Mahz been on vacation for half a year, I wonder if he'll come back from his Mahzquest - youtube.com/watch?v=ygI-2F8… - where could be Mahz be now? Find out next time on Mahzquest.
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6 yrs ago
All I ask is that people communicate these things.
Wow! So many humans. All eight of them in fact were here in the Digital world, so it meant he at least got the summoning them here part right. His ears twitched though, had they not read the email? They should have known why they were here already. Why did they look so worried and scared? They woke up in their homes. Dorumon contemplate these things before listening to all the kids speak to him. Given him their names. One human Seven overstepped his boundaries though and began to try and lift him up. It sent a shiver down Dorumon’s spine and so when Seven’s gripped loosened, and Dorumon able to slip away, Dorumon slapped Seven lightly with his tail before walking more in the center.
“It’s come to my attention that you’re all scared of this place,” Dorumon says, his tail droops sadly, “I didn’t want to make anyone worried. I sent the email too. I figured you’d be happy in your homes. The Digiworld is a beautiful wonderful place.”
Dorumon looks sadly at the floor, “But right now someone bad is threatening it.”
His ears perk up and he looks back at the group.
“I’m a Digimon, we Digimon live here in the Digital world, it was once ruled by Yggdrasil,” Dorumon raises his hands, “He’s a big big tree. That gave the Digimon and the Digiworld life. Yggdrasil was the King of all Digimon. But now,” Dorumon looked sad, a tear twinkled a little in Dorumon’s eye, “Now the world’s balance is being threatened. Because Chaos wants to take over, turning a world I loved, one with the brightest sky, to black.”
Dorumon went silent for a second. In fact a minute pass before Dorumon looks back at the Digidestin. He perks right back up.
“But but,” Dorumon flaps his arms slightly, “That’s why I brought you here. I said in the email. You are the Digidestin. And the Digidestin are fated to save the Digiworld from this Chaos. You won’t be doing it alone.” Dorumon happily walks over and presents a set of what look like wrist watch in various different colors on a counter space. One Tristan had already picked up, “These are Digivice they stored the data of your Digimon partner. And they are really excited to meet you. These Digivice connect Digimon and their partner through a link I cannot explain all of the mechanics of how that works. But I hear it’s a magical bond.”
Dorumon gestures silently to the Digivices, he’d allow the devices to call to their owner. He begins to walk away from the counter.
“The Digivice allows your partner and you to grow stronger, but to do so you need,” Dorumon looks at them, “Crest. Each one of you has a Crest inside of you. And in this world the Crest inside of you manifest into a physical obtainable card, that makes you and your partner even stronger. When you leave this area, your task is take your partner, find the Crest. Get stronger and defeat the Chaos to revive Yggdrasil.”
Dorumon looks at them with excitement and enthusiasm. His tail twitches side to side.
“You can decline, I know the task ahead is large, and there will be many things needed of you,” Dorumon says, “But the Digiworld needs you. The Digimon are counting on you. I’m counting on you. Because I don’t have the strength or the power to do it alone. I need the Digidestin. I need those that are fated to save the world. I believe in you! You should believe in yourselves too!!”
Species: Half Elf, Idris is the son of Elfreda and Arvid Beorhtric. Elfreda being of the Great Woods of the Aeflstan, belonging a subspecies of Deep Forest Elves. Not be mistaken by the Wood elves who live in the lighter parts of the forest near the meadows and prairies.
Forest Elves were said to be the deepest knowledged of all species, they said they carried and beheld the knowledge of keeping the forest tame that which man could not. Elfreda was widely held by her people with regard for her beauty and her strength and sheer will. But Idris is not a Deep Forest Elf nor is his a Human. He is the byproduct of intermingling of species.
All the knowledge, skill of a Deep Forest Elf, is not blessed upon him. In fact he may not have received much gifts from his Elven ancestry despite being literally half and half of both species. As ordinary as he is Idris still has some gifts from his elven ancestry. That being magic is more quickly bestowed on him, he learns quickly and understands spells because magic does not simple flow from him, but sings to him in a way that it does not to others. He can sense or detect magic with great perception before others, practically tasting the way it hangs in the air. Otherwise, everything else he has obtained is butterfly shaped ears, and bestowed with some of his mothers unearthly beauty.
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A sprightly blonde comes out from hiding in bushes, leaves scattered in his platinum blond strands as he brushes his bangs out of his eyes to share the world blue irises with purplish hue. He smiles and happily dust his clothes off, a pair of riding breeches, with riding boots, a pleated leather shirt dyed purple, paired with a linen multi colored vest with a hood. Shaking out the rest of the leaves of his hair, shows off his butterfly shaped ears hidden by his well maintained,and stylish undercut. A leather belt with a family crest you’ve never seen before as a belt buckle, he waves his hands in front of your eyes to get your attention, him wearing two different gold ring bracelets.
He smiles as you acknowledging him. Upclose he’s not very tall, he stands at 5’5”, 165 cms, yet he already carries a grace and elegance about himself that is very different from that of a human. His long an elegant eyelashes bring him a boyish and youthful charm, He’s prettier than any human boy you would know, but he carries it well with a slender, pensive diamond shaped face he is still firm with his expressions. There is a balance between the beauty and the masculinity of his face that makes him seem like that of noble blood.
Despite his short stature, he is quite thin and wiry. If you had to guess any sense of weight the young man would most likely be on the light side. If you had to take a guess it would be roughly around 115lbs, 52kg. Still the boy gestures at you expressively with his hands.
“I don’t understand, can you talk?” you ask the boy.
The boy huffs expressively, placing his hands on his hips. He blows out a bit of air which makes one of his bangs go up in the air for a second. He points to his ears and slides his finger to his mouth. Nods his head happily, then goes back to smiling, grabbing you by the hand pointing to a store shop. He begins to eagerly guide you, with a slight skip to his step. Airy, but elegant, with light steps. As if walking were more like dancing, fluid, he didn’t like a peasant. But you weren’t so sure about the boy who wouldn’t speak, but simply drag you along to his own beat.
When and if Idris speaks, it’s slow, and sounds like he’s trying to feel out the words on his lips to make sure he’s pronouncing them clearly. It doesn’t sound quite like he knows what or how he sounds, but rather tries to feel how it sounds. He doesn’t talk often and prefers to use gestures, and written messages.
Personality Strength
Anyone who knows Idris knows that he is quite expressive, he often gesticulates excitedly, maybe a little too excitedly at times. Especially when he’s enthusiastic about certain things. Idris has always had a wild spirit, perhaps it is the Elven blood inside of him that makes him seek out things with curiosity and trying to have a sense of understanding things around him. It is why the Deep Forest Elves have had such a grave understanding of the magic around them because it’s their curiosity that drives them as it drives Idris.
Those who know Idris know him as a bold go getter, someone who sees something he wants and takes the actions to go after what he dreams. Idris is not someone who simply says he will do something and sits around never getting to it, never procrastinating and always striding towards his goals. With the understanding that not everything is going to happen instantaneously. Thus he is reasonably understanding of that fact and never getting discouraged simply because things didn’t work out the way they should have.
Idris has a very go with the flow attitude, patiently waiting even when things go awry. It’s something his mother taught him that a true noble is one who is patience, understanding, and doesn’t get lash out negatively towards others. Being a noble to Idris was never about showing off his wealth in some arrogant pompous way or lording over his influence. His father and mother always told him that a true noble is one who is kind, understanding, reasonable, and tries to look at other people’s point of view. Thus Idris tries to live with that in mind.
Of course Idris is also still fifteen and still learning what it means for him to be an adult. He’s brave and will stand up for others whenever they are in a pinch. Those who know Idris know they have a long, trusting, friend. Idris is not the type of person to be cold and off standish, in fact he’s the most accepting and tries to let others in as quickly as he meets them. Inviting them to play, go on small scale adventures with him. He always wants someone to feel accepted, so he tries to be the first to be the role model of accepting those who may be a bit different.
Personality Flaws
Idris has high expectations of himself sometimes, not of others, but himself. He can come off as a perfectionist at times, been known to practice a spell over and over and over again well beyond his own tiredness. Idris is concerned or fixated on redeeming himself, believing himself responsible for feeling some sense of guilt and shame that his city fell because he didn’t defend it. Without the realization that he couldn’t have done anything at the time. Routinely beating himself over the head for not being strong enough to defend the city. Even sometimes believing that he has no reason or sense to reclaim it when those he abandoned will merely only see him as a coward.
He’s ashamed that he fled that night, beating himself over repeatedly about how he shouldn’t have left his parents there. Blaming himself for the fall of the city. These are things that are not often seemed by the other orphans. He demands a lot of himself. To repay for his mistakes. To suffer for his mistakes. Which contradicts the otherwise regal calm he generally has.
While it hard to frustrate Idris there are times when he can be frustrated with others. Often in moments of miscommunication when nothing is going through. Though he usually places the blame on himself. Idris is the type of person who will take responsibility for others actions even when they are the ones who should take responsibility for their own actions.
Neutral
It doesn’t take a lot to make Idris happy, he enjoys adventure, as long as you feed his curious appetite, he usually is settled. Idris is often very content as an individual, he doesn’t necessarily have any standout hobbies that would make him a unique individual to others. Though he appreciates when someone tries to communicate with him and tries to make communication easier. He dislikes those who say something about his race or only point out that he is simply a deaf kid. He’s more than those things and is always determined to show others that he is not simply the mutt deaf.
Skills:
Lip Reading -
While Idris can read other people’s lips, it’s not as accurate as you would think. People mumble, they laugh, they cover their face. And it is difficult to for him to always discern what someone is saying by lip reading. Simply put don’t rely on too much, but he can do so if necessary.
Signing -
Most of Idris communication comes in either gestures he has made up to create his own shorthand of language. It may not make a complete sentence that would make sense to you and I, but the message comes across with his animations and facial expressions. He also knows how to spell the alphabet, if he’s in a more complex conversation with someone he may choose to sign the letters to reply.
Nobility Knowledge -
Unlike someone else, he was taught to remember the names of all the important family houses. Who their leaders were and who their heirs were. He could probably recognize a house emblem and know exactly what house emblem it is from. He can also probably tell you the past history of some houses. Arvid his father always dream of having The Oaken Fort being claimed as one of the great cities, demanded his heirs know this information.
Rune Reading -
Rune magic and rune reading is different, but of the same vein. You need to understand Rune language before you go crafting your own Runic spells. The Deep Forest Elves often used Runic Language as their way of writing spells, or their books. Their language conveyed in universal words that conveyed many things at once the Elvish word Hwesta could mean a breeze or to breathe. This simplistic nature of the Elvish language with their simple Runic transcribing helped Idris learn this language and to read it better without having to learn another complicated language.
Calligraphy -
To cast Runes you have to understand how to write Runes, through the practice of calligraphy. Writing a Rune is not writing a word the way a man may write a letter. It is understand the symbol, each rune that crafts an idea, it is more like a true linguistic art than it is simply writing a sentence.
Focal Crystal: The Eleven Storm, Alagelda, a purple stone sits in a birch staff, shifting in hues of purple, from light to dark, flashes of amethyst like lighting appear and then fade. *See appearance for crystal
The Elven Eye is a unique staff that was gifted to him by his Elven family. They handed him an empty silver birch staff carved for him by his grandmother and told him to place his magic inside of it and that his magic would guide the function of the staffs duties. The chariote like stone in his staff is one of perception, thus the name of the staff was dawned the Elven Eye. His staff ability is one that perceives many things dependent on the weather as forest Elves are dependent on the seasons.
Ability: The Elven Eye perceives many thing, but what it perceives is determined by the weather.
Sunny - on bright sunny days the Elven Eye can illuminate items that the user wishes or desires for. The item often glints like seeing a piece of metal at a distance, or the eye leads a line towards whatever it is the user desire before fading into nothingness. *Clear Evening - on clear evenings the staff faintly glows a soft light. This soft light illuminates things in the light. You hear a snapping twig the staff illuminates a bunny that is faintly glowing on the other side of the brush.
Overcast - when the sun is hidden behind the clouds, the Elven Eye turns a subtle dark purple. When in this state it can illuminate and even cut through some illusions.
Rain/Fog - the Elven eye faintly glows. It continual blinks at different intervolves, illuminating the right path to take when visibly is unclear. The faster the speed of light the more you have strayed from your path than the constant gentle slow chime of light.
Snow/Hail - When the world is blanketed in white or when ice hails from the sky, and visible is too low to even guide on one a straight path or is too dangerous too. The staff begins to ring, and echo locates the nearest shelter that becomes visible at regular intervals as to not lose your way.
“While the way your world works may be different, allow me to illuminate what you may not be able to perceive on your own. Let thy staff I have crafted for you become the staff that guides you, not changes you, but gives you what you adequately lack”
Love Truly - Gwawr
Aelfgifu “Elf gift” - one of the many reasons it is hard to find the Elven secrets, especially of the Old and Deep Forest is because their magic is one about secrets. Elves do not hide their knowledge, wisdom, advice, and magic out in the open in safe storages. Instead they have another plane, or really an item has another purpose. For example a single key decorated in purple and violet butterflies and vines, is not merely just a key you see. Elves, especially the Deep Forest Elves, hide their items within items. An singular orb, could hide a mountain of knowledge and wisdom that no one would find.
Ability: Idris’ key is not merely a key instead hidden within the key is his spellbook. All he needs to do is unlock his spellbook and his key and his book switch places. The key residing in the keyhole and the book free to be openly used, until the time comes again for them to switch places once again.
Equipment: Idris bag has a piece of string that he uses to attach on the front his key, so it’s in a place that is accessible and reachable. His leather satchel might be slim, but he equips with the necessities
World map, because it seemed Idris was the only person would thought about that before setting off. Inkwell, quill, and parchment. As well as a manuscript to translate ruins for the others. Trail mix, some nuts mixed with dried fruits. And some granola treats.
Magic: Lv 5
Spellbook:
“I have a surprise for you,” Arvid’s deep, ringing voice echoes through the library. Edmond the Mentor scowls at Arvid.
“This is a library Arvid, it is not the outside,” Edmond scoffs.
Arvid just laughs deeply, and walks up to Idris and taps the boy on the shoulder. Idris looks up and Arvid smiles. He hands the boy a leatherbound book, with metal clasp. Arvid’s point to the flowers, they are the House flowers. Idris smiles at Arvid getting up to hug the burly man. A keyhole in the center of the book, Idris stroked it to feel the etchings, Edmond fixes his glasses and looks annoyed that the studies have been interrupted for this.
School of Focus: Runic - a unique form of magic that uses the form of written words as traps, imbued with an effect that goes off when triggered. Generally someone steps on it or is within the 5ft circumference of the rune.
Précis Scrawled on the floor or wall is a glittering Rune. Not all Runes are ones to worry about, some of them can be quite helpful. In this case, Idris can mark walls, doors, floors, with a rune that gives quick summarized information. I.e. “Trap Door Ahead”, “Center Dead End”, “Big Threat Ahead”. To name a few ideas of what he may tell his team, if they are ever separated from one another.
Slick Runes are often simple, they have a singular word that conveys the full effects of a more complex spell. Though often they are triggered by movement, someone stepping on them or passing them, is often the trigger. Slick is no different. When a creature passes the word or command Slick, the rune ruptures and breaks the seal covering the ground in a slick oily slimy substance that covers a 15ft range. This substance is slippery, those who run into the mess leftover find themselves slipping and also struggling to keep their footing.
*Bonus Affect - This is not a feature of the spell, but the way the substance interacts with other substances. When touched by flames, the substances begins to harden and anyone stuck in the slime is stuck in place till they break free from it. When touched by water the substance becomes even slicker, tackier, like walking or wading through glue.
Thorns This affect when either attached to the wall or the floors, when the seal breaks, explodes into plant life. As whipping vines burst from the rune itself. These whipping vines sting with jabbing thorns on their thick branches. They spread about 10ft from the actual rune, and anyone who dares pass them be prepared to get whipped by lashing vines.
Whirlwind This rune sits glittering on the floor. Have you ever wondered what it’s like to fly? Well than take a chance and step on this rune. While most ruins are AoE in someway, this spell tends to directly affect those that are directly on the rune itself. The individual who stands on this spell, has a mini tornado wrap around both their ankles and shoots them across the room, well at least 5ft before they land with a hard thud. Anyone else within the range of this spell is merely knocked onto their feet briefly.
Bend Those who step on this Rune at first won’t notice the effect of this spell. It’s not displayed lavishly like vines, or mini ankle tornado rockets. Instead whenever anyone is in a 3ft range of this spell, or has directly stepped or passed the rune on a wall, they’ll notice any non magical items they are carrying, be it weapons or, be it their armor has warped or bend in some way. Try fighting someone with a wobbly sword, you’ll just end up being a laughing stock.
Misc Battle Info: The way Idris is aware of magic, is due to his heightened ability to feel magic as a Half Elf. Idris is aware in battle because he can feel magic on his skin and he is able to taste magic that lingers in the air. Magic is the gathering of energy and thus just like you can feel the electricity in the air concerning lighting storms, he can feel the hair on his skin stand up when someone is preparing to cast a spell. He can discern the type of magic in the air that lingers through its scent and taste. It’s not like a specific taste he won’t say it tasty fruity, but it has different ways it makes his senses tingle or spark.
Born to a silent world, one without the sounds that the world takes for granted. Arvid and Elfreda did not curse their child for his inability to hear, instead they took the news with stride and did their best to educate and get him prepared for nobility despite his limitations. Elfreda and Arvid never considered to punish their child or treat him poorly merely because he cannot hear. He definitely can and will become a Lord, hearing or not. They always encouraged him and made sure that he would be as noble as his brothers and sister.
A celebration could be heard echoing through the mist of the Oaken Fort. A city surrounded by trees as a bailey and wooden buildings in architecture unheard of in most of the Great Cities. This celebration of course was the celebration of Elfreda and Arvid’s fourth child, Idris. This was a long time coming, a plan created by two families a generation ago. By Tlaloc’s Elfreda’s father, and Grand Elder of the Deep Forest elves and Arnulf father to his heir Arvid. Arvid and Elfreda married in her late adolescents and his early adulthood and many awaited how they would receive each other. Over time it was clear to the elves and the humans that Arvid and Elfreda may have actually fallen in love. The unification of two families had been considered a success when Elfreda birthed their first child Hákon. Soon after a year later, they found themselves with child once again their daughter Blodeuwedd, named by their grandmother Gwawr. Two years after Gruffud was born. And now a year after Idris has come to bless the family further.
Arvid paced in the grand halls of the Grand Oak Keep. The midwife came out and smiled at him.
“It’s a boy,” she tells him softly.
Arvid smiles, “And Elfreda?”
“Healthy,” the woman smiles at him.
Blodeuwedd is coming down the hallway, she walks like she is gliding, elegant, graceful, cat like steps, with a bouquet of white flowers at hand.
“Well,” Blodeuwedd ask with curiosity.
“You have a new brother,” Arvid tells her.
Blodeuwedd sighs, “Could have been at least another girl.”
Arvid laughs and places a hand on his daughter's cheek, her skin supple and soft, “Your mother loves those flowers.”
“Yeah, well I feel it’s a waste now because Grandma was so assured we were going to have another girls, boys don’t like flowers,” Blodeuwedd frowns and looks disappointed.
“We don’t like flowers?” Hákon coming from the north end of the wing, with a smile on his face, he looks the most like their father, except the butterfly shaped ears gives him away, “Well I like flowers, so I can use them to flirt with beautiful girls.”
“That’s not the same thing as liking flowers,” Blodeuwedd replies.
“Theoretically, it is the same thing, girls like flowers because they are pretty, he likes flowers because knowing they are pretty he admires them to admire girls,” Gruffud replies, or really Hákon is carrying him in his arms and maneuvering his mouth. Gruffud displeased with this action tries to bite Hákon finger, but Hákon moves it out of the way quickly.
“Thank you Gryf,” Hákon replies.
Blodeuwedd scoffs.
“You see what I have to put up with,” Blodeuwedd complains to their father.
Arvid gives out a hearty laugh, “I think everything will be okay Bloddy.” Arvid ruffles her a bit, she fixes her hair back into the position she had laid it.
Elfreda held Idris in her arms, though he always seemed like a distracted child, ever since he was born. His eyes would wander and he wouldn’t look at her when she spoke to him. She wondered if he regretted being born to her. She’d never let anyone know that she worried about the future of her children being the way they are. Half elves mingling with humans, the thought irritated some elven purest. Holding the twelve month in her hands she tried to call out again to him.
“Idris,” she said softly, “Please my child.”
He finally looks at her, all though it was a few seconds later, only to look at her with a babies expression of confusion.Elfreda huffed in frustration.
“Why, what have I done?” Elfreda asked Idris, “Why do you hate me?”
Snap!
Elfreda jumped as one of her elven maids Mindra clapped her hands as she entered the room. Elfreda looked at her frustratedly.
“You startled me,” Elfreda told Mindra.
“I’m sorry milady, still no luck with Idris,” Mindra replied.
“He won’t respond to songs, he won’t respond to his name, he won’t respond to me, and Gruffud already talking,” Elfreda sounds tired and exasperated.
“Have you considered he cannot hear, milady?” Mindra asked.
Elfreda took a second. It’s like someone had shown her the way with fairy light. Suddenly things began to click into her head. Why hadn’t she noticed it till now? She got up quickly and Mindra looked at her, Elfreda looks back.
“He didn’t jump when you clapped,” Elfreda responds.
Mindra simply nods her head.
“I must speak with Arvid,” Elfreda says as hurriedly.
“He’s in a meeting milady,” Mindra said.
She didn’t care, handing Idris over to Mindra, who smiled at the child and made silly faces. Idris begins to laugh the more expressive Mindra’s faces were. She should have seen it, how had she not. Quickly rushing out of the room, she soared down the hallway, her green dress following her, until she pushed back the wood doors of the keep, into the counsel room. Where Arvid stood talking to a few lords, ladies,of the lands.
“Lady Elfreda,” they greeted her, though they looked as surprised as Arvid did. Elfreda moved past them all.
“Elfreda, my white blossom, what is it that you need?” Arvid asked greeting her by kissing her hand.
She wasn’t necessarily thinking in this moment, as she blurted out, “He can’t hear.” Noticing watchful eyes she covered her mouth and grabbed Arvid’s hands, “Forgive me Lords and Ladies, I’m stealing him away as we have a touch of a family emergency.”
She drags Arvid off, well leads him out into the hall. Arvid looks at her, his concern for his children great, but his dedication to tending to the matters of the land also great. Arvid looks at her with a soft, but stern expression.
Arvid takes a second. There’s a bit of silence. He looks shocked and then the realization in his face begins to turn. Arvid takes a second.
“It makes sense,” Arvid began to sputter, “I...I hadn’t thought of….I hadn’t considered it. Are we poor parents for not figuring it out? How do we confirm this? Any elven doctors we can speak to?”
“I can get the Shaman Elder to confirm for us,” Elfreda told him, she places a hand on his cheek, “But this does not make you a terrible father. You realize and you’re seeking to assist as quickly as you can. That’s a sign of a good father. Now go back in there to assure our children’s land claims.”
Elfreda smiles and kisses his fingers slightly. Arvid nods kissing her forehead.
“We’ll have a meeting family afterwards,” Arvid tells her before walking back into the counsel room. Now all that was left to do is contact the Shaman Elder.
**
“If Idris can’t hear, can we explain why Gruffud has terrible manners?” Blodeuwedd ask at the dinner table, watching Gruffud decide his fork was too difficult of a task and began to use his hands to eat tonights roast stew.
“Fork,” Elfreda barked at Gruffud, one of the maids placed his fork back in his hand.
“Bloody,” Gruffud hands her the fork.
“I don’t want it, and it’s Blodeuwedd, if you’re going to give me a nickname, it should be one more suitable,” Blodeuwedd scoffs.
“So, if Idris can’t hear, are we not going to get in trouble if we call him a bad name?” Hákon ask curiously.
Arvid gives Hákon a look, “Even if he can’t hear it's still rude and we don’t call our siblings bad names. Instead you’ll get ten times a harsher punishment.”
“Bummer,” Hákon responds.
A hand is placed on the book he’s reading, the glittering runes are slightly etched onto the book, which are nice to the touch. He looks up to Blodeuwedd. She’s talking, he’s watching her lips move faster than a horse drawn carriage. She huffs and he only catches a, -that’s right from her lips-. She points to herself -me-, and then points to him -you-, she points outside to the window -want to go to town?-. Idris stares at the stuffy book he’s been made to read by his Grandmother Gwawr. She’s says things like he has a very special kind of magic she can feel, except that his sister likes to point out she also thought he was a girl. Which Grandmother pointed out he has a distinct feminine energy. He’s not even sure what any of that means.
He also points to the window -To town- drawing a question mark in the air.
Blodeuwedd nods.
He places his hands on the book and huffs, he looks at her. A mild look of an annoyance, a bit of expressive hesitate, looking at her. He looks back to the window, he wants to go, and then he stares at the book he’ll get in trouble.
Blodeuwedd raises her hand in the air and looks like she’s screaming from frustration. Before grabbing his arms and dragging him lightly out of the chair. She points to him sternly -You!- she begins to cradle her arms like a baby -baby-. She points to herself -me- and then looks at the headboard of rules set for them during their instructions. -You’re my baby brother, you listen to my rules-
Idris shakes his head, blonde hair getting into his eyes and he has to brush his bangs back. He couldn’t go. He had to read this chapter. He puts his hands together in praying form -please- and he shakes his head.
Blodeuwedd huffs. Throwing her hands up in the air, she gives up. Storming off. Shaking the bookshelves as she did so. Why wasn’t she studying? Was she shirking her studies, again? She always thinks because she gets it faster that she doesn’t need to study these things. Sitting back down he stares towards the window. Be nice, to figure out where she planned to take him. She seemed really upset with him not going, she also may be trying to get him in trouble though,
Edmond the teacher, he’s the one who gives him lessons. He’s some really funny looking older elf, with white wispy hair, and glasses he wears on the bridge of his crooked nose. If he had disappeared Edmond might have reported back to his grandmother and grandfather. His education wasn’t just handled by his parents, but through them as well. And grandma is scary.
Edmond looks at him. Idris sinks into his chair a bit. Did he notice he moved only a slight inch? Best not give it away that Blodeuwedd tried to take him to town.
Edmond taps to the book, he runs his finger along the chapter he’s reading. Oh he hasn’t changed a page since Edmond left.
Idris looks at Edmond and shakes his head. He places his finger on the paragraph he’s at. Edmond raises a wispy brow. He dismisses him with a hand gesture, sits down and watches. He makes reading very nervous.
Running his fingers along the embossing of the runes, it isn’t necessarily like reading, it isn’t necessarily not like reading either. It conveys a thought rather than it conveys words. To adjust the practice of a rune, one must understand that a singular word conveys the secrets of language. Edmond’s still watching. Maybe he could convince his mother to go to town.
The lights are flickering there are people dancing, though he can’t hear the music, he can feel perhaps the mood. It isn’t just his family around the table, they are outside, and when you look up the tree canopy you can see the faint glittering of stars. Grandpa Tlaloc and Grandma Gwawr is here, though only the nobility seems to be deliberating giving them all dark glares. Idris tries to ignore it, as his father prepared the celebration of his birth with the people of The Oaken Fort. A big community where all caste have come together, though the Family Houses seem to be staring at the elves and peasantry like nobodies or if they are mud on their clothes.
One of the nobles grabs his father’s arm. Arvid smiles. They begin to talk, Idris tries to figure out what they are talking about, though he can’t quite figure it out as the Lord of House Briar is purposely speaking in a whisper so others cannot hear.
Idris moves along, Hákon dancing with a fair girl in town. She seems smitten with him, as do all the other girls. As Hákon moves around the dance floor, he catches Idris eye and puts up a finger for the girl to give him a second. Hákon laughs as he jogs up to Idris with a smile and still slightly dancing, grabbing him, dragging him towards the dance floor. From there Hákon explains to several girls, that he’s his baby brother. He does a cradle motion than points between the both of them as if to make the comparison. He points to his ears, telling them he can’t hear. Hákon smiles at Idris. Though all the girls look up at him with vague intrigue. They seem curious, they have questions. Idris smiles at them and waves.
They look delighted as they run over to him. They are smiling. Some hug him. They look to Hákon, how do they speak to him?
He again waves. Lifting his hand up, H-I. He points to his eye -I am-. I-D-R-I-S. He points to the girl closest to him. -You?- he draws a question mark in the air.
The girls cheers and looks delighted. Idris huffs and looks at Hákon, placing a hand on his hip and scowling. She looks at Hakon, he has to focus to read “Is something wrong?” Hákon waves his hand dismissively -it’s nothing-. He then takes her by the hand again to dance.
Idris allows them to bounce around and do loopy loops together, while he continues to walk around. Gruffud seems to be avoiding the festivities. Idris walks up to him and waves with a big smile. Pointing to the festival and pointing to himself, he then hugs himself tightly. -This big celebration for me, I feel loved-
Gruffud smiles. He moves from brooding by himself to hugging Idris tightly and ruffling his hair the way their father does. Gruffud let’s go and places a hand on his chest and then places the same hand that touched his chest to Idris. -And I love you deeply-
Idris jumps up excitedly and smiles, he tries to drag Gruffud to celebrate. Gruffud shakes his head no. I-T he points to the celebration and expands his hands out. He does an explosion expression around his head and then looks exhausted. -The celebration is too much and makes me exhausted-
Idris nods. He smiles. He points to the sky -Tonight- and points to the celebration. He points between the two of them. -Tonight me and you will celebrate together- he loops his fingers together with a smile. Gruffud smiles excitedly and nods. Gruffud points to his eye. He forms his hands in a box. -I have a gift for you-
Idris looks very excited and grabs Gruffud hands, he smiles happily. Gruffud shakes his head and then gestures for him to have fun. Idris nods and runs off excitedly. His grandmother and grandfather had gifts for him as well. He wondered where Blodeuwedd could be. He should see what she’s up to. Skipping down the wooden architecture of his town, it inspired journeys and the forest called him. There was always a tingling sensation from the trees. Grandmother Gwawr said the forest is alive and that’s how the Elves survive it. Not paying attention where he was going he bumps into someone. It’s Cedric Briar, son of Lord Hendell Briar.
He’s shouting at him. Idris frowns. He points to his ear and slides it to his mouth. He cannot make out anything he’s shouting at. He points to a spot of dirt on his rather nice coat, it must have come from one of the Great Cities. Idris looks shocked. He bows as an apology as he takes out a handkerchief. He uses a gesture to tell Cedric its to wipe his coat. He hands him the handkerchief.
Cedric knocks the handkerchief out of his hand. He looks mad. Idris takes a step back. He points to eye. S-O-R Cedric grabs his hands. He’s saying something to him. Idris watches his lips, T-A-L….”Talk.” He tries to take his hands out of Cedrics. He talks with his hands. Cedric looks upset at him. “I- can’t,” Idris manages to sound the words on his lips, is that right?
Idris tries to pull himself away, now he’s just scared and doesn’t like this person. His eyes are watering. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Cedric, but the situation is starting to sour quickly. Just as he’s about to cry out for help Cedric is distracted by something behind him. Cedric turns around and a fist is shot at his face. Cedric doubles back letting go of his hands. They are grabbed once again and he’s being dragged off down the street into an alleyway. A kid with dark, black, scraggly hair looks over the alleyway and smiles. He looks at his knuckles.
He’s begins talking. When Idris doesn’t respond, he looks perplexed. Idris points to his ear and drags it down to his mouth. He shrugs, takes out a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket and grabs a stick. He lies it on the side of the wall and writes. Handing him a note: Valentino. And I think I am going to get banished or exiled. How cool would that be?
Idris shakes his head. He points to his eye. P-R-O-T-E-C-T and points to Valentino. -I will protect you-
Valentino gives a thumb up.
The two twelve year old boys sat at the bridge’s edge looking at water winding through the city. Legs dangling through the cutouts. Valentino’s hair had gotten longer and it currently was matted in sweat. He smelled of manure from working the stables at the Briar’s, dirt crusted his face, yet he swung his legs happily. Staring at a purple, smooth stone, that glimmered. He takes a second to scribble something down and passes the paper along to Idris.
Idris smiles. Handing it back after he’s finished with his response.
Valentino takes the note. He laughs, his face crinkles when he does so, showing off his dimples. Nods his head.
Idris takes the message and laughs. He covers his mouth real quick. He makes a galloping gesture with his hands and nods. -I can see it-
Valentino takes the reply, though he seems upset by something or sad. He puts the quill to his chin in thinking position and begins to scribble something down with deep concentration. Idris wonders what that could be.
Idris takes the message and looks surprised. He blinks. Me? I did that? He begins to reply quickly.
Valentino nods and Idris leans in to hug Valentino. Valentino squeezes tightly.
A note is passed along as he’s studying one of his magic books. For his thirteenth birthday he received a staff from his grandmother that is meant to be imbued by a Gem Crafter. He wonders if that is what Valentino is talking about. Idris scrunches up his face and shakes his head.
Scribbling down a response he harshly slides it past to Valentino.
He does not like Valentino implying that he simply gets these things for free. Valentino reads it and sighs, he shakes his head as well and begins to write.
This is distracting him from his studies. His next test decides whether or not he actually has earned his staff and if he can get on with more advance lessons of magic with his sister Blodeuwedd. He makes sure Edmond isn’t around before replying.
Valentino snatches the response up and stares at the message. He gives off a smirk, and licks his lips. He’s wearing an impish smirk as he begins to write. Valentino slaps the response onto the table, which makes the table vibrate, with a huge grin on his face.
Idris is quick to reply.
Valentino reads the reply and stands up from his chair. He begins to flap his arms around like a chicken, even bobbing his head side to side like a chicken. He isn’t a chicken.
Idris stands up and waves his hands in Valentino’s face. Gesturing for him to stop. Valentino looks at Idris with a big grin. Waiting for a reply.
Idris huffs and sighs. He shrugs his shoulders. -Fine, okay, you win- Valentino raises his hands up in the air and begins to cheer. Idris is watching him punch the air excitedly.
Valentino points me and you. He does writing. -We need a plan-
**
Late that evening his mother enters his room. She has her hands behind her back and she’s wearing a disappointed look on her face. Had he not done his homework right? She throws a piece of paper on his bed and gestures towards it. She wants him to explain. He quickly snatches it up;
-Meetup at Town Square tomorrow afternoon, late you are a coward -Swap clothes
The list carries on.
His mother W-H-A-T, she points to her head and points to him very sternly. -What were you thinking- He looks at her and he tries to start to explain. He doesn’t know how to explain. He just doesn’t want Valentino to say he is a coward or that he is lucky. He grabs a piece of paper to quickly write down, Hands it to her and looks at her with an exaggerated frustrated look.
She carefully reads it. She puts down the note and looks at him with consideration. She points harshly at him -You- A-R-E V-E-R-Y- she makes a motion with her hands that looks like she is doing an action. -You are very hard working- Idris huffs and scowls. She’s just saying that, isn’t she? Because she’s his mother.
She shakes her head. She points to the both of them at the same time -We-. H-A-V-E V-E-R-Y she takes a second and words “Jobs” slowly to him. She grabs his note and points to Valentino. -We have a very different job than Valentino-
Still he frowns and looks down to the ground. Valentino doesn’t see it that way. He’ll still think he’s a coward. A coward who backs out on his word. Idris places his fist on his chest, forgive him. His mother looks at him sadly and picks his head up.
She points to him and her. -We- W-I-L-L she gestures with her hands from her mouth and drops it low -Speak- T-O she points to Valentino’s name again and puts her fingers together. -We will speak to Valentino together-
He picks his head up. Really? He points to his eye. W-O-R-K he makes a shoveling gesture. -I can work the stables-
She frowns for a second. She points to him and her She makes a gesture, hands over her brow like she’s looking around. -We will see-
He nods excitedly. If his mother comes along than Valentino cannot call him a coward and he has to do what his mother says.
At first the job was hard, mom and dad had always made sure him and his siblings found at least one chore in the Grand Oak Keep to do with the help. What made the job hard was not understanding Lady and Lord Briar despite them being talked to prior. His mother worded it as advance learning. Except Lord Cypris Briar insisted he speak, that was the hard part. Not being able to use his hands. It was frustrating if he was allowed to speak the way he was use to he could be a lot more useful. It got easier over the course of a few weeks, but he was glad Valentino and his days were going to go back to normal. He missed his siblings and his mother. Polishing silverware in the living room for the final celebration between his family and Briars as peace offering between the houses after he stayed in their service for a month.
Cedric walks in, though Idris has learned since living here Cedric is not the apple of Cyrpus’ eye much either. He prefers his daughters Silva and Dahlia. He has seen the arguments, though not heard them. Cedric is already yelling something at him. Then knocks on his head like his head is a door. This part he would not miss being treated like he lacks intelligence. Idris scowls.
“Helllllloooooo” Cedric’s lips sound out. How Idris wanted to hit him right now. While he might be Cyrpus’ favorite, he probably wouldn’t take kind to Idris hitting his son.
“Ca-nn I h-h-elp you?” Idris feels the syllables on his lips, they feel funny even still. He doesn’t know if he’s making the right words, but Cedric laughs. He doesn’t know if he makes him talk on purpose. He’s making fun of him. Idris sinks his head low a little. He promised he wouldn’t cry in front of Cedric, yet it hurts his feelings.
He pushes Cedric back only to run away. It’s the one thing he hates about this job. He never looks forward to dealing with Cedric. He doesn’t know how to do so. Fighting back tears he runs into the only room he has found solace in this house, and it is a damned library. He hesitates as he sees Lord Briar reading a book. Cedric and Lord Cyprus don’t actually look very alike. Cedric got an ugly, bumpy nose, and his features are more rounded and he’s slightly average. Lord Cyprus looks elven, though he doesn’t have the ears like him or his siblings, they look like humans, yet his facial features are pensive and slim. Cyrpus looks him.
“Sss-orry,” his lips try hard to make the S sound he has been so told of.
Cyprus continues to stare at him with sharp violet colored irises. Idris is about to turn and leave when he sees Lord Briar pat a seat next to him. He wants him to sit? Idris hesitates and sits on the cushion next to Lord Briar who is slimmed figured, very slimmed figured.
“I,” Idris begins, but Lord Briar puts up his hand for his silence. Cyprus stands up and rummages in an old desk that doesn’t befit their status. It’s old, beaten up, it’s not polished. Cyprus takes out a piece of paper and walks over with a quill.
He hands him a letter Idris reads it.
At first he doesn’t understand what these words mean. It isn’t that he doesn’t know what they mean, it’s more who they are coming from. He looks at Cyprus with wide eyes, a bit of a shock and tears stain his gaze. Cyprus doesn’t emote anything just hands him his quill and holds the inkwell.
Handing the letter back with shaking hands to Lord Briar, the man nods and carefully reads. He reads a lot longer than it should take, before replying back. Also taking his time. He hadn’t been more impatient in his life to see what Lord Briar meant. Lord Briar doesn’t look at him when he passes along his response.
Idris reads it. Of course he’d forgive him. He said sorry, he seemed genuine despite trying to cover it with a veil of aloofness. Instead of writing a message Idris tried to show him he forgave him in his way by hugging Lord Briar, who instantly tensed up when he did so his whole body went completely rigid. Their family never hugged each other likes this. Lord Briar doesn’t ease up simply pats his head before pushing him off as if even thirty seconds is too much contact.
Itzal the Shadow Hunt’s Messenger, paces across the tree line. Though not in a way that would worry any of his mean. In horned helmets, distinctly elven designs that were shadow, warped, and distorted like horns. Itzal stared upon the Oaken Fort with disgust. He raised a slender ashen hand, with long manicured nails and pretended to grasp it, only to crush it. He turns to the army that lie await in the mist of the forest fog.
“Dad ennas na- mín coth. Hain remmen a gwaur mín agar. Gwaur ha with firen a gwerio i iar gondobar. Sír mín iôl othrondwen in diiâr,” he tells his men, who raise their jagged shaped, curved, elegant, and blacken blades in the air. Silently cheering for the death of the impure blooded. Itzal turns his attention to the town and raises his own blade.
“Ai Eldanor!” he says as trebuchets are released, sailing forward round balls of what look like a mixture of twisted roots, branches, stone, moss, and vines that banned them together. They crashed into the Oaken Fort with a loud explosion sound, the aftershock sent some commoners back into the wall. The ball of wood, branches, and stone began to unfold itself to show arms and legs. They stood as tall as the smallest buildings around 6ft to 7ft tall, with glowing eyes, a magic core inside of them syphoned life through them.
Their feet sent vibrations through the earth as they walked. One of the guards immediately begun to run to the nearest towers, in a hollowed out tree with wooden stairs, he began to grab onto the rope and began to ring the alarm. Ding. Ding. Ding.
**
The family’s sat together eating dinner. It wasn’t quiet, Idris watched as the families exchanged words. He caught words from Cyprus to his father as “enlightening”. His wife, Lady Primrose reminded Idris of a walking pig, she had a button in nose, her hair was always up in a tightly curled bun. She was on the rather bigger side, The only few that exchange words with him were his brothers and siblings, but looks from Primrose and Cyprus meant they didn’t necessarily care for goofing off at the table. Something his parents allowed them. Still things weren’t exactly what he called ideal, yet peaceful. Though that changed as his father and Cyprus both stood up at the same time. They seemed on alert. Idris felt his heart racing, his father seemed worried.
Arvid ran towards the window without a word. What’s going on? Arvid quickly turns and points to his mother, he catches his father’s lips, “take the children.” Their mother gets up quickly and stares at him, and curls her fingers for him to follow. Putting her hands on her lips, she looks to Cyprus. “Escape passage” he says as he walks over to the fireplace. He knew it had a weird energy to it! Cyprus places his hand on the fireplace. It glows blue, the fire inside of it goes out, as the wall splits in half to show a passage. His mother bows.
She grabs his hand especially. His brothers and sister are behind, Cedric, Silva, and Dahlia are also following. Neither of the girls are very pretty. None of them inherited Cyprus looks though Silva is prettier than Dahlia. The passage is closed behind them. What’s going on? He doesn’t have time to ask as his mother is fully sprinting down a passage of stone, will o wisp lights glowing at every step they take. Even if anyone was talking he couldn’t hear them. The stone was blocking it, but he could feel a weird energy. It was palpable. Powerful. Twisted even through the storm. They continued to run. His lungs were going to give and without an explanation.
His mother seemed proper afraid. As they came out from an iron gate, there was the small of firewood burning. The oak in the air. He could taste blood mixed with the smoke of fire. The Oaken Fort is burning. As they ducked out of an alleyway. Bodies lay scattered across the earth. Walls splattered in blood. Idris could feel his heart racing. He felt his body shaking. His mother won’t engage, she won’t tell him anything. She expects them to run. Hákon picks up a sword from one of the guards, who has been ripped into parts. An arm scattered, entrails strewn out. He’s going to vomit.
His hand slips from his mother’s grasp. She looks frightened as they separate. She tries to grab for his hand as he trips on uneven ground. His hands get scuffed up, dirty, he nearly touches the guards dead corpse. The thought alone makes him wretch. Blodeuwedd bends down to grab him. She looks at him, he tries to save face looking away losing dinner. Blodeuwedd I-T W-I-L-L she gives an okay gesture and takes his pink with hers. -It will be okay I pinky promise-
She helps him up.
He holds onto her hand. His mother hand is extended out waiting for him to reach her. When he stops, she turns around quickly. Blonde hair whipping in the air like the flames flickering. A large wolf, with sharp canines comes running at full speed, at such a speed on all fours it loses its grip taking the sharp corner it does. As it leaps from its back legs, his mother raises her hand, a shield forms and pushes the wolf into the wall in front of her. It merely shakes the damage off as it recovers, wobbling. She points to Blodeuwedd. Blodeuwedd nods and grabs his hand, taking him to the other side into another alleyway. More bodies. More blood. The magic in the air is a nightmare. It keeps filling his head with the images of ancient cities. Stone that glittered in magical light. And blood. Hatred. He could feel clinging onto his skin the way sweat might.
Where is Hákon? Idris turns his attention to him engaged in an individual with blacken armor. That’s it, that’s the source of magic. It’s made of a metal no one has seen before. Not steel, not iron, it’s magical, black sleek, shiny. His helmet is elvish, but it looks funny, it looks twisted, warped. Elvish Deamons. Swords clashing. Sparks flying. The black metal vibrating every time it’s struck. Idris calls out to Hákon as someone in black leather, and two daggers jumps from a burning roof to engage with Hákon, “L-O-O-K!” as he does another man in blacken armor engaged with one of their soldiers, turns his attention to them. The soldier sees an advantage, striking the blacken Elven knights in between the plates of his armor. The Elven Dark Knight grumbles and turns his attention to the soldier, taking his blacken, twisted mace into the soldiers neck. The man’s neck gives way.
The knight is coming this way. Gruffud stands in front of Blodeuwedd to block her. He words “Go.” Blodeuwedd nods, holding onto his hand. Her hands are actually shaking. He tries to keep up with her pace. She’s scared. They are trying to get to the Grand Oak Keep, he can see it sitting on a hill overlooking the town. It too is on fire. There are more men in black armor on the drawbridge, riding those wolves. There’s a blast of magic on the drawbridge as Edmond, and some Elven soldiers tried to defend the Keep. They are intermingling with the human soldiers. Swords clashing. Idris is dragged down into rocks, that squeeze between a sewer system and the town mill. Blodeuwedd opens the grate and has him enter the tunnel.
It’s not what he expects actually. Instead of a dingy sewer, which it is, there’s stone steps leading upwards. Blodeuwedd guides him to those steps. The stone here feels different. It’s cool in here and the chaos of the battle seems way up there. The ancient passage his family talked about, though he had never been in here. Only seen the manuscripts. There’s no one here. It’s like the battle is far away down here. They continue to walk through smooth stone tunnels. Till he sees light. He squeezes Blodeuwedd’s hands, he doesn’t want to see her go either. She squeezes his hand tightly too as reassurance.
A soldier in armor stares at the both of them. He’s talking to Blodeuwedd. He’s talking fast. They have laid defenses down here. Their last defense. The soldier has them follow him, there are some soldiers down here. Do they think they will reach down here as well? Blodeuwedd nods and guides him to a wooden door. The Service corridors must connect to the passage as the manuscripts had laid out. She opens the door, to see the maids packing their things in small bags. They say somethings to Blodeuwedd. They smile at him. Nodding. The soldiers are escorting the maids and service out from behind here, that’s what the defenses are for.
Blodeuwedd continues guiding him. He wants to fight too. He tugs at Blodeuwedd hand. She looks at him for the first time in this whole scenario. The smell of smoke is filling the hallways. It’s created a thick fog. He points down the hall. He knows that’s where the armory is. Blodeuwedd nods. They have to be quick, they are already coughing and all that running has made it difficult for his lungs to give much more. They hand down to the armory. She opens the door. She smiles as she grabs her staff, she stops shaking the moment she touches her staff. He looks at his white birch staff, that has been finished more recently, grabbing it, it felt right. Like home. He saw the memories of the Deep Forest Elf from this staff.
She still holds onto his arm though. He tries to pull her back towards the entrance. She turns to face him. She shakes her head no. She continues to force him down the hallway, away from the passage they came from. The smoke is thick and hard to see through. He can feel himself hacking a lung, but his staff is illuminating a faint light. As they get into the grandhall. The steps in front of them, they can hear the keep’s larges doors being slammed against. Soldiers are trying to keep the doors from giving way. Fire is spreading through the throne room. Blodeuwedd creates a little bit of water to break through the path of fire.
His Father’s advisor, Andah is holding the door with his magic. He seems tired. He’s been holding the door for a long time he figures. His sister has him lead up the stairs. Why? What aren’t they telling him? They could be helping them keep the door. The smoke is worse up here, actually most of the top floor is illuminated in orange flames. It’s hot up here. He sees some soldiers bodies, burnt to a cinder, the smell of burnt flesh, and ashen hair threatens to make him throw up again. Expel what he doesn’t have. Blodeuwedd takes him towards his room, she ices the door down with some of her ice magic to repel the flames before shattering the door open. He’s never seen his room like this. Orange. Like the Abyss. Smoldering and burning. Blodeuwedd looks shocked, but grabs a bag that hasn’t been smoldered. She hands it to him. She begins looking through his dresser, that the flames are threatening to.
Now he understood. No. He shook his head at Blodeuwedd who has stopped the flames for now with her water. He hands her the pack. Shaking his head No again. Trying to get her attention, as she’s just shoving whatever clothes aren’t burned into his pack. He waves his hands in her face, and tries to stop her. She pulls her hands away from him. Handing him a full pack.
She puts her two fingers to her eyes and points to him sternly -You see-, and points to the window, then does a gesture with her pointer finger and middle finger. -You see out there, you have to run- No he didn’t want to run. He lifts his staff up and gives her a stern face. I am fighting. He shows her his staff. She shakes her head and points again to the window very forcefully. -Run-
She stops, she looks afraid. She hears something he can’t. She grabs him, hold her breath entering the smoked filled hallway again. She’s walking slower now, having him go down with a simple gesture. They are crawling on all floors on a runner rug that use to be purple, now it’s blacken and turning sooty. She peaks over the edge of the stair railing. They have busted through the door. The soldiers are fighting the Black Knight.
Andah is dead, crushed underneath the weight of the door, alongside some other soldiers. Those wolves are sniffing the air. She grabs his hands and looks at him. She knows he’s scared, she seems scared too, despite hiding it. She looks at him. Her brows furrow, and she seems to question him with a look. Do you see why you have to run? He doesn’t want to run. Doesn’t she understand that? He can help. Tears are coming from his eyes. What if he never sees them again? She looks at him also about to cry. She words very slowly for him to read her lips “Then - I - love - you” she said and drags him into a hug very quickly.
He finds himself breaking out into tears. Trying to be silent. Blodeuwedd looks at him. She points to herself and the stairs. {Heading downstairs} She points to him and points down to the hall. {You run to the passage}
He watches as she heads down the stairs. She begins tapping her staff on the stonewall. The wolves look toward the sound. She gives him one final look. Now. He has to run now. He runs down the stairs. One of the wolves tries to run after him, a bit of his sister ice spikes the wolf. The wolf changes its mind and he sees that two of them are beginning to approach her on the stairs. There’s fire behind her. He’s about to step in. But he sees her look. Go. He feels his heart racing. His body shaking. He begins to bolt down the passage. Turning to see on warg spiked by ice through the belly. Blood begins to run down the ice pillar, before freezing into dollops of ice red. As she’s casting the other warg grabs her leg. Dragging her down to the ground, another wolf noticing the commotion goes to investigate. He can’t look anymore. He’s sorry sister. Goodbye sister.
He continues running down the passage. Fast as he can. He looks behind him to make sure nobody's following. He already sees a Black Knight coming down the hall. He must have noticed him. Idris places down a rune on a ground in front of him throwing out Slick onto the ground. He turns his back and runs faster, even though everything hurts to do so. He runs through the kitchen. He runs through the maid service corridors. Everything is empty now, the door is about to close a soldier is quickly ushering him to come quickly. He runs faster. The soldier taps him on the back and slams the door shut. He can see the way the door jiggles on its frame.
Idris puts a pointer finger up for a second. Placing thorns to a wall next to the door. He follows the soldier down the tunnel.
He almost expected to see his father standing at the grate. Instead a soldier stood, waiting. He hands him a paper. Idris nods his head. Perhaps, his mother and father would make it and meet them at the woods. His brothers too.
Midnight
They hadn’t shown. The forest felt different no longer in the city. A wagon of horses lay beside tree and mostly children and woman, the elderly had been left behind. None of them could sleep he was sure, even if they had all gone into their tents for the night. Ever time he closed his eyes he was brought back to the burning village and Blodeuwedd. Tears streamed down his face. Why hadn’t mother and father shown yet? Then as if this whole entire time they had been in the eye of the storm, Idris felt the magic of the black metal clinging to his skin. The pouring hatred, the burning sense of betrayal. The smell of burning tents. As Idris quickly got out of his camp, tiny tents dotted through the forest were slowly lighting one by one on fire. He saw the Black Knights mounted on the wolves. Saw isn’t the word though he had an image of them in his head by the way their magic felt. Idris looked away as a woman fled out of her tent, a running human silhouette on flames.
He couldn’t look at anymore death. The forest beginning to light quickly to orange. Turning the even dusk into orangish midnight. He grabbed his bag and his staff. He needed to find his grandfather. He wanted to fight, though he knew from these images in his head. That he would not be able to defeat an army. Remembering the look in Blodeuwedd’s face. Run. Go. He saw it in his head. Idris trying to keep his breathing calm as he began to flee. This time not turning to look at the burning tents. He couldn’t continue to watch slaughter and not have the strength to help.
Idris began to wander through the brush. He had only visited his Grandfather’s home once, he was very small and didn’t quite remember the path. His Grandfather said that because of his blood, that he would know the path when he felt it. Idris wasn’t so sure he was in the mood to feel anything else. Something is muddled it clings to his skin, like kindred spirit, yet is warped and corrupted. He looks around someone is here. Someone has found him. He wants to know who. As if understood his command the staff illuminates a figure in the brush. The figure seems to notice they have been found out so they walk out in an iron twisted helm like the black knights. He doesn’t like the way their magic feels. It’s both of the Deep Forest, but it feels more dark than that, cloaked in shadows is the image he gets.
He thinks the individual is talking. They seem confused to why he hasn’t responded. Idris won’t say. Not to this person. They take their runic, dark, corrupted steel sword and raise it up high. He raises his staff to block it and closes his eyes. When he opens it again, a soldier of his fathers’ is holding the individual back with their blade. He uses a moment to gesture for Idris to go.
Idris starts to run again. Why are they after him? Why do they want to kill him? All these messages are fragmented in his head. Their magic is twisted. He just keeps going.
Early Morning
Sun kisses his skin. He opens his eyes. There is blood on his forehead. His ankle is twisted in a root of a tree. Where is he? He’s in the forest. His head hurts. He has to get out of here. Doesn’t matter where. He just has to go somewhere not of the forest. That’s what his instincts tell him. He doesn’t want to. He wants the comfort of family. He has to leave the forest. Idris weeps a little. Why did all of this happen?
He manages to take his leg out of the roots of the tree. Nothing seems broken. He just sits on the root of the tree and cries. He wants all of this to be a bad dream. He doesn’t want to see these images. Blodeuwedd. Gruffud, he didn’t get to tell them goodbye. I love you is stuck in his head. He just wants to go home. He just wants all of this to have not happened. A horrible nightmare, but he isn’t waking up. He isn’t waking up. Mother and father, they never showed up.
He holds onto his knees and sobs into them soaking his breeches with tears.
He lost his bag somewhere along the way. He doesn’t know what day it is. How long had he been wandering the forest? His hair has grown long, dirt sticks to his skin, his hair matted in mud. He limped across the forest, his legs are sore, his head hurts. He’s not hungry. Or he doesn’t feel hunger any more. Using his staff to help lean on. Idris eyes are blurry. Trees are beginning to go double. He just continues on. Not knowing where his destination is. He just knows he can’t go to the Deep Kingdom. He feels he’s suppose to go somewhere. Being drawn to somewhere. He feels sick. He just continues walking. There was an urge to throw up. Idris sees something in the distance glittering. Is it a hallucination? A mirage. He heads into that distraction. It couldn’t be? One of the Great Cities? He had heard stories. It was his father’s dream to turn the Oaken Fort into one of the great cities. He’d have called it the fourth great city. Idris wanted to keep that dream alive. Trying not to remember that night.
He pushed the thought back. He stands in front of a glittering shining barrier. Looking into the blurred visions of bright pastel buildings. They look nothing like the wooden buildings he was use to. A man in a funny looking cloth cloak that didn’t look like it protect him from much of anything carrying a spear stares at him. He’s talking. Idris doesn’t have the strength to tell him he can’t hear. The world is turning into a swirl of pastel colors.
**
When he came around it was in someone’s house. It smelled nice, flowers wafted in through the window and the sheets felt soft. For a second he was lulled into the sense he was back home. He knew he wasn’t, he saw the glittering barrier. The house wasn’t even made of wood.
An woman walks in, she has graying hair, and she is carrying some water in a pot. She says something and he looks at her. He points his ear and slides it to his mouth. She looks a bit perplexed. Idris huffs in frustration. He looks around, and makes a gesture for paper. She grabs some from a dresser that she bumps slightly, hands him a quill. He begins to write. It hurts to do so. His head is sluggish, yet he manages, handing it to her.
She reads a few times. Then nods her head.
She writes down her reply, hand it back.
He carefully reads it. It dawns on him, she’s offering him a place to stay. He recalls bits of that night making that realization. He looks at her sadly, and nods his head.
She smiles at him and places a hand on his shoulder. It reminds him of his mother’s touch. He doesn’t want to cry in front of this woman. He had already done so much crying. He had already done so much walking. He had already seen so much the horror the forest wrought. Idris just nodded and swallowed the sadness down like bitter medicine.
Torisutan-san was very brave being the first one going into the resort alone. He didn’t know if he could do it. He liked to observe the world, he wasn’t so sure how to involve himself in a world that demanded such involvement. He was never the kid who went out on adventures, but watched other kids and their adventures. He liked his books and his drawings because they were safe. He heard popping sounds inside the resort, some kind of attacker perhaps. Torisutan-san’s puppets were scary, but he didn’t think he deserved to be hurt. Clutching onto Kyasarin-san’s clothes and shielded by her back, she inches forward inside the resort.
Kei you can’t be the scared ten year old, if you do these older kids might think you’re weak. They might not think you know how to handle yourself in danger. Despite his hands shaking, despite his trembling, he let’s go of Kyasarin-san’s shirt and leaps out from her side. There is a purple looking dinosaur. He looks hungry. Perhaps he’s trying to eat them. Kei takes out his sketchbook, which he hid in his pocket. He wouldn’t let the dinosaur eat them.
Whap!
Kei hits the purple dinosaur on the head with his sketchbook. The dinosaur winces for a second and looks at him. Kei looks back at the dinosaur who scratches his head after he swatted the dinosaur with his book. The creature begins to look around for a nearby object.
Dorumon hadn’t considered that these humans might have different greetings. Perhaps they didn’t want parties, but perhaps this how they said hello. Rubbing his head with a mixture of perplexity and confusion on his face, he picks up a red balloon, raises it up high, “HI-Yah!” Dorumon says hitting the boy softly on top of the head with said balloon.
“Hello, did I do that right?” Dorumon looks eager as his tail twitches side to side.
Kei stares at the creature. Uh?
“Um, nani?” Kei ask tilting his head to the side.
Dorumon mirrors the human's head movement and titles his head to the side. The both of them staring at each other.
Kei looks openly confused and nervous.
Dorumon’s tail twitches side to side.
“Do I need to hit the others too?” Dorumon ask finally raising his red balloon. Then smacking the two other humans with the red balloon on the cheek, “Hello I am Dorumon.” he looks eagerly happy and enthusiastic that perhaps he got the greeting right.
Dorumon stares at the other Digidestin. Max and Seven, he looks at the other three, “Do you have a name? And why don’t human names end in man?”
How quaint, like pirates it seemed the rebels of society had a little meeting to talk among themselves. Like an illusion of peace among each other, he wondered what each were thinking internally. It was never what you saw on the surface that you had to consider, but what was in the inside. The weakest part of an individual was often their mind and the demons that they held in the closet. It just took the right kind of cunning to twist that into a weapon of some sort. Still he was here because Swarm suggested it and furthermore, he was here to get Reflections on the map or at least on their radar. Radar or not he’d keep quiet, listening to the words bounce back and forth. Clearly decision making was none of their strong suits, it didn’t seem like anyone had a solid planned, just agreed on a few issues.
‘For the record,’ he said, barely loud enough to be heard to the full width of the bar, ‘and as the field leader of the Jacks, I fully intend to do what I can to eliminate Patriarch as a threat, as permanently as is necessary.’
It struck out like an instrument out of tune with the others. Just one key off from the other. Violence had always been a way to cause attention. Sometimes unwanted attention that through an unnecessary sense of balance off balance. Affliction moved his head to the side to address the individual, but more the room. He wondered if he’d be heard in this crowded, and yet seemingly isolated little world they were in right now.
“Violence tends to bring unnecessary consequences,” Affliction replies, his voice still, and calm, devoid of the usual rally a villain would have. He stacks his hand above each other, “In the hierarchy of things, it’s better to take things on in it’s structural pillars. Every foundation has a base that which it stands on. Taking down those pillars.” he uses his hands to create crumbling in the air, “Usually takes a structure down without outing oneself.”
He nods his head respectfully to the individual and the group. It’s best to keep oneself as polite as he could right now. Fading back into the background again listening to others speak, he wondered if he had any purpose in this world. It after all was a town they associated with. A town they were familiar with. Something they claimed. Though eventually it was something he would reclaim in the future. For now it was better to get on the good side to create his own pillars.
Then another brought up Vials into the trial. Again this an interesting tool to bring up speculation.
"Reflections will help bring this community trash down in exchange for a number of these vials of our choice."
Arturo stares at Swarm. He hadn’t bothered to learn all the names in this one man, not yet. He knew they were there, due to a conversation they had. Though that was a bold claim to make. How powerful did Swarm assume he was? Or how powerful did he assume Reflections was? They only had the three. Though Victor started to take things more seriously at the clinic. He bit his lip.
Very well, no sense of undermining Swarm. It look like poor direction coming from their organization or their group. He didn’t like the idea of converting others to something they were not. Didn’t mix well with his morality, however, he’d let it slide. And see what he could do it with it. Perhaps ask Victor about it later.
“Yes, send us a target and surely you’ll know it is us, we might even have a plan in the works to swap the power dynamics,” Affliction adds, nodding his head assuredly, but remaining still, calm, and keeping his voice at an even tone.
This was it, the Digidestin had walked into the resort as he had hoped that they would. He put a lot into this. They would be more willing to help if they had their homes and didn’t feel scared. It’s why he chose this big place to put it in the center. This was familiar to the Digidestin from their world. A big place they called a mansion.
The mansion had many rooms so many humans lived in these mansions. Humans must enjoy the company of others humans, that’s what he suspected at least. It’s why he was glad they found each other, so they could begin to grow together a big bond. Dorumon happily moves his tail side to side humming to himself, waiting for the Digidestin enter the resort. When he heard the entrance door open.
“Hello-I don’t know what’s happening either. I’m Tristan.” the digidestined speak. “There’s four others who found themselves here too...”
Tristan suddenly hears the sounds of popping. Confetti comes down from the ceiling, a banner is lowered in bright yellow letters it reads; CONGRATULATIONS. Balloons begin to soar down to the ground as the room is literally snowing glitter and confetti.
“TA-DAH!” Dorumon jumps up from his hiding place, he only notices one human, where were the others, he looks around, “Where are the others?” Dorumon looks around, “Are they hiding?” He puts his hands on his brows and moves around. He looks under a cushion, “They aren’t here. I have something important to tell them.”
"There is nothing coming, no cars, trucks just a lot of nothing."
Katheryn sighed slightly with the statement that Carver said. She noticed there’s no cars, or trucks, it’s common courtesy to look both ways even when there’s nothing there. ”Yeah, it seems like the only things that are around…are us and the houses we live in,” Katheryn said, with a tone of confusion. She looks down at Kei to see if he’s more or less nervous to what Carver said. She looked at Carver with a curious look and wondered why a Englishmen would be here anyway.
"The road is the last thing I worried about. I am more concerned about where is this place, and where are we. Either of you two have any ideas of where this place is?"
She heard Carver’s question and she didn’t really know where she was, it was quiet in her house and it was a bit eerie to see houses that weren’t in her neighborhood. ”Uhh, yeah I haven’t really thought of that...It feels like a video game, I guess? I only woke up awhile ago nonetheless,” Katheryn said, additionally confused tone of voice.
Kei inches a little from hiding, “We’re not really sure….where we are.” Kei pauses and fidgets with his fingers, “I’m Himura Kei…sorry...I didn’t say so earlier. You…startled me.”
Carver smiles from Kei’s response seeing how he was just coming out of hiding. Carver says in a light friendly tone, ”Yeah sorry about that little dude, I didn’t mean to be so scary.”
Carver heard Katheryn’s response about this feeling like a video game Carver comments in a confused light joking manner, “A video game? This is a very weird video game if it is one. Waking up in your house but finding out that everything outside is different might be a way to start a video game a rather bizarre weird sadistic video game that throws children and young people into an unknown area for whatever reason we are here for.” Carver looks around a bit to see if there were anyone else like Kei and Katheryn and himself not knowing where they are. Carver then asks, “Do you guys think we are the only ones here or do think there are others?” Trying to piece everything together and having little success in trying to figure out where are they or why are they were brought to where ever they are.
“...I was thinking…this was more…like a dream or Alice n Wonderland...makes it less scary than a video game,” Kei says. He slowly inches a bit more into their presence. He knew he probably was just fussing over semantics, but it felt more accurate than a video game. He didn’t know any video games with this premise, but then again he also didn’t play video games to know that answer.
He nervously holds Mistah Furafu to his chest, “Kyasarin-san and I were…just about to investigate this strange world, like...Sharokku-san and Watoson-san…but I don’t think that works any more because there are more of us…errrr you could be Detective Conan-san.” About the only other detective he knew.
Katheryn heard Carver’s response and had a bit of a scared look on her face, mostly because of the word sadistic in there. That one word, reminded her of Ex-Boyfriend Lucius and it made her clutch her left hand into a fist. She unclutched her left hand from a fist to a hand since she heard Kei’s explanation. “That makes more sense, than what I had said Kei. I have to agree with you Carver, it would be a pretty scary video game if it done that and I usually stay away from the Horror genre,” Katheryn said, with relief in her face.
Katheryn looked at Carver and heard his question and her look turned slightly worried hoped they aren’t the only ones in here. ”I hope there's others in this strange place, that only has houses and a street and a sidewalk because that wouldn’t be good otherwise,” Katheryn said. She looked at Kei who spoke about investigating places and she felt a bit more relaxed when he did said that. ”It’ll be better to investigate this place to understand it more than standing here not knowing what it is,” Katheryn said, with a want to investigate this place than not.
“Uh. Pardon me?”
Carver looked at Kei and heard him talk about investigating what is going Carver suppresses the urge to laugh or chuckle from the kid’s idea of a detective. Carver did not respond to Kei though instead he noticed that Katheryn got scared from his comment about this being a video game. Carver heard her reply and answer his question about if they were the only ones here. Then agreeing with Kei about investigating the area. Carver was going to agree too but he notices someone coming near them who has puppets on their hands. Then says, “Well that answers my last question if we are the only ones here.” Carver turns to the newcomer and greets him, “Yes, hello who are you?”
Kei noticed the other kid approaching, was it a kid? From this distance he saw three heads and someone trying to talk to them. A monster, perhaps? He was really unsure, so he completely ducked beside Kyasarin. Trying to make himself invisible and close his eyes and three headed monster came closer to them. In his mind the creature was breathing fire, “gow gow”.
Katheryn noticed the newcomer approaching them, with two puppets on his hands and had a gentle and kind smile. ”Hiya, it’s nice to meet a new person. Why do you have two puppets on your hand?” Katheryn asked, curiously at the new person. She couldn’t help but look a bit at Carver who asked that question towards the newcomer. Even though, she did forget to ask the person’s name. ”Yeah, I have to agree with Carver, who are you? My name is Mugnai D. Katheryn by the way.” Katheryn said, introducing herself.
Tristan let out an inner sigh of relief. Noticing the three kids had their attentions directed at him, the youngest still partially shielded by the older girl. While nothing more than a hunch, he couldn’t shake that they weren’t the only beings present. The puppets swaying back and forth in perpetual motion, like the were performing a ritual. He kept the smile across his face, despite feeling like a bad joke was being played on him. Getting an introduction and inquires about his identity and puppets; not that he had any credible answers. This entire surreal experience had stolen his ability to improvise.
“Tristan,” He replied with a pleasant tone, “Pleasure to make your acquaintances.”
Receiving a swift slug on the opposite shoulder from Luci’s fist. Tristan glancing at the puppets staring up at him expressing their disapproval.
“What about us?” Luci interjected in a bitter and gruff tone, turning to address the group. “I’m Luci and my slightly less talented friend on my left is Angi. We’re Tristan’s - how’d you say - right and left hand men.” Luci giving a subtle bow, while Tristan rolled his eyes. The puppets reactions and their voices made them almost seem alive, though Tristan was merely putting on show. Angi wagged its arm in a scolding manner.
“Tsk. Tsk. You didn’t even give these nice folks you’ll full name! Were you raised in a barn?” Angi commented, speaking through giggling that made it sound playful.
“I’m never used my full name, how was I supposed to know how people from the city talk? Certainly aren’t from around here...which begs the question why they’re around-maybe they don’t know.” Tristan thought. Looking down at younger child, along with the puppets.
“And what’s your name?” Tristan’s tone and cheerful expression pushed with an extra sense of friendliness, puppets both waving at the child.
His head was spinning right now. He wanted it away. He wanted them to stop talking right now. There names weren’t registering and what they were saying wasn’t registering in Kei’s mind either. As they began to get closer Kei backed away slightly, “Inaya! I don’t want it!” he cried out as tears begin to stream down his face. Kowai.
Much to Tristan’s chagrin, watching the boy start to cry was the opposite of what Tristan wanted. His first introduction had already gone poorly, now it was getting worse. The puppets equally having a dismayed reaction, backed away and hugged one another beside Tristan’s chest. “Don’t cry, they won’t bite…” He reassured in a calming manner, how he’d speak to his siblings when they became upset.
Katheryn heard what the boy’s name is and she was a bit freaked out that he made the puppets speak, mostly because she watched some scary movies with puppets in them. However, she wasn’t as scared of them as Kei was in what his body language and his tears coming down his face as she looked down at him. ”Uuh, I believe you Tristan… but… I am a bit tense around puppets to,” Katheryn said, with a tone of shock towards the puppets. Her posture was a bit tense and couldn’t really keep her eyes off the puppets in how they moved and everything. She wasn’t really prepared in meeting someone who was a master at puppetry in any sense of her imagination. ”I am grateful to meet you but can you please, put away the puppets for the sake of Kei? Because Kei is afraid of them,” Katheryn said, kindly towards Tristan. She hoped what she said towards Tristan helped Kei’s state of crying a lot because it was too precious to see him cry since she’s very sensitive to other people crying.
Would anyone believe that he already tried stowing them away? Probably not, but their distress from the puppets made Tristan keep a mental note of their hypersensitive behavior. Considering he was willfully controlling their actions, what would happen if previous events were manifested? It became imperative to keep that a secret. Stuffing his puppets inside his pant pockets. “I’m sorry. It’s just what I do to lighten the mood...guess it doesn’t always work.” He smiled with a sense of guilt, reflecting the apologetic tone. But looking down, not fully sure of when he pulled his hands out slowly...would they come off? ”Good…”
Rubbing his eyes only slightly noticing the puppets slowly vanishing, he grabbed onto Katheryn’s side and decided that’s where he is going to stay till he felt comfortable. He mumbles, “we….were….investigating,” he hugs Katheryn’s side tighter, “...to figure….out...what….is….going on.” he continues mumbling his weepy answers, “Torisutan-san….I’m….” he tries to regain control of his breath after crying, “I’m...Himura Kei….” still polite to give someone your name he thought, but still frightened by Torisutan’s display.
A yawn escaped her lips as Rachel walked towards where the others were at. Jeez, what a long day already. This day was already long and it barely started. Who the fuck is able to do this shit anyways? It was freaking her out. She had to be in a dream. She pulled her shoulder length brown hair downwards, causing her to feel some pain in her head. She groaned, rubbing her head in pain. Okay, not a dream. At least, it could be a lucid dream.
How does she undo anything though? Lucid dreams were weird. She didn’t even know how or what she could do to go back to her house. For fuck’s sake…
This really is real then? Nah, she hoped there were more than just her hiding around...whatever this place was.
She heard people suddenly talking in the distance, speeding herself up before looking over to see a group of kids. Some of them looked her age while there was one that looked...pretty damn young.
She didn’t like kids too much, but whatever was going on, he didn’t need to be with them. She almost took pity on him.
“Uhhh, excuse me?” She asked the others, walking a bit closer to them, “I was wondering if any of you know what’s going on? Cause I don’t know what even happened. One minute, I’m falling asleep and the next morning people are gone.” Could this be straight out of a comic book or something? Were they abducted by aliens? “I feel like my head’s gonna explode with all these questions going through my head.” She muttered to herself softly.
Carver listened in closely to Tristan when he introduced himself also watching the reaction of Kei to Tristan’s puppets and Katheryn’s reaction as well to them. Carver didn’t say much as he was trying to figure out. Carver wanted to say something back when Kei started crying but was unsure what he wanted to say. When everyone calmed down, Carver was going to introduce himself when another person spoke. Carver looked at the girl that approached them listening to what she was asking Carver then answers her, “Join the club, we don’t know what is going on either. I’m Carver and...” Carvers point at each person as he spoke, “That’s Katheryn, Kei, and Tristan and you are?” Carver introduces himself and everyone else to the newcomer to this growing group.
Judging on the girl’s questions, Carver figured she was in the same position as they were. Carver counts how many people are around, “We’ll now that makes it five by my count. We need to figure out where are we and where to go so…” Carver looks around quickly not waiting for more introductions he points at what looks like a beach resort. “There! We should go there. It looks like a beach resort maybe we will find more people there or where are we.” Carver just pointing out the first place he saw that didn't look like a normal apartment or house figuring that it didn't fit. Carver just wanted an excuse to go there because it looks interesting.
Kei from behind Katheryn slowly peaks his head out to see another individual, listen to Kaba-san speak he nods.
“It….is….in the center too, so someone...is clearly guiding us there,” he mumbles, “Only….reason why something….so large would be in the center. It grabs too much attention on it’s own….so that’s a good place.” He pauses and stares at the new girl, “You coming along? We’re investigating the mystery.”
Katheryn sighs in relief after Tristan put away his puppets since they still kinda mentally put her on edge after watching some scary movies when she was a child. She smiled at what Tristan had said. ”Thanks for putting away the puppets Tristan,” Katheryn said. She could feel Kei hug her side since he was scared almost like she was a bit. She was grateful he was able to speak to Tristan mostly for the mumbling and weepy tone, as well as polite. ”Kei, you are cute,” Katheryn said with a smile on her face.
Katheryn looked around at everyone who’s gathered here with a smile, since Kei is hiding closely behind her. She turned and noticed a female walking towards them. She heard Carver introduce them to the new girl, who talked about her experience. She looked directly at Carver and had a look of thank you in her facial expression more or less meaning of how he introduced everyone. ”I had the same thing happen to me. I was more confused at the fact there was houses everywhere from different places. So what’s your name?” Katheryn asked, kindly towards the new girl. She sighed in relief, more or less that there’s another girl in this strange place. She heard what Kei said and smiled a bit. ”It would be nice to have you come along in our investigation of this world,” Katheryn said.
One prediction met, when another girl arrived questioning the same things as everyone else. The vague consideration given as directions was still the best suggestion thus far. Tristan wasn’t a wellspring of ideas, putting a sock puppet in it felt like the wisest option. This sense of discomfort like a knife resting a few inches away from flesh; the worst part was imagining the possible outcomes. If this was some kind of simulation, where’d his siblings and father go? What if they were stuck somewhere similar, but alone? The thought made his stomach feel sore and empty like an opened wound. Oh, it might have actually been due to his increasing hunger. Tristan coming to the realization that he was starving. He was just being silly, reminding himself that nothing would go wrong.
“It’s no problem. I didn’t mean to startle you both...” Tristan reassured with an anxious laugh escaping his lips. “I agree with Carver, we should head that way together. There’s a strength in numbers, after all. And we’ll have more time to introduce ourselves once we know where we are.” Tristan added, keeping an optimistic smile. He chose to follow along with the group, leaving the questions for the aftermath...
“Well, I figured that would be my luck.” Rachel sighed, resting a hand on her hip, “My name’s Rachel Summers by the way. I would say ‘nice to meet you’, but considering our situation isn’t too nice and we have no idea where we are or what’s happening, it really doesn’t work.”
Rachel wonders what exactly did they think they would find answers on a beach? She guessed the center part did make sense though honestly, “Hmmm, that’s a valid point.” She certainly had to tag along. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to find out what’s going on, “I don’t really have a choice at the moment, so I’ll go with you guys.” They should be careful; they might end up getting into some sort of trouble. Whatever this place is, it seems that someone did bring them there for a reason. She wondered who and why they were here. They would find the answer if they stayed together.
Kei poking his head out from Katheryn’s side nervously stared at the new girl, “Reicheru-san, we thought….about investigating the resort. It seems in a weird place….Noticeable. Obvious.” He pauses, “I am Himura Kei.”
Carver responses confidently, “Alright then to the beach resort thingy!” Carver points and starts to head off to the beach resort in question. Going first and is hoping everyone else follows him. With a smile on his face Carver moved. Once again not looking both ways while crossing the road seemingly overlooking doing that again. As he did so a gust of wind kicked up and a round tumbleweed flew into his face, it seemed to made of several sticks, dried leaves, and some thorny branches.
Katheryn followed Carver and the rest of the group to the Beach resort. She hoped there was some answers at the Beach Resort or more people at least to meet. ”I hope we get to the beach resort and find answers too,” Katheryn said. She had a smile on her face while following Carver to the beach resort. She was grateful to be in a group of people who were wanting to investigate with Kei, mostly because Kei was the first person she met and he was a sweet kid.
“Hmm, yeah it does seem a bit out of place.” Rachel stated, going with what she thought about everything only moments ago. She followed the others, walking along. Something told her this wasn’t going to be a really nice place honestly. Despite it being on a resort, it was pretty ironic that it was supposed to be in a place that was supposed to be relaxing and nice. It’s gotta have some kind of dark tone to it.
She crossed her arms across her chest before speaking, “How ironic, a place that seems peaceful probably isn’t.” She sighed, “This is gonna be one hell of a irony if I’m right about that place not being what it seems.”
“You look handsome, like the time we spent our anniversary at the eatery in France,” she says fixing a crease on his coat and laying a hand on his shoulder. Sometimes he felt hesitant in these moments. He wanted to kiss her, but felt that was too forceful. Gemina smiles at him, there’s a twinkle in her eye. Sometimes he wonders if he cursed her with such animation and such swell of emotions. Then there are times when he is reminded of walking on the beach with her in the 20s. They nearly got arrested for taking the shells of the beach, but someone recognized him in the department back then.
“You are more beautiful age,” he tells her, she giggles, and turns into him. Leaning in, her eyes closed, and herself on her tippy toes. Viorel closes his eyes as well and they give each other a peck on the lips.
“Viorel,” Laura’s sharp tone startled the both of them.
“Oh,” Gemina turns away shyly.
“Is there something the matter?” Viorel ask Laura.
“No I’d like to bring something to your attention,” Laura says.
“Very well,” Viorel bows slightly, he looks to Gemina.
“I’ll tend to the children,” Gemina says walking off towards the basement. Laura watches her, then looks at him.
“You two are so weird, Angy grabs me arse in public and you two innocently peck each other’s lips like its some fantasy fairy tale, but act like I walked in on you guys having sex,” Laura remarks.
“We just like to remain modest,” Viorel replies. Laura shakes her head and ushered him from the hallway across the door to the call center. It’s where a few New Breeds of the past community took care of calls. The ones who wanted to help, but couldn’t provide much assistance on the field, did so here. Taking in complaints and other cases.
“As I know I screen everything each SYNBAD members does, you’re aware of some members Snapgram accounts?” Laura ask.
“Yes, it’s where I pose my puppets,” Laura gives him a stare.
“I hope that’s a joke,” Laura remarks.
“Myles taught me,” Viorel he nods his head slightly.
“Of course he did, well you should tell Luka and Myles to be more careful,” Laura replies.
“Is there a privacy issue?” Viorel ask.
“No, but something else could provide us a public disturbance issue,” Laura says having him come over to his computer. He was staring at both Luka and Myles photos, what’s the word they call it, tagging themselves going to the parade. Youth being the youth. Viorel nods his head.
“Yes, this seems typical of both,” Viorel replies, not seeing the pressing issue.
“And while I don’t put much stalk in social media stupidity,” she continues, “They have been both tagged in this flag by a username Bewitched. I am looking into more personal information as we speak, but she has gathered up a group of folks who call them Victims of New Breed Abuse. They even have a forum.”
“Are they violent?” Viorel asked, that’s the concerning matter at hand.
“No they are over dramatic complainers,” Laura replies, she clicks on a few things, “I give you. My boyfriend with the dog again. He doesn’t ever think about my needs or wants or ask me if maybe I want to spend time with the dog. He just takes her.”
He nods in acknowledgement.
“The reply she gets,” Laura continues, “You should dump him. Just because your boyfriend has the ability to speak to animals doesn’t mean he gets to be inconsiderate to your wants and needs for your dog.”
“Essentially what I am getting from this is that we even show an ounce of kindness, whether it be buying coffee or opening the door they’ll complain about it,” he finds himself remarking.
“Yes,” Laura looks frustrated.
Viorel nods.
“I’ll warn the group not to interact with,” Viorel gives her a look of confusion. Laura opens the profile of Bewitched. To something of a young girl who has purposely dressed herself into satanic imagery. Viorel takes a second to gather himself.
“I notice I have stunned you in silence,” Laura looks at him.
“It’s, unique,” Viorel replies, looking at the 666 on the young ladies head. Laura continues to watch him.
“Thank you for informing me,” Viorel nods.
He bows to Laura and makes his way towards the basement. He didn’t always understand the youth of today, always saying rude things to each other online. Always making snarky remarks. Politeness seemed to have died in the wave of anonymity. Though he knew some anonymous Knights with more respect than many of the youth today. Heading down into the basement, Viorel looks at the group that has gathered. Bridget is sitting on the couch with a whole chicken, Myles is rummaging through the cupboards, opening then closing them. Jack and Jensen are making pancakes. Gemina is watching them with a slight hiss. Luka is also here, very good then.
“Myles and Luka, I need to speak to you two privately for a moment,” Viorel announces he noticed it might sound like they are in trouble, “you’re not in trouble.” he quickly adds.
Special Tag: Oliver is primarily a PC, with a Person of Interest Tag. This means that in certain occassions, such as another member is creating a case for the group, they may have brief control of Oliver's presence. Otherwise the character is directly controlled by myself.
Age: 25
Alias: Don’t be silly, I am no superhero and I don’t see the reason why SYNBAD relies on these silly little names when they’ve been on the news and anyone with the right connections and know how would be able to figure it out. - Little does he know the department has a nickname for him as Crow’s Eye.
Tier: 3
Years in SYNBAD: 4 - Extra notation here, Oliver is rarely with the group SYNBAD his day job is within the police department itself. He is often more around during cases, though he visits on his off time -if any- from time to time to have a semblance of comradery. He may even invite those over to go fishing with him or something like that. Oliver’s main employment is within the judicial department itself, indirectly he’s part of an internal SYNBAD department, which means he deals with SYNBAD more directly when it comes to the unexplained and bizarre.
Lighting a fag, he slowly inhales, then exhales. It’s like a moment in one of those crime detective movies, as to individuals stare each other down in the middle of the night. Though staring down may have not been the keyword in this case, as you stood a foot above him, towering over the wiry framed, 5’4”, 162cm, man. He looked more like a child than he did a medical examiner in the police force, comically large, but fashionable sunglasses shading his gray colored irises, with a thrifty looking suit, often navy in color or black.
Tweed ties, which should forgo any semblance that he has a fashion sense, yet it is often paired with either a knee length trench coat or a fur coat. A young and youthful face gives off the impression of someone much younger in their mid teens or late teens, not a man in his mid twenties. Often wearing comfortable loafers, in different fashionable styles, some wonder why such the dramatics for one little tiny framed medical examiner, few would know.
The faintest smell of nicotine off this small 115lbs, 52kg, man isn’t a deterrent when it’s mixed with his vanilla scented lotion.
“Sorry I am nothing special, I just look ordinary, no unicorns here,” he laughs, yet he has a flat, single note tone to his voice. Though the cadence is raspy like an occasional smoker, despite its coarseness it’s a least lithe and easy to listen to.
Personality:
He’s not incapable, it’s clear that Oliver is adaptable for the most part, and smart. While he may not be a prodigy or a genius, it’s pretty clear Oliver can work around a problem with relative ease. To others he can be genuinely funny, though he is more likely to throw sweet flavored shade your way.
A smile can cover up a lot of words, while he may cover up that he’s poking at you with a smile, it veils biting internal commentary. That he strongly filters, in order to be better palpable to others. The conflict of fitting into the expected norms of a community and what he’d really like to say.
Oliver often feels pressured into behaving as society expects him to behave. He over worries and over stresses about fitting into the expected norm set for him. He recognizes that on the surface he looks human and to others that mean there isn’t anything particular abnormal about him.
Though akins the parts of himself he cannot relate to others as some kind of invisible aspect of himself that makes it difficult for him to relate to others well. He relates a story where he heard or resonated with a cats presence before it passed to convey a message to his girlfriend, to be confronted about it weeks later as something abnormal.
A lot of things Oliver is veiled about. While on the surface he seems nonchalantly to roll with the punches, he holds a lot of internal anger. But not enough motivation to verbalize this anger. It’s a lukewarm don’t care to care kind of attitude. Though it’s less like having no reaction, more like a lack of motivation to verbalize anything.
This veiling personality leaves a very externally positive, happy go lucky person, with the flair for the dramatic. Wearing clothes that otherwise wouldn’t be associated with his occupation, or placing glitter bottles or confetti in his pocket in order to provide his own glamor. Though internally is a very angry person, who own anger leaves him overwhelmed and drained that he has no motivations to do anything about it, someone who is always at the edge of losing it.
Skills:
M.D. Bachelor Degree -
Though unlike Foster/Harper, Oliver is a medical examiner. Someone who uses his degree to determine the cause of suspicious and violent deaths. His studies include forensic pathology and ways to diagnostically examine a body in order to determine time of death, with what, how, and observe details around the corpse.
Observational -
Oliver’s job is literally picking up on details others haven’t picked up on yet. His whole entire training has him scanning the world around him.
Police Training -
Since his day job is technically in the police department, he also has police training. Minor defense training, how to deescalate a situation, how to report a crime, and things such as that.
Good Fashion Sense -
You probably aren’t convinced that this is a skill, but pretend you have 14 pounds in your pocket, but need a good suit for a formal evening. You’re not thinking of the possibilities and endless combinations you could create with rather inexpensive clothing that looks like you copied it straight out of the latest fashion magazines. The trick is having a good eye.
Hobbies:
Zoning Out -
Sometimes Oliver’s days are long and some of the things he sees defy human expectations. It questions sometimes his belief or faith entirely in humanity when he is faced with its evil. He enjoys spending time alone by himself zoning out to music, any genre of music will suit him. Usually if it has a good beat and he can chill.
Fishing -
Then there are days when you need to get out of town. Take a trip to the lake, sit out in a boat, and forget that people exist and the world sucks. We live in a world these days that when we get out of nature we forget this little on spot is just the last remnants of a much bigger place we overtook. But he’ll look past that and try to live in the ignorance that this is a natural getaway.
Origami -
There’s so many things you can do with a piece of paper. Especially when you’re bored sitting at the office with nothing to do. A cootie catcher that when you open the flaps spells FUCK U, you betcha. A swan, typical, but yes. A frog, yep.
Weapon: Baton - used in defensive purposes to subdue his subject, not kill, or maim.
Equipment: Several utilities for writing, a journal for note taking, some glitter for dramatic flair often in a bottle
Fighting Style: Defensive non specified martial arts, in police training your taught a bit how to fight for self defense purposes. Though your main tool will always be your words. Oliver being tiny and short, and not always the average size of some men uses a non specific martial arts style taught to him by his police training course that uses soft martial arts techniques to use his enemies movements against themselves. All injury is then directed to self than from direct contact with Oliver.
Strength: Besides the amount of police training Oliver has had, he’s not the strongest individual of the bunch. He’s not going to be going into lengthy punch out battles with some dude with super strength. Oliver not a fan of pain much either and doesn’t have the best defense when it comes to taking hits, he’s lean, and thin. Even a tight hug could accidentally displace a rib.
Endurance: It’s not quite to superhuman levels, it’s a little bit better than most people’s. At the level of human in their prime level of fitness. He does go for morning jogs and while sure he’s not going to be taken punches very well, he can keep up with the best of them, if only it is to dodge an attack he’ll otherwise use to take advantage to trip up the next guy. He’ll eventually tire, just not as quickly, and is a wuss when it comes to particularly painful injuries.
Willpower: This is where things get complicated for Oliver. He’s spent most of his life being passed off to shrink after shrink, since his parents were concerned about the use of his abilities. They likened him to a psychopath or a serial killer. He was always in trouble for his powers, or the things he’d done to his dead pets. One time he exploded the hamster in the tub to pass on a final message. Because of this, Oliver is actually quite feeble minded. He’s concerned about his placed in the world, even if he passes it off as veiled optimism and a happy attitude. He easily falls apart at the realization that he’s not meeting society's expectations. And furthermore is either constantly overwhelmed with his own inner demons. Oliver is overly stressed and feels extreme pressure in society to adequately perform as the normal person he appears to be. Because of this it’s easy to attack him at the mental level, even if it’s hard to influence his behavior.
Speed: If there’s one thing Oliver does have it’s been quick and nimble. Mainly because his opponents are often twice his size, it’s easy to maneuver around them. Though his speed is not a direct motion, it’s more like being able to escape out of danger, or being able to move quickly out of the way. He of course is not going to beat any athletes out of their own game, of course not, but he at least can find a way to evade detection.
Reaction Speed: Slightly above average, Oliver training has always made him a naturally observing individual. So he can pick up on the slightest of cues and be able to react in an adequate enough time to be able to slip on through. Despite this his reaction speed is still not nowhere out there on the crazy levels it can get and there are still some delays between brain and action. Though Oliver still moves with an uncanny ability to read others fairly well.
Name of Ability: Zombie Juice
Class: Psychic
Character Theme: Character what now? I am a medical examiner, I don’t need any more things or expectations to be thrown at me. Please don’t glamorize my life in a way that’s so absurd I’d never be able to live up to that image. I’d barely be able to recognize that unicorn in the mirror then if you set the bar that high.
Ability Capabilities: Oliver interacts with the dead, though not like those TV shows on the telly with premonitions and the like. Ghost whispering, nor is it exactly like raising the dead. Instead it’s something more like dealing with zombies, and discerning information through body parts and fluids. Not too unlike his normal job, just with more enhancement. Pathology Manipulation might be a good way of putting it rather than simply reanimator.
Qualities of Ability:
Waking Dead -
Oliver can shoot a jolt of energy through a deceased individual’s brain, in order to reactive the brain enough for the individual to speak. They aren’t necessarily alive in this state, more like something between states. In ancient medicines and in ancient magical practices, they say something like crystals can retain the memories of events around them. Seems like a weird allegory, but the idea is more like digging at what the brain retained just before the state of death.
Just Stunning - The jolt that otherwise affects the brain of the dead to reactivate, partially, tends to have the opposite reaction with those living that Oliver touches and decides to deliver a shocking result. This affect is used to stun others into submission, his jolt can often be the strength of a 50,000 amp stun gun from his palm directly to their body. However, as it is with his other ability this isn’t as clean cut as it should be.
Dying to See You -
It’s not just the brain Oliver can reactivate and use to discern information. Any impartial remains Oliver can discern events that happened to them by touch. It’s a really hazy, poorly put together jigsaw of information that barely cobbles together an accurate story. Death is really complicated and once again it’s not easy as he’d like it to be either.
Blood Thinner -
In layman's term someone would say that Oliver absorbs small amounts of blood through his skin. Though the truth is a bit more complicated than that. While it is true Oliver takes in small bits of blood through his skin, he actually breaks it down to its atomic energy in order to discern information from the leftover energy, not necessarily the blood itself. It’s difficult to do this with dryer or older blood when its blackened, though plausible, just difficult.
Last Words -
Less a direct ability he controls, and more like a passive ability. It seems his powers is some mass perversion of empathetic powers. But any passing person near him, soul expels a final message to their dead ones. Though this is more a feeling than words.
Strength of Ability: Quite frankly speaking, it’s probably the reason why he’s the best medical examiner SYNBAD is ever going to get. Someone who understands the stories of the dead and is able to define and so accurately portray their experiences, someone who truly knows is anyone family’s relief. While that may make him sound creepy, it’s a unique gift that blesses him wholey to get the dead the justice they deserve, on another it’s his curse that makes him understand dead people more than living.
Weakness of Ability:
Sometimes it seems Oliver forgets that people don’t like to talk about corpses, his ability has given him a unique insight into the world of the dead and questions one’s belief in the afterlife or at least perverts it in some way. For many this puts Oliver in a weird position it makes him come off too outside the norm for anyone to accept that part of himself. So he shuts others out about his world, because there’s nobody to talk to about corpse stuff. He finds himself identifying humanity with their death than their living lives, which puts him in an odd position with others.
Oliver spent most of his life in belief that there is something wrong with him, which puts him in an awkward state of mind with people. While he is glad he can provide the dead a voice they otherwise wouldn’t have, he wished he looked more like Bridget or Myles. Something that physically symbolize his difference between humanity itself.
There’s a lot of disassociation in his life where he feels completely mentally or physically lost. Beyond the fact that he is often drained by the end of it. It’s not a physical tired, but a mental tired. Your brain constantly scanning and finding information. Any introvert would be exhausted socializing with a large amount of people, in some ways this is similar in concept. Taking in new bits of information and trying to jumble them together leaves stress headaches, moodiness, and being overtired at times.
While his dreams take him to such vivid realities that aren’t his own. Dreams that make him lose himself, or dreams that playback the death of someone over and over again. Screaming and phantom noises in the back of his mind. Oliver stays silent through it all.
Limitations of Ability:
Despite Oliver having control of what he wants to send a jolt through, sometimes he has little control of how much juice he is giving something. With that in mind sometimes when things are given a jolt of energy, if it’s too much he has a tendency for the dead’s head to explode. Like having forgotten to take something out of the plastic wrapper and it explodes in the microwave. Abilities like being able to discern information from fragments and limbs are often what happened exactly to the limb. None of his powers give him direct context to the information.
Instead he gets the information in a poorly laid out blueprint in his brain that he has to jigsaw back together. It’s like a rubix cube with a few missing colors and you still have to manage to put the few remaining colors back together. Sending a jolt to an individual can lead to other complications, while they may not outright explode, his jolt can send enough energy to accidentally place someone in cardiac arrest, or sometimes his jolt starts hemorrhaging in certain parts of the body, or sometimes their heads explode.
“Do me a favor, if you meet God, tell him corpses smell gross, and I’d like him to give them a better scent, thanks.”
“Might not be a unicorn, but still fabulous nonetheless” -smiles, sparkles- [he just literally threw glitter on the ground]
“Look I am going to be frank, but you know what they say about frank he’s always nipping problems in the bud before they become problems. Your “problem” doesn’t really concern me, your wife is mad because you’re not sticking to the diet you promised to stick to with her. That seems like a fairly reasonable thing to be mad at, someone who doesn’t stick to their promises. Right now I have a guy, bits, and bones stuck in a woodchipper. So, which position would you like to be in? Mine or yours?” -smile kindly though-
Reputation: Mixed. No one can really grasp a feeling on what they think of Oliver. While they can admit that he is a fundamentally decent work and someone they openly admire. He can also be kind of off. There is no way someone should talk so casually about his work as if it doesn’t affect him. Or make nonchalant comments about death as if that’s a conversation you should have at brunch. People aren’t quite sure whether to peg him as a Dexter [from the show] or just socially awkward.
Member
The Jest
