Abyssal Forge - Veiled District
Yvain awoke under a roof. A stone one, but he could feel the stagnant and unpleasant breeze that ruled this defiled land. As he came to, he saw a field of dried, dark dirt surrounding the stone railing he was inside of. He was inside a gazebo, one quite ornate with faded inscriptions in the middle of what he might imagine was a field or a park. It did resemble the Arboretum in terms of layout, minus any sort of greenery.
About thirty metres in every direction was a dense fog that surrounded the gazebo and the empty terrain it lorded over. The taller structures that survived, scarce as they may be, protruded out of the veil at a distance, but one could only see the silhouettes of what was beyond the curtain. With the wind shifting the bluish smog constantly, one couldn’t be blamed for thinking they saw something move.
Right by him, in the middle of the structure, was a crate with the talking box. Along with it was a pair of egg-sized capsules and an equal number of lanterns. Concealed behind the box was a still sleeping girl, one covered in bandages with a rifle strapped to her back. White hair, long ears, tall. Clearly a Yasoi with no other distinguishing features in her clothing, whether it’d be allegiance or even country of origin. All plain clothing found on the average artisan, though as a female she wore baggy pants and boots. A peasant girl? With such an intricate rifle? Surely he had seen someone with this sort of gear before.
The radio buzzed again.
Yvain stared aimlessly at the domain he was transported to.
"This seems rather far from home, would this be what one of the hells could be?" He then smiled from his own words.
"Of course it couldn't, I would never end up in such a place." After he stroked his ego long enough, he noticed the silhouette of a girl behind the box.
He took the eggs in one hand before squatting down to shake the other awake. Taking his own pill alongside her could help in building trust with a stranger.
"Hey, I'm not going to keep this up for long. So you better wake up now." He stated impatiently
Yvain was met with groaning.
“Mmm, I don't want a capsule ...” she shifted as it trying to tug covers over herself. Slowly, her green eyes opened to meet Yvain. Slow and steady, the blur eventually became a complete form.
Blink blink.The white haired girl jumped and quickly scurried back until her back met the stone railing.
“Who are you?” her head was already reaching back for her gun. Barely a second after her querry, she felt her extremities losing far more of their sense of touch than normal. They shivered a lot.
“What did you do to me?” he soft and hushed voice did hold a certain authoritative weight to it. Her eyes keen like a hawk's, locking onto Yvain, or rather the potential spots she could blow up if she were to quick draw.
The man sighed at the woman's response.
To think I was trying to be nice about it. He did not back away and instead just stared at the other.
"I did nothing to you, I am as confused as you are. . Well a little less so, but this little box explained some parts of it." Frustration from how much was unknown hit him.
"If you want to know more, why don't ask it some.""Yvain de Berbignon. He cleared his throat.
"Would you give me the blessing to know your name as well?" He reached out his hand.
A sign of worry appeared on his face.
I do wonder if something happened to Elisée. I don't see her around.“Oh.” more blinks from the girl. She looked a little embarrassed and darted her eyes to the aforementioned box that wasn't so little. It was a rustic radio, after all.
“Pluurii.” she answered, her dry lips pursed to hold back anything else she might blurt out accidentally.
There was an awkward silence when Yvain thought to himself in concern and Pluurii took in her surroundings. The fog was stirring, it was hard to tell if something was moving in there or the clouds were shifting.
“Talk to a box ...?” she said whilst getting herself up and accepting the capsule. There was a light struggle and grunt of exertion to get her right foot up. She opened it by twisting the stop and then stared at the incuous, white pill.
“That sounds a little silly. I-I dunno.” she scratched her cheek with her idle hand, prompting a light hiss. A bad reflex.
"And what do you call yourself, talking box?"“Don Cojones will do.”“You're alive?! You fuckin' rat.”“I'm not gonna get fucked over by some wannabe collector testicle man.”“All of you sought the Forge, I provided a means of entering with relative safety. You would all be dead if it weren't for all these preparations I've put in place. Legends of history stood no chance, neither would you. Until now.”It was then Yvain's turn to blink.
"Well, there is Mister Solaire, and another." Juulet's voice was somewhat familiar, yet not familiar enough to remember the name of. The young man stared at the other's struggle.
"If you have much trouble walking, don't be afraid to lean on me." Yvain looked at the silly box and decided to be the first one to talk to it out of the two of them.
"May I assume that these boxes are connected to each other? If so, how many are there?"“You are split into three groups with a communication device for each. You will find another one at the Fountain Square - Your next destination. There are older models spread throughout the city from previous endeavors.”“The capsules you've opened will allow you to capture a frequency should you be within a certain range of a radio. This is contingent on the device's condition, of course.”She'd then look at his company.
"Looks like we're not the only ones at least."“I know that voice.” the discreet Pluurii spoke once it seemed the radio-exchange had calmed, even if briefly. She swallowed her pill before continuing.
“It's Juulet.” she scooted closer to the radio, only to suddenly perk up, draw her weapon and aim at a random direction with perfect posture.
Nothing.
She furrowed her eyebrows. Could her eyes be trusted? The intense tingling was going away, but her body wasn't aching as much anymore.
“Ask it where that Fountain Square is.” she demanded, still on her guard, with a voice that wasn't mousy anymore.
“Immediately to the point that truly matters. Good.”“Our "Victory" is gaining access to the Abyssal Forge. To do so, the gates of the tower must be opened. Instructions regarding that will be given once you've reached the Fountain Square. That is what I want you to do. I have placed you all near the main arteries of this dead city, all of which should lead you to your first destination. Do not waste too much time. When even death has abandoned this place, you would do well to avoid what can possibly be lurking in the fog.”Yvain shrugged.
"I guess we have our answer there." “Entry into the Forge is far too demanding and contrived of a task to be performed by one individual. Especially with the noxious air you are all feeling right now. Even someone as prepared as I am cannot withstand its effects for long. Neither the Ironshaper nor the Pharaoh of Zaqhoria succeeded in pushing through, I'm not foolish enough to see myself as any more competent. What I do have, however, is centuries of accumulated knowledge and the culmination of years of preparation. And you will be assisting me.”“The pills are a means to keep you alive, and to keep you in line.”“Ghosts wander the streets and take all lives they cross paths with. Those unable to move on scour the shadows to add more to their ranks. And the very fog itself corrupts both mind and body. Stay prudent, for the sake of your colleagues.”The young man swiftly consumed his pill.
"I guess we are the blessed, doing the bidding of the unknown so that they can take the credit." The taking credit part is what hurt the most. He began to count on his fingers.
"Mister Solaire, Yuliya, that one Reshta candidate Juulet, probably some more and us two. That's quite the ensemble. Big names have gathered here."“Keep us in line.” Pluurii repeated with the same solemnity. Her gun was lowered by she stayed attached to the railings, very much on guard.
“Ask what it meant by it.” she kept her voice discreet, concious of what may be lurking.
The voice of Yvain came out of the box.
"Could I ask what is meant by keeping us in line?"“Firstly, it keeps you alive in this city. You can wield some of your magic and will not keel over after prolonged exposure. Secondly, you are now bound to one another. Should one of you die, one or more of you will perish as well. Murder will be met with your numbers halved as punishment. I apologize for these cruel circumstances, but experience has taught me that the carrot is not enough as an incentive. Attempt to leave and you will meet the same fate.”"Looks like we have our answer, as horrid it may be."More information poured out, including what to do about the fog.
“It looks like we've no choice, Mister Yvain.” decided Pluurii with a discreet voice as she sheathed her rifle on her back.
“We need to find that main road. But-” there was a cage of fog around them, after all, and her general glance acknowledged it.
“We make a dash.”The bandaged Yasoi walked to the steps of the gazebo. Her gait was irregular, with her left leg dragging a little. It was practically a limp with consistent clangs of metal. She didn't stop to address it but it did slow her down.
“Bring the box, if you think that is a good idea.”Yvain inspected the box and found it was plugged into the floor.
"No can do. It's stuck into floor, look." He would tug onto the cord.
His gaze then returned once more to the legs of the woman.
"Are you sure you do not need my help with running? That leg looks like it's worse for wear.Pluurii believed him and did not bother to actually given it a look. No, the fog held more weight in her concerned mind. When her leg became the subject of discussion, she stopped to address Yvain.
“Hmm? I think it's fine.” she raised the knee to about hip-height before knocking on it, thus producing a metallic echo.
“Freshly cleaned, too. You, on the other hand-” she narrowed her emerald gaze for a moment. It was difficult to tell what exactly she was emoting with most of her face bandaged, but she was focused.
“Huh. It probably doesn't matter.” she decided with a perky smile before turning back to approach the wall of fog.
The young man raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"Are you calling me filthy?" He smiled back at the woman who. . . insulted him?
That rules out them being Constantian Yasoi at least. . . Or it might be due to that prosthetic. His gaze then turned to the fog.
"Should we just go straight?" Yvain regarded Pluurii.
"If you have any ideas, I don't mind hearing it."“Nope!” was her first answer, just as perky as her posture minus the limp.
“Nope.” a more neutral tone for her second, her focus was on the fog he had brought up.
“Nope ...” was her third and final answer. Pluurii looked Yvain's way.
“I think you should set it ablaze.” a recommendation with an soft-spoken air to it as if she was suggesting they'd get a dessert.
“Perhaps that fire resistance that runs in your flesh could help you push through, if you so happen to actually set it alight.” she leaned in a little, her smile wide but her eyes dull. Most of her expression was still hidden by the bandages.
"My affinity with flames. . How did you know about that?" Yvain looked slightly shocked as the Yasoi told him of personal information that he had kept mostly to himself. He'd shake head.
"Never mind that, what would you do if I were to go along with your plan of setting ablaze?"“You took far too long to cook and boil against that fiery crusader.” Pluurii answered anyway, her smile still wide. It wasn't a malicious smile, but more so like she was proud of her accomplishment.
“I would watch you do it. And maybe ...” she cocked her head and focused on the fog that wasn't too far from them. It was truly empty all around them and the silence was deafening.
“I'd find a way. Or I'll brave the fog! Maybe, I'll wait for you to find a safe spot and you call out for me. Does that sound good?”To be the torch for this woman was but a duty that should be fulfilled.
"How about this then. I will brave the fog and you keep that rifle on the ready in case something pops up from the fog. Would that be acceptable?" His hand pushed the blade slightly out of it's saya.
If it is flames she wants.Nodded rapidly and with enthusiasm. Her weapon was drawn and she stood at the ready, her posture that of a Tarlonese soldier's.
And with that the young man braved the fog, unsheathing his blade from the saya as it began to hum and glow. Fire began to surround the figure as the heat fought against the fogged up path.
Yvain quickly discovered just how much his capacity was depleted after taking the pill. Well, it was better than none at all before he had even taken it, but his flames did not have the luster they once hand, now the destructive force that made him so formidable. The heat was there, but so was the cold. Where he couldn't fully coil his body with the tongues of fires he felt the frigid breeze carrying the mysterious miasma. A mist that did not actually harm him, but the way it wrapped around him the same way flames did, like there was some intelligent design behind it.
Pluurii stayed back. She did exactly as told, gun trained at any possible movement that wasn't the glowing light of orange and red now eaten by the wall of fog. Soon, he'd be gone entirely.
“That's a shame.” she remarked with a frown.
“The fire didn't do much of anything to it.” she sighed out of her nostrils. Another plan would have to be made.
Meanwhile, Yvain felt like he was being watched. Then a gasp just over his nape. No words came but the particular sound it made - intonation and inflexion - it felt so familiar. A name soon came with that morsel of an echo: Elisée.
"Great, my flames are so pathetic that I can't even insulate myself from the cold. Is this how that Hend. . Enthish commoner felt back in that snowy dump Vossoriya?" He wandered through his own complaints over his lacking performance. Hearing no shot, he explored further.
If this turns out to be the puny machinations of an illusion mage, I might just beat some sense into them for weakening me so.A sense on his skin just as familiar as the name it echoed. The woman who had sworn to be his cloak and dagger.
Another trick?There was nothing behind him. But that breathing felt all too real. He could practically feel the condensation on his neck. Or was that just the heat's effect on the fog? Regardless, it was if nothing had happened.
Then he heard another voice. An actual voice, this time. Echoes of Yvain's memories, maybe. It was his father's, a man he had resented.
"You are my legacy."
"Legacy in name. You may have sired children, but your legacy is solely with your eldest son, father." He strutted forward defiantly. It had to be a trick, there was no actual reason for his father to get of his opulent seat to do anything significant.
Damned trickster must have done his homework.Yvain was suddenly strangled by something. A form that held him effortlessly with one hand. And it wore the face of his father.
"Without me, you would be nothing. Hate me all you want, I've kept your name afloat."
The choke was tight. Very tight. But it didn't hurt either - only his breathing was compromised.
A trick of the mind, that has to be it! Yvain tried to grasp his neck to free himself.
"I. . . would still. . . be better." He'd grin through the search for air.
Yvain could breathe again, and he fell to the ground. The face he had seen had become pure mist.
His surroundings looked different. The faint light in the sky was elsehwere over him. There were also a few ruins to his right which he could see the silhouette of.
"Yvain?!" called yet another familiar voice.
"Is that you? Gods, fuck this fat man." it was Yuliya. And he could see her form walking at a brisk pace toward him.
Yvain gasped for air as he was let go by the foggy apparition of his father. This place seemed to become more strange with every step he set.
Perhaps Father's advise wasn't to bad. Being in this many extraordinary events makes me wish for the mundane at times. "Yuli?" He lowered his guard at the sound and silhouette of a friend approaching him.
"Fat man? What happened?" His eyes were trained on the form that became more clear with each passing second.
"It is you! Real you?" Yuliya shot a skeptical look at him, hesitant to closer much more distance once they both could recognize distinguishing features from one another.
"Are you real, Yvain?" she looked guarded.
"This fog do too many tricks.""I believe that I am." He began to further lower his guard.
"It is good to see a friendly face in such grey space." Yvain nodded to the final comment.
"Way too many tricks."Yuliya rubbed her shoulder, failing to hide her unease.
"I don't know where we should go." a frigid breeze passed through them. Her hair was a tad disheveled, left to flow like a golden mane and remained over both her shoulders equally.
Then, a scream caught their attention. A cry for help. It was Elisée! Yuliya could hear it too, however. If it was a hallucination, how could others hear it too?
"You came with someone?" she inqired, still very cautious of even Yvain.
"I wasn't supposed to, but she might have followed me to the meeting point." Yvain showed a rather pained expression.
"We should go. If this is real. . .I can't afford to test that." He was already ready to rush the way of the cry.
Panic set in, not knowing if it was a trick or not.
"Will you follow me?"Yuliya tentatively nodded.
"You lead way, Yvain." The screams got louder and more dire. "Help! Oraff! Dami! Oh Gods, please!" it sounded like she was in pain. Something had clearly happened. And the closer Yvain got, the more he could hear metallic clanging noises. Something was banging. "OH BY THE GODS! FUCK!" she cried out as if one of those bangs had actually struck her hard.
He could hear his Vossoriyan companion behind him. Her footsteps were swift and distinct. But the moment he'd look back to see, she would be gone with her steps echoing in the fog. Still, the cries of his Perrench associate persisted, and he was close.
Yvain could not think of her conpanion for as long as someone deemed family was potentially in danger.
The grip on his blade tightened the closer he got to the voice.
Don't you dare die on me! You promised to stick around until I was forty.A silhouette that shifted and changed in the fog promised a sign of life. The screams and banging came from it too. A dancing shadow that seemed big enough for one person, which left one to wonder if there was a hidden assailant.
When he got close enough, however, he would only find a rock. It didn't move anymore, nor did he hear anything else. Did the fog's moving air give such a poignant illusion? What about the sounds?
To his right, he heard something new. A wet gurgling sound. Like someone was choking on water. Or their own blood. There was another sound as well, one even wetter and more visceral. It was so close too, and the stench of blood suddenly reigned in the air.
"Y-yv ..."
Frustration. Frustration and anger was filling him, to think that something within this place dared to play with his heart so.
It can not truly inflict physical pain and thus it wishes to hurt the heart?Yet his frustration seemed to only last a little while as something could be heard. A gurgling sound that seemed to be calling out to him. It could be another trick, or would it be the third charm that would be real? He once more did not want to risk leaving one held dear to die and went towards the sound.
"Hello?" He tried his hardest to stay calm, well as much as he could.
Yvain witnessed his longtime friend and follower being devoured. Face bloodied, red ichor drenching her attire and her split open. Behind the kneeling victim was another individual, one with familiar blonde hair. It wasn't the hair, however that immediately stood out but the hands. The digits that held immense strength, much more than even he, a man trained in the sword, could naturally muster. But he didn't have to recognize anything to immediately know what he was seeing. It was Yuliya, devouring Elisée.
It reeked of metal in the air. It all looked so real. Wicked sanguinaire eyes locked onto Yvain as Elisée was finally drained. The pale ghost of a woman was ruthlessly shoved away to the side like a broken toy, making way for the feral bloodsucker to approach the de Berbignon. Her mouth was even bloodier than her meal's and her teeth sharpened by twisted binding magic.
"Weak Perrenchman." a demonically distorted voice came from the morbid jaw of this monster.
"Thank you for serving me meal." a vile grin was barely distinguishable in the layer of red on her maw. She continued her approach and Yvain couldn't move. It wasn't fear or revulsion, he literally could not move.
And soon he would discover that this fog wasn't just a mere illusion as he witnessed his shoulder being torn apart by the one he once called a friend.
Different pains set in all at once. The physical pain of his shoulder was the catalyst that let the mental pains loose. His brain raced to conclusions, yet none made sense. His trusted friend could not just die like that, right? . . Nor would he be betrayed by another friend most dear whom he helped cover for despite his morals. Nothing made sense to him.
They’re just another blood mouth? A feral beast disguised as the civilized man? His working hand gripped his blade and stabbed the foul beast that had given up on their ties. Even if he could not kill it, he could wound it. Tears ran down his cheek yet his face no longer showed any sadness, instead, it showed fury for the life that was taken.
This was his punishment for his weakness. His physical weakness, being a shepard that could not keep his own herd safe. . and his mental weakness, letting his morals weaken just for a friend and in turn becoming a hypocrite to his own cause.
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