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 Posted: Thu Apr 19, 2012 8:13 pm
The boy grinned happily at Sam as he lead the merchant by the hand towards the fire where the other Faerin were watching warily, not seeming to know what to do with this. The guards obviously did not approve but they did nothing to stop the boy as he half drug Sam to the fire then released his hand to snatch up a platter of what looked to be fruits, nuts, and cheeses which he shoved under Sam's nose. “Foods. You look starved,” he smiled then glanced to the fire, “There are meats as well. Have anything you like.” The boy was almost laughing as he turned to the others.
“Come now, these are our guests. Start the music again. Best be hospitable. Never know when you're hosting a king,” he glanced back to give Sam a wry grin as the others rather grudgingly went back to their festivities.
"Or a god," the guard half sneered as he walked past the travelers to stay close to his master, spear at the ready and cold eyes always on the strangers.
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Posted: Thu Apr 19, 2012 8:37 pm
The smell of smoke drifted ever closer as the large white shape lumbered into view but distant still. It had stepped out of the forest and into the clearing of the lake's edge where they could see it without being dangerously close. And what stepped out was nothing short of amazing.
A large creature the size of a bison, bigger maybe, but with the delicate grace of a stag. It looked, for the most part, like an overlarge white stallion. The flowing mane ran farther down the back than it should and reached the creature's knees in silken waves. The tail was more of a bull's but the tuft of hair at the end was the same silk as the mane. The ears had a slight droop to them not quite a horse's and the hooves were cloven below its fringed hocks. The defining feature though was the single, long, spiraled horn that grew from the center of its forehead.
A unicorn. And laid across its back was a woman. She had the same silken white hair as the unicorn and milky pale skin loosely covered in a pale mint robe that hung in delicate folds. From the way she laid limply across the unicorn's back she seemed injured, perhaps even unconscious.
The unicorn however was more than awake, he was on edge and spotted the mage standing still on the forest's edge. Large ears flicked and turned back as the unicorn lowered his head with a threatening snort and glared at the intruders.
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Posted: Thu Apr 19, 2012 11:22 pm
Quintus smirked. "Always hard to say until it's too late, eh?" There had been a saying, back in Lepcis Magna: 'If somebody asks me if I am a god, I will say yes.' It was a joke, really, a joke at the expense of the mobsters, and a dangerous one to tell, but here Quintus decided it was an actual principle. He wanted to wave his spear around? Two could play at brandishing force.
Quintus was sure to maneuver in such a way that he stood near Sam but with reasonable space from the guards. If they could rush him before he could draw it'd be trouble. He still hoped there wouldn't be a problem, but he was so rarely so lucky.
An unrecognized entity marched into the opening. Mac's sense of smell was fairly basic; he had never been intended as a tracker but the committee had requested at least base-level functionality in that matter. He could smell the smoke but couldn't see the fire; that worried him.
More importantly, the entity in the clearing here. What was it? The woman appeared to be somehow attached to it, perhaps a rider. Their hair color similarities were dismissed as coincidence. It was clear, from her posture, that she was a casualty. The first link was the oncoming fire, but her dress didn't have any obvious burn marks and neither did she. Perhaps those who caused the fire had inflicted the harm? Either way, protocols still held: Stay in position and observe.
While shifting his weight for a better view, however, Mac made his first mistake: He stepped on a twig. It was a small twig, and the noise it made was no cannon shot, but it was still a noise of any sort. Instantly he ducked down behind the roots of the tree and froze. Reconnaissance's first priority was to avoid detection and elimination. He might have failed that first aspect here. Silently he listened, very very carefully, to see if he'd aroused any noticeable alarm.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 5:53 am
The snap set Skurk off. He spun, and a grenade flew from his fist and at the unicorn; the impact with the ground would no doubt jar the freshly-armed explosive enough to detonate it; he, meanwhile, had immediately bolted, his trajectory perpendicular to a line drawn between him and the unicorn.
His fear was, perhaps, understandable with some background knowledge - in Skurk's world, unicorns were vicious, violent creatures who could obtain a taste for the blood of a species. Once exposed to it, they would seek to kill more and more members of that species. So terrifying were the unicorns of his world that it didn't even occur to him that they might be anything but monstrous in another world. It would be, in his mind, like finding a world where explosions healed people. Things just didn't work that way.
Skurk, then, was having none of this. His legs weren't terribly long, but he knew how to move in a forest.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 8:33 am
The unicorn's head lifted at the sound of the breaking twig and green eyes focused on the tree behind which Mac hid but the goblin's grenade distracted things rather immediately.
The explosive did not hit the ground, rather it crashed against an unseen force and erupted in flame. The concussive force was blown back against the impenetrable wall of power into which it collided and sent the full force of the blast towards the unfortunates who had hurled it.
Skurk was caught in the explosion, thrown off his feet and roughly to the ground, catching a facefull of mossy dirt in the process. Castor was hurled back as well. Scorched and pocked with shrapnel they hit the ground bloody and deaf. A shrill whine rang in their ears as the smoke settled and cleared to show the unicorn standing nearer now, almost in reach. The woman on his back was awake, sitting up slightly and staring down at the trespassers with a slight concern. Her wide, emerald eyes lifted from the two injured toward the tree behind which Mac had escaped the blast. She stared a moment then dropped her eyes back to the others and spoke.
"Peace," the one word echoed as a chorus of voices, all soft and sweet, serene as angels. The one word in every language layered to a song and somehow not discordant, somehow understood clearly by all that heard. It was half plea, half command, and all irresistible suggestion.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 9:01 am
The guard's eyes narrowed to thin slits at the traveler's words and the desert wind changed direction with a sudden gust. For a moment there were whispers on the wind, voices with no source chanting words with no translation. The others did not seem to hear but Sam and Quintus did and it stirred a pain inside. Sam felt the icy chill of the serpent's embrace and Quintus felt the burn of the latent fire. But it was gone as quickly as it came and the wind settled again to leave them in silence.
The guard gripped his spear tighter and tensed slightly more. There was caution now in his suspicion and the other guards seemed to sense it as well. They all watched the two travelers as if they were snakes in the sand.
The boy and other richly dressed revelers did not seem to notice though only the boy was calm. The others remained wary and grudging for the stranger's presence.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 9:02 am
Nopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenope
The magic forced Skurk not to utilize the explosives he held, despite his instincts and training screaming at him from through the dullness of his conscious and subconscious as they were overridden. On one level, his mind was calculating - he'd lobbed the grenade and started running for a few seconds, which meant that (judging against the last time he'd caught one of his own grenades' explosions) the force and range of the blast had magnified about four times over each. He also was terrified of magics of the mind - even the military mages of his world's British Empire had banned them, with only the royal family being, of all the world, allowed to even have reference materials on the matter. The empire's Crown Prince, whom Skurk had traveled with for a time, had been seeking someone who had used mind magic against him to make him kill the old king - his father. Everything about the assault on his will filled him with revulsion.
Skurk stumbled, fell. s**t. His hand moved around the back of the leg that had given out. A chunk of metal protruded from it, and the hand came away soaked in fresh blood. Damn, he thought as he rolled over, dragging himself away by his arms. If I could get my grenades to hit that hard normally.... He paused against a tree trunk, panting. That was a lot of blood behind him, he could not help but notice. If there was that much-
His mind shook off some of the fuzz from the order. If I'm bleeding like that, the shrapnel must have hit my femoral artery... He cursed under his breath as he pulled a strip of cloth from his combat harness and began making a tourniquet for the leg. It meant he couldn't run, but he'd bleed out in minutes if he didn't - and only that long if he was lucky.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 1:35 pm
Once the unknowns have been examined, attempt to establish friendship. This may be impossible to do verbally, but any aid you can render to any group without engaging in violence against any other unknowns is appropriate. The easiest way to do this is to render medical aid where that's possible; when that can't be accomplished, simply pitching in to any construction effort is rarely a problematic idea, so long as you can determine it's not part of a war effort. Help where possible, but never help them fight a war; be impartial and friendly to all parties.
This was an opportunity. One of the parties running was now bleeding rather heavily, and would likely be rendered immobile. The animal appeared tame, but there were no forces hostile to the wounded to save him from, so any aid rendered would continue to be impartial. Phase 2, then.
Mac stood and began approaching Skurk, moving slowly to diminish his threat rating. He didn't want to inspire panic; his sudden appearance might do so anyhow, which necessitated decreasing his threat however possible. At least he wasn't gleaming today; the matte paint kept him from looking like a shock trooper or a Guardsman. He was technically capable of fulfilling either role, but right now he was recon, which hopefully looked less intimidating.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 4:43 pm
Castor didn't blame Skurk for hiding, but it would do little to stop whatever approached- something this powerful would have "smelled" them from miles away if it wanted to. So Castor stood stock-still, awaiting what would obviously be...
Castor's jaw dropped as the creature emerged. He blinked, shook his head, and stared intently at the creature as it approached. A sense of calm seemed to radiate from the beast, and Castor unconsciously took a step forward. It was... beautiful. He saw the woman perched on the creature's back, and put two-and-two together- this was the source of the second, greater power. And she seemed to be injured. Castor approached a step, focusing on the woman and the horned stallion simultaneously, concentrating on their immense minds.
Are you alright? he sent, addressing the woman.
And then a twig snapped. Castor barely heard it. But Skurk hurled something at the pair in fright, which then proceeded to explode vibrantly as it hit some unseen wall. And Castor and Skurk were right in the path of the blast.
"Raka--" Castor managed to say before being blown off of his feet as though struck by a gigantic hammer. Then again, all things considered, this was worse. A hammer, no matter how large, didn't leave you burned, scratched, and deaf once you landed. Castor lay there, groaning, cursing his small companion's reaction. He hesitantly started to move, and for the first time he was glad he was a Luminaren- a weaker species might've been killed. He groaned when he tried to move his right arm, and saw the reason why. A spike of metal protruded from his right shoulder- nothing vital had been struck, but still, it hurt like Calcifer.
He resumed trying to move when the woman spoke, cutting through his deafness with ease. It was a wondrous sound- like all the languages he had ever known or heard, intoned perfectly, prounounced flawlessly, and more beautiful than words could describe. And they all said the same thing.
"Peace."
The shard of metal in his arm became inconsequential- the woman had said peace. Who was he to ignore her? He sat up with some difficulty, wincing as he did so, ignoring Skurk and the other man who approached him, his eyes intent on the woman and her steed.
"" he said, reverting back to Mishran unconsciously. He wanted to be articulate when he talked to the woman, and he was most fluent in Mishran. He sat in awe of the woman, waiting on tenderhooks for her next words, whatever they may be.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 8:00 pm
The unicorn stared with nostrils flared and head down threateningly at Skurk as he tried to slink away. At least it didn't charge, just threaten. Mac's approach on the goblin did not go unnoticed and caused the unicorn to snort defiantly but still just threats as he watched them both closely.
The woman ignored her mount's aggression as she stared down at Castor in a serene silence. The mage could see her power, unlike any he had seen before but unstable, flickering. She looked so small and frail for that power but it was unmistakably hers. It moved with her when she carefully slid down off the unicorn's back and stood at its side, watching the mage.
Slowly the woman held out a delicate hand to him and that chorus of a voice promised to heal him in every word there was for it. A simple offer of aid with no malice, no hesitation, no restraint, not even blame for being associated with the one that caused the harm in the first place. She just held out her hand and promised to take the pain away.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 9:55 pm
Mad Sam had started to get annoyed with the tension. Hell, even the city guards in places that knew him were more comfortable than this. He was grateful for the youngling's calm and used it as an anchor for his struggling mind. Sam wanted out of here so bad that when the coldness settled in him and the whispers riding the sand fell on his ears he was almost persuaded to follow them into oblivion and to hell with these Faerin.
Instead, the traveler smiled like a harlequin called to court and prepared his tongue to dance the storyteller's dance of subtlety and richness. In times of oppression his mind triggered memories of servitude and thus the elven language, something his mouth formed more easily than that of English.
The rest of the time he was comfortable in Sagus and for trading he used his charmingly bad English. He was not sure what language he spoke when he was drunk, which was when he told his stories, but that was likely worse English. To a bunch of gibbering drunkards a burp and a fart is poetry.
The merchant fashioned a story to tell.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 11:22 pm
Castor's mouth hung open with shock. Here, so close, Castor could feel her power coming off of her in waves whenever it flickered to life within her. Every spark of power felt like a hurricane. And yet, Castor felt calm. At peace. His body should have withered and crumbled to dust in her presence, but he was still here. She extended a hand softly toward him, and, in that voice of voices, promised him aid. Castor shook his head softly- the voice sent him reeling once again. Not since Ahura had a power affected him like this, and even then, he did not feel as peaceful then as he did now. The voice promised aid without thinking- all she wanted to do was help.
As Castor came to his senses again, he nodded dully, extending his left hand, placing it softly in her own. A thrall of power came over him as his skin contacted hers.
"" he stammered, still speaking Mishran.
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Posted: Sat Apr 21, 2012 8:25 am
The trouble with gods is that they almost always want something from you and at the same time very rarely tell you what it is before convincing you to give it - sometimes not even after.
Castor felt a pulsing tingle crawl up his arm when he touched the woman and it only grew as she pulled him closer, embraced him in fragile but surprisingly strong arms. She smelled of dark earth, forest loam, and spring flowers. There was warmth but not heat in her touch as she leaned against the man and the voices sang in chorus a song beyond translation of ancient magics that healed the mage completely but also, he felt the familiar tug, bound him to her.
Castor recognized it from contracts he'd held with other powerful beings but this - this was a much stronger bond than any he had ever felt. The strings she wove between them tied their very souls and for a brief moment they were one. Castor felt her magic, her mind as if it were his. Knowledge and power of universes buried his conscience in eternity. A crashing landslide of experience and knowing crushed him in its wake and for a moment he was lost to it. His mind reeled, intoxicated by the power, stumbling in memory.
Somewhere in the haze was smoke and fire, terrible screaming. An urgency gripped him and he knew Death was coming. The Temple was lost. Her Seal was broken. He had to protect her. Flashes. Fire and darkness. The Demons were rising from the Nibiru, clawing, biting, devouring. The Seal should have stopped them. Where was the Seal? Glimpses. The Horned One approached wearing the skull of the Wolf. Not in ten thousand years. The black sword - the Deathbringer, plunged deep in his ribs. Castor felt it, felt his own death as he tried to protect his Lady. Not even Her healing could restore what the Deathbringer wrought.
Broken shards of memory faded, bled out as the one who lived them had done at their end. Castor was returned to his own consciousness, on his knees now and trembling at the feet of the Lady who watched him with an impassive calm. She stood on her own now, steady and regal as a queen - a goddess for Castor knew now that is what she was. A goddess. One of the Nine of this world, the Unicorn she was called, among many other names, goddess of earth and life and healing.
And she stood, smiling down at him.
The others, the robot and goblin, had seen (if they cared to watch) only the woman embracing the young man and his wounds magically healed. Then he dropped, trembling to his knees when she released him to step back. For a moment he seemed dazed, perhaps overwhelmed by the magic but they had no way of knowing what had actually occurred. Castor himself couldn't be completely certain of the full implications of that powerful bond he still felt between him and the - and His Lady.
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Posted: Sat Apr 21, 2012 2:14 pm
Castor collapsed to his knees, then forward onto his hands as well, trying to comprehend what he had just experienced. His wounds had bee healed, he knew that- his ears heard clearly, and the shard of metal had been extracted from his shoulder- it lay just a few inches from his hand. But all of that was irrelevant next to the vision she had bestowed upon him.
Fire. Smoke. Demons. A man with a Wolf's skull for a helm. A black blade lodged in his chest. The cold embrace of death. Castor shivered- he had felt each as though they had happened to him personally. And, in a way, they had. Castor looked up at the woman- his Lady- as she stared down at him. He still felt the bonds that connected the two of them. The feeling was similar to a Contract, but different in so many ways- deeper. There was no Arcana- in fact, it felt as though he himself was the Arcana. A vessel for his Lady's power. With other Sources, it was somewhat like a well- he took what power he deemed necessary, and did with it what he willed. With this, it was as though he had been immersed in that well, the power bonded much more intimately to his form. Even Ahrua couldn't match this.
He lifted a hand, clenching it experimentally. His entire body felt... different. Energized. Strong. He finally got to his feet, looking his Lady in the eye. He held that gaze for a long while, pondering their connection, feeling her in the back of his mind, a mountain of will compared to his own consciousness. He was very aware of the ground beneath his feet, the life that teemed all around him. He was aware of how powerful his Lady and her steed were- how easily it would have been to destroy him rather than heal.
And yet, she had healed him. All that and more. Though the vision still haunted him, he felt... safe. She meant him no ill. Only strength.
He would need it here.
After the longest time, Castor finally sank to the ground, bending his knee and bowing elegantly to his Lady, inclining his head respectfully.
"" he said, barely above a whisper. ""
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Posted: Sat Apr 21, 2012 3:29 pm
A slightly wry smile curled the lady's lips as the mage thanked her. Slowly she shook her head and reached out with both hands to lightly touch either side of his jaw and tilt his head back up to face her then lift slightly, bringing him back up from his knee.
"Thank you," the chorus sang, "My Champion." She lowered her hands to rest gently on his shoulders as she finally turned her head to acknowledge the others. The unicorn was still staring, threateningly at the goblin and robot.
"Strange companions you have," the many voices spoke in every tongue as she watched them. They could understand her.
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