Shienvien

The Prophecy

Aemoten

“I can calm myself,” the young nightwalker assured him. “Freagon made a point of teaching me that much, and I didn’t have Roct back then. I... Reaching out to her for comfort is just a bad habit at this point. I’ll try -” the foreign warrior raised an eyebrow when Jaelnec stopped himself, and actually grinned at him “- no, I will stop.”
There was still conviction left, and faith in oneself and one's companions, was there not? It had been but minutes ago that the foreign warrior had wondered over such matters to himself - more than he had outright told Jaelnec. About how many of them actually had - or had ever had - faith in this quest of theirs. Of how Jaelnec had been the most idealistic, and also perhaps the most naive of them all. Of how days, not weeks or months, had been more than enough to have the world bite back for seeing good in a doomed being, and for one setback to follow another. Would it have been odd, then, to begin to doubt their greater aim? To give up all enthusiasm and just do because you thought you had to, it was right?
He himself had been ... just as cynical and pessimistic as ever, chances were, but both physically and mentally much better off than he was now. And restless and mournful rather than dutiful and in love... And everything else he could not care to even begin to list. But most discernibly, he had undertaken the quest to do something, not out of belief in what they were doing. In a sense, he had been escaping his past - in action. If he managed to do any good in it, then the better, but it had not been the main aim of what he was doing. In the end, it was a pleasant surprise, then, that for all the hardships they came across, they had ended up doing some good, after all. Set a few things right. And find people to set one's trust in and count on.
It was always about the people fighting beside you, and those back home. He had seen Jaelnec almost broken after the whole affair with the three-quarter-demon ... it was heartening to see it was not so today. Today was mostly between Aemoten himself and Thaler, and to a lesser extent Olan, who had been caught between the gears - or dragged into the path of the Blood Devilgod's wrath as it were. Sort out their anger and let go of it, move on. Perhaps there was yet hope for mending the damage, however long it took. Perhaps.
Jaelnec was a good man. Not without fault - none of them were, himself included, but he could only be thankful that they had managed to overcome their little misunderstanding back there (which, in retrospect, they largely
had Roct to thank for in the first place), and to have him as someone he could call a friend. Koraakan knew he would have to tear himself to shreds and still fall short if he were to continue onward on his own...
"At the end of the day, what matters most is that our wills have remained unbroken," he surmised, tilting his head back and focusing his gaze in the distance once more. Broken people do not save worlds. For the briefest of moments, something akin to an echo of a tired smile moved over his features.
"Will" was a word with oddly many flavors, his muddled mind supplemented for reasons unknown ... perhaps he should point it out to Olan; seemed like the kind of thing that would fit his musings.

Jaelnec contemplated for a moment when he explained his reasoning for splitting te group into two in the manner he had descibed, and from his reply, ultimately appeared to agree with his decision - “I’ll go back to the others, then, and get them to Zerul City as soon as possible.”
Aemoten nodded, once. As per his culture, it was the norm for people to question the words of their leaders if they were not immediately understood, or seemed suboptimal. A slave did as told without asking questions. The warrior and the common denizen acted with known purpose and reason. The whys of one's deeds and decisions were important. The leader was supposed to go with the best decision, not whatever they had managed to come up with first - and if the leader was incapable of coming up with a decent explanation for doing as they told, chances were their proposed course of action was not a good one.
“It should be safe between here and there, but I’ve been wrong before... be careful.”
"I shall," he agreed. "You too."
The foreign warrior and a human man sighed. Whatever Iridiel had done with this Angora who had stumbled upon - nay, leaped screaming at them - seemed to have worked, as much as she could seen walking about on her own and retrieving her weapon. Quite notably without any her former savagery ... and then apparently going back to talking to people who were not Olan, seemingly in a quite normal fashion.
"Time to let the others know of our plans and get going," he muttered, setting way towards the rest. He guessed it was the least he was obligated to do in the way of "deciding what to do with her" as he had put it to Thaler. At least introduce himself properly as opposed to just inquiring whether she was possessed and wandering off with one of his companions. And letting them know what he was doing in general was just common decently, and what a leader should minimally do. Besides, Etakar was also there, observing the quad with an air of languid interest - if anything, he bore an almost disturbing semblance to a lazy cat observing the antics of nearby sparrows. It was not even a detour.
He hoped there would not be much to discuss. Just ... decide what they would do with her and set off towards Zerul city. Exactly as he had told Thaler he would do before she wandered off.

Domhnall McRaith

Domhnall watched quizzically as Angora fetched her sword and went forth to explain her reasoning for coming along.
"If that's really the case and your run of bad luck continues, even more reason to bring me along, huh? You know I can fight, so what's one more sword-arm to help you reach Zerul? Besides... life debts aren't easily repaid, you know."
He supposed. Besides, who was to say the gray brute was not only the first sign of their own troubles? (The had found that one on their own, as he had been quick to point out to Olan.)
She looked ... young, though. Besides the squire, who looked even younger than her (and squires were supposed to start their service quite young, were they not? By appearances, the fellow had been in training for at least half his life...) everyone here had at least a decade on her. Absolutely speaking, anyway - it was not like Éireannach and humans aged alike. Speaking of which, he was not exactly sure how black-eyes' aged, either ... for all that he knew, the slightly adolescent-looking black-eyes could be anywhere from five to five hundred years old...
"Woul' ye like a blanke' or somethin'?" he reflexively inquired when the girl remarked at the cold, shivering. He was slightly cool in his current attire ... he figured their newfound acquaintance was much worse off. Iridiel, in turn, probably did not mind the autumn cold. Came with him originating from the jungles and her from the mountains, he figured - something about the climate one and one's ancestors grew up in. They never seemed to agree on the temperature ... arguably, he was better off - Rodorian summers appeared worse on Iridiel than the winters did on him. It was generally easier to warm up than cool off.
Questions, answers ... too many of the first, not enough of the latter. Sounded 'bout right. Her mention of a brother raised another question, though...
"Ye think the ci'y's safe fer ye tae go abou'?" Unless, of course, most people simply would not be able to associate the banshee-voiced savage they first met with her once she was, well, cleaned up again. And... As he pointed out her aura, the girl appeared confused, but then perked up and focused for a bit ... and indeed, the odd sensation of being piss-drunk and hungover at once subsided to the point of nigh imperceptibility. Yeah. That would make putting two and two much more difficult.
Domhnall blinked. "Yeh. Mos' of tha's gone now. I's a relief fer sure."
And then he blinked some more as he listened the girl rattle off a whole list of relatives and their respective roles in society, more and less respected as they were. He was terrible with foreign names, and he had just acquired a bunch of new acquaintances. Hopefully just managing to remember that the one before him was Angora would suffice for now... Angora, Aemoten, Jael...nec?, Thale? Thala? Olan ... and the big beast. The warrior fellow had introduced this one separately, too, and implied it was more intelligent than one would expect. E-something.
He was torn from his attempt to recall at least the names of his new companions when Iridiel hesitantly agreed that food and wash were in order. Yeah ... he had already vocalized his agreement with finding a place to clean off dirt earlier, if mostly to spare the girl some embarrassment as they went through the city gates.
Food... He himself was not quite hungry yet, but by the time Angora had had the chance to clean herself, he probably would be. Unnoticeably, a fair amount of time had passed since he and Iridiel had finished breakfast and packed up their camp, only to meet the gray brute and then stick around a bit longer to recover themselves, and then meet with the little group and wait for Aemoten to recover and now deal with Angora... In other words, some time had passed since breakfast indeed. Lunch would be in order soon enough. They would still make it to Zerul City during this day all right, chances were. So ... the warrior fellow would probably agree with this further little delay.
Angora had reservations for discussing matters with this apparent leader of the group, though. Domhnall absently scratched his bearded cheek as he was trying to make sense of the statement ... and find a resolution of some description to it thusly. (Why was he the one people seemed to look at for solutions, again?) Not in his good books... Well, Angora had woken him from his much-needed slumber (the poor fellow looked about to fall from the saddle when they first saw him), she had kicked his squire in the balls, and scratched up and probably broken the nose and a few ribs of his ... what exactly was she to him? Girlfriend? Wife? Something of the sorts. There was little mistaking how the guy looked at her, and she had sat by his side running fingers through his hair most of the time he was out of commission.
Yep. That definitely summed up to "not exactly a favorable first impression".
But on the other hand ... they had to tell him something, no? They could not just up and try to sneak off for an unnegotiated delay of unspecified duration with one of his companions after they had already agreed to group up for the remainder of the trek to Zerul City. No matter how bad the first impressions, that would fly even less. No skipping facing the guy if they wanted to even have a chance of getting Angora into the his "good books".
Iridiel - in a manner of seemed slightly conspiratory - suggested that Angora might have gotten her people mixed up. Had she? Worth trying to put his conclusions into words and pointing out the man once more, in any case...
"He did ask if ye were possessed or somethin'," he finally noted, dropping his hand to his lap. "Don' think he woul' bo'her tae ask if he were to blame ye fer everthin'. 'Sides, how woul' ye la'er explain us takin' off withou' a wor'?" If his beast would even permit them trying to leave ... he had been watching them all too intently all his time. Must have skipped Angora's attention, somehow. And... Judging from the motion in the corner of his eye, they were a bit late to do that whole "sneaking off without the warrior fellow being informed" anyway, seeing as the man himself and his squire both had their eyes on them once more and were quite decidedly heading over. Speak of the devil...
"Tha' woul' be him ... the one in the black coat," he finished somewhat sheepishly, pointing his thumb at the mentioned individual. This description, coupled with his gesture, should be unmistakable, at least ... the squire, in addition to being almost half a head shorter and looking barely over half Aemoten's age, was wearing a brown leather cloak, as opposed to the warrior's long, black wool coat.
Much as it had been when he had first questioned the (still possessed) Angora, the warrior's face remained equal amounts of stern and weary as his eyes moved from Domhnall to Angora, "Yes?"

The Prophecy

The canonical Sekalyns vary from very pale fair-skinned (Northeasterners) to almost literally black-skinned (Highlanders), with Lower, Middle and Upper Sekalyns being somewhere between (from lightest to darkest). Lower/Upper/Middle are sometimes considered to be the "true" Sekalyns (by others but themselves), whereas the Northeasterners have been their own thing for a while and possibly have mingled somewhat with the other peoples living along the northeastern coast (in turn, there are multiple other countries between them and the rest of the Sekalynic lands ... they're also the only ones with one unified country as opposed to the several of any other branch), whereas the Highland Sekalyns are largely the result of the sourthernmost Upper Sekalyns integrating most of another race/ethnicity (the Tenihurants) into their ranks.
The main feature of Sekalyns-by-blood is body and facial structure - the same tall and narrow build Aemoten (pretty much a "pure" Lower Sekalyn) has, narrow face, thin lips, high cheekbones, pointed chin, deep-set, narrow eyes, typically green/brown/yellow/mixed, with impure green being perhaps the most common, straight, brown hair. Lower/Upper/Middle tend to go from lightest to darkest, largest to smallest, in this order. (The Northeasterners tend to be broader in build, slightly taller than Lower Sekalyns on average, and possess more varied in hair/eye color, whereas the Highland Sekalyns are conversely smaller than any branch of the "main" body of Sekalyns, with softer and more round facial features, and mostly have dark brown eyes and very dark brown or black hair.)
More than blood or appearance, Sekalyns themselves tend to classify people into Sekalyns and non-Sekalyns by culture ... so a random person who adopted the attire and exact mannerisms, philosophy, principles and morals could be treated as such (even if they were, say, a nightwalker or deigan), whereas a descendant of (former) Sekalyns who looks ethnic in all physical respects but did not behave the part would be considered a stranger, and tolerated with the Sekalyns' typical distant and calculated hospitality, any distinct deviation from the typical Sekalynic ways being pointed out (followed by reinforcement, if the hint goes unheeded). Northeasterners tend to be the least tolerant, and tend to have the lowest expectations of aliens being capable of maintaining civility and following the several layers of right path and way they have established (from the Warriors' Right to Ienaphyoraem to Common Order ... I couldn't find a halfway adequate translation for the middle one). But you're always allowed to leave if you do not feel like trying to learn and adhere to their ways, unless you go full criminal...
I think I've mentioned before that Sekalynic men and women are considered equal (and the amount of yourself you are expected to keep covered doesn't differ between them ... not that they had any rules about it, or were particularly conservative; you mostly just might get some odd looks if you wear more/less than expected in the scenario or go hide in a bush to change). Female warriors and leaders are common, though the specifically warriors tend to be somewhat less numerous than males - the criteria by which they are elevated to the status are the exact same regardless of sex, too. And most women will draw back for the latter half, should they get pregnant...
Arranged marriages don't exist. Traditional marriages don't really exist, either, though somewhat modified concepts of inter-people bonds of lasting power do exist (both relatively platonic and not really so), and especially during wartime it's very common to see arrangements which contain more than one woman and one man and their children ... the origin of forming these odd cluster-families had to do with the extremely high mortality during some eras, and so it was that people tried to sort their children and such out before both parents went to war or the settlement was attacked and potentially perished. Similar concept to godparents, but often with the people having closer relationships between one another.

Remind you though, Sekalyns in this iteration are halfway into Balazth/Malith as per our agreement. (And before that, they were not supposed to be southern until the IC (my own content excluded) unanimously decided Aemoten was. The canonical Sekalyns are pretty much "all over the center of the eastern half of the continent, and also quite far northeast, for some reason". Canonical Northeasteners are one of the three very northernmost peoples on the continent, and the other two don't have countries in the typical sense ... so they actually have the very northemost country of the continent, the northernmost parts of which never fully thaw during summers, and are bordered by a northern gulf.)

...Perhaps just showing you a map would be more reasonable, should you be interested in where what is on the planet I keep importing things from. Uhh. And do you lot by any chance feel like naming a few islands? That question goes for everyone. I just about may have a literal few thousand in excess on that map, still unnamed. I shall modify and place the names accordingly as I see fit.

The Prophecy

Another person to think Aemoten (who is rather obviously another ethnicity/race) might be a Catolohnian? Oh dear. That's culturally about as bad as insisting that an ethnic Jew is a Nazi, and the two are probably visually at least as distinct as Japanese individuals and Mongols to boot. Then again, the average Sekalyn (even more so the Northeasterners) would consider both Catolohnians and Rodorians equally to be barbaric, sexist, uncultured people of the far northeast. Aemoten was/is (both canonical and this one) actually very, hmm, understanding of other cultures as far as his people are concerned. Though, if he were to know about the little arranged marriage thing going on in the IC, he'd probably end up being incapable of not citing back the origin of Zerul and Relimon, and perhaps only technically fall short of openly calling the Duke of Pelgaid a rapist and doom of Zerul for agreeing to the arrangement... That would most likely be a disaster.

The Prophecy

Aemoten

The squire physically attempted to shrink when he mentioned the frustration, anger, and even violent tendencies most of them doubtlessly harbored after this entire ... spectacularly poor run of luck which could easily make one believe the entirety of Reniam held a very personal grudge against them.
Moreover, the young nightwalker was actually trembling - something that Aemoten could not help but be aware of, as he was still in large part using the other for support. The foreign warrior suspected it was for reasons other than physical struggle or the ambient low temperature.
“I’m sorry,” Jaelnec uttered, and though the young nightwalker obviously could not not see it for studying a patch of ground before his feet, Aemoten actually raised an eyebrow at him as he was trying to read his expression.

Not fear, was it? Jaelnec did not fear some kind of punishment from him, did he? Shame? Admission of guilt - even if it was one they all shared? Jaelnec had merely voiced what had doubtlessly crossed the minds of most of them - he knew the truth about himself, and Thaler's actions as she untangled herself from this Angora had spoken a language that was clearer than words.
The foreign warrior had to admit that being the leader, the one who made the decisions was inevitably a socially unfavorable position - and one with the heft of all the rulings made. At the top, you're alone... Unless a decision was unanimous, you had to overrule someone - in some instances, even everyone. Some duties were beyond the interactions between a handful of people. You did not sacrifice the entire world for but a few.
The warrior had to be a harsh individual where the human man yielded to emotion. The warrior had had to protect the world, the human man could not bear the thought of losing what was dearest to him. Not a pleasant combination to experience - from inside or out.
He tended to be a pessimist on the best of days, had been throw amid everything after years of fairly peaceful life, and atop of everything was, by nature, a relatively passionate individual. Easily angered, principial, and stubborn to top it off. It was all kept in check by sheer willpower, and Koraakan knew it had long been on the way of becoming a scarce commodity. Whatever his feelings told him, for the most part his rational mind - the warrior's mind - kept censoring it. The result was probably that or a cold, goal-oriented man. Lack of emotion was an easier facade to uphold than a different set of emotions, and where hope died, mechanical functions lived on. Set target. Figure out a way to reach target. Repeat. It was not healthy, it alienated people, but for a while it worked. Out of some manner of momentum or inertia of normalcy... It could not continue indefinitely. He, of all people, ought to know the importance of morale and restoration of will... It was as he had said, earlier: conviction all will only carry a person so far. It was intricate, balancing between taking care of people, yourself among them, and taking care of goals. Broken men did not save worlds.
Do not fall apart. No not let anyone else fall apart. Get things done. And amid all, somehow manage not to neglect those without whom you would have not had an ounce of a change of getting even this far. It was all too easy to fall into having those who were still able run all the errands and take all the risks - and run them down in the process, too. Even if they were your friends and loved ones. And you could not carry any more yourself, either, for the imminent threat of collapsing for good yourself.
At the end of the day, they had probably each seen the worst of the worst the rest had to offer - and if they all found one another worthy of each others' presence even at their lowest, then anything less should be endurable, should it not? At least there was that.

"It's always about those fighting beside you, and those back home ... hardly ever those you face," the foreign warrior further mused as he looked up once more. "The warriors' right included that of opting out, but with that option came the knowledge that, far more likely than not, the others would still be fighting for you, and should they fall, the fight would come to you regardless, however then there would be none to fight beside you..."
There was not a hint of anger in Aemoten's voice, just tired thoughtfulness.
"'Us' and 'them' is an easy distinction to make ... a necessary one, even. But on the other hand, perhaps less so for monster-hunters and keepers of order, but definitely for warriors and perhaps traditional knights, 'them' is no different from 'us'. Many of them are good men and women, brought there by duty; who were to take pride in having killed them would be halfway to becoming a monster oneself. Not even monsters should be killed for fame, only so they cannot harm another. While we may be honorable, what we do is not always... 'There is neither honor in killing nor glory in war'."
Pause.
"But, yes... Anger. Born from futility, it seeks to take control by means of force instead, impeding the ability to make unbiased decisions - eliminate, subjugate, doesn't matter to anger, as long as it deals with whatever incurred said wrath. In many ways, it's the violent cousin of fear, as the latter, too, is born from lack of control.
I don't think it is ever possible to get entirely rid of anger - or fear -, especially if the world keeps throwing things at us, but it can be kept from manifesting in unfortunate manners as long as there is enough willpower to suppress it. One has to also learn to recognize when their thoughts are rational, and when they're influenced by something. To stop and analyze, to understand the why of one's own standpoint before carrying it over to others. To know your limits and realize when you're close to snapping and step away - in mind or body. Or both. Learn to let go.
When I said I expect most of us to carry substantial quantities of anger or frustration within, and having these feelings surface more easily than normally due to us getting no rest, I meant it - not even I am exempt from that." The last part of the sentence was said in an unusually heavy tone. It would have taken a very specific kind of heartless individual to see Thaler getting roughed up by someone after all she had already been through and not care. Not that he would ever want her - or any of them - hurt... "All of us, besides, perhaps, Olan. I think that man is physically incapable of staying angry for extended periods of time. I suspect we don't appreciate that quality of his nearly enough..."

He was silent for a while as Jaelnec relayed as much as knew or was willing to spare about his and ... Roct's interactions.
Roct? So she had finally decided to part with a name for herself ... he had heard it before, had he not? That same day... It was the same as the sword's, was it not? Had to be... So someone must have known. Jaelnec's late master had most likely known - but neglected to relay the necessary tidbits before perishing.
What Jaelnec said was concerning, though ... even though what he said also seemed to sport the theory that Roct was not deliberately malevolent, or at least was not ill-intentful towards Jaelnec specifically.
"There are three or four different things which I see as being of concern - one is the diffusion of your person with hers, another is you being taken choice and awareness from you while permitting the use of your body for whatever she sees fit, regardless of whether you or I'd ever agree to what she goes for, and lastly, whenever she does any of it - possibly to a very small extent when she just speaks to you -, she weakens you to all other mental attacks and also damages whatever parts of your mind she shuts down or overrides," Aemoten attempted to summarize, "and said, those changes are probably very small and not noticeable at first, but will accumulate over time. Of course, there is also a difference between just talking to her, and her going in and just knocking you out when you momentarily let your guard down."
The foreign warrior glanced at Jaelnec.
"I suspect she never possessed Freagon, or at least did not do so during the time you traveled with him ... it was rather jarring and visible, you'd have noticed. I wouldn't also surprised if he cut her off altogether after a while, just to protect himself ... calming yourself down is something you have to learn to do yourself, especially since she did not appear to have more than very marginal control over her own impulses and not much more over not reacting impulsively upon your emotions in addition, so I wouldn't be surprised she's trying to calm you down in part to avoid being overwhelmed by your emotions in turn ... add to that that she is weakening your control a very small way when she interacts with you or through you, and combined that is liable to veer down the wrong path sooner or later.
It probably doesn't do much harm if she just talks to you every now and then - that's something I figure you'd fairly easily recover quicker than be wear down from, under normal circumstances, at least, less so when everything is bent on putting us to test or you're already under duress -, but it would definitely be better if she never, well, just overpowered your entire being with brute force as she sees fit. Again. No matter how 'necessary' she deems it. It's one thing to willingly sacrifice some of your own mental or physical wellbeing to save someone you care about, or to do so as a last resort when you know you'd definitely die otherwise, but another to have some of it arbitrarily taken from you. And then there is this little matter of her trying to attack someone you hadn't agreed to attacking, using your body no less ... things like that, I figure you'd agree she shouldn't be permitted to do, either.
If she can strictly adhere to those things, at least, it probably isn't necessary to get rid of her, even if it were ultimately preferable that she lived in something other than your sword. There'd remain the risk she'll decide to ignore whatever limitations you set her at an unfavorable moment, perhaps even so that her-in-your-body would have to be intercepted ... it's a matter of how much you're willing to risk either that or very slowly becoming something that is in many ways both her and you. Does that make sense?"
He paused for a further moment, absently rubbing the side of his nose with his free hand.
"Should I talk to her, though... I am already weakened; if I were to try myself here and now, there is a high chance I'd just end up collapsing on the spot - I'm not willing to try and see whether I'm correct. Through you, as you suggested earlier ... not by letting her possess you, but by you repeating what she thinks ... perhaps, if you figure it'd help set things straight."

Jaelnec expressed his concern over his, Thaler's and Etakar's safety, should they go ahead without Jaelnec. Aemoten pondered for a moment.
"None of us three is at our best, that is true ... myself and Thaler more so than Etakar. Etakar should be mostly good to go, now, thanks to our new acquaintance... Aside of him being fast and capable of tracking, I mostly figured not many would be willing to start a fight with him by virtue of him being a dekkun alone, and if we happen to encounter someone wants to start something ... then he's still almost as dangerous as he would be when at full health.
I would rather Thaler was reached as soon as possible and that no one of us was at greater risk than the others ... do you reckon Olan would be as safe with these three alone as I and Thaler would be with Etakar?"
Would it be possible for all of them ride to Zerul City? If Etakar, the paladin's horse and the donkey were to each carry two people, perhaps...

Domhnall McRaith

"The ... ye can 'ell 'em wha' tae do?" he inquired when Angora explained them that the entity - whatever the thing in her was exactly supposed to be - was now under her control rather than vice versa. "Can ye tell 'em tae put ou' the blas'ed ... aura or influence or wha's it?" He soon added, remembering the old fellow's request. "Would be bes' tae not have passersby in the city wonderin' why they feel like they'd downed a pint too many..."
That said, he glanced at Iridiel again, before switching to his native, "It's not gone, but she says it's ... pacified? Like it were a ally; she doesn't think she'd be losing control again. And, uh ... she is thanking us in all possible ways, and wishes to come with us and help, as she now owes us her life ... y'know, for taking the effort to help her, rather than just kill her, as would have been easier. Wants to repay for the horrible things she did while not in control, too."
He shifted his eyes back to Angora, some part of him reaching the slightly uncomfortable conclusion that with the departure of the warror-fellow and his squire - whatever it was they so desperately needed to discuss right there and then, in the middle of Angora's releasing -, both Olan and Angora seemed to look overwhelmingly at him for words of decision. Of course, he was the main speaker of the two of them, and Iridiel was not exactly fluent in Rodorian, so it was probably nothing but the logical thing to do, but it nevertheless felt like he was speaking in the name of at least one person too many... And what he was saying now was in the name of more people too many.
"'twas the decen' thing tae do. 'twas no' really ye who a'acked us, aye?"
Olan interjected, insisting that Angora was rushing things by promising them her life before she even got to know them and their quest, looking at his direction in addition. He suddenly also realized he and his companion had never been properly introduced.
"The younger black-eyes already told me mos'," he pointed out. And true, as soon they had settled down, they had been attacked by someone, so perhaps there was some truth to the insistence that they had horrible luck with encounters. Then again... On a sudden thought, he raised his arm and flicked his wrist to point a thumb in the dead and mutilated gray brute's direction. "Bu' this one, that we found en'irely on our own, no thanks tae y'all. How can ye claim it's only yer luck tha' brings all the beas'ies out jus' as we appear tae have found the firs' of our own? Bes' stick toge'her les' we end up lacking the know-how once we meet an even bigger one." He grinned. "'Sides, my companion here's informed me tha' good old Sulis herself has reques'ed we go with ye..."
That said, he leaned closer to Iridiel again.
"He says their quest is dangerous and we might want to consider whether we really want to go with them ... but safety in numbers, yes? Who's to say we're not going to meet bigger things than the gray brute, or a lot of 'em Crusaders. And you did say Sulis wanted us to go with them, yes?"
He had already managed to forget the introductions...
"I'm Domhnall, and this is Iridiel, by the way," he quickly went to amend it before he could forget that little piece of mandatory social interaction again. "If ye really wan' tae go with 'em ... or come with us, as it migh' be, I'd think you need tae talk tae the tall warrior-looking fellow when ye ge' the chance, he's the leader of the lot, they said." Well, it definitely ain't me... "Tha's the one called Aemoten, I believe."
Angora had meanwhile had the time to assess her own appearance, and embarrassedly made an observation over it. She also mentioned she might be able to locate them a stream. If she had been a respectable citizen before ... everything, then doubtlessly showing herself through the gates in her current condition would probably be quite shameful...
"We'd need tae heat the wa'er in the cauldron or something, then, I think," he muttered, scratching his cheek. It was not a warm autumn morning. He noticed her motioning at him and Iridiel. "She says she could find us a stream?" the forestfolk noted to his highland companion, in a slightly confused tone. "She says she knows some nearby..."

The Prophecy

We tend to start on the 23th (the eve, where the present-exchanging happens, and it's a day off, too)... Whatever the case might be around where you are (or by whichever name the holidays of this season take - I suppose we technically celebrate Yule merged with all your current traditional western Crystmas traditions here?), hope you lot have had and are having a good time!

The Prophecy

Aemoten

“I guess? I mean there are similarities, at least, but I can’t say for sure whether she’s exactly the same as a lich... I’m not that good.” Olan shrugged. “And it’s not like something is missing from her soul, not like that; to be honest I’m not even sure that I’d be able to tell if her soul had been split. It’s more like, eh... normally a soul kind of looks like its body, right? Because it identifies itself with how it looks physically. But this one, it’s like it isn’t sure what it is. Does that make sense? It has a vague idea of it, but it doesn’t have a fully fledged identity.”
"She has forgotten... Or she never was not just humanoid, but a living being as we know them altogether ... in spite of being mortal? Someone else ... made her?" Aemoten surmised to himself. Those were the only two immediately evident ways he managed to come up with in the way of making sense of everything Olan was saying and he had witnessed. Jaelnec beside him mostly just looked weary, even as this matter - which quite closely pertained to him - was discussed.
“The being in Angora...” Olan begun when the issue that had made Jaelnec's ... "passenger" more relevant than before was addressed again. “No, not malevolent. It doesn’t really feel like anything out of the ordinary, really, just... a blank canvas projecting raw emotion. If it wasn’t latched onto Angora I doubt I’d be able to see it at all.”
That did not help much. Nor was the pain, weariness, or altogether ill mood particularly conductive to effective thinking. But at that point, none of those was anyone particular's fault. Just that of circumstances.

It did not appear like Angora was capable of delivering any overview of the circumstances that led to her being afflicted thusly.
"Go on, then."

He himself and Jaelnec were to be removed from the scenario - for a short while, at least. He did not lead the younger nightwalker in any particular direction, rather just away. Away from Angora's aura, from the others' range of hearing ... he could not feel the aura's influence as others did, but he could feel the distinct pain in his head subside as he put more distance in between himself and the source. It might have not been completely gone by the time he stopped, but at the very least it had become indistinguishable from the background of thirst, exhaustion ... and what was bound to be an actual mild headache. He had barely even realized earlier...
Their camp remained behind his back when he stopped, Angora and the lot by the other edge of it. He did not speak up immediately after halting, but rather stood in silence for a bit, just leaning on the other, head tilted back and eyes closed. Try and clear his head a bit. Maybe he should turn to the One for that purpose, once again after a while of notable amount of stress, but yet not doing so.
"Do you know why the order you're part of is called Order of the Will?" he finally mused. "Willpower, for one, is quite valuable commodity. One that can run out, not unlike physical strength. And much the same, it can be trained... Stretch it just a bit further every subsequent time. But run out of it at an inopportune moment, and the consequences are dire. Convictions get cast aside, principles broken, emotions listened over reason. Wear people down enough, and they'll start acting in ways they never would under normal circumstances. Koraakan knows we have had more than enough thrown at out faces, and no chance to properly recover..."
Pause.
"They also say the sense of futility begets anger. People get angry when things aren't as they'd like, and there is not much they can do to do about it. And that's followed by followed by either hopelessness or acceptance. By this point I would not be surprised if most of us were silently spending up most of our willpower just to not take the head off of anyone who dares look at us wrong." And to think of the fact that they managed to endure several days of her presence not all that long ago... Some of them had even advocated protecting her. "That aura - or whatever that is - is, was not exactly helping, either. That's mostly why I wanted to get away."
Finally, the foreign warrior sighed, lowering his head and opening his eyes.
You can probably guess I'm not too fond of that entity ... who is in your sword, apparently. At least it isn't another demon or devil or some such. But, you saw her," the foreign warrior ever so slightly motioned his head towards where Angora was. Whatever they were doing ... it probably hurt. There were screams. "Doesn't mean it will end well. I think I agree with Thaler - she is not evil. And she probably genuinely wants to help. But back then, I also saw a being - suddenly in your body, no less - who was arrogant, lacking in self-control and all too willing to make decisions over you in your stead - rather poor combination of traits."
A bit too reminiscent of someone else ... it was peculiar how often the opposite sides could end up surprisingly alike.
"She made it very clear that she was both ready and willing to hurt any of us - threatened me, wanted to kill the three-quarter-demon -, but any harm we tried to inflict upon her would just damage you. She is not humanoid - never was -, and cannot comprehend humanoids, of that I'm certain. And quite evidently, she doesn't realize what her attempts at protecting you are doing to you, either.
It doesn't even matter what her intentions were or are - she damaged you shutting you down and taking over back then, and in continuing to do so, she rends your mind apart, bit-by-bit. It might not seem much at first. One thought you can't tell whether is yours or hers, one memory which doesn't have a place in time and keeps intruding the present because for you it never ended... And that's on top of taking control of your body, and thus removing all choice from you. These things will accumulate. Might even explain why she herself doesn't appear to have an identity. Who knows."
Pause.
"If you want to remain, well, you and sane, she cannot be permitted to do that. Furthermore so because there is little predicting what she thinks You said you had heard the voice before, but figured it was just your own subconscious? She has become more active the past few days? Has she done it more than once, are any periods of time missing? Any thoughts or memories you're not sure about? It seemed she had arbitrary access to your memories and feelings while possessing your body ... I presume the opposite is not true - I don't think you should try, though. Not worth it; we have been through enough without any of us willingly sacrificing more pieces of ourselves when it can be avoided."
Too much talking. He thought he could taste more blood than before, and his throat was definitely raw. He should probably find something to drink ... and sit down, unless he wished to continue using Jaelnec as a crutch. As he took a look over his shoulder, trying to seek out suitable source for the first and location for the other, he became aware of the absence of something - or rather someone - who should have been there.

"Where did..." he inquired on reflex, his brow furrowing. It was the first time since parting from the others that his voice was anything but thoughtful. Now that he was actively trying to locate Thaler, it occurred to the warrior that she was not the only one of their numbers who was nowhere to be seen - the injured raven was also no longer on her by now usual perch on Immanuel's donkey's saddle horn. Had she gone along with Thaler? Quite surprising; he would have thought she was now Olan's bird, if anyone's, and that Thaler was a bit apprehensive towards her. "Thaler said she was going to get things ready for when we reach Zerul..." He elaborated, and then paused for a moment, eyes becoming unfocused as he was running the exact scenario through his head once more. "She didn't mean she intended to arrange something in Zerul City, did she?"
For some reason, it did not feel like Thaler would have outright lied to him - Aemoten did not want to believe she would, in any case. She probably did intend to say she is headed to Zerul City. Which meant that she would be trying to travel all the way over there in her current state. No mount, no one who would be able to help her if need be - probably no weapon to defend herself with, either, unless she had also retrieved her sword from the donkey's pack. Not that her current physical condition saw her fit for further combat to begin with. Or even an on-foot trek of that length...
And even if she managed to reach the city - she had never even met William, their designated contact and the person who was supposed to organize their stay. And naturally, she did not even have a token from them, and there were people who might recognize her in an unfavorable fashion... No matter how one looked at it, just hoping she would make it ... no matter one's belief in her abilities, it did not feel like a good idea. The foreign warrior heaved a heavy sigh.

Find a woman you love from the most unexpected of places. Be ready to stand whatever horrors the world had to offer and her, and see her do the same. Discover that the greatest of threats had for a long time been within her instead. Stare your greatest fears in the face and make mistakes. Let the woman you love go just to give her a bit of space. Go bring her back. Fight a deity over her. Dare take a break - or collapse after riding on sheer willpower for too long -, only to find her fending off another threat. Agree that she should not have to deal with the aftermath. And then go after her again. Perhaps this was how it was supposed to go...

"I think I should go after her, just in case," he commented after a couple of moments of thought. "Etakar should be able to take care of us both ... if we don't head back to meet you, just continue to Zerul and we'll meet there. Dou you reckon you can handle things here?"

Domhnall McRaith

It felt almost unbearably long, even though it was not him who was subjected to the treatment. The screams cut though bone, and though Angora was but one and they were several people holding her down, it took significant effort to handle just her closest arm.
His heart was racing, and though he hardly noticed, he was shaking himself, but somewhat unspectedly, one of the savage's cries stood out from the rest.
"Ye... Tha's Rodorian," Domhnall voiced, stating the obvious. "Ye unders'and me?"
His eyes flickered from Angora to Iridiel to Olan. She seemed ... saner? The aura, however, was still there, and her voice, though the words were now comprehendible, still had that unearthly tone.
"It's... We don' mean tae harm ye, ye know, righ'?"

The Prophecy

Still alive.

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From Downfall ReRisen

The Lone Survivor

“If there’s any doubt I’ll just strip them of as many parts as I can safely remove. It shouldn’t be difficult... unless they have some kind of automated defense mechanism, of course.”
"Not unlikely," Notrau muttered. Naturally, he did not really know ... he was no tech. Those folks were semi-safely stowed away, much like the drone-pilots (and would most likely be preemptively shot before they could be taken in by the enemy). The knowledge those people harbored was actually valuable, whereas his was supposed to be strictly limited to which approaches worked for a person of his loadout and which did not. He was equipped to relay information that could be used by drones among others, but as far as his orders in regards to handling them went ... do not touch and do not obstruct. "Make the cut off head bite one more time, yeah?"
What would be the point of making drones explode upon startup, over just destroying them right away? Seemed like an unnecessary additional risk, dallying around for long enough to tamper with one, all the while hoping that it did not turn into an opportunistic mine while you were at it... It made a tremendous amount of sense, that they would implement something of the sort.
“Can you shoot them?" Kay-Gee suddenly inquired. "Is your gun powerful enough for that?”
"Powerful enough?" he repeated, sounding almost incredulous. "At mid-range, it can punch through two and half centimeters of hardened steel, and anything less. Tank, APC, those won't care a bit. A human, a flying drone small enough to navigate these forests with ease, some lighter vehicles and craft... If I hit true, it's got a new hole punched through it." One could doubt the usefulness of wearing armor at all, if it were not for the fact that he knew what being hit did to unarmored targets... And the possibility of using bullets with significantly decreased penetration that were geared towards more extensive damage instead. Overpenetrating projectiles did not necessarily have the most stopping power.
Wearing armor was useful or the sake of everyone's moral state, if not for the innumerable other threats present. Fragments, suppression-fire from lighter weapons, ricochets, sound... And in the end of day, humans could - at least briefly while high on adrenaline and who knew what else - take a surprising amount of abuse before they went down for good. Saw that again just yesterday...
Notrau winced to himself.

A hundred and nine, he idly noted in his head. Some things you eventually learned to know as if by instinct... He suspected that that number might dwindle at a quite uncomfortable rate in the future, with no restocking in sight. Any number was too small if the estimated duration it had to last was "indefinitely".

It was when he had already gotten up to get on moving that Kay-Gee added another disconcerting notion to the mix - though one would be hard pressed to say that it surpassed the sheer lunacy of their little WMD-suicide plan. This one was more personal. This one threatened to strip him of what few belongings he had, and in spite of his insistence that it was not wise to go about looking like a factory-made Anderekian (a disturbingly apt descriptor, perhaps) when he was no longer affiliated with them, going without his armor and the extended senses his helmet anywhere outside his home barracks ... "blind and naked" was probably as close approximation as it got.
Never letting his possessions out of sight (or letting them taken off his person) was probably the best bet he had. Even if it meant he had to sleep atop of his gun and wearing everything. He had halted when Kay had brought the topic up, head halfway turned towards her.
"I used to be a heavy sleeper," he mused audibly. And that had obviously gotten taken advantage of. "I got better."
He turned to face forward again, and began moving forward. He was not marching - it was even, measured strides, not rushed but quicker than the average person's walking. He could probably have kept it up till he either fell asleep mid-motion or passed out from dehydration, whichever happened first.
"And please try not to take my helmet apart ... it's more my eyes than my actual eyes, yeah? Probably quite easy to fuck up, too, get some dust into an otherwise sealed sensor or something... Not even I know how the bloody thing's assembled, but I do know I'd be long deaf without it. And dead. Very, very dead. And it's probably our best chance of picking up others' communications, especially if they just crossed me off, no?" Maybe. At the very least, he was quite certain he was not trackable, or the enemy would have long figured out how to pick them out without line or sight or anything of the sort.
“Also – and I realize that there might be no reason to warn you against this, since it’s pretty much common sense – don’t threaten the others. It’s fine with me, I didn’t really mind, but not everyone’s as reckless as me. At best they’ll refuse to let you stay... at worst, they’ll kill you on the spot.”
"You were alone," Notrau noted, with immediacy and matter-of-factness that suggested that he did not even need to think on the matter. "If it came to firefight, I could probably get away before the rest of your lot showed up. Had I been in the middle of a base, there'd be no getting away before everyone took a shot at me, if it came down to that. I did not know for certain whether that thing of yours could pen my armor, so it was get away without being noticed, or confront and don't get hit, and not knowing how willing you were to draw guns, it was safer bet you wouldn't do so when you'd be certain to be hit first if you tried, yeah? I could last in these woods for a while, probably, but for how long? So I needed to find someone who wasn't definitely hostile. I decided to risk it with you, no shots were fired, so so far, so good."
For a bit, he walked in silence.
"There are still ... customs, yeah? A protocol? Things you talk about, and things you don't ... aside of threatening violence, I mean, since if that is not universal, I don't really know what is. Some chain of command? A person you have to talk to so that they'll maybe talk to a more important person, who will talk to an even more important person, who will maybe be able to contact someone who might actually be able to change something, but most likely won't, and then you'd have to face repercussions for bothering them in the first place?"
He sighed.
"I would not even know where to begin, especially if we're going to go and try make it so that the whole place does not get turned into a smoking crater," he muttered. "I am Enn-Que, bringer of bad news and harbinger of doom. I may have lost the hellbeast I was supposed to ride here, because I'm not too good at this..."

Thunder rolled across the land. Not the thunder or supersonic planes, but that of lightning. It was a common phenomena with sunstorms, along with the sicly-yellow sky, turbulent winds and fell beams of light that could scorch a surface they hit - something the cover of clouds was wont to shield the ground from, though the cover of trees was nearly as effective even on clear days. It was not the worst of them, granted, however it nevertheless remained unpleasant.
But, at least Kay had been right in one thing - most hostile entities were less likely to wander about while it lasted.

The Prophecy

Aemoten

“Not like Usha, no,” Olan confirmed, which was a relief, albeit whether a small or a great one remained unknown for the time being. Koraakan knew even small hindrances stacked up after a while, and this day alone had already thrown more devastation at them than most people had to deal with during their entire lives.
He had seen more than several lifetimes' worth long ago as it were, but with all due respect, he had lived on a farm for most of the years he had spent in Rodoria, only leaving everything behind once there was nothing left for him there, robbed by the infernal plague. He had considered "finding a cure" a quest for the sake of a quest - something to take his mind off the grief and the past, not something he actually expected to succeed, and until he came to be a part of this group, it had been a fairly uneventful endeavor...
Now? He did not know. They had found out something of note, probably, yet with everything irrelevant coming their way and trying to strike them down, their final goal felt perhaps even farther than before. Jaelnec was maybe the one most likely to genuinely believe in their quest - or at least Aemoten assumed he had, in the beginning. There was no telling whether the past week had changed it, and he was not in the mood for asking (nor was it the time). Completely unexpectedly, he had found a person he had fallen in love with, and then a thrice-damned literal devil had shown up...
It would have been all too easy to either just give up altogether or treat everyone and everything that did not immediately comply with indiscriminate rage. He did not even know how much of the inclination for either was indirectly caused by exhaustion and pain anymore..
If Olan was right - and while he still did not quite know how Olan knew things, he usually was - the current situation was, however, most likely not precisely Angora's fault. It could not be excluded that it might have been some dumb decision or another of hers that ultimately brought it upon her, but as a general rule, a person was to be exempted from any responsibility on what they did while possessed, for the simple reason that it was not really them who did it. Would have to figure out how did she become afflicted, though...
And none of it changed the fact that he himself simultaneously wanted to scream and punch a tree, and just drop face down to the ground and stop caring about anything at all.
It had not been the only question he had voiced, though - and much like he had suspected, Olan also had something to comment on the other matter (although the nightwalker was not quite as subtle as the foreign warrior in regards to the individual - or individuals - the question had pertained. “She’s mortal, I can tell you that much. Beyond that... It’s like her soul isn’t fully formed, if that makes any sense. And she isn’t actually in Jaelnec; she’s in his sword.” The outlander sighed.
"It answers at least some questions ... and raises others. Someone put a soul in an object? Does it technically make her a lich, the sword's thus a phylactery? One who is powerful enough to, well, do what we witnessed her do, yet somehow incomplete? Did they split their soul, then?" He guessed even his own sword felt like him after all these years... "...And that thing in Angora - I know it has this aura ... if you can see through it, does it feel malevolent? Do you think you could ask her if she remembers when she became like that?" He shook his head, slowly. "Or, if we have limited time, just hope whatever you want to do works..."
"I apologize," he muttered to Jaelnec beside him. She had last possessed Jaelnec when he was weakened, had she not? And that aura certainly did a number on him... Who knew what their big striped cat thought of him questioning her nature? Now he was once again functioning mostly on the rush of blood. "There is only so long one can walk in the unknown without any consequences..."
She had become unusually active by Jaelnec's admission, just very recently, no? What if she acquired fondness for having a body? Decided that the best way to "protect him" would be to stash him away indefinitely, out of all harm's way? Accidentally merged herself into him like whatever plagued Angora had? There was no predicting half an inhuman mortal that refused to identify itself, and running into another person overtaken by something did not exactly encourage... Better to get further away first. He looked Etakar in the eye - he would take care - and placed a hand on Jaelnec's shoulder.
"Come."

Domhnall McRaith

He looked at Iridiel with puzzlement evident in his expression as she explained that he would need to hold Angora down in order for her to ... do what exactly? Go into her mind? Sulis must have been a versatile deity indeed, though the thought of someone else rummaging around in his head definitely felt a bit odd (but then again, gods were gods, and thus could probably do whatever they damn well pleased, whether or not he wanted it or not ... which was even more of a reason to not needlessly piss them off, and possibly stay out of their attention altogether).
His companion was right, though... What was being said - about that possession thing and the whole lot - made sense. And helping with holding him down ... sure, he could do that. He nodded slowly at the éireann woman, and cast his eyes up at Olan and the stern foreign warrior who was commenting something to his squire, and then proceeded to have a short and perplexing conversation with the older black-eyes.("Usha"? Liches? Just who in the planes were those people?)
"He is asking what are you going to do," he noted to Iridiel, switching to Rodorian right after. "She is ... goin' to separa'e her and the thing in her - make an attemp' to, the leas', from what I unders'and." And back to his native... "Try to separate them ... yes? He says just go on if there is limited time..."