surprisingly helpful if one was patient enough. With two hours’ time and a determination not to get off on the wrong foot with the rest of her crewmates, she was eventually able to calm down.

Noncaring for her troubles, the sun set at its pace. Their party arrived at Jul’ritarzi soon after the dark began overtaking the east of the planet. The stragglers were shooed away, only the vital people being let through the second set of gates after a thorough search. After that they were led to the Hall of the Void. It was certainly…Impressive. Scenic, in a way, Loria considered as she admired the ceiling. As the various people went to their places, so did Loria step closer to one of the sets of backpacks. There she waited for what would apparently be some sort of meeting.