"Why are you fighting me Rae?" Talit yelled into an empty room. The Timewalker was still a floor above, safely hidden away. The hag had prepared for her arrival, called upon a greyborn to protect her. It would barely slow Talit down. "You can't beat me." She continued to thin air. It was true enough, though the other woman's vanishing and reappearing complicated what should have been a decisive fight. When no response came from her taunting, Talit made to move for the stairs for a third attempt. Just as the others, the moment she made it only a few steps, Rae materialized further up and struck to push her back down. This time Talit was ready, she swung her chains over her opponent to root in the ceiling above, securing herself from losing her place even as her leg was swept out from under her.
"Let me pass!" Rae was pinned between her chains, until she faded again. Talit didn't wait to see where she would turn up again, instead pulling herself to the uppermost floor of the Timewalker's hut. The ancient woman herself, sat on the narrow cot that served as her bed, huddled in the dark and facing the window. Again Talit unleashed her chains to pull her across the room with greater speed than she could ever move on foot.
"Talit! Stop!"
"Lyen?" Talit responded, already knowing it to be her before turning. The older Yasoi stood in the doorway, along with the shockingly tall southern stranger from two nights before. It was all the distraction Rae needed to return again, charging at Talit with enough speed to knock her grip loose from the Timewalker. All three were sent sprawling to the floor. The space in the small room was all the more sparse with the new arrivals, but it didn't deter the two from sparring on the floor, Rae dodged most attacks while Talit was able to absorb greyborn's blows with little impact. Only the Timewalker's voice brought an end to it. With some assistance from Lyen and Eliis she was on her feet again, albeit leaning heavily on the window-ledge.
"Enough, Rae." Her voice rasped but remained clear enough for all to hear, past even the creaking supports of the home and roaring fire bellow. "Your city burns and your brother lies dead. Are you pleased with the path you've chosen, Talit'yrash?"
"Shut up!" Talit yelled, using a wave of force energy to finally land a blow on Rae, sending her towards the timewalker, leaving both momentarily stunned against the wall. Lies and more lies! She had been left with no choice- chosen nothing. Certainly not this. The Eskandr weren't meant to come with such force, weren't meant to bring fire with them. Had Dyric only listened "Lyen," She started again, turning to her friend but her eyes caught instead on the hands of Eliis, still wet with blood. The timewalker's words rang again in her ears.
"What’s happened?" Even as the timewalker and Rae righted themselves behind her, Talit did not look at them again."Where is Dyric?" She asked, her pitch increasing each time her mouth opened.
"I-" The tallest of the grouped women looked at the faces of strangers. "Outside. Dead."’ Lyen's solemn nod was confirmation enough. Talit reached out with force energy, enough to drag the red-headed woman to the floor.
"Murderer!" She screamed, equal parts shock and surprise. Impossible. Her brother - her twin, she would have known. "How?" No sooner was she on Eliis, than she redirected her anger to the timewalker again. "Explain yourself! What twisted lies did you feed them? My brother?"
The timewalker's wrinkled lips pursed then parted to reveal missing spaces between small and rotten teeth. "A maledict killed Merit, your brother was honest on that, if nothing else." A crooked finger pointed to Eliis. "Dyric's blood is not the only she has drawn these three days passed."
"It was lies!" Eliis defended herself. "He told me it was what she wanted- a dying wish! A final selfless act to protect Loriindton!" She shook her head, eyes shining. "Merit was the best of us, I would never have ended her life had I only known the truth."
"You're unworthy to speak her name!" Talit yelled at her, already drawing energy for another attack.
The timewalker took her attention instead: "And you, Talit? How much blood will be on your hands after today? Sending a thief and mercenary to poison soldiers, to send them against your own people-"
The gears clicked in Eliis head, the final piece of the puzzle that had been missing for so long was finally in place. If she could have ripped out her heart in that moment, she would have. Alas, she was on the floor, so all she could do was watch as hatred for this girl filled her heart and mind. To Eliis, Talit had truly been lost to the huusoi. To think she would betray her own people for some foreign king. It was blasphemous.
"I never meant for this!" Her voice was now unnaturally high and strained. "Had Dyric listened from the beginning- Had anyone just believed us-" She stopped and looked between Eliis and Lyen, searching for some understanding and finding none.
There was a brief moment of confusion in Eliis’ mind, but stark clarity came after. She thought that perhaps she should not judge this girl for her crime, since she herself had committed a grave sin all too recently. But Eliis realized Talit was not remorseful for her actions. She would do them again if it meant she got the outcome she wanted.”You are lost. You let your city burn not for duty, but for love. I know the truth - your truth. And I swear to all the gods that you will burn for your sins, just as your city does now. ”
Words wouldn’t be enough to contain Talit’s anger. She rushed at Eliis, the air around her hot with energy; she meant for the southern witch to burn.
"Rae, it is time." Before the words had fully left the timewalker's mouth, the greyborn had taken hold of Eliis' arm and disappeared, this time the tall woman vanishing with her. "She can only take one, I'm afraid," the old woman whispered to Lyen, sorrow in her voice.
"I won't run from a friend." Lyen replied with a good deal more confidence than she felt. "This isn't right Tali, you know it isn't."
"You trust her? Knowing what I told you- What she did to me?"
"She isn't the one who took your leg." Lyen kept her voice low, desperate to be a voice of reason.
The timewalker took a different approach. "Stupid girl. A child! You want the entire truth and I shall give it to you. You will die before your 30th year, Talit'yrash. Loriindton will vanish and be forgotten. The Yasoi will crumble and hide away from the world in their shame. This is the future you have wrought."
Talit was lunging again before Lyen had a chance to try to defuse the timewalker's words, there was enough time to put herself between them, barring Talit from passing any further.
"You see how she poisons with her words Lyen- She is a cancer to our people and must be cut out."
Lyen shook her head, but gave one final effort; "The truth will prevail," she said, "However ugly it may be."
Her own words being used against her proved the final straw for Talit. How could Lyen, Lyen of all people, whom this had all been for, be so blind? There was no blinking back the tears once they came again, now at least she hoped the smoke that had come in the room was enough to hide them.
"Parrence needs the Yasoi," Her hand trembled as she drew energies, and sensed Lyen's person for the thin silver blade always kept at her hip. "Please," She said, "This can't have been for nothing, I don't want to lose anyone else."
The blade had slid easily and smoothly through the right hip and out the left shoulder. The timewalker was still screaming out curses when Lyen's body slumped to the floor, but Talit finally recognized the spitting vitriol for what it was. The old woman feared her death. As much as she had seen it coming, she did not wish to die. The observation did not lend itself to sympathy, as Talit used the energies still inside her to push the hag from the window, accelerating the force of gravity so she'd have no hope of saving herself. The fall was too far to even hear the woman’s screams, had she produced any. Without sparing so much as a glance at the bodies on the ground or in the tree, Talit fled from the house the same way Rae and Eliis had, though they'd left not a trace behind and she eventually circled back to put out the fires and finish the Eskandr. She would save her city and her people, even if it meant dragging them to their salvation, kicking and screaming.
Twenty lay dead by the time the fires were completely extinguished. Merit's body still lay among them, still greyer and more gaunt with each passing hour. Her place of honour was now shared; Chad, Dyric, and the timewalker all lay ahead of the rest of the deceased residents. A place had been left for Rae. None were able to find her and assumed the worst had come to pass; she'd been caught in the flames or between Eskandr who hadn't left anything behind.
Hers wasn't the only body missing from the memorial. Lyen's body had been left outside in the forest. Unburned and unburied, exposed for the elements and animals to exact their judgment. The final insult for a traitor, murderer of two barons, and deceiver of Vyshta. Talit remained quiet throughout the ceremonies, the picture of grief; pale faced and tight lipped. She hadn't wanted to remain long enough for the proceedings at all, but her binding was needed to heal the injured, and leaving early after Gari had pledged two battalions of Yasoi dervish and mages to the Perrench cause would be nothing less than an insult. Not that any questioned her now. Talit'yrash, saviour of Loriindton, avenger of her family, killer of the treacherous and deceitful Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc....It was easier not to listen too closely to the praise they showered her with. She accepted the commendations with a humble nod and teary smile, speaking only long enough to give thanks and notice of her intentions to leave ahead of the group and give warning of their arrival. The cheers for her were deafening.
When everyone else had long left, and she stood alone over the corpse of her brother did Talit let her tears fall. Had only they listened to her; heeded her warnings, accepted her apologies, it could have ended so differently. A long silver dagger was produced from her clothing. She'd cleaned it well, though she swore she could still feel the last of Lyen's magic lingering inside. An impossible melancholic haunting of guilt, she knew, but it did draw enough sentiment that she found herself kneeling on her one leg at the base of the tree that had once been her childhood home. She dug the hole with her hands, scraping knuckles on rock, dirt caught under nails. It wasn't large, but she'd made it herself, without the gift. The knife was placed inside, with a short, customary burial blessing, and buried. It was a weak balm for her stinging guilt. She faced east instead, and looked to the future, thinking of again seeing Arcel and the comfort he was unable to provide her. But what else did she have left?
Chad’orast’ilan’chiis stood as Lyen was taken from her place by the same guards that led her there. A single clap was enough to hush the quiet whispers that had followed her interview. “We now ask Calitan’Viszar’Telrontelios to approach for questioning.”
Dyric returned to his place; not sparing so much as a glance in the direction of his sister. The powergazer moved towards the table again, joining the elders in waiting for the stranger to approach.
He was used to eyes on him, and it brought on the same surge of adrenaline that came before every fight, and begged the same question: will I survive this? Time seemed to fall away like pine needles.
His ‘comrades’... What did they see? A cunning maneuver, vouching for an enemy, or the truth?
Idiocy.
He went to one knee, “Give me your questions, and my truth I will trade.”
“Your name,” The powergazer asked first, her voice so soft as to barely reach his ears. “Your home,” she continued, her eyeless face staring at Calitan. “Your family” The questions were listed, all innocuous under normal circumstances, but delivered with an intensity that left the audience quiet until it was finished. The powergazer nodded towards Dyric and motioned for her interviewee to stand.
The former wasted no time to begin his circling. "Let us start with this; what is it that brought you to our city during such troubled times stranger?"
“What brought us all here, sirrah,” his s’s whistled through his deformed lip.
"What would you presume that to be?"
"The mette-stiroi of course."
Dyric folded his hands in front and nodded "Merit's renown reaches far and we have many visitors, it's true. Where did you come from?"
"The decisions I've made and the road behind me. Ask better questions, sirrah."
Dyric's placid face twitched into a half smirk. "Your honesty is apparent. Let me be more clear then: Who commanded you come here?"
"Better, but I do not think that is a helpful question. You could say it was a colour. You could say it was my will. You could say it was Vyshta. I say it was all three. So why don't we focus on what matters?"
"I am grateful to have your approval." Their exchange had brought enough levity to the somber proceedings to produce a smattering of laughter. "What is it you claim to have seen in the moments before Merit's death?"
"Not enough to condemn another, at least not outright. No drawing. But the lady is a maledict, so..." Calitan shrugged, "I still think I have fought enough to know what their death dealing feels like."
"You don't proclaim her innocent?"
"Nor do I proclaim her guilty. But I know which way the scales tilt."
"So you continue to say nothing certain at all." He turned from his subject with a wave of his hand. "I will play along no longer. He is yours sister"
Talit stood, crutches forming under her arms as she did. "How many a maledict would you say you’ve fought, Calitan?" She asked as she approached with her strange gait.
Calitan thumbed through the ears of his necklace, "Nine."
Talit grimaced, taking a closer look at each of the pointed ears. "Enough to be familiar." She acquiesced. "But have you ever met this one, Lyen, before these past two nights?”
"Only travelling here. In a game of Three Yellow Roses. Is she innocent now?"
Talit scowled but ignored the man’s snideness. “You had no reason to defend a stranger lest you knew her to be mistakenly judged. Where is your certainty now?”
“If it was such a simple matter we would not be here. I believe her to be innocent, yet I have been known to be wrong before.”
"Rarely wrong when it comes to maledict magics." She nodded to the string of ears around his neck again. "You are excused Calitan'Viszar. I have no more questions." No guards made to escort the scarred Yasoi away. As quickly as the attention had settled on him it dissipated; interest already changed to the next witness.
In total five took the stand. And as each passed, the patience of the crowd wavered. The sun made itself scarce, and one by one the citizens of Loriindton returned to their homes as it became clear no justice would be found the first day. More witnesses vied for Lyen's innocence and guilt;
Some defending the magic of maledicts, professing that casting without drawing is impossible. Others claimed to have sensed her draw earlier in the evening and perhaps this had been enough- One woman claimed to have seen Lyen poison Merit’s glass herself. It was all a contradicting mess that revealed only one absolute truth: Merit had died the exact moment Lyen laid hands on her.
A morning breeze carrying the scent of smoke and burning fat drew Ogmund from slumber, and sent him into an imitate fury. The source was easily found only a few meters south from the camp. His men were found encircled around a fire, interacting in as hushed tones as could be expected from an entire contingent of Eskandr forces. Ogmund stepped over the two closest and, to many vocal complaints, kicked the cooking set-up aside to stop out the small flames.
"What did I say about fires? We're too close to the tree dwellers." He glared at the group, they had to have been at it as soon as his watch had finished. Damned fools. Damn himself for not waking to put an end to it.
"Been four days since our last hot-meal. How's a man to keep his wits about on an empty stomach?" Soldi moaned, making no effort to look ashamed, instead leaning back in his place and patting his notably bloated stomach.
"By following orders." Throwing on a blanket to extinguish any remaining embers put an end to any further argument. "Clean up and pack; I want to be out of these woods by sundown." He turned heel from the scene as the soldiers hastily finished the remains of their breakfast, keeping their complaints as grumbles among themselves as they readied to move.
"Here," Before they set out, Soldi came to Ogmund with the last of the food; a charred strip of meat folded in a flatbread. "Not warm anymore," He shrugged "But still better than what we've been having."
Ogmund only gave a nod in thanks, but only tucked the meal into his bags. He'd not acquit their wrong-doing by taking part, however he hungered for fresh food.
It was barely a mile into their march when the strangeness began:
" "Nax luin yani dii'luin abe rot hax'oft!" The voice was unnaturally loud and echoing with the dense foliage. The language recognizable only because of its foreignness. Yasoi. A shiver ran down Ogmund's spine. How long had the forest been so quiet?
"Who's there?!" Shouted one of the men, "Where are you?"
Ogmund whirled "Quiet! What do you-" But he was interrupted by more of the strange lilting tongue.
“Huusoi? Tai soceh abost juu nash!”
A mist rose from the ground, a clear trick of the Gift that only only a few men seemed to recognize. The rest shouted back, heedless of their leader's orders, frantically moving as though to push away the fog that began to envelop them.
No response came to the soldiers, but the exchange between their watchers continued: ”Joi di'thiir Eskand'huusoi? Tuum tai fep!"
In the same moment he recognized the word referring to the homeland, Ogmund heard weapons being drawn behind him, on turning he found Soldi. The sight of a raging berserker was unmistakable. Entering such a state was supposed to be impossible without heavy use of the gift or the intense frenzy of battle; and was never an accident. Even after Ogmund commanded the man to still, he was already surging towards the trees in search of the voices' source.
It wasn't just Soldi. A dozen men followed him into the forest, axes raised and screaming a bloody battle-cry, then more with them, until all but those unaffected by the rage remained. Ogmund found himself left with fifteen men looking to him for orders. "Stop them from getting any further into the forest!" No more lines came, but a chilling laugh followed them in their pursuit.
It was a hopeless attempt. As fast as they ran it was no match for the inhuman speed and endurance that came with a berserk rage. The first group had long halted when they were eventually reached. Just in time for Ogmund and the others arrived only in time to see the first volley of fire leave the hand of an Eskandr soldier to embed itself into a tree above him. In mere seconds the single branch transformed the entire section of forest into a wall of flames.
It wasn’t long after Lyen was returned back to her room that she fell asleep. Exhaustion from staying awake so long finally beating out her anxiety enough to give her a few hours rest. Her dreams were short and frantic, and when she woke only a few hours later, she hardly felt a difference had been made. But food was waiting for her, and it was at least something to do.
There was no stopping her thoughts from circling the trial as she ate. Dyric had played a dirty trick, and after the scarred man’s non-committal interview, there didn’t seem to be anyone left who wanted to so much as consider her innocence. The truth remained though. And it would reveal itself, such was the purpose of keeping a timewalker at all.
She had only partly finished when Talit’s face appeared in her doorway without the usual warning of her crutched gait or even the guard's acknowledging her presence.
“Is it that time again already?”
The younger woman shook her head. “No, and the guards can’t see or hear us, but we only have a few moments,”
Lyen straightened, and held back the reflexive questions.“Then tell me what you came here for.”
“To tell you to be ready, I’ve spoken with Otios, and it’s given me an idea. We can pull the blame off you and Perrence in a single act. Just- Be ready to move when it happens.”
“During the trial?”
“Hopefully before, I have to go.”
There were of course countless more questions Lyen had ready, even before Talit had finished answering the first. But she’d vanished as suddenly as she’d appeared. It had been time magic, Lyen concluded as she finished her meal. What less could be expected from Vyshta’s most favoured?
As accepting of Talit’s haste as she’d been at the time, it didn’t take long for Lyen to become vexed at her vagueness. How was she supposed to ready herself if she had no idea when or what even for? She paced the small plain room until she was certain dawn had to have passed, but a call to her guards heeded no more than a shout to remain quiet. There was little else she could do but draw and deplete a small pool of essence mana from her own body, ready to reflexively cast.
It was mid-day by Lyen’s best guess when someone finally entered the hallway. A stranger she vaguely recognised as one of the costumed jesters on the mette’stiroi, though his appearance was much less festive and demeanor infinitely less jovial.
“The city is under attack, we need everyone outside!”
Lyen pressed herself up to the small hole in her door, desperate to make out what she could of the men outside. The three guards looked to each other then the intruder. “What of the prisoner?”
“One of you take her to be held in the council’s chambers for now. You other two come with me; they’re burning the trees, Exiran spare us.”
Lyen found herself alone but for one remaining guard that gripped her forearm as he led her out the building.
“Don’t think about trying any of y…..” His sentence never finished as his hard set frown was replaced with a vacant, slightly blissful expression as Lyen’s magic took near immediate effect.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She said flatly as the disorientation eventually brought the armored man to the floor. Without further hesitation she made for the final door between her and freedom.
A billow of hot air, clouded thick with smoke greeted her at the entrance. Outside was pandemonium. But the blaze, only a few feet away, commanded immediate attention. Already it was well into the city and extended well beyond her vision. All around Yasoi ran, scattering in search of family and treasure as they made their escape. The true attack didn’t arrive until Lyen had already committed herself to destroying the parts of untouched trees too close to the flame, desperate to aid in halting the fires before they came any closer.
They seemed to emerge from the fire themselves; screaming barbarians, wielding their weapons at anything that moved in their reach. Lyen was brought back to the witch wood, how desperate she’d been to help her people then. She looked at the blood covered axes of Eskandr tearing Loriindton asunder and prayed to each of the gods by name that this wasn’t the event Talit had planned.
The first day of trial has ended largely in a stalemate. Few minds have been changed. Something has happened to drive the Eskandr forces wild, they are attacking Loriindton, though there do seem to be a handful trying to stop them? Who can tell in all the chaos.
The city is on fire! Eskandr are madly attacking anyone they come across! Help is needed on the western side of the city where fire and Eskand force began coming from. Who you aid and how is entirely up to you, or maybe you’d rather use the distraction to pillage treasure and info. If you’re struggling or need any further info please do not hesitate to DM me here or on discord.
Trials and Tribulations I Ersand'Enise Seen & Mentioned: idk a lot
A pounding on the door nearly caused Silas to fall from his bunk: Memories of a birthday surprise the week before still all too fresh. But it was male voices that called out orders to him, and in fluent Avincian.
"Who's there?!" He shouted back as he jumped from his bed, silently cursing himself for spending the night in the dorms at all after the last event.
"Representatives of D.R.A.G.O.N., here to see about the Froabase eggs know to be in your possession." As the man explained himself, a jiggle to the door knob entered the rotation of knocking and shouting. Silas dragged his blanket down with him, billowing it out to cover a fraction of the littered possessions scattered wildly behind the stacked bunks. The lower bed was empty. Always an infuriatingly early riser Desmond had inadvertently abandoned him to an investigation. Unless the Enthish boy had done so on purpose; reported their sale of the egg to let Silas take the blame and be free of any suspicion.
"Right- Give me a moment!" His words came out a discernibly higher pitch than before. Leaping the final paces to the door of the small room, Silas managed to open it just it time to save it a final frame-rattling pounding. A trio of men, dressed in rich materials and decorated with various metals, stood on the other side of the threshold.
"The Froabase eggs. Egg. Right. Of course." He was still wearing his bedclothes; a well tattered and over-sided linen shirt that still bore the memory of the original white colour in some places. "I uh- only have the one." He kicked a few stray items to make a wide enough path for the men to follow him to the egg's resting place in the closet. Even so, one had to remain outside and the other on the opposite side of the room, the space remained so limited.
"And your name?" The representative that had managed to follow Silas closely enough to get a good look at the egg produced a flat board with papers and a pen.
"Silas Reiger." He could feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. There hadn't even been enough time to cover his eyes. The longer the stranger scratched away at his records the more time Silas had to imagine the worst possible outcomes of his predicament and assure himself that Desmond truly had hung him up to dry.
"A standard male Froabase egg. In healthy condition still a few months out from hatching." The writing continued even as he spoke. "Current conditions leave much to be desired but, space is compatible for the needs of nursing one egg should the owner comply with D.R.A.G.O.N. regulations. The owner being Silas Rieger?"
The question was so sudden in such a quick list of information it surprised him. "Yes. I am."
"Upon hatching new accommodations will be needed if you require information or assistance on accommodating a Froabase hatch-ling..."
It took nearly half an hour for the representative to complete his paperwork. Silas handed over payment for the suggested care items with uncharacteristically little reluctance; his eagerness to be rid of the men and their questions outweighing frugality.
"If you will sign here for me please," They were standing at the doorway again, the new purchases having further reduced the standing space inside. Silas hesitated only a moment before taking the fountain pen from the taller man's hand and hastily scribbling a design that could just barely be legible as a name, albeit with one or two letters in the wrong direction.
"One final thing." Just when the end was in sight, the leader turned heel stop the door from fully closing all the way. "This is the only egg in possession at this residence?"
"Only one." Silas agreed, unable to stop his rapid nodding once it had begun.
A final few marks were made on the report, and then there were gone. The relief that came with their departure was great enough that Silas had almost forgotten the faire entirely. Right until horns and cheers bellowed a summons from under his window.
It wasn't Silas' first attendance at the Societies faire. He could remember the past two of his life, and the former had even been during his short time with true sight. They were some of his happiest memories, where residence from the entire city joined to the main streets, spirits full of cheer and purses with coin. The excitement was in part responsible for his later slumber; the thought of being the target for all the festivities was something too grand to even dream about only a few months before. So he'd spent the better part of the night tossing and turning in anticipation until exhaustion took him. It meant the first day was something of a wash; he spent the bulk of it around the table for the Speed Demons, watching the others sign and compete in various ways. Jackson Clark himself made an appearance and showed some over-confident biro's he was legend even among the low-born natives of Ersand'Enise. An unexpected combination of awe and nerves left Silas a observer only.
The society head wasn't the only familiar presence. The short and round frame of Ishto was also milling through the crowd, trying to collect bets from a small group of young spectators. All were welcome in every district during the faire, so there was no need to think twice about why the boy was there. At least until Silas was close enough to be noticed. With a yelp and comedic jump of surprise the boy sprinted out of sight before he could even be addressed. Silas moved to follow but instead was found by Desmond and quickly forgot about the urchin altogether. Their conversation did eventually lead him to the Enchanter's Union, the guild already had his name prepared on their list as a Zenith Scholar; much to his chagrin. But he was in no hurry to reveal the extent of his new-found wealth and so gave his perplexing signature on the required forms before the booth's closing on the first day.
On the second day a song from Ayla and a continued sense of fatigue brought Silas to the fully-stocked and modestly busy Zeno-Bucks. Marci was manning the stand, always easy to identify with her her narrow frame and large floppy hat, and reached over the counter the moment she recognized him.
"Silas! You look awful." Whether it was a facade to draw customers or the contagious energy of the faire, she seemed in high spirits, even while insulting him. "A cup of Virang's finest might just be the cure!"
"Zarina trying to make a business out of her habit?"
That was all the prompting needed for Marci launch into a well-rehearsed sales pitch that eventually lead Silas to buying a cup of the hot drink, and forcing a smile through the bitter taste.
"You're still finding time to join societies? with all this?" He gestured to the grinder, cups, and customers. Their conversation drifted to more casual matters where it was revealed both had been approached late the day before, well after most of the booths had been closed. An invitation to join another, more exclusive club -or so they claimed- located somewhere outside the southern city walls. The two young biro's speculated on the secret group's other possible members and true purpose before the morning rush became to great for Marci to indulge him.
"Bring back the cup!" Were her last words when Silas broke away from the counter a drink later; his second heavily sweetened for a steep price. Barely detectable to his senses, and well out of Marci's view, another figure parted from the surveying customers to follow him across the street.
Silas only spent a scant hour of the morning watching the Speed Demon races before making his was to the unexplored western half of the city, determined to make better use of the second day. In the Cathedral district he found the Draconic Order. Yet another group that already had his name prepared on forms; courtesy of his visitors the day before. Much preferring the idea of seeking advice from his peers than the stuffy D.R.A.G.O.N. members, Silas readily agreed to membership.
It was as he was leaving back towards the main campus that Kaspar caught his attention; beckoning to him from across the main road.
"I don't think that's an aberration." Was Silas' entire contribution when the other boy had shown his discovery. They were in disagreement; their eyes seeing two very different things. Whatever it was, was too active for it to be a proper aberration; reaching out and pulling at the energy around it rather than leeching the other way. Kaspar insisted it looked the same save for colour. Both agreed on the ominous aura it produced.
"We can't just leave it here right?" He sounded wary of the idea, and the feeling was genuine. It didn't help that the closer they approached the stronger the pull became. Kaspar must have felt it too, as with only a nod to communicate, the two began to draw from the strange aberration almost simultaneously.
The dread and hesitation fled Silas' body just as the energy transfer began. Unlike the unpleasantness experienced in the desert, he felt hyper-aware of each passing second, each thought clear and his own. It took another moment to notice the effects were persisting even after the entity was gone.
"I feel.... Great."
He was browsing over the magic societies when the second aberration appeared. There was little hope in him being accepted to any, at least as anything more than a novelty for his viral manatype. Still he couldn't help himself from idling over the Golden Mushroom's displays, however haughty and aloof the members. It was large, and only seemed to be growing in the space in-front of the fountain, almost comforting in its familiarity compared to what he'd previously dealt with.
"Ingrid?" He called out, thinking he recognized the tall girl walking towards him. Running in fact. "Ingrid?" He asked again, in a much less certain tone. She passed him in a matter of steps, clearly reaching for the large void of an aberration behind the society members. It wasn't going to be her first helping of void for the day by the looks of things. With his fellow student deafened by aberration-madness, Silas felt no choice but to join her in pulling from the gaping void of energy, if only to stop her from getting worse. It came easily, and so quickly it sent him staggering; clutching the sides of hid head as he felt his capacity was reached, then strained just as soon as he'd begun. To their benefit, the aberration had dissipated with just as much speed. Still hunched over, and breathing heavily, but feeling mentally stable Silas attempted to address his fellow Biro again:
"Are you-" But Ingrid was already upon him, and using the full brunt of her strength -and near two foot advantage- to send him flying over the Golden Mushroom's table, ruining a good deal of their display and landing Silas squarely into the fountain. That, along with memories of her immense power against the sand wyrm were enough to discourage any further attempts to calm the maddened noble. Besides, his dept to her had already been paid; this was finally an issue for the Zenos to handle.
The rest of the faire passed with surprisingly little drama, irregardless of the half dozen aberration popping into existence throughout the afternoon. Silas found himself again at the Speed Demon booth towards the end of the day, a second Zeno-Buck's cup in hand, and oblivious to his trailing shadow. Deciding he'd had enough anxious teetering, he approached the administrative table. There his name was taken, as was his class schedule and current mana capabilities. For the second time Silas signed his name to the half-lie. After the events of the day who was to say what his capacity was compared to the student record anyway?
His ego wasn't quite so great as the challenge the society head, but a particularly ostentatious noble from his cohort that had already earned his place.
"Not sure how I feel about a challenger lacking in stature, sight, and capacity." He sneered, making a grand show of leaning down to peer at Silas.
"At least state the race before forfeiting then."
"The commons-roof route. I assume you're familiar enough with the place." A small bit of an audience had gathered, and an audible chortle of laughter reached them both.
"Could do it with my eyes closed." Silas agreed with half a smile, tapping his blindfold.
The long walk to the common dorms left more time for the initially small following to grow to something rather sizeable. Silas' nerves grew in tandem and he found himself focusing his senses on individuals in the group. He was suddenly certain something was wrong. Logic told him it was only his own anxiety- as unwarranted and unnecessary as his fears the morning before. When they made it to the rooftops, the surprise and excitement of Jackson Clark standing with them to observe the race was enough to supersede his worries.
In fairness, there was no way for his opponent to know exactly how familiar with Clark's famous route Silas was. There hadn't been a need to disclose the fact that he'd witnessed being done first hand four years before, or that it had been part of his self-study in using his false-sight and gift to maneuver throughout the city. As it was, it didn't take long for his opponent to drop out of sensory range, and Silas' confidence began to grow with each pounding heartbeat. The first notable leap on the path was between the Castle and it's shorter neighboring building. The gap was just wide enough to require a slight use of the Gift to cross. Eager to make a show, Silas drew and released much more than needed, lauching himself a good twelve feet in the air. Except, his decent began too soon. Something had drawn at his forward moving momentum. Someone. Still em-poured with enough drawing speed from the white aberration, Silas expelled enough force energy to catch himself on the roof's ledge. The figure responsible remained above on the Castle as Silas struggled to right himself. It wasn't his competitor, and yet the shape of the meddler rang strangely familiar.
Not wanting to waste time dwelling on potential cheating, Silas kept to a more basic route, free of any obstacles that required the Gift, until the final wall directly bellow the dorms' highest point, and finish line. He hesitated, but ultimately employed his kinetic magic to keep his hands and feet firmly against the wall as he climbed the vertical surface. No other magic touched him until mere feet from the summit. The static force he poured into each of his limbs to remain stable in his precarious position began being gently pulled from. His hands were the first to slip, making his head lead the proceeding plummet downward. He drew from the momentum- desperate to catch his fall- only to realize it was more than gravity working against him; whoever had caused the fall was pushing him towards the ground.
A sudden force in the opposite direction winded Silas, but knocked him out of his accelerated fall towards the wall again, where he was able to catch himself and make out his rescuer. The noble he'd challenged had caught up, and in a convincingly shocked state.
"What the hell? Who-?" Silas didn't wait around to hear the rest of the thought. Instead he fled, trusting the other's arrival enough of a distraction to allow for his escape unharmed. It was a longer route without scaling the wall, but it didn't require putting himself at the same risk. There had been no doubt that time; someone was trying to kill him. The crowd that had remained long enough to see the result of the event erupted into cheers as Silas crossed the starting point again. Only he didn't stop, not when the administrator called out to him, or even as Clark reached for his hand. Silas continued running with increased speed until he reached the same ledge he'd first felt the mysterious mage's interference. This time he slid down the wall, already feeling intrusive magic pulling at his own created friction. He fell through the first open window he found. An unfamiliar room, with a stranger shouting obscenities at him inside. The window slammed shut with enough force cause an unsettling creak from it's poorly-aged frame. His own room was mercifully close by, and in the same building. He retired there for the rest of the evening; fearing to return to his Zeno's rooms until late nightfall.
- D.R.A.G.O.N. Reps are dealt with - Silas joins clubs listed bellow - Someone is tailing him throughout the faire - Silas gets chased down by a familiar face while trying out for the Speed Demons. - Silas has lost 2 zeno bucks cups.
Guild: Enchanter's Union Clubs: Draconic Order, Little RAScals, Rat Bastards, Speed Demons
It was a sight to behold. Lorridton’s people were in an uproar over their dead matriarch. Confusion and disbelief sent a panic through the ever gathering crowd. Even the Tar’ithan woman had played her part to perfection, tears shining on her face when Dyric chanced a look her way. Talit had flown herself, crutches and all, across the field to meet at the accused’s side, vehemently defending the stranger from the encroaching mob, the matching brands of the Perrench lilly on their shoulders in clear view to all. In the midst of it all Merit’s body lay peacefully still, untouched in its seat.
“She did not draw, did you not notice?”
It was a surprising outburst,and true enough to quiet a frenzying group that looked to Dyric to justify his accusation. His face remained a penetrating glare, one that moved from the struggling Lyen and his sister to find the dissenter.
"Do you not recognize her for a Maledict, stranger?” He called out to Calitan. “Their magics are those of deceit and trickery." The mob hissed as one, enthralled by Dyric's distraught fury.
"Our brother is right to question." Came another voice, in an attempt to draw their attention. Chad the elder that had taken Merit's place when her decline became impossible to hide. He was standing at his seat, only a few places down from those of the guests of honour.
“Let us not make this night a tragedy twice over. Take the maledict away to be sentenced.”
“I will not-”
Talit cut Lyen off, pulling her back to face her brother. “She is innocent! I can vouch for her character.”
“Then she has you fooled. Her hands fell on Merit and she died. We all saw; where were you sister?”
Talit glared at her brother only to look past him to the chief elder. “Let the gods prove her if my word isn’t good enough. A trail by combat; with me as her champion.”
“You want me dead too now? You’ve fallen too deeply into her ploys Talit.”
“I want to prove the truth!” She cried in horror, “You would go against me?”
“No one else would!” He gestured to the people around them. The reasoning didn’t need to be said aloud to be stated; Talit’s own people feared her. “I want justice for our Nan if you don’t -”
“Enough!” Chad moved between the twins, using the Gift to amplify his voice enough to drown out the riled chattering. “Shame on both of you; so eager to spill more blood when Merit’s is not yet cold.” It was enough to quiet the entire city as the enormity of their figurehead’s death claimed them.
The Maledict was taken away, and only when the crowd had dispersed did Dyric dare look in the direction of the tall redheaded woman. Their look communicated all that needed to be said as they each turned to convene with their respective groups.
It was rare for Lyen to think of her parents. She was a woman grown, well traveled and experienced for it, but alone in a cell on Loriidton's forest floor had made her thought melancholic. Shaping a pan flute always brought them to mind, with memories of her childhood. Her mother's tireless efforts to make sure she understood the process; binding the reeds to the right density and length. Father had done his best to teach her to play, but she never had the patience for learning anything that wasn't magic then.
Lyen drew from the ground beneath her. She knew she was being watched, prisoner as she was. Guilty as she'd been judged before a trial had even begun. She focused on binding the flute in an attempt to calm the panicked thought. It was a small thing, only six reads long, but she was hardly talented enough to make use of more. She tested a few notes before falling into the handful of tunes she knew. They too were old memories, songs for children planted there by her parents.
"You're not very good." Talit’s awkward gait had given away her presence long before her voice. Lyen didn’t even look up to greet her; instead snorting and turning the flute to ash in her hands.
"Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you?” There was a sudden sharp prod on her hip, jolting her upright to see Talit wielding her right crutch threateningly. Her eyes were sunken and bloodshot, skin strangely pale, even for Yasoi. It seemed neither of them had slept.
“No more time to wallow in self pity I’m afraid.”
Lyen’s face darkened, shamed by the younger woman. She brushed the crutch away with a scowl. “Come to break me out, have you?”
"No time for that either. They want to begin now. Yes I already tried to argue for more time but,” Talit rolled her eyes, too exasperated to even detail the chaos that was Yasoi bureaucracy. It was enough to silence Lyen’s arguments and replace them with a nod of sympathy.
“Best not keep them waiting.” In truth, she wasn't surprised there had been such a rush on things. Merit may have let go of her official positions, but her wisdom remained the binding component of the community. It was rare for even a Yasoi to reach such an age, and yet they all felt her taken too soon, unjustly, and by Lyen's hand.
Talit continued speaking, undeterred by her companion's silence as they moved down the narrow hall. She did her best to fit her knowledge of Loriindton’s elders in their short walk. Chad had been the official leader for some time, but Merit’s influence and command were not easily forgotten; this trial would be his first true act as Baron. Yrii was a known hater of humans, the bulk of her family unjustly killed during the former Perrench King’s raids. Alternatively, Gari was the youngest of them all, but a former teacher and friend of Arcel, she seemed to think he could be trusted. Dyric was markedly left unmentioned.
The guards that flanked them seemed only to press closer with each step. It would be so easy, Lyen realized, only half listening to her companion, to kill them and flee out back. Run away and forget the terrible night had ever happened. Except the people of Loriindton would not. Wherever Lyen went, she’d be a pariah of her own people, or worse.
She had so wanted the killing and death to remain in human lands. To repaint the story of the Battle of Relouse so its memory would be only her own heroic retelling free of fear and regret. Instead she had brought it with her. A few days ago the idea of killing her own people would have been horrifying, but the few short hours since Merit’s death had numbed her. She herself was considering doing away with the guards. Two Yasoi she barely knew, only following their own orders.
“I’d hoped we’d at least get to enjoy the Mette'stiroi before things went to shit. But you’re innocent Lyen, and when we prove it they’ll have another. The truth will always prevail.”
The sounds of Loriindton’s people could be heard before they even reached the door. All had a connection to Merit in some way or another, and all would be present at the trial of her supposed murderer. So it was to be held in the only space large enough to hold them all; the forest floor.
“I know.” Was the final thing Lyen said, reaching out to give the Talit’s wrist a quick squeeze as they exited the building.
The tables and bleachers from the mete’stiroi were repurposed for the trial. The platform that had been used as a dais for Merit and the others the night before was still used in that capacity, but for a much changed reason. In the background continued the snail race, with perhaps only a handful of observers, and most of the other festivities had been tastefully set aside. Cleanup was well underway, but it was a physical thing only. There was no cleaning the wound that had been dealt to this community until it was determined, beyond reasonable doubt, who had dealt it, and hopefully why.
The baroness’ body had been prepared the night before and now lay in state before her people, surrounded by fragrant herbs and flowers. Perhaps the sun’s light fell naturally upon her through a small break in the branches or perhaps someone had used the Gift to make it so. It did not greatly matter. Lady Merit was present at her own murder trial. Her treasures had been arranged around the table where she lay, wrapped in a banner with her personal sigil. Her eyes were covered with gold coins, and it was a certainty that, in the five days before she rose to meet the Bringers, she would see and hear all.
It was into this scene that Talit and Lyen emerged. There were not hundreds present; there were thousands. They spread out across the forest clearing, some sitting on the bleachers from the mete’stiroi, others occupying nearby tree platforms, staircases, and hanging bridges. The two of them, feeling rather an island unto themselves, passed beneath a small girl idly kicking her feet back and forth from one of the bridges, and a couple of boys who had run eagerly up beside her hurled insults at Lyen, or perhaps both of them. “Taiv’op!” one sneered. “Cuul’op!” accused the other, horking up a wad of spit, but an older woman came and grabbed both by the ears and hustled them away. Her scolding could not be heard against the backdrop of such a great mass of people, each with their own words to speak. Their voices had risen when they noticed the pair’s entrance. Now, however, as Baron Chad’orast’ilan’chiis rose, he made a gesture and, after a handful of seconds, the noise gave way to a silence that was eerie and unnatural to yasoi: ovaya’zesh – the ritual act of complete quiet.
Dyric had already taken his place, strategically close to his three-times-great grandmother, facing the three elders. He twisted only briefly to look at his sister and she was forced to part with Lyen, leaving the maledict alone in the center, surrounded by guards, as she took her place opposite Dyric and flanking the body of ‘old nan’, who it was clear she struggled to look at.
She instead looked to her twin, trying to discern his always unreadable expression. He'd gone to great effort in avoiding her, spending most of the night with the time-walker. The one place Talit wouldn't go. It was a cowardly act, but it instilled fear within her in turn. What lies did he think he learned and how could she disprove them as such?
Eventually the silence of the bloodthirsty crowd teetered, and Chad put an end to it before disrespect could be done. Those that had seats took them, others leaned or pushed themselves to the outskirts, until only the elder and two blind women remained standing near the body. Recognition of the one standing by Merit's head sent a shiver down Talit's spine, all the way down to her stump of a right leg. The time-walker that had deceived her so long ago. That would make the other a powergazer. Two arbiters of truth, only summoned for the most extraordinary trials.
"I will not waste time with ceremony. We all know why we are here: This woman," Chad gestured to Lyen, still flanked by guards behind the elders, out of view of the corpse. It was enough to cause an uproar from the spectators. Talit watched her friend's face harden as hurled insults reached her ears.. It was some time until they were quiet enough for the trail to continue. "Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc stands accused of murdering our Merit’entasp’osmax, by her own descendant; Dyric’antiil’osmax."
The two women instilled one final prayer to Damy to watch over their proceedings before walking to either end of the elder's table.
It was to the accused to speak first. So it was Dyric that stood, whispering something unheard to his dead grandmother as he turned to face the crowd, bowing to them first, then the Elders.
"None want to be here less today than I. But as Merit's descendant it is my duty to bring justice for her murder. Half those here gave witness to the same events I did last night; the maledict's touch of death. I believe it is no stretch to maintain that an unambiguous observation shared by at least dozens of individuals - if not hundreds - need not be called into question.” He paused, clasping his hands behind his back, and turned on the spot so that he addressed everyone present. “I am grieving, as I know many of us are, as I trust my sister is as well.” He swallowed. “That does not mean, however, that I shall let my emotions rule me.” He began pacing again, commanding the stage as only a politician could. “I intend to deal in only known facts this day and it is a fact that that woman, Lyen’ivhere’zulc, a known maledict, laid hands upon Lady Merit mere moments before she expired.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, mostly of approval. “And what do we know of this alleged murderer who stands before us?” Dyric’s intonation made clear his thoughts on the use of the word ‘alleged’. He spread his arms as he continued. “The truth is: precious little.” He returned to pacing, building his case. “For, you see, she was not born among our people, nor has she much deigned to live among us either.” He shook his head sadly. “Her loyalties, you can see written plainly upon her skin.” He was referring to the fleur-de-lis tetsoi that she had gotten, but it was not currently visible. He paused and amended. “If you cannot see, I invite you to look at Lady Talit’s shoulder instead.” Dyric shook his head and continued. “And what, might you ask, would someone whose first loyalty is to Parrence want with the baroness?” He laughed bitterly, not even bothering to state what everybody knew: Lady Merit was renowned as no friend to the great human nation that surrounded them. “All of us who were alive then know very well what the Parrench crown’s approach is to the slightest hint of independence or, as they term it, ‘dissent’, from our people.” His eyes lingered, briefly, on those of the elder Yrii’antiil’enjuun. “And now, we find yet another huusoi bloodshed brought to our doorstep: one that we all know my great grandmother would want us to stay away from.”
He paused close to the body and both blind women nearby tilted their heads in an eerie synchronicity. “We have a means and a motive, moilar, suuneir, yaluur. Yet, there are those who refuse to believe it. While some may be our enemies, I do not believe that most are. The bounties offered by huusoi nations are tempting, and those of Parrece chief among them. One need look only as far as my sister: truly among the best of us. She is a loyal woman, with a good heart, and I would not question that. When the crown prince, Arcel, came to us as a boy and she was ever at his side, I did not question it. When she would make her regular trips to visit him in Solenne, I harboured no doubts as to where her loyalties lay.” He glanced Talit’s way, beatific. “Earlier this year, when she took some four hundred of our people to fight alongside her huusoi friend at Relouse, I knew that our people’s interests remained foremost in her heart. If the Eskandr could be stopped on the beaches, so much the better.” He left it unsaid that, of course, they hadn’t. An army of them was known to be on its way into the region, though all believed that it would bypass the yasoi town so long as it remained nominally neutral. “Yet, not all are so strong as Talit’yrash’osmax. It is a simple matter for one’s reason to become corrupted, for one not to be willing to see the facts laid out cleanly before them, to not be able to make a picture from the pieces.” Dyric stood, center stage, and clasped his hands in polite deference to the elders. “That is what I intend to help our people do this day, whatever their beliefs may be, so that my great grandmother and our people alike may walk in everlasting peace.”
It took Talit a moment to stand in time for her turn. To observers, she struggled with maneuvering her crutches around the body. In truth, her head was reeling, searching for any probable reason her brother would have to voice such vitriol against her. But there was no time to consider motives, he'd riled the people of Loriindton well, and if they'd hated Lyen before, they were only waiting to tear her limb from limb now.
"I agree with my brother on two matters at least. The first being that my great-great-great grandmother's assassination has been one of our greatest tragedies in recent memory." She paused for silence, as keen spectators hushed others to hear Talit speak. "Though I fear we carry different memories of the woman she was. Her bitterness and resentment towards Parrence is well documented - but did we not also come to witness her to temper and resolve that hatred?" She began walking parallel to the elder's table, pacing the length of the clearing with hobbled steps. "In her lifetime to have witnessed such cruelty and still accept her declared enemy's son into her home. To have taught and raised a human child alongside her own grandchildren; you think this a woman with indifference to her neighbors? Let us not forget this Parrence is not that of Rouis, but of Arcel - the boy who lived among us, as one of us." She stopped herself before too much emotion could bleed into her voice. Dyric had stressed that particular relationship enough already without her adding more speculation. "Would any here that knew him dare accuse him of sending assassins to those that cared for him? The Parrench have made their errors and are different, but we know what they are, we know their king. Meanwhile violent southern strangers pass through our land without sending a single word of notice or warning." She stopped her pacing to look directly at Dyric at the mention of the Eskand, searching for some reaction and finding none. "Is our resentment toward the Parrench so great we can no longer recognize a trusted friend?"
"The second matter we agree on is that Dyric knows precious little of Lyen; our friend and sister." A lone voice far off shouted a curse at her in disagreement, but was quickly silenced. "He does not know of her bravery shown towards defending her people - the Yasoi people even when it was not her burden to share. How many of those that had come with me might have been lost had she not stood tall against Eskandr's golden hand and hand of death in the Witch Wood? Ask them yourselves - they live to tell the story because of her actions."
Reaching the end of the Elder's table, Talit shifted her crutches and began her pacing in the other direction, stopping to make eye contact with the panel's eyes as she moved. "Her duty to the Yasoi can be found even in her name, Ivhere, for she spent so long with her teachers absorbing our ways they though she might never grown into her own!" Some feet away, Lyen's face was darkening an even motlier grey than usual. "We can see now she has, though she still seeks knowledge from new places - yes including those among human lands. But we are Yasoi, and our people have wandered for as long as we've had limbs." There was a slight chuckle at that as Talit flexed her hands on her crutches.
"But Lyen has always returned to her people. Who that spoke to her last evening could say she is anything but Yasoi? Even her magic, which Dyric seems intent on vilifying, is that of our own people, blending together different areas of the gift. Maledicts can be as much healers as curse-makers, which the name does little credit for. It is humans that fear and separate magic by types and morality, categorizing what is and isn't allowed." She sighed as she reached her original place "Most importantly, maledict magic is similar to any other in one respect at least; it requires energy. As many witnesses as my brother claims, I do too; any with the slightest bit of the gift could have seen that Lyen did not draw. What spell could have been commanded without trace? The answer is none, gentle people of Loriindton. Merit's death deserves justice, yes. Precise, direct, and harsh retribution towards the right parties is called for, once they can be found." She finally faced Lyen and gave a weak smile. "I ask we all heard the words Chad spoke last night again, let us not repay one needless and unjust death with another. Let it fuel our determination to find the truth and the guilty party."
Their opening pieces said, the twin descendants of Merit took their seats again while the Elders huddled and whispered for a moment, before motioning to the guards on either side of Lyen. The younger of the two blind women present laid her hands on Lyen before she took her place to be interrogated. The powergazer asked innocuous questions in a calm, low voice that easily traveled to Talit's ears, the clearing was so silenced with anticipation. With a nod, Talit was given leave to begin her questions. Shuffling her crutches to one side, she leaned on her seat casually.
"Have I been speaking the truth when it comes to your character and actions?"
Lyen's face twisted into a grimace of a smile. "You have."
"Please explain the events of last night."
Talit stood in silence as Lyen gave her story. Moving only to shuffle her weight on and off her foot as needed. She listened as her friend told her events; their arrival, the beginning of the Mette. She detailed the many people she'd tried to engage about the human war, and the few that humored her enough to hang around. About her snail's disappointing start in its race and the near fight that had broken out from it. The one part of the story left vague was her time spent with Talit. She mentioned only their drinking and acquisition of tetsoi, and nothing of the words they'd exchanged. Finally she told of the moment itself, her drunken excitement, a brush against Merit "... and then..." The hands Lyen had been anxiously wringing together towards the climax of her story fell away, finally still. "She was dead." She finished.
"I have only one question left." Talit finally said after she felt enough time had passed for Lyen's story to settle, "Did you, Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc, kill my kin, Merit’entasp’osmax, by magic, poison, deceit ,or trickery?"
Lyen let out a sigh, "No."
Talit could feel the crowd's eyes move as one to the power-gazer. The shrouded woman only reacted with a short nod, which sent whispers rippling throughout the clearing, enough so that it took some time before Dyric was able to approach with his own interrogation. Not that Talit cared for whatever else he had to say. She winked at her friend, and for a moment they shared hopeful smiles as Dyric made his way to her.
"You are a trained Maledict? Could you explain what that means?"
"I think we all heard you mention it enough times." Lyen rolled her eyes before giving an answer. "It isn't dissimilar to the witchcraft any priestess uses, we just train to have a more direct command and control over our manas, using them as triggers for more delicate uses of the Gift."
Dyric nodded, turning from Lyen to face his sister for a brief moment before continuing. "So would it be possible for a trained Maledict to use their magic to trigger reactions within their own body with little need to draw." Talit sucked in a breath sharply enough to catch the attention of the handful of people seated closest.
"Yes," Lyen responded with some hesitation "it could be done if-"
"A sort of spell that could be used to suppress any involuntary chemical reactions produced by lying?"
Lyen scowled and folded her arms, refusing to answer as the muttering picked up again. "Did you understand the question, Lyen?"
"Yes but-"
"Yes what?"
Lyen and Dyric were glaring at each-other so intensely, Talit felt herself forgotten with the rest of the witnesses.
”It could be possible. Yes."
Dyric spun, not bothering to dismiss himself as the spectators erupted into a hysterical combination of hissing insults, and calls for blood. Talit felt Lyen's eyes looking to her for assurance or comfort, but she found herself unable to meet them.
- Calitan will be called to the stand, other characters may volunteer as witnesses to be interviewed. - Both teams should reconvene to amend plans/tactics as needed - This chapter will include the first day of trial and the following 18 hours until it begins again. Any schemes/info to turn the crowd and/or elders to your side, this is the time!
Interlude II Ersand'Enise: Common Dorms | Mudville Co-Post with @Th3King0fChaos
It was well past midnight when Silas crept through the third floor window that was his shared dorm room with Desmond. The latter was dead asleep on the bottom bunk of their still holding creation. Despite their efforts, it was still a trial to walk through the room quietly. Between Silas’ hoarding tendencies, Desmond’s constant workshopping, and their combined disregard for cleaning; it had quickly filled again after the gland was removed. A wide display of items scattered without rhyme or reason. It was a vision of chaos even in the tranquil stillness of night. Desmond’s snoring was the only sign of life as Silas approached.
“Desmond” He hissed in a whisper. While he’d yet to get into trouble for being out past curfew, it was because he was careful.
Desmond turned in his bed as he heard the window open, he was a light sleeper and Silas coming in and out every now and again awoke him, yet Desmond never really called him out. Silas does his own things and Desmond did his. As Silas called his name, Desmond opened his eyes and looked towards Silas and said, ”Hmm?”
“You still selling your egg? I got a buyer but we got to go now.” Already he turned away to pick through the other boy’s belongings in search for the object of discussion.
Desmond began getting up as he slowly rubs his neck and sighs as he stretches and says, ”Yeah I am, let me grab it”.
As Desmond goes to the other side of his desk and grabs a thin metal pin, as he pushes it against the bottom of one of the drawers Silas was told to never touch and slowly he shifts it and a pop can be heard as he opens up one of the drawers where it can be seen a thin wire swaying and dangling in the drawer as he grabs the egg out of the large drawer, ”Alright let’s go”.
As once Desmond closes the drawer it sends a kinetic wave through the desk and allows Silas to see there was a large box inside the drawer filled with something he’s unable to fully see but it seemed like it was like sand and shifting.
Silas hopped between feet, all nerves and excitement. “You got something to cover up?” He considered for a moment. “Better not, actually. We’ll be looking shady enough. You can climb down the window with that?” He nodded at the box, but his senses lingered on the shifted energy in the other drawer. A question for another time, he decided as he opened the window to leave the way he came. Using his own Gift to lighten the other boy's load.
Desmond looked towards Silas as he seemed almost too excited to do this as Desmond answers, ”Yeah I can get down with this”.
As he began to follow Silas, not 100% sure where they were going, however with how Silas is acting, this is most likely a shady deal. As Desmond began to climb down with just one hand he seemed quite capable in doing so.
Silas held a finger to his lips as they crossed the Arboretum, showing the quietest path across rocks through the stream where they were least likely to be stumbled upon. It wasn't until they were well into the merchant quarter that he relaxed enough to speak again.
Desmond walked with confidence, he acted as if he was meant to be there, often Desmond knew he could blend in almost anywhere all you have to do is keep your head down and act as if you belong.
"Sorry about all the rush and secrecy. But they've upped the guard like we've never seen before and it’s got people in a panic." Despite the hour there was still a scattering of people milling throughout the squares, scant few wasting a second glance at the pair. The moon had long past and only the lighting of lamps and arcane magic guided their way. Or at least for Desmond. Even without his false sight Silas knew how to navigate the city, especially this close to home. “The buyer is in Mudville, not too far in, but still not something Zeno’s need to know about if you know what I mean?”
As once they made it to the Merchant district it seemed Silas was calmed enough for him to start speaking again. Desmond listened intently as they moved, as the information of upped guards and watchmen is quite valuable for many reasons, but mostly in case Desmond ever needing to use it. “Yeah I get what you mean. Hmm, I wonder why they are upping guards”.
Desmond was quite curious and worried on why the guards and watchmen seem to have been upped, it must be something outside their scope at the moment, maybe some more dangerous business is at play in this school than he first thought. Desmond just made sure to be prepared for if something goes wrong or if they get spotted.
Silas couldn’t help but snort. “I’m guessing the assassinations might have had something to do with it.” He shook his head mournfully. “But they’re everywhere now. Sticking their noses in anything the least bit shady, however victimless the crime.”
Only when he noticed Ishto, waiting for them across the bridge to the docks, did Silas stop his hurried pace and finally face his companion. The fat red headed boy tapped his foot impatiently, scowling at the scattering of people walking past.
“Alright. Last chance, any questions? Second thoughts?” He asked, side stepping off the main road.
Desmond sighed when the assassinations were brought up again, it was a subject that annoyed him. Not because he lost people to it, it was because he was asked to go and it was where Desmond saw how the school saw the students, they used their labor and promised less than minimal for it. ”Yeah those would do it”
Yet the conversation changed once they made it to their intended area, there they saw a rotund red haired boy it seemed they neared one of Silas’ boys. Desmond looked to Silas as he spoke and said without much of a thought, ”Nope, none. Just ready to off load this”. He said as he followed making sure to keep watch around, as they could be caught up in some simple thing and then get ‘got’ by the many possible watchmen trying to stick their noses in.
Silas relaxed at his answer and grinned “Great. Should be back in bed by dawn.” He turned on his heel and waved to Ishto as they made their way down the bridge.
“Yes I know we’re late but it takes time to lug these things across the city you know?”
Ishto glared at him, looking much more petulant child rather than underworld trader. The small boy walked up to Desmond, craning to see the top of the box he held. “Really gots a dragon in there?”
Silas pulled him back by the collar harshly. “You the one buying Ish? Didn’t think so.”
The pudgy younger boy folded his arms indignantly and fixed his glare on Desmond. “You ain’t a rat?”
Desmond looked towards the egg shaped child as he seemed to almost question Desmond’s motives and if he would rat them out. Desmond snorted as he said looking down onto the red haired boy, “A rat? I mean I’ve been called a rat bastard. But I ain’t here to rat. Just want to off load my shit and be done with it”
“Give it up. He’s fine, and we’ve already been standing here too long.” Silas pointed his head towards the road, urging the others to follow. “Where we going?”
Ishto took them to a tavern near the south side of Mudville, right before the main road turned north again. Even before they entered they could hear the liveliness inside, drinking, cheering, and singing. Silas found himself practically pushing through the crowd of grown adults that made no notice of at least two obvious children in their establishment. At least Desmond didn’t look terribly out of place.
The groups thinned as they made their way past the bar towards the back room. Inside the second door on the left sat two men. Silas didn’t recognise them, but he wasn’t exactly one for faces.
Both stood as the three walked in. Or at least Silas and Desmond did while Ishto stayed in the doorway, only to make himself scarce before the strangers could speak.
“You’ll understand if we forgo introductions.” Said the first. “Might we see the object?”
Desmond’s walk was one that seemed to modify in the places he was, almost like he was changing as they went through. As they pushed through the tavern, Desmond made it easily through and then made it to the back where they would find 2 men. Desmond took notice of them as they spoke as he nodded about forgoing introductions and took the egg out for them to see. Close enough for them to see the egg, but just far enough away so they wouldn’t be able to just to snatch it.
Desmond was wary however, as this could be some elaborate trap to steal the egg from him, or worst, get Desmond for any other crime or things he had done in the past some people would want to get him for.
The man hummed as he inspected the egg from a respectful distance. “You are rather young to have such an artifact?”
Silas didn’t move from his place behind Desmond but felt his muscles tensing. His paranoia told him a trap was waiting here. Surely Moriff knew they’d come and hatched some plan to get the egg and kill him at the same time. The strange buyers muttered together in a language he didn’t understand or recognize.
“We offer thirteen hundred neskals.” The second that had been silent before finally said.
Silas squeezed Desmond's arm as the older boy stepped forward. “They brought at least twice that with them.” The luggage of the buyers was nearly the size of their own. Despite it’s sturdy make of wood, brass, and leather its contents eventually revealed their general shape to him after a moment of focus.
Desmond listened to the men calmly, with them noting his age and then beginning to mutter to each other. Desmond had no clue before giving the offer of thirteen hundred neskals. As Desmond wasn’t going to allow the first price to go as it was, as he stepped forward and spoke out for the first time, as he began to haggle them up starting at almost double to price. As he was going to shock them to then start working down to the price he actually wanted. As they negotiated Desmond was able to get the men to settle just slightly above even what he was aiming for, 1.6k Neskals wasn’t a bad amount as Desmond settled quite happily with a smile. “Thank you for doing business”
The egg was replaced with an impossibly large bag of coins that weighed the box down enough it took both boys and a hefty implementation of the gift, to lift it again.
“You’re a natural,” Silas smiled when they were alone again. “I’d make you buy me a drink in celebration but, people around here can smell money.”
Desmond chuckled as he said, ”I never said this was my first time did I?” Desmond chuckled once more as he said afterward, ”How about I get you something when we get back to the house?”
"A deal then."
A cough came from the doorway, causing Silas to start. But it was only Ishto, apparently having thought enough to return at the most opportune timing. Silas grumbled and dug into his own pocket to produce a single neskal only to fling it at the boy. There was no way he was going to show the daft boy the box’s new contents.
“Not a word of us you hear!” Even as he called after, the boy had run down the hall and back to the worst of the crowds.
“So, back home?” Silas asked, taking one the box’s sides.
“Yeah, don’t wanna get questioned on why we have this much cash on us. I know these kind of people to get something from us if we wait around”.
As once they got home, Desmond gave Silas 40 Neskals and said, ”Thanks for that. I definitely know who to go for when I need to get things out of my hands”.
Silas nodded in response. His arms were sore from carrying their haul across town, and the lack of sleep was beginning to show signs of wear. “Anytime.” He yawned, clumsily lifting himself to the upper bunk. “Goodnight Des.”
Interlude I Ersand'Enise: Common Dorms | Mudville Seen & Mentioned: Desmond Catulus @Th3King0fChaos | Ingrid Penderson @dragonpiece
When Silas had placed half his pool on the Wyrm’s acid glad, he hadn’t accounted for its size, or smell. The putrid organ had rested upon his bed for the better part of a week, and it was becoming increasingly obvious the boy wasn’t spending his nights there. It was well past time to move it somewhere more practical. Not that there was much space in his shared dorm, cluttered as it was with wyrm scales, dragon eggs, and various other loot from the desert. The personal workshop Desmond was prone to tinkering at during the most inopportune didn’t much help with their poor space management.
“You know…” Silas started, trying to gauge the height of the ceiling. “Those beds line up perfectly.”
Desmond was sitting at the desk as he was working on his weapons. More slowly taking them apart, writing them down as he draws images of them before he slowly puts them back together. As he hummed the sounds were muffled as it was hard to hear lighter sounds coming from him when he is wearing this large black full face leather and steel mask that seemed to have 2 pieces of glass over the eyes with a large protruding piece coming out from the mouth area aking to the ones worn by White Rezaindians caring for the sick and diseased. His design has a few extra fixings making him look like some kind of canine or rat mattering upon which you notice first. When Desmond heard Silas say something he turned his head to him and looked at the beds as he shrugged.
“Yeah I guess they do”, the mask seemed to make anything he said into a much more diluted as it was hard to hear unless Desmond was talking very loud almost akin to yelling.
“So,” Silas continued, enthusiasm carrying him past the other boy's unintelligible and disinterested reply. “If we stacked one on the other, we’d have twice the space for all the scales, eggs, and your…” He waved his hand in the general direction of Desmond’s worktable. “Other activities”
Desmond fully turns and begins to look at the beds and then the ceiling as his mind begins to almost reconstruct the beds and the room. As he notices that they are very nearly perfect. Slightly off by at most a couple of centimetres at worst as he looked and thought that it would be interesting to try. After all, they had almost no room to even walk, let alone work, so Desmond nodded and said in a solid voice so Silas could hear him clearly, “Yeah, that sounds like a pretty solid idea-”
Desmond starts to put his things away as he starts standing up and starts leaping around the clutter that is across their floor as he says, “-I’ll get the wood, you clear the way”
Silas grinned too wide and nodded vigorously in agreement. "I'll just..." . He gently patted the wyrm gland; it responded in turn with a short, low belch that quickly twisted his smile into a grimace. "Get everything else ready."
In the end, it took both boys to pile their collective possessions against the wall until there was enough space to complete their project.
"Yours on top or bottom then?" Silas asked as they took a moment to rest and survey their work.
Desmond looked and almost pissed himself trying to not laugh, it was ugly looking because he used old wood people were throwing away, the beds were off by a few centimeters at most but it made more than enough of a difference as he looked to Silas instincts told him to claim top bunk. As Desmond grabbed the side of the bunk he said, “I want the top bed!”
As the moment he flung himself to the top of the bunk, it began to shake and shift as he sat there and was as still as a board. Yet the moment he heard a creak and a ting like a nail hit the floor, the only things that left Desmond’s mouth was, “ehe~”.
For a brief moment, it was almost possible to believe their creation would hold. But in his not-vision Silas could see the stress of the frame grow until it became too much too quickly and Desmond came with it all to the ground. Silas could only stare in open mouthed horror as their work was effortlessly undone in one impulsive maneuver. He eventually reached down into the rubble for his fellow craftsman's hand to pull him out. "Maybe it’d be best if you took the bottom." He considered for a moment then spoke again "What if we used one of the scales? They're strong right?"
Desmond was laying in the rubble of their creation and felt, humorous. It was funny that this happened, his bed fell, and he was right now looking up to the ceiling and his blind roommate. Desmond laughed as Silas extended his hand as Desmond said while taking the help up, “Yeah I guess that would be smart”
As Desmond got to his feet he heard Silas speak of the scales as he had a smile come to his face. He said while looking at the scales, “Yeah I think that would be perfect”.
Desmond began grabbing one of the wyrm claws and a large wyrm scale as he began setting the scale on his small anvil. After that he positioned the claw on the scale and had Silas hold it. Once in place, Desmond grabbed the warhammer he has in the room when he was testing on these materials, as he shifted the weight in his hands, Desmond said with wicked glee, “Alright let’s make this bed fancy~”.
He raised the hammer above his head and swung it down onto the top of the claw with a thunderous hit. He began to put Kinetic Energy into his hit to begin breaking the scale and putting holes into the scale pieces so they can nail the scale pieces into the wood and make sure that the wood is well secured. This was not an easy task, yet with the combined work of Silas and Desmond they were able to make some rough pieces of scales that were more workable and able to be made to reinforce the bed.
It was slower going the second time around, the more durable materials requiring more patience and care. The noise of their work carried through the building, and more than a few of their fellow students peered in only to quickly shuffle past. Their patience was duly rewarded, Desmond was clearly more comfortable working with the harder material and the result was visually impressive as well as a much more solid structure than their first attempt. Silas barely felt the wobble as he lifted himself to the upper bunk.
His wide grin returned as he leaned down to make his face visible to his bunkmate, albeit upside down. “Well done partner. Now, I don’t suppose you know any chemical mages who’d have use and coin for a slightly used acid gland?”
Desmond laid in bed satisfied with his work, as when he hear his bunkmate lower himself down and speak, Desmond opened his eyes and said, “Oh yeah, I know a few people. One isn’t a chemist from what I know, but she seemed like she really wanted it and she comes from quite a well off family”.
Desmond sat up looking at Silas as he then continued, “You know the tall redhead who was bidding on all the weird organs and shit?".
Silas found the tall woman on his own. Or at least one of the tall women that had been with them in the desert. She hadn't purchased the organ from him; but given her word to broker and even better deal still. It hadn't been the plan. It hadn't been what he wanted. But he was hardly in the same destitute position before. He wouldn't let himself be. The gland hadn't been the only item of worth from the trip to the desert. Next time he'd be prepared.
It was a strange journey to Mudville. While it wasn't exactly forbidden, it was discouraged enough for students to go that Silas took a round about journey past the front docks. Past the outward lustre and shine Ersand'Enise presented to the outside world and visitors, towards the wooden and hastily constructed slum that was home.
A home he was still unwelcome in. He had to keep reminding himself, as he kept to the roofs where he could and through barely passable alleys when he couldn't. Until he found what he was looking for. Or someone close enough to it anyways. A small red-haired boy of about 10, oddly husky for a Mudville child, was leaning out of an alley to peer into the pouches as a woman browsed a stall.
"Ishto!" He called out, causing the boy to freeze and eventually miss his target as the woman pressed onward. The boy's glare qucikly changed to utter surprise as he rushed to meet his friend in the alleyway.
"Silas! What happened? Where -"
"Never-mind all that" Silas waved the boy's introductions away and pulled him further into the alley. "It is good to see you though Ish. Good to see you've managed to remember me in that tiny head of yours." He moved his hand to the boys head, nearly as tall as his own now, and ruffled his hair. "I'm looking for Edri. This was his route, where is he?"
Ishto's face fell. "Dunno. He's gone." Was all he said and slowly began to try turning from Silas.
"Gone?" The boy only shrugged in response as his eyes wandered to passing strangers on the main road. Back to finding a mark. Silas took his shoulder to regain his attention. "People don't just disappear Ish. What. Happened."
"You did." He had Silas there. The small boy's brow furrowed in deep concentration as dots connected in his mind until it broke into an excited grin. "Was Edri with you? Is he coming back too?"
Silas scowled at the boy. Ish had always been slow, but now the boy seemed hardly present- Unable to fully face him and fidgeting endlessly. "Would you think for a minute? Why would I be asking if I knew where he was."
"Oh." Ishto looked to the ground, dejected by the older boy's scorn. But it was soon forgotten and his gazed wandered again to the street traffic passing them. "Old man put me here 'bout a week ago. Asking question always makes him mad."
Silas nodded wordlessly, thinking as his senses worked to watch for anyone keeping too close to them. "You can't tell him you saw me alright? That'd piss him right off too." The idea of Moriff made Silas want to run with all his speed back behind academy walls. Not that what he'd found there had been all that much safer in the end. "I was looking for Edri to help me. Do you think you can help me Ish?"
"Hmmm." Again his attention drifted. Silas sighed.
"I got a dragon egg." It got Ishto to look up at least, even if it wasn't with much excitement.
"Uh-huh. And where did you get a dragon?"
"An egg Ish, keep up. And I got it-" He stopped for a moment and considered trying to convey all that had happened in the past few weeks. No one would possibly believe him. Least of all small, stupid Ishto, who'd never so much as stepped past the docks. "It doesn't matter were it came from. There's still some time before it hatches, and wanted to know if one of you might get a price for me. Well not saying its for me, but-"
"How'd you know it's real?"
"I mean how would you even tell?" He waved his hand in front of his eyes, a visible blur of matter and kinetic movement to Silas' vision.
That was enough to reach the end of his patience. Silas grabbed the smaller boy by the ear and tugged, hard, until he produced a satisfying yelp. "Stop being such an idiot Ishto. You know I see just fine, just like I know it takes more than that to make you cry, so stop doing that with your face."
The boy's crumpled face relaxed into normalcy, and even a full smile and he finally fully turned to Silas. "Really real then?"
"Really real."
Ishto whistled. "I'll ask around. Meet me here in a week okay?"
Silas nodded and took a step backwards as the younger boy bolted away. He sprinted until the top of the steps leading out of the Mudville streets, where he turned back and yelled:
Tall Trees, Long Shadows II Loriindton Seen & Mentioned: Talit'yrash'osmax
It was a common claim among the Yasoi that the only mette'stiroi worth attending was that with too many festivities to attend altogether. Lyen took it upon herself to put the phrase to the test; as well as the hospitality of Loriindton. She moved through the lower levels of the town as a whirlwind, drinking, talking, eating, dancing, flirting, and gambling were all done in equal measure and her spirits and glass were filled with each circling. The people of Loriindton were happy to have her, and before the first evening was over it was as though she'd never left her people at all.
There were stark contrasts between Lyen's old homes and Loriindton; staying in such an isolated place surrounded by humans had affected the Yasoi. It was the oldest curiosities from her collection they were most interested in; those from the western lands and the grand forests of home. Lyen traded them freely, quickly plundering flora and fungi unique the the region. The starkest contrast was how most fell quiet when she spoke of the war, Parrence, or humans at all. Their curiosity on the subject marred by fear and weariness, as they suddenly became disinterested in her offered trade.
Refusing to let it affect her good time, Lyen continued her dance through the nights events; joining the Tiims'archa race, yelling on her own small snail and getting in a mockingly heated argument with Otios as theirs came head to head. But even the chance at winnings couldn't hold her attention for long. It was a snail race after all, and when it took nearly an hour for them to move much past the starting line, she reached for Talit's arm.
"Come add to your Testoi with me suunei, your bravery needs commemorating." Some time and a good deal of convincing later the two Yasoi woman walked out of the tent clutching their shoulders. They binded each-other's skin until the bleeding of their twin fluer-de-lis stopped.
"You saved my life twice." She stated plainly, lifting her gaze to stare intensely in the other woman's eyes, searching for understanding. "Whatever else you become, Talit'yrash'osmax will forever be my friend and kin. Bound to me as I am this mortal world."
The sincere moment passed quickly and was almost forgotten by the time the two parted ways, each notably more intoxicated than when they'd first crossed paths. Talit left to attend her place of honour at the roasting ceremony and Lyen joined the audience in their cheers and laughter at the former's expense.
Only the mez'qadurat lost on her participation. Lyen watched a round from a distance, but decided she'd seen enough fighting and bloodshed for some time, and turned down the offer to enter the ring. Instead opting to join in for another round of dare-squares.
She persisted in her goal throughout; spoking with anyone who would listen about the ongoing war among the humans and in turn eventually began to hear the concerns of the citizens of Lorrindton. Their fear of Perrence armies, masked with mocking scorn, and the bitter resentment that remained from the past king's transgression. In vying to better their opinions, she eventually found herself a regaling the battle of Relouse for the fourth time, and began to draw something of an audience. After a few cheers for her to begin again, Lyen was corralled towards the head table, markedly absent of Talit, to share the story properly.
"Let me tell a much more recent story of our dear Vyshta," she said slowly, giving a mocking crusty to the two present guests of honour as she her cup was filled. "And how the foolish Eskandr walked into the web of the one-legged spider."
More than a few embellishments were made in her telling: Death's Hand was no human but a beast that turned to a monstrous bear at the height of the five moons. Talit had wheepingly vowed to sacrifice her remaining leg if it meant the King's heart would beat again after his fall from the ramparts. For each barbed joked planted there was a grand act of heroism carried out by her staring character, who may has well have single-legged defeated the entire army by the end of the dramatic recounting.
"To your sister," She nodded to Dyric from behind his left, raising her glass in a final toast. "And your great ..." She paused, pretending to count on her fingers, which irked out a few final laughs, "great granddaughter Talit'yrash'osmax. Our lady luck caught between worlds." She placed on hand on Merit's shoulder as she finished and downed the cup to the sound of applause. Only for it to end too soon, and far too abruptly. An earsplitting scream surprised Lyen enough to make her drop her glass, and when her eyes followed those of the stunned crowd she saw the sight causing such sudden change in atmosphere. Merit had slumped forward in her seat, her face white but for the black blood leaking from her mouth, eyes, and nose.
“That maledict! She touched the baroness and this happened.” Where the first words that became clear as all of Lyen's senses swam in disorientation from the shock. This wasn't right, everything had been going so well. Instinctively she pulled away from the swarming arms making to grab her.
"Liar!" She spun, screamed back at Dyric, horrified at his accusation. It did nothing to stop the half dozen hands reaching to grab her. Instinctively, she pulled away and pushed them off.
"Don't be ridiculous- I couldn't - It wasn't me!" Her words fell on deaf ears as the crowd began to stand and screamed out for justice- or out of confusion; Lyen couldn't tell. All she noticed were their faces as every one of her own people turned from her own gaze as she searched the crowd for a sympathetic face.
Deserted II Tethered Refuge - Stables Seen & Mentioned: None
Knowing the Refuge's lay-out and gift for easy conversation, Felix left with the strange woman to leave Silas alone with Ispiritu and the other horses from the arrival party. He had little experience with animals, particularly ones so large, but they needed little care or attention: Something that should have stood out to the young man, true sight or not, had he the experience to know how a long-ridden horse was meant to look. As it was he was much more preoccupied with the possessions remaining in the saddlebags he'd so carefully removed from each horse. The tetherd boy's presence had stayed his sticky fingers throughout most of the morning's work, but alone with nothing else to do, Silas quickly fell into old habits.
He knew immediately not to touch those belonging to Ispiritu's master, they were as carefully put together as the woman herself had been, and he doubted any tampering would go unnoticed. There were coins and the odd jewel to be pocketed from the items of the lower ranking officers, but eventually Silas couldn't stop himself from approaching to opulently embroidered and jewelled bags of the Duque's eldest.
Even without true sight, the contents were a marvel: A sleek thin dagger reaching half his arm, with a hilt too intricate for him to sense in any way but touch. More money than he'd ever seen in a single Lapis-Lazuli coin, buried among the other wealth of jewels and coins. A long wand studded with so many riches as to make it almost unwieldy heavy. Much as his fingers itched and heart quickened, Silas resisted the urge to bundle the whole lot and make for it. Firstly there was no where to go but the desert, and even if he survived that journey it would only lead him further into the Duque's lands, and even he wouldn't take losing such wealth lightly. Second, and perhaps more importantly, he had a responsibility. It wasn't the same comradery as he'd found with the children in Mudville, but the fellow students at the academy were counting on him to at least not make things horribly worse in their already dire circumstances. With a sigh, Silas pushed the most precious items aside, palming only a handful of lesser-value Neskals before his hand brushed against a final hidden treasure beneath the others. It was simple in comparison; a smooth ivory handle ending in a blunt end etched with a design he couldn't distinguish. A stamp, he realized, thinking back to the warped wooden one used by the Madame to mark payed loans.
There was shouting in a language Silas didn't recognize, causing him to nearly drop the haul in surprise. His excitement had gotten the better of his attention and the Duque's men were closing in. Hurriedly stuffing the seal into his pockets, he gasped and slipped on the side of the stall. On the second attempt he had the wherewithal to employ the Gift, allowing him to steadily scale the walls, then ceiling, even after the doors swung open. Two soldiers walked, continuing their indecipherable argument. Not that Silas was in much position to pay attention. He hardly dared breath and he moved at a snails pace towards the stable's loft. Upon reaching it, he stilled hearing the men end their discussion to beginning to re-saddling and reining the horses. As silently as he could the small boy folded himself up into the loft, tightly packed between bails of hay.
Tall Trees, Long Shadows I Loriindton Forest - Night's Camp Seen & Mentioned: Talit'yrash'osmax, Otios'yyia'thala, Eliis'qarmena'luunetar, Calitan’Viszar’Telrontelios
Lyen's mood continued to improve the closer they came to arriving in Loriindton. The uptick in alcohol consumed by the part had little to no correlation. She was almost certain of it. Their journey had begun quiet, but the announcement of a celebration near their arrival had heightened spirits. At least for the older two Yasoi. Talit sought isolation more often the further they traveled, and it wasn't difficult to presume why. It was neither Lyen's place nor desire to provide comfort; she instead joined Jaxan, their new arrival, in attempting to stir excitement and cheer through games and drink. It was pleasant to have something to occupy the night other than thoughts of Relouse.
She hand't intended on getting drunk herself. At first the wine had been to chase the bitter taste of Thundersludge that lingered on the tongue long after the pride of success had worn off. It wasn't until much later, when they'd begun to move through the forest again at Talit's summons, that she noticed just how affected by it she was. The play-yard tune continued to play through her head, and unprompted further versus spilled from her humming lips as they came upon the other group.
"Niico fayil luun'ithan, eloi juup tuum tiin?" She stayed in the trees above, blinking down at the strange collection of Yasoi below. The exceptionally tall woman commanded inspection first, and Lyen was struck with a memory of the words fantôme rouge. Vague whispers of superstition among the Perrench common-folk. The details remained clouded by a fog of wine she worked to clear with her gift as Talit hobbled towards the strangers leaving Lyen to finish the rhyme on her own: "Eloi juup tuum tiin? chel o'tuum ithan diidoin."
Once satisfied with her sobriety she joined the others in full view of the group, sill allowing herself to sway slightly as she landed. At eye level they were even more conspicuous; a disfigured dervish, obvious jam'bys addict, and a wraith of a girl easily mistaken for a child accompanied the giant. Lyen made the sign of the pentad following Talit's introduction. Her form could have shamed a blind apostate, but the intended mockery eventually became clear when her left fist opened after signing Dami to make a rude gesture beside the right.
"Word of a mette-stiroi brings all kinds in these strange times." She said with apparent congeniality, her eyes watching for weapons and spells above an open smile.
- Lyen joins Talit&Co in meeting the (unidentified) Eskandr group
Interlude Relouse Beach - Grand Armee Camp Seen & Mentioned: Talit'yrash'osmax
Lyen hadn't rested. Since the Eskandr had begun their retreat, there had been no end to the need of helping hands. Tasks she'd scoffed at days before became her sole focus; tending to the wounded, except now most were crying out in true desperation and fear of death instead of pain. She quickly fell in with a contingent of nuns and monks of the Dordian order as they worked together to reduce the ever rising casualties. She'd been on the walls when the retreat started and by sunset Lyen had healed her way to the beach-head.
The constant repetitive binding of injuries brought to mind of the monotonous yet unceasing trails Byln had her preform in the beginning of her apprenticeship. Corpses dissolved and tissue regrew under her touch. Eskandr, Perrench, Drugunzean, ally, foe, her exhaustion eventually didn't allow for careful enough inspection of each body she laid hands upon. Each time she closed her eyes Byln's voice rang through her head. Directing her with gentle authority until the healing process became almost autonomous. Bind, soothe, mend, don't waste material.. The last one wasn't of much concern; there was no shortage. For every time she stopped at a gasping, grasping survivor two dozen more corpses lay dead. It was a devastation unlike anything she'd ever seen, and more upsetting than she'd anticipated. But she was old enough to temper and focus her emotions: So she continued to work, movements methodical, mind in a trance, until a hand on her shoulder pulled her from it.
"Didn't think you'd still be here." The voice was distant as Lyen's eyes immediately focused on the food in its barer hands. Stew and hot bread. She stood too quickly and all the soreness of the day she'd managed to suppress came to her at once: Her skin was taunt and burnt, bones aching, and mind bleary. The bowl was placed into her hands and she began to eat. It was only after her bread was finished that she noticed it was a Dordian monk that was standing before her, an expectant expression on his face.
"Thank you." She said, lowering the bowl.
He brushed her gratitude away "Have you met with Lady Talit?" His tone was that of patient repetition. Lyen shook her head. "There was a meeting among the Yasoi, she was looking for you."
It was in the remains of the grand amree camp that she found Talit and was and informed of their new assignment in Loriindton. There was still so much to be done where they already were, healing, repairs, even the forest was a flooded smoldering mess. Not to mention the political turmoil that would come from their scraping victory. The war was only beginning and she was being sent to some outlier Yasoi village. But Talit's face gave waste to any argument Lyen had before she voiced it. The younger Yasoi was tired too, her face far away in other worries. Lyen owed her co-opperation in this at least. Remembrance of the new debt made her grimace. What would it take to replay a life twice over? "I'll be ready by morning."
Her tent was relatively unharmed next to the rest of the destruction Thorunn's rampage had caused the camp. Lyen stepped over the spilled and broken items towards the smallish chest laying beside her bed-mat. Only a few of her jarred preservation pieces had survived; but those would be the easiest to replace in these circumstances anyways. Opening with what little magic her body was still willing to use, the blood-locked seal opened allowing her to lift its lid. Inside lay the most prized items of her small horde; a forced compromise for any traveling Yasoi. What started as a quick inspection to start the packing process quickly became an exercise of indulgence in happy memories. Even her exhaustion was forgotten, and the endless death that had hung so heavy all day seemed miles away. Each item was returned to the chest along with whatever surviving items in the tent fit. After re-applying the blood-seal she fell to the mat she'd always found painfully uncomfortable, and was asleep before her head touched the pillow.
- the battle ends - Lyen does some healing and clean-up before leaving for Loriindton
[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/873000357712765022/1122544468558614632/25185797.gif[/img]
the universe is grand, but life is grander
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<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/873000357712765022/1122544468558614632/25185797.gif" /><br><br>the universe is grand, but life is grander</div></div>
Festive
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