Shienvien

The Prophecy

Aemoten

“The woman is angry with me, I learned a long time ago not to trust people angry with me. Especially with my health.”
Angry? Irritated at Thaler, maybe, if her shouting earlier was any indication... But not vengefully angry. Iridiel did not come across as the kind of person who would harm a living being purely out of spite - and if Sulis was anything like Reina or some such benevolent deity, then any favored of hers who inflicted senseless suffering would furthermore risk having one's powers revoked.
She had healed Etakar, despite him being a foreign beast who could easily crush her torso in a single hand if he only so desired; she had offered to heal him, in spite of him being no more than a complete stranger who stumbled across her when she appeared to be trying to recover herself, and now she was lending her goddess' power to heal an individual she has only a minute ago been ready to kill, and who had all but told her outright she had intended to kill her first... Healer first and foremost. Not a threat, or at least so his instincts - gut feeling, if one so desired - insisted. And in things like that, he was typically not wrong. Sometimes regrettably, as the happenings which had ensued after he had recognized the three-quarter-devil as trouble demonstrated. But the opposite was presumably true, too, and at some point their exceptionally bad luck had to run out.
Besides, even his feelings as a human man left aside - aside of it simply being painful to see a person he loved injured and hurting -, it was a matter of pure practicality. Where the man lamented over suffering, the warrior saw loss of function. Broken people could not go on, injured individuals made poor fighters, strength and willpower alike were resources, and could be depleted... Staying in a severely weakened state when amending the situation was both easily and quickly doable was not only pointless, it was actively harmful.
He guessed he would have to talk to Iridiel separately afterwards ... sort out the misunderstanding, if there even was one to speak of, explain there was no foul blood... That there was still an ounce of good left in people... That every now and then, there still were other options than either sacrifice or gritting one's teeth and enduring... People could not go on on their own indefinitely. Koraakan knew he would not have gotten this far if he were continuing on a solitary path, not with everything thrown his way...
But first things first. Figure out what to do with the woman... “And be careful.”

I shall try, Thaler. I shall try...

The outlander's expression, however, did not change as he stared down at their prone detainee, the worst of her visible injuries gone, but her skin still covered in her own and - Aemoten suspected - Thaler's blood, a slight notch left behind in her ear where the daywalker had bit her in her frustration. The male foreigner leaned closer to his companion, sheathing his knife and whispering something to her. Iridiel nodded, replying something in her own tongue, all the while the young squire beside him seemed to recollect himself and relayed the exact apparent effects of the stranger's aura on him.
"I see," he thoughtfully remarked to the younger nightwalker as he watched the brown-and-green-skinned man listen to Iridiel's words with puzzlement evident on his face, eyebrows furrowed.
Inconvenient as the aura's effect was, the warrior supposed it was actually preferable to an effect that would make people instinctively like her... Assuming that it felt the same to everyone, and did not depend on the woman's attitude towards any particular subject, or her current mood. Fear was doubtlessly an unpleasant and undesirable sensation that could divide men and women fighting for a singular cause - it could be crippling, even, but in a sense it was more honest. Unwarranted fondness was often more devious, as recent experiences had shown. Induced fear was more easily recognized for what it was, and more commonly resisted...
What Olan was saying, however, was perhaps of even more interest, even though even he did not seem to have a too good understanding of what they had at hand. “It’s not a demon or an angel, I can tell that much, but... it’s weird. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like it is her, but it’s also in her. Like... a parasite, maybe.”
"So not like Usha...? She is an actual human affected by something else?"
Koraakan knew they did not need another entity like she had been. Not mortal, not divine, not infernal, the bloody hell else it was? Although ... they had yet another entity somewhere among their ranks who was quite capable of commandeering at least Jaelnec at will ... who had furthermore both made an indirect threat on her host's and his own life alike, and had refused to properly identify herself. Thaler believed in her benevolence, on grounds he could not quite comprehend, but not even Jaelnec himself had any knowledge of her nature ... or even of her presence before she evidently decided he was free to be puppeteered. It only occurred to him now that Olan had not only been present both for their discussion over the matter and the actual act of possession, but also been the person who sealed the entity with but a single word.
"Or ... her? The one who Thaler compared to a mother tigress? Do you know who or what she is?" If they could at least get answer to one question...
When Iridiel spoke to Olan directly, rather than only at her companion (who, still appearing a bit confused, nevertheless nodded slowly to her words), and Olan subsequently turned to Angora, claiming Iridiel was going to help her, though it could end up being unpleasant, it gave the foreign warrior a pause.
"What do you intend to do?" he inquired, addressing it at the woman ... though the male beside him repeated it to her in their shared language, for obvious reasons.

The Prophecy

There, I and Legion posted. (Into the accidental empty post a bit ago.) Next is Jack, I believe?

The Prophecy

Probably me with Domhnall... Or at least that is the obvious option.

The Prophecy

Thaler leaving would lead to the group being split into two ... so it's either Aemoten convinces her to stay on the next morning or it'd be Olan/Iri/Dom/Angora and Aemoten/Thaler/Jaelnec/Zerul City group or something along those lines... Aemoten will *NOT* leave her, period, everything else be damned. After this morning, with her being suicidal and Rilon, hundredfold so (although multiplying certainly has little effect, technically speaking).

The Prophecy

So more like a surprised "Hey, we had her already, why did you do that?!"? Would be much easier if Iridiel could actually speak Rodorian...

The Prophecy

Domhnall McRaith and Iridiel

The white-eyes paid no heed to his words or held-out hand, opting to crawl out from underneath her on her own reserves, though not before slamming an elbow to her head and inciting a surprised exclamation from Iridiel. She had reverted back to Éireann, but the gist of her message of, "Damn it, she was about to say something! The hell did you have to go and do that to her for?! Don't you want to hear what she has to say?!" was probably evident enough even without the words themselves being understood.
The white-eyes herself was in no better shape, though, clothes torn and arms bleeding from bites and scratches, chest no doubt hurting from the savage throwing herself back at her. The forestfolk stared after her, half-dumbfounded, even when the woman muttered something about it being okay for someone to try killing them, but scared animals being murdered.

He did not know who or what (other than Angora being spared) the statement was aimed at. He himself was a hunter, but he had never killed without a reason (and no proper humanoids, to date). He killed for the same reason a wolf, fox, bear or a tiger would - to eat. Or, in rare instances, to save himself or others... What he did not eat of those he voluntarily killed, there were other uses for - pelt for fur clothes or leather, bones for tools, fat for ointments or soap, sinew for string ... and what happened to be left over still, Iridiel's wolf usually just gobbled down. Hunters and prey were natural course of life; even herbivores like deer would not hesitate to become opportunistic scavengers or consume the contents of a bird's nest given the chance (especially in the spring, when their antlers were growing in).
Nature was brutal. If it was not predator, it was disease ... and every now and then, even if you were regarded as a peaceful herbivore, it was your own kind. If it was not real threat, it was perceived threat ... competition for resources, mates... It was rare if a game beast lived to old age, but if they did, they often lived the last stretch of their life in solitude, plagued by ailing joints and waning strength. One thing they had in abundance, though, was experience. They knew when and where to find food and water, where predators hid and which bird calls meant trouble, they knew how to fight...
Every now and then, a stag lived about double his prime; if a seven-year-old stag had a magnificent rack of many-pronged antlers, then an old thin gray beast like this usually only barely more than two prongs on their horns, leaving mostly smooth long spikes reaching back and forwards. And they knew well how to use them... Hunters called them "lancers". Experienced deer feared them, and fled at the sight of them. Young, foolish ones with blood rising to their heads occasionally answered their challenges during the mating season - and were subsequently gutted. A single "lancer" could have a devastating effect on the local deer population, and subsequently had to be hunted down, lest it endangered the very future of the next generation of its kin...

Strange woman... Even stranger happenings... The leader of the small group was once more up and about, it seemed. To be fair, one would probably have to have been dead to not have been roused by the commotion. He saw the warrior approach the white-eyes; they appeared to be talking, as it were... At the same time, there was motion from his other side, and the forestfolk's attention was diverted. Hopefully those two over yonder were fine by themselves...
The savage was trying to stand, but got no farther than to her knees; Iridiel had foregone her offensive demeanor, and was now seemingly concerned for the well-being of the individual she had not long ago incapacitated. She spoke, though, the savage, and much like before, he could not understand a word. Her voice made the hairs on his neck stand on end - it was hollow, somehow, with a strange echo to it. Like the unearthly scream she had let loose as she charged... And on the next moment, she dropped to ground again.
Indeed. Not a threat anymore. His eyes moved to his knife, still brandished and held in a firm grip as it was, and with a measure of awkwardness, sheathed it once more. Iridiel was frowning now, crouching by the savage and muttering something under her breath, with the familiar soft cyan-blue glow emitting from her hands. She was actually healing the savage? Admittedly, it would be mighty difficult to question a comatose person... The younger black-eyes stepped forth, still bitter at the savage for her having kicked in the crotch. The older one appeared thoughtful.
"You were going to kill her," Domhnall idly observed. "Doesn' explain wha's her issue with us, 'ough."
What followed was a weiar interrogation, where parts were in Rodorian, parts in all the languages, and parts in ... whatever that was. Domhnall was fairly confident Iridiel could understand what was said in all the languages the same he did, the Rodorian bits ... not so much. In the end, he leaned closer, and quietly translated.
"The savage's name is Angora. She attacked because she thought we will ... because we want her sword or something. She has attacked people before, because it "felt natural" to kill them, well, before they killed her. There is something not mortal in her, the black-eyes thinks, that is making her so..."
Meanwhile, the warrior had moved up to their little conglomeration, looking down on the savage, his face equal measures hard and weary, "Possession?"
He really did not seem to dally around before getting to the point, it looked like.

Iridiel leaned back away from Angora and sighed, nodding her head in understanding.
"Possession by some foreign spirit. It makes sense - you heard the scream, Domhnall. It sent a chill down everyone's spine, it was certainly not human, and her voice sounds as though it is some demon from the Hells trying to communicate to us. What makes me wonder now is... how is she able to control herself? Have we weakened the possessor's hold over her? Maybe... enough to help her?"
She looked inquisitively at the old man, and then at the woman in front of her. She had not enjoyed rendering this woman nearly unconscious with her blow to the head, but it had been the easiest and simplest way of sorting the situation. And her anger with the white lady? Out of irritation that she was trying to help the woman-now-patient of hers - try walking up to a doctor and stabbing their patient with a knife, and see what reaction you'd get. It wouldn't be much different.
Iridiel heard a whisper in the back of her mind. "Help her. She is important to the journey. I will guide you." Frowning, Iridiel nodded and motioned to Domhnall and Olan to listen to her.
"Look, I need you two to hold her down in case things go nasty. I'm going to try and see what I can do about this possession - to do that I need to go into her mind and... well, figure out the pieces of the puzzle. I can't guarantee her it won't be difficult or painless, but I will try and be as quick and gentle as I can." She looked at the old man. "Olan, I need you to tell her to try and remain as calm as possible - not easy, I know, what with now two entities rummaging around in her head, but she can't throw me off, otherwise Sulis knows what will happen to her mind... and possibly even her soul. It's... it's the only way I know to treat this. It's dangerous. But if it works, we'll see the results."

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The Prophecy

Aemoten

He vaguely followed what was going on in the background, Olan speaking in ... some language that was all and none. He had heard it a few times before, in his time within the group, he thought, in addition to Thaler's own strange ability, the nature of which he did not quite fathom yet, either. He guessed he had pinpointed the source now, at least... Another mystery to add to the long row of those surrounding Olan. Perhaps he would bring it up sometime later, but for now, the confidence that the older nightwalker was firmly on their side (and had more goodness in his heart than was strictly taken healthy to him) was more than sufficient. He had neither the patience nor energy to deal with anything that was not the most crucial, the most immediately relevant, or the closest to his heart.
And so, though he registered what Olan said, though he could hear their "detainee" speak in some language that seemed both oddly familiar, yet wholly unrecognizable at once, though he could hear Olan giving a brief overview of her words (which, frankly, made little sense for a rational mind - she had attacked a group unaware of her presence just because she "thought" they were going to attack her, let alone a group much more powerful and numerous than her? whatever were they going to do with her...), he seemed to pay little mind to it for the time being, and focused entirely on Thaler.

She had halted upon his words, but also backed down, out of his reach - making the foreign warrior, who was yet also simply a human man, involuntarily flinch, as if she had physically hit him again. He did not not move after her ... did not want to seem more invasive or overbearing than necessary. He did not know whether anything would ever be the same it had been before this morning between them, before the devilgod decided to drop in and deal a devastating blow to them all, but if things were to ever return to any semblance of normal - that would take time. He would not be able to rush it, no matter how much he wished that... Just being able to offer one another comfort and reassurance again would be enough. Not ... this. Whatever "this" was. Fear? Revulsion? Bitterness? Yet it had been relayed and implied that she was also worried for him... It did not make sense. Perhaps they were both messed up enough for nothing to make bloody sense anymore. The outlander's expression had turned to a stern mask once again, though now there were faint hints of mournful weariness present, rather than anger.
The daywalker answered, though, echoing what Olan had implied. Without any provocation, the woman had ambushed them.
"Just ... like that?" he echoed faintly, an expression of disbelief rather than a true question.
So that was why it felt like someone had hit me over the head with a sledgehammer... a part of him absently noted when the daywalker admitted the use of her power. Did not matter, though. She did not know, and he was not about to make her feel quilt over something she had inflicted from lack of information. And strictly spoken, he would have had to be woken up soner rather than later, anyway. There was something else, though ... the pain in his head persisted, and he knew this kind. What the exact effect was, he could not tell, but there was still some aura, some lingering spell present that affected the mind. The woman, most likely...
No, you're not fine, a part of him immediately also wanted to protest when she stated otherwise, but yet he did not feel like arguing. So he just slowly, automatically shook his head.
"Jumping on it did work," he remarked instead. Fact.
Thaler did not keep up any pretenses about their respective conditions. There was no point, anyway... He could see her. She could hear his voice, had felt the tremors and lack of stability in his body. He still wanted to protest ... explain her that what ailed him and what he would be giving to heal her were fully different things, that it would not make him immediately worse for wear, that he would manage, that... He did not want to argue. And besides, in this instance there was a better option than spending his resources to heal Thaler, anyway. So he relented.
'Go make friends with it' ... for the briefest of moments, something akin to a wry smile touched the warrior's lips, only to be gone a moment later.
"Neither of us is fine," he admitted, echoing her latter sentiments. We both know that. "Rest ... yes. Trust me, just someplace where we'd be left alone till morning... Would be nice." Maybe the world would be more willing to grant them what they desired if they did not ask much from it in the first place. "I can make it to Zerul City, now, though. We'll move as soon as I ... well, have figured out what do with her." He sighed, then swallowed before continuing. "That woman, the one who helped, she's favored. Healer. I'll ask her to fix what she can, okay? No reason to travel like that. I should still have a spare shirt or two ... water, too." He obviously did not care if she went through his things, and now he was openly giving her implicit permission to do so. Nothing to hide from her. He had to wince when she mentioned putting him to sleep. "Please, don't. I don't think I'd wake a before the month after the next if you did..." It was said almost as a joke, but there was also a sinister truth to the statement.
He hesitated for a moment.
"Take care," was what he finally settled with. It was oddly detached, as had been most of the little exchange, emotions filtered out for the sake of brevity and simplicity. It did not mean that the feelings were not present ... it was simply not the time and place for that now. Maybe he would have taken her hand, held it for a moment ... he did not dare try.
Instead he simply sent her with his eyes for a brief while, then turned to meticulously cover the rest of the short way to the little gathering around the strange woman. The most he could do for her for the time being would be to arrange everyone a mount and tell off anyone who would stand between and whatever inn William had arranged them.

“She admits that she attacked the other people first,” Olan was relaying as he approached and took a standing position between him and Jaelnec. “And says that she felt like ‘the natural thing to do’ was to kill them before they could kill her.”
What was this? Insanity? Mind-control? One thing he probably needed more insight to right away...
He leaned closer to Jaelnec and, lowering his voice, asked, "The aura he's referring to ... what is it like? I can tell there is something that affects the mind ... not what it is. Mostly just pain of a very particular kind ... can explain later."
'Something that is not mortal' ... like we have had any shortage of those recently. And thus far, this one did not seem to break the pattern of hostility. There was no way this woman was going to convince him this was an accident. Could just not let her go, because she was too damn dangerous. Obviously. But was she a victim or a perpetrator?
He remembered all too well the day the three-quarter-demon's failing disguise finally broke apart fully. The savagery with which she had assaulted them. But he also remembered Louis, how he had gone from aiding him to having being imprinted with fury towards them, a fierce loyalty towards the near-devil, the effects lasting for hours. The Illusionist, and how they toyed with people. How Jaelnec had been commandeered by an entity they still knew very little of ... Thaler had trusted her to be good-natured, yet he figured that at the very least, she had a rather poor understanding of humanoids.
"Possession?" he inquired from Olan.
Short of deciding that she was a lost cause and executing her on the spot ('unless we have to'), this one would probably need to come with them for the time being... The next reasonable thing to do would probably be to hand her over to whichever authority in Zerul City was most appropriate ... another thing between them and a perfectly adequate set of beds.

The Prophecy

Make complete psychopaths or other people who are physically incapable of feeling fear fight them?

(I'll probably skim through the entirety of the OoC during the weekend, see whether some other entries might be missing, too. I know I misplaced the Human Cypher image, so I'll just make a new one at some point (would be something like seven minutes). Hmm... Any thoughts on a better way to depict the planes (other than just darkening the background)?)

The Prophecy

Hmm... I think I'll still write the post under the assumption that she did not use her power, and if I am wrong, let Legion roll a die, see where it would fall on my arbitrarily defined scale from "instakill" (and consequently the removal of Aemoten as a character from the RP, pretty much, barring some serious dedication from the other characters) to some variation of "cry out in pain and keel over", and amend my post accordingly.

...I've thought of drawing some of the actual creatures, too, but as it is there are still quite a few things left for me to draw that I've to finish first, and it's been quite hectic with work, it'd be left somewhere in the unforeseeable future. (And I think I'd first draw specifically creatures rather than the humanoids if I do, since I've plenty of other humanoids I'm going to have to draw in the backlog for the time being, in the actual "things I've promised to do" list).