Fantasy Setting Summer Dawn

[LadyOfStars]

The orc’s response was quick and held a hint of anger, perhaps disdain? The High Elf wasn’t at all surprised, but he was intrusive during; something sinister had been started on this side of the hills. When the rope reached him, Aurum let it go by without securing it around himself. Instead he spared it a momentary glance and let his armored hand glide over it. If anything should happen or if someone should lose their mind, he didn’t want the rope to hinder his reaction. As they started to move, Aurum kept his head raised and his eyes peeled. Within this fog, great secrets would be revealed and in those secrets, the keys to controlling some of these people and beasts. It wasn’t odd to see, events from the past which he had not seen himself. Aurum watched with interest as memories came to life with the mist’s help.

It seemed sadness was the chosen them for tonight’s play. Aurum watched the despair that was the healer’s memories. Halfway through the scene he rolled his eyes and looked away. The information was nothing special, nor did he care for her sorrows. These scenes she allowed to be displayed were part of life, normal occurrences that shouldn’t bother her as badly as they did. But it wasn’t his job to fix problems, not these at any rate, so he remained silent. With his hand still upon the rope, Aurum moved carefully along the path, one foot in front of the other, his head behind the head of whoever stood before him. Unfortunately the seemed too difficult a pattern for everyone else to follow as the line was brought to a sudden stop. “Now wh-...?”

Off the path the eerie clouds started a new scene and instantly, Aurum knew it was a memory of his. A door towered amongst the odd, unfamiliar trees. It was covered in gold and adorned in less expensive jewels in a style easily recognizable as, High-Elven to those familiar with it. The one of the two doors wasn’t slightly cracked open, just enough for an outsider to see into the room. Beyond the door, shadows danced upon the opposite wall. A man stood over the bed of an unsuspecting victim with a large knife in hand. Just as the candleks flame flickered the masked man attacked. The noise of sliced flesh mixed with the sound of helplesss cries as the attacker carcved away at the man’s once beautiful face. Again and again, uglier and more repulsive with each wound. The memory only lasted a few minutes before the door was closed and the show ended.

Where he had once avoided holding the rope, Aurum now held it tightly. The metal of his gauntlets rub against itself a sword his anger and frustration boiled within. He made no attempts to hide his face as a few tears blurred his vision, but didn’t fall. Instead he simply looked away from the fading constructs and he tried to control his emotions. His father wasn’t dead, the man hadn’t killed him so there was no reason to cry.

SilverFlight , Brendanfp , Chione , The Suspicious Eye , Sir Galahad II , idalie , Flutterby , Zazz

 

[Flutterby]

Ora stumbled as Lohrithe pulled them roughly to a halt. She had been absorbed in observing Eir's vision, and keeping an eye out for her own.
She looked ahead, finally, and noticed that through the thickness of the mist, there were two of Desrick, and they were intending to diverge.
"Quite a tricky illusion," She whispered.

Ora tensed, seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, expecting to see a dwarvish figure, but instead a fair elf emerged from the mist. She offered comfort to Eir. Ora narrowed her eyes, and then realized that this elf had been at the edge of her vision, not just since entering Cyndara, but for days. For much of her journey across the summerlands, there had been a figure in the distance. It must have been this elf, another late edition to the traveling party. She gave the other female a small nod, just as Lohrithe tugged them all forward toward Desrick.
Ineptitude

"The rope..." She said softly, but didn't finish the statement because another vision appeared. This one was worst than the last, as a man, an elf it looked like, was being attacked in his bed. The attacker obviously took great care to destroy his face. For all their class and society, Sumennans might not be any less savage than the Cyndarans. Ora felt sick to her stomach.
LadyOfStars

She cleared her throat, as Aurum's vision faded, and was able to finish her thought. "It looks like they both have it, but only one is real, so only one can pull on it." Her voice was directed toward Lohrithe, but her eyes kept switching between the two Desricks, and the orcs trying to pull him off the path. "Only one can pull it, so whichever way the rope pulls, is the correct way." As she spoke, she saw something move in the mist again, but this time, it wasnt another elf. Her ghost was coming.
Zazz SilverFlight idalie

 

[SilverFlight]

Desrick grimaced as the mist-made visions filled the space around them. The next one was particularly disturbing. The ornate room, and bed was not from a world he recognized, and as he watched the gruesome scene unfold we began to wonder if there was really some truth to the old tales...what was he letting into his home?

Lohr's voice drew him back to matters at hand however. He saw the elf now and his shoulders sagged in relief, but the figure next to him made the orc tense.
It was...him. Bearing his teeth at the mimicry he growled, "that's low."

Ora's voice sounded through the thick mists and though he couldn't see her, the wisdom in her idea was plain. Desrick tugged sharply on the rope, but for added measure, he took two large steps toward the apparition and swung a meaty fist straight through it's face.
"Stay with me Lohr, we're nearly through." Desrick pulled his fist back to his side and stood over the dark elf with a reassuring smile, then, he turned back and started down the trail again. There would be time to come to terms with what they had seen once they were free from danger.
Zazz Flutterby

idalie Zazz Chione LadyOfStars Sir Galahad II The Suspicious Eye AlbaGuBrath Brendanfp Flutterby deer

 

[Flutterby]

Her idea worked, especially with a little help from the real Desrick, and soon they were on their way once more. Now, Ora had company.

Running bootsteps sounded behind them, and along the edge of the path, a male dwarf came running up. He was dressed in a uniform, with bright colors of red and gold.
He ran up beside her, and grinned at her goofily. Ora was holding back tears, as the apparition jogged up further, stopped, and turned back. He knelt, and suddenly held a ring in his hand. One with a beautiful blue stone. It was, unmistakably, a proposal of marriage.
Ora's brow furrowed, and she turned back to face the forward direction. She stepped past him with an obviously pained expression, even as she held her chin up proudly. His declaration of love was blown away in the wind, as he faded back to mist.

Well, that hadn't been so horrible, at least as not as horrible as the others. The mist seemed to agree; she hadn't been given enough yet.

Out of nowhere, beside her, strode a beautiful dwarf-woman. She was shorter than Ora by about 4 inches, and much fairer. Her skin was a honey-tinged shade, but not dark, and her hair was a bright auburn touched with gold. Her features were regal and square, but the shape of her eyes was familiar. Even though the iris's were a beautiful green, they were identical in shape and proportion to Ora's.
The woman was dressed in very fine clothes; the cloth was sturdy, pure in color, and adorned with jewels at the collar, sleeves, and hem. She even wore a circlet, silver in color. At the center of her forehead, this circlet had a mountain, with a blue gem in the top.

The two dwarves looked at one another as they walked, and Ora raised a hand to clutch the necklace she wore, the one that matched the circlet. The other dwarf smiled brightly, and stretched a hand out to her. Ora stared at the offered hand, and shook her head slowly. Grief, for what she hadn't ever known, tightened her chest. "You're not real, Mother. You're dead. And this is based on your portrait.." This was a cruel trick, she knew, but it felt so real. She could have sworn she could smell the castle, the mix of candles and good food, the perfumes of the nobles, she could almost hear the music in her head...
The figure frowned deeply. She seemed to sigh, and turned away from the path, moving back into the mist. Ora stopped, her feet edging toward the side of the path, but the rope bit into her wrist, and she blinked back the tears that had risen up.

Ora sniffled and continued forward, but her feet were hardly moving now, dragging out tiny tracks in the dirt as she walked. Why continue when these mists will give you everything you ever wanted? Are you so foolish to believe this will change things?
Ever few seconds, she would glimpse her mother, a few meters ahead, just off the path,. Always half hidden in the mist. The ghost stayed just out of reach until the end of the horrible walk, but Ora knew she might never shake the haunting image of disappointment on her dead mother's face.

 

[idalie]

Eirianwen Llewellyn​

Eirianwen drew her gaze away from the dead, feeling a fool albeit her hands were desperate to touch the images that wavered and flickered in the mists. A squeeze of Lohr's hands about the one she held him by caused the healer to swallow the painful lump in her throat, besides that of Ora who took to touching her back with words of encouragement. "I'm sorry," Her voice cracked in a whisper. As if they might've heard her those projections of wartime casualties. "I -- I should've seen it coming." Silence fell again, settling as a swollen few tears escaped only to be quickly scooped up by her fingertips and sent rolling down her wrist. "I didn't think there would be so many." A breath rasped past her parted lips, glancing back at the next reassuring touch accompanied by another comment. "If only it was that easy," Eirianwen turned slightly and returned the favour; giving Rossarinya a light, reassuring squeeze on the arm. "But they are beautiful words." Failure wasn't an option fighting the pull of death, and to see the corpses of accusing men she'd not managed to rescue and bring home -- crushed her little heart. It wasn't broken, per se, but bruised. Tender with grieving men she had met for minutes -- long enough for them to ask what would happen. Llewellyn wasn't the daughter of nobles, nor of beggars; but she felt a bereaved widow to both before her time.

All things would come to pass.

The healer gave a crooked, sad-eyed smile as the boys faded back into fog -- reaching out specifically to the armoured Knight, his chest plate sprouting wildflowers, alas, those slender fingers sailed through and it was over. Her head turned, eyes reddened and slightly puffy to witness the next vision. Another Desrick? Eirianwen quietly uttered 'It'll be alright' as the situation was promptly handled by rope and the real orc who returned for but a moment to the scene to dispell the illusion. The High-Elf was next. A cold, seemingly bitter man, who gazed into the swirling clouds at the horrific sight of a face being mauled by the sharp blade of a knife. There were cries, a wet slashing sound as if he were a butcher slicing up meat for the display. Her stomach twisted again, painfully as she turned away before letting it finish.

What shook Eirian more, surprisingly, was when Ora slowed down. Her feet beginning to drag from their original pace as her ghosts cheerfully made entrance. The Healer wrapped her spare arm around the half-dwarf's shoulders and nodded forwards. "Come on now, just like you told me. The only way is forward." The wavy-haired halfling continued to try cheer on as the horned woman had for her what seemed like only moments previous. "They're not real. The mists won't give you anything, you heard Desrick." Eir used her baggy robe sleeve to dab at her damp cheeks and then offered one to Ora. "I forgot my handkerchiefs and my father always did call me a crybaby." Her head turned to the other elven women -- this one fully-blooded by the looks of it -- and gave a wobbly smile in some sort of desperation to keep the optimism going. "If you're crying too you can borrow my sleeve." She sniffled and hiccuped, making a small unintentional whine as if she was about to be set off again by nothing in particular but the situation itself and the emotional toll it had individually and as a group.

Flutterby SilverFlight Zazz AlbaGuBrath Brendanfp deer

 

[Zazz]

The dark elf's heart nearly skipped a beat as one Desrick went in for a punch to the other's face, but he relaxed as the latter dissipated into the mist in a green tinge. Lohrithe returned Desrick's smile with a relieved one of his own, and continued on, everyone attached to the rope in tow again. Frankly, he got off easy. The others relived the horrors and heartbreak of their pasts. The Sumennans, in particular, seemed to have rather gruesome illusions following them; his stomach turned at Aurum's vision. He wondered who the man in the bed was, and why he'd had his face cut up like that. Who would do such a thing? What even was the point?

And then the half-dwarf with the beautiful horns, with her lover, and one who seemed to be her mother. He didn't know how to comfort her. She had, after all, told him off earlier for saying that her horns were beautiful. And they were; perhaps he might carve them, later, he thought. Once they were safely out of the mist. Yes, he should like to carve them out of some dark, deep wood. And behind the lot of them was what could only be an elf like Aurum, perfection in the flesh. Again, he was self-conscious, what with his lack of clothing. Even their skin was different, his touched by moonlight, theirs by sun.

With a sigh, Lohrithe put his head down and followed the person before him, not wishing to look out into the mists any longer. These memories were private matters, and they would only cause hurt and harm. The drow began to hum softly, a low, gentle sound of the caverns. It was a lullaby his father had sung to him as a young boy, and he hoped it would help both himself and the people around him focus on getting through. One foot after another.

 

[Flutterby]

"This is a cruel place," Ora whispered to Eir, as she took a corner of the offered sleeve to dab away the tears that had slipped down her cheeks.
"I don't know which is worse: being haunted by the worst things in your past, or by the worst things that will never be in your future." She took several deep breaths, and set her face as close to neutral as she could. But the thought wouldn't be shaken from her head. At least they know exactly what the outcome of their memories was. You'll never know what she was like, since you killed her just by popping out all unannounced. And guess what? Only she could've told you the truth.

Stubbornly, Ora looked down at her feet and struggled to silence that horrible little voice. It hadn't been so loud when she was a child, but it had been fed and strengthened by the grumpy blacksmith she had been apprenticed to. These days, it went so far as to copy his sometimes-peculiar vernacular. She trudged onward, her attention flickering away from her feet only to acknowledge Lohrithe's humming. It was a slow, lilting melody, one that was very different from the jovial music of her youth. It reminded her of rivers, of the way water jumped over rocks, and twirled over and around itself in little whirls of current. It was a better sound than the sniffles of her companions, and the oppressive silence of the mist. She was grateful for it. As much as she hated coming off and hot-and-cold, unpredictable, she set it in her mind to apologize the the dark elf, once they were out of the torture-mist.
idalie Zazz

 

[deer]

S

tatic shot up her arm from Eirianwen's soft, reassuring squeeze, catching her off guard as her breath hitched, jumping slightly from the touch. Rossarinya could only nod in silence at Eirianwen's regard as she inched away slightly from the two females besides her. Not necessarily giving way to her surprised thoughts that she hadn't been ignored by the half-elven woman or that Ora acknowledged her presence, Rossarinya decided to not entertain the idea she was welcomed into the fray. The mist, after all, caused such tension and unfamiliarity to the lot of them and to Rossarinya, she knew to not drop her guard and to believe anyone was to be trusted or that she was trusted. As her attention drew away from the comforts, Rossarinya furrowed her brows at seeing two orcs, her gaze scanning which one could be the hoax versus the actual orc. How could they tell which one was an ally and not? Rossarinya knew next to nothing about the Cyndaran, or rather, most of who she accompanied. But, before Rossarinya could interject a suggestion or a thought that may help figure out the puzzle, Rossarinya's eyes were drawn off the path, in the clouds where an image of familiar Elven crafted doors appeared.

As much as she wanted to avert her gaze, she couldn't - almost as if she was stuck frozen in her place. Her eyes widened in horror, tears welled around her eyes even further, distorting her vision as she brought her hands to her lips, biting back the muffled scream her throat wanted to emit. She felt as if she was invading such a personal thought, something she never wanted to see through the eyes of another Elven-kin. Blatant murder. Shaking her head, Rossarinya quickly looked at the grounds, finding interest in her hand as she tried to block out the sounds. A part of her found herself too sensitive to the image - perhaps it was the fact that despite her wish of not wanting to be an Elven-kin and thinking it could just as well happen to her own family - her own father or brother made her knees weak. Once the vision ended, Rossarinya's attention was towards High Elf Aurum, however, she didn't know what to say or how to comfort him, a situation she wasn't used to confronting.

Soon, her attention was drawn towards both the orc and dark elf, seeing their camaraderie - a more hopeful scene. At hearing Ora's suggestion and thoughts of how to prove which orc was the original, Rossarinya nodded, watching as the orc punched the fake and they were on their way once more before another scene appeared. Rossarinya watched quietly, seeing the sombered expression on Ora's face before she stopped in her tracks. She could only assume. . . one was a fiancé and the other figure was Ora's mother. . . nearly identical. At hearing Ora's whispered words, another pain ached in her heart as she furrowed her brows and looked in the opposite direction once more knowing she should not be listening in a private conversation. Rossarinya could only close her eyes before she heard Eiranwen's voice, offering comfort and her sleeves to wipe any tears. Another blink of surprise, Rossarinya shook her head, a small, tiny smile cracking upon her lips, "Thank you for the offer."

But, as she responded to Eiranwen, a soft hum enveloped around them. Her eyes wandered, wondering who was humming such a haunting and melodic tune before her gaze turned towards the dark elf. Rossarinya allowed herself to be immersed in the comfort of the tune before she heard a voice she thought she left behind in Summena.

"Can you do it, Priest? Will my baby be okay?"

An image slowly appeared in the direction Rossarinya had been gazing upon, the whispered voice of an older Elven woman spoke inside a darkened room. Only two figures were inside, not including the young Rossarinya, one of her dear ol' mother and a priest. Drapes covered the windows of the room, not allowing light to shine in as candles were lit up around for the ritual that was about to take place. A small incense burnt on the shelf, causing smoke to fill the air as the Priest chanted upon the young child in the boiling water-filled bucket. The young child's eyes were misty, reddened and puffy from her cries as she shook her head, pleading in fear, hoping her mother would let her out. Her hands were tied behind her back as her mother's hands were on her head waiting for the priest's signal to drop her head into the water, wanting to get rid of the demons inside the young child's soul.

"Stop." Rossarinya's voice called out, just above a whisper before the scene continued as her mother dunked her head into the water, not caring, only wanting her daughter to be free from such sinful ideas and thoughts. "Stop!" Her voice grew louder as the image slowly disappeared, her heart beat erratically pounded against her chest while her frame shook profusely. "Little blue birds sway in the wind. Little blue birds sway in the wind." She continuously spoke, chanting, her eyes devoid of emotion as she glanced upon the others. "Little blue birds sway in the wind."

tag: SilverFlight , Flutterby , idalie , Zazz , Brendanfp , Chione , The Suspicious Eye , LadyOfStars , AlbaGuBrath , Sir Galahad II

 

[SilverFlight]

The pain and suffering the mists inflicted had never sat well with Desrick. He loathed the darker magics that the forest employed, even though he knew it was for their own protection. What sort of goddess could create such a twisted way to keep people from entering her lands? Was Cyndabrynde really the kind, mild and giving goddess the mystlanders all knew her to be? Or was there a darker side? The mists told him there might be.
A soft melody drew him from his thoughts. Lohrithe ( Zazz ) . Desrick looked over at him gratefully, the tune, to him at least fought back some of the grimness of their surroundings.
"That's beautiful." He said softly. "Is that from your home?"

Step after step they walked, the silence roaring in their ears Desrick lead them on. There were more visions, more suffering and Desrick, dogged in determination, pushed forward with them all, leaving comfort to the others and focusing on getting them out. There were several times when he began to doubt the way. The mists sometimes did more than show fragments of the mind, sometimes they confused it, bred confusion where there should be confidence. He tried his best to keep his expression neutral, willing the mists to stay out of his mind. It was strange...were they were fighting him more this time? Desrick focused on Lohr's lullaby, and kept going.

It seemed like an eternity had passed when suddenly, he stumbled, as if something pressing against his body had suddenly been loosed. Not seven more paces and the mists vanished and he nearly tripped into a clear, open glen. The still, darkness spread before him, void of cloying, angry fog and Desrick took a moment to draw in a breath of the fresh, cool air. He looked behind, following the rope and watched his companions emerge. The mist behind them seemed to stop abruptly, creating a near solid, white wall. The trail beneath his feet was spongy and wet with moss and fallen leaves. The debris of an ancient wood, as alive and healthy as ever there was. The trees on this side of the barrier had lush, full leaves, the orb he carried cast a pale glow on them, reflecting back vivid reds, blues and purples.
Desrick smiled back at them all. "We've made it through."
He caught the eyes of his fellow Cyndarans and gave them a roguish grin, before raising his light sphere slowly to his lips, and blowing the light out with one small breath.
The deepest pitch swallowed them. For several moments they stood like this, in complete darkness. The Cyndarans of course, knew what was coming...
If some had looked down they would have been the first to see it: Tiny flecks of light, dimly flickering at first, but growing stronger with each second. They peppered the trail, stronger at its edges. The moss. Each tiny filament let off a strange blue glow. First three, then ten then a hundred, everywhere the moss grew there was light, creeping up tree trunks and rolling over stone and stick. Somewhere in the branches something whistled a melodious note, and a rustle of leaves betrayed a bird only an instant before its plumage lit up like a firework burst: orange, green and yellow. It flashed brightly as it winged off into the distance.
The leaves were next, dim greens and purples and blues growing brighter with each moment. The veins of each carried the pulsing colour, pushing it out into smaller capillaries so every inch of them lit the trail with their colours. There were broad leaves on tall ground stalks, drooping needle-like leaves of tall pine-like bows, leaves with points and those that were rounded. The summenans would not have seen this much diversity held within a stone's throw of this spot if they had traveled a hundred leagues in the land of light.

Desrick continued up a small rise, untying the rope from his waist and beckoning his companions to follow. On the trunks and underneath them there appeared tiny and very odd creatures: There were toads whose backs contained special pores, that spouted puffs of blue flame each time they croaked. There were lizards with rounded dewlaps at their throats that flashed different colours whenever they stretched them out. There were any number of birds, all shapes and sizes, though mostly they kept to the highest part of the trees, and watched suspiciously as the strangers walked by, light flitting across their feathers sporadically as they chattered. Once they caught sight of a great stag, whose antlers glowed with a soft purple light. Flowers bloomed from the tips and when it took to flight petals fell from its fur like snow in its wake.

Desrick stopped at the hill's crest, where leaved branches hung low over the trail, obscuring the way forward. He was positively beaming now, because if the first look at the true face of the mystlands hadn't enthralled his guests...this would.
He drew back the leaves like a curtain and let them see: The land dipped slowly away before them, revealing a vast horizon filled with the shimmering glow of the forest canopy below. The light moved and changed across the entire landscape, as if the very forest breathed with it. There a cloud of birds rose into the air, flashing their feathers in a rainbow of hues. Here one tree stood taller than the rest, a small cloud of orange lights floating from it like wind-blown seeds. Overhead strange creatures floated through the air, flapping six wings out of sync, their giant, whale-like forms looking almost impossible as they pushed through clouds, sighing to each other in their magical voices.
"Welcome to Cyndara."

There was one point visible from where they stood, where a strong white light could be seen, flickering up through the distant foliage.
"We call them 'Duna Crystals'." Desrick explained. "Though, I'm not entirely sure what 'Duna' means. The word is from the ancient language, written before a time when anyone can recall. They give off a brilliant light for about twelve marks, like nothing else in Cyndara. Then they grow dim for another twelve. There are eight in total, with a settlement around each one, and usually those are the capitals of the clans that dwell here."
Then Desrick began to pick his way slowly down the slope. "It is too far back to my village from here. We will make camp halfway down, rest, eat and travel when we have slept a little."
Desrick knew the mists always took their toll; as beautiful as Cyndara was, it could not erase the darkness they had been subjected to within the mists. All he could do however, was make a fire, and a meal, and offer an ear to those troubled enough to seek it.

((If you want to make up strange plants and beasties that they see be my guest :3))

idalie Zazz Chione LadyOfStars Sir Galahad II The Suspicious Eye AlbaGuBrath Brendanfp Flutterby deer

 

[Zazz]

Lohrithe paused his melody momentarily when the elven woman behind them yelled at her own vision, continuing once it dissipated. Desrick asked him about the lullaby, to which he nodded. It was a tune passed down through generations, and it was soothing. "My father used to sing to me as a boy." He smiled softly at the memory and continued his humming. The drow held the healer's hand all the way through the mist, until they were safely out of peril's way. He freed himself from the rope as the others did, and handed it back to the faerie to whom it belonged. He took a glance over the three women he had walked closest to, his gaze lingering on the rich brown eyes of the half-dwarf. Gently, he ushered them forward with a welcoming sweep of his arm and a bow of his white head.

He brought up the rear, trailing a little behind as he found some fruit that the Sumennans would no doubt find strange; purple berries and juicy red orbs the size of an apple. Lohrithe caught up and strode beside the healer. He gently placed the red fruit in her hand; it felt like jelly, and it wobbled like it, yet it was dry on the outside. The drow brought a small knife from his belt and poked a slit at the top, causing a dribble of red juice to ooze out. Lohrithe made a motion of bringing one to his lips and drinking from it, and grinned at Eirianwen, hoping she would like it.

 

[idalie]

Eirianwen Llewellyn​

As the group pushed on through the mists, Eirianwen did her best to comfort those around her. Whether by guided hugs or sleeves as makeshift handkerchiefs -- everyone was hurting and by some form of pure optimism was the halfling functioning; a basis of 'It'll be over soon' and 'Not long now'. The rhetoric helped to some extent, breathing in and out in controlled inhales and exhales, anchoring herself beside Ora, Lohrithe, and Rossarinya to ease the anxiety of getting lost or falling victim to the mists and their promises; a promise to change what had already transpired. Lies coated in sugar, bittersweet when you bit into the rot. The Dark elf began to hum shortly after their fellow elf saw her own demons and began to chant words of what sounded like a nursery rhyme. Home seemed far away all of a sudden as if they had been thrown further than just the borders, but now stood upon the precipice of the universe.

When it had begun to get desperate, relief struck as they began to emerge. The mists thinning slightly, flickering paranoia of visions fading and then it broke. She could breathe easy again, although needn't have for as soon as they stepped into the beyond, Eir was frozen in awe. It was like nothing she could've ever hoped to imagine, the colours, the sights, utterly vibrant in ways the Summerlands could never compete. Wilderness and nature ruled the domain, and they ruled in absolutes. Her head tilted upward and gasping as the creatures, surely too big to even be up there, lazily floated through in pods with their magical calls. Her eyes had grown two sizes, practically saucers as she was afraid to blink, lest the healer missed a single thing of importance.

Lohrithe broke her astounded silence, offering the strange red fruit to which she cradled in her hands with an unsure gait, looking back to the dark elf for reassurance as he pulled a knife to cut it at the top. The halfling woman hesitantly brought it close till her lips touched it with a tentative sip. It was good. Better than good, the sweet, tangy taste was indulgent but she was unable to put her finger on something to describe it as. It wasn't like anything she'd ever tasted in Sumenna! Practically hopping now, she pulled Lohr into a hug -- "I love it! And oh, thank you, thank you for putting up with me in the mists! I know I can be a pain and I really don't want to be a burden." Llewellyn smiled and released him, "If you need anything of me, anything, just ask."

Seeking out the half-dwarf, Ora, her euphoric feeling didn't fade. It was the sensation of freedom, thrilling new sights, and an escape from dwelling on what she had just witnessed of her own dark memories and thoughts besides that of the other party members. Although, funnily enough Eir was still attached to the rope and almost tripped; sheepishly untying it with some effort after having one hand occupied by the odd fruit. "Friend, I know how to cheer you up!" She was tired, her eyes still ringed with red, and yet it was as enthusiastic as usual. "Try some of this, Lohr gave it to me!" She held it out in both palms. Perhaps some of it was partially forced, knowing how unsettled everyone was and wanting to emanate a good mood -- but there was surely a very real twinkle of excitement in her autumnal eyes.

"Desrick -- or Lohrithe -- what is this even called?" She motioned to the fruit, brow creasing in a slight frown. "I suppose I should really learn it so I don't seem entirely silly about this whole thing."

SilverFlight Zazz Brendanfp Sir Galahad II The Suspicious Eye deer LadyOfStars Chione Flutterby AlbaGuBrath

 

[Flutterby]

Ora plodded along silently, almost numb to the feelings swirling about in the mist. It had only been a few minutes since her vision, but it felt like they had been inside the mist for years, and she was already so tired of the quiet sobs around her, and the fleeting glimpses of her mother. The other elf, her vision was just as dark as the other elves, and Ora wondered if maybe she had been better of being ugly and cast aside. It seemed the attention and status of being beautiful came at a higher cost than she realized. She tried not to think about it; if one pulled at the loose ends of Sumennan society, it might all come unraveled.

Suddenly, the color in front of her eyes wasn't white anymore. The air didn't feel like it was choking her with moisture. Her eyes lifted, and she found herself staring at a forest, barely lit by Desrick's small orb-light. She turned her head, and stared at the mist-wall behind them. It was over, they could continue on without worry, there wouldn't be..
The orc blew of the light. Just smiled, and turned off the only thing that made it possible to see. Ora huffed, and found herself in the most pure darkness she had ever experienced. A creeping of unease spread over her, making the end of her tail kink.
And then, at the edge of her vision, there was light. Just a spec. And then another. And another. Before her eyes, the world began to light itself, in the most unimaginable hues she had ever seen. There was some yellow and red, but it seemed the Cyndara was dominated by colors that she had only seen in the gems of the mountains of Sumenna, the world of gold and light. But gems could only reflected light. The life of Cyndara made its own, as dynamic and diverse as the creatures themselves.
Ora was simply in awe.

She was distantly aware of Eir chattering excitedly at Lohrithe, but her mind had too many sights to process to really hear it. She was enthralled by the sight of an insect, with 4 wings and fins like a fish, colored the most amazing shade of blue she had ever seen. That is, until her hands appeared in front of her face with some kind of fruit, mostly liquid inside, and insisted she try it. She took it, hesitantly, and drank a tiny bit of the stuff inside. Not so timidly, she took a second gulp. The taste was incomprehensible, when compared to Sumennan flavors. It reminded her a little bit of candy, but mostly it reminded her of the bright red light that the birds made here in Cyndara.
For the second time since they emerged from the mist, Ora caught eyes with the dark elf, and this time she gave him a nod as she handed Eir the rest of her fruit back. The sweet, acidic taste had cut through the fog still clinging to her thoughts. Even though she was still exhausted, and the sensory overload had stolen her words, having a clear head was a great relief. Now she owed him thanks, as well as an apology.
idalie Zazz

They paused at the top of a hill, and Desrick pushed back a draping of leaves to show them... well, Ora could only think of it as "the rest of the world." The light moved across the canopy, like a ripple across water.. no, like waves.. or breath being drawn in and out. There was a bright. pure white light in the distance, which apparently meant a settlement of some kind, but Ora looked up and was enchanted by the flashing of the birds, and the massive creatures floating through the clouds. Their calls sounded like the echo of music deep in a cavern.
Ora had to take a deep breath and wipe away more tears, as they were on their way again, to "Desrick's village."

 

[SilverFlight]

Desrick couldn't keep the smile from his face as he watched the summerlanders take in the beauty of his home. Eir was charming in her excitement over the fruit and he grinned at the dark elf, knowing that Lohr was enjoying their awe and joy as much as they were.
He began to lead them carefully down the narrow trail of the slope.
"When I entered the mists for the first time..." He began, turning to help them down a particularly steep drop, "I couldn't sleep for two days afterwards. Its an old, strong magic, cast before anyone can remember. You all did well to come away from it as you did."
He had cried that first journey, though he would deny it with his last breath.

The clearing was off the trail a little, a wide patch of soft, dry moss set about by low-hanging trees with strange, hard-shelled fruit. The moss gave off a dim glow, enough to see by, but not disturb. A stream meandered down the slope at the far end of the clearing, feeding a shallow pool level to it. The water chattered happily down the stones before falling silent in the clear, natural basin. In the center of the clearing a fire pit had already been dug, and used. Desrick and Crispin camped here on patrols now and again. He put a hand into the wide knot of a tree and drew out a satchel of supplies. Crispin's pack had been taken already, the elf likely halfway back to their village by now. This improved Desrick's mood a little since escaping the mist.

In no time at all he had a fire going with a small pot over it and a simmering root and grain stew. Nothing in it would be recognized by the summerlanders, but it smelled wonderful all the same. The orc trundled to the perimeter and gathered three of the lowest-hanging hard fruits. A quick tap with the butt of his axe once back by the fire and they split evenly, half way down the middle. The contents he added to the stew, then, he upended one of the shells and dipped it into the pot. It made a perfect bowl.

"Food's ready." He grunted, leaving the bowls for the others. So soon after the mists, they might not have their appetites yet.
He took a seat close to Lohr ( Zazz ), handing him a steaming bowl.
"What do you make of them?" He asked in a low voice. "Do you think I made the right choice?"

idalie Zazz The Suspicious Eye Brendanfp Flutterby deer

 

[Zazz]

Lohrithe blinked in surprise as he was promptly assaulted by the tiny woman. Before he could hug her back, she had left him, chattering away to him and then to the half-dwarf. His smile grew as the two women enjoyed the fruit. "Kinnit, it is called," he answered the healer, tucking the berries safely in his satchel for later. He, like Desrick, helped the women down the slope of the hillside, offering each one a welcoming smile. The half-dwarf still made him feel unsure of himself.

Down at the camp, Lohrithe helped to gather wood for their fire. He pocketed a smallish piece; it was a nice, dark, deep wood.

Sitting a little away from the fire, the drow took the offered bowl, tearing his dark eyes from the flames. He didn't know why it paralyzed him so. "Thank you." He blinked away the stars and looked into the bowl, holding it between both hands. "They are... strange," he answered the orc quietly, thinking about the half-dwarf's reaction to his earlier compliment. "A little blind, perhaps. Their visions in the mist were..." Lohrithe struggled to find a word to describe what he had seen. With a shrug, he sipped at the contents of his bowl. "Mm. This is good." The drow smiled at his green friend. "I trust you, Desrick."

 

[Flutterby]

Ora listened silently as Desrick talked, grateful for the sound of voices to pull her mind away from things that made her cry. She hated crying- it made her eyes puffy, and her face red, and it drew attention. All bad things. Her unease had lessened, and her tail unkinked. It waved slowly as she walked; she wasn't at self-conscious of it here in Cyndara, and let it stretch out away from her legs like it was supposed to. The movement made her aware that it was aching, and she scowled.

As they went, she was horribly conscious of the hesitant attention of the dark elf. It made the tops of her ears prickle. She was glad, when they reached the clearing and he set about helping Desrick with preparing a fire. Ora withdrew from the group with an ornery expression on her face, sitting down on a rock near the stream. She wasn't entirely certain that the water was safe, but at the edge of the clearing, the light was stronger off the trees. She watched the Cyndarans make camp, as she meticulously picked thorns out of her tail. The forest before the mist had been thick with undergrowth- even keeping her tail tucked in close hadn't kept it from getting stuck in bushes once or twice, which was not an enjoyable thing.

She had finished, and was wrapping a bandage around a particularly deep cut, when Desrick announced that the stew was ready. Her stomach flipped, but she wasn't sure it was because she was hungry. Ora stood and went back toward the fire anyway. Strength for the journey ahead, she told herself as she picked up on of the shell-bowls and scooped out some stew. She glanced at Lohr and Desrick, but didn't think they were looking for the company of the summerlanders right then, with the way they had moved away and were speaking quietly. She sat down closer to the orc-sized fire pit, making herself appear even smaller next to it by folding up her arms and legs, holding the bowl of stew next to her chest. She would feel like eating it soon.

 

[SilverFlight]

"Crispin taught me how to make it." Desrick shot the bowl a look of pride. "Its hard to teach me anything but, he managed to teach me how to cook."
The orc nodded as Lohr gave him his trust, a little uneasy about it, doubting whether he was really worthy of it. Nevertheless he put on a confident expression.
"I'm not sure they'll have answers, but in escorting them at least we can keep them out of trouble."
Zazz

That said he couldn't help but notice some of the troubled faces. The young dwarf sat by the fire, contemplating the contents of her bowl.
Desrick rose slowly and went over to her.
"It's not poisoned," The orc began in a casual tone, sitting on a log beside Ora, he had a smile on his face, though it grew a little more serious as he regarded her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently.
Flutterby

idalie Zazz The Suspicious Eye Brendanfp Flutterby deer

((Mini post to keep things going))

 

[Flutterby]

"That would be a lot of work, when the blood-oak would've done it for you," She retorted softly, her face softening but not smiling, watching the orc sit down next to her. She didn't really have anything to compare orcs to; they were about as far from Sumenanns as one could get. His appearance baffled her at first, but now it seemed mundane compared to the luminescent forest life.
The half-dwarf watched his expression closely. He seemed awfully kind, for someone who was supposed to be a blood-thirsty monster. When he asked if she wanted to talk, she stared at him for several seconds before answering him.

"If you're asking about the mists, there isn't much to say. It wasn't surprising, what they showed me. Heartbreaking, of course, but not surprising." She paused, and then added, "I'm not troubled by my own visions. They've been with me longer than just in the mists."

She looked away, toward some of the summerlanders, and spoke again. "But.. this is strange. Cyndara is not what it was said to be. All my life, I was told its a wasteland full of horrible things. It is dark and dangerous, but amazing in its own way. You, Lohr, the others, are kind, not monsters. My entire understanding of Cyndara was wrong." Her eyes slid away, back to his face, and she shrugged a little.
"And it's all backwards here. In Sumena, I am on the edge of society, the bottom, because I don't look how a dwarf should. I'm ugly, with ugly horns and a strange tail. But here.." She trailed off, and looked over at Lohr, and swallowed softly.
"I need time to understand it, I suppose. But right now, it just feels like too much to think about." Ora looked down at her stew, and decided to take a sip. It was hot and good, even though the taste was so unfamiliar and strange.
"Your cooking is good. My favorite in all of Cyndara." She glanced at him, with a hint of a smile, trying to see if the tentative joke had landed. SilverFlight

 

[The Suspicious Eye]

Lenore Ysseos

Lenore let the peace of the earth and the vastness of her wisdom flow through her as she stretched her mana deeper. The earth had changed so much above, but underneath it was the earth she treaded eight hundred years ago. A soft smile grew on her face as she thought back to her younger days. Alone, but also never alone. She wondered how the fairies of today are like, never having seen them around in her previous lifetime she never knew that world. Her concentration unwavering as she slowly opened her eyes as Des came over to her. Keeping the mana rooted she looked up at the orc she listened intently to him as he spoke. Still unable to fully trust them given what she knew, Lenore would help as she promised. Nodding to show that she agreed with his decision for the most part she pulled her mana back from the earth and stepped to follow behind Des. Her mind still drifting to the stories her love once told her about what Summerlanders used to back in her day. Her words rang through her as Lenore noticed the mist rolling in. She had faced the mist before but knowing now, with the Summerlanders. If her love was a legend or even vaguely known after these eight hundred years, more questions would raise up and Lenore refused to be put on spot. Deciding to fly over the mist Lenore was started to lift herself up when the mist engulfed.

Looking down at the group she spoke out calmly. "I will fly over the mist and meet with you all once it's done." She looked up at the sky as the mist was rolling in on her back. "Besides I'd like to see my home from above after all these years." Floating up she bobbed a bit and deep into the dark sky of Cyndaran. Looking down she gazed over the forests which she once knew well not completely different as nature continued to grow and flourish as she did not. Doing her best to memorize the layout of her new home. She wondered if her land had changed so much so had the people. What could have happened during the eight hundred years she had been asleep and how did it change the world around her. Watching the mist as it engulfed the trees Lenore thought about the harshness of her land long ago. Letting out a soft sigh she was relived not to relive anything of her past in the mist. She'd surely be pulled into the mist in her given state. To have a moment with the love of her life, would be the greatest gift she could receive after this long and empty rest.

Floating over the mist she waited until she saw the mist pass completely. Landing about a mile away from where the group arrived and rested for the evening Lenore took her time walking the path to them. Hearing their voices out into the distance she smiled as she smelled the comfort of broth, hearing someone call out stew is ready she smiled. Passing through the clearing of trees she came in as Opal told a bit of her story. Making herself known she spoke softly, "It certainly does smell amazing. I am glad I was able to find you all."

idalie Zazz SilverFlight Brendanfp Flutterby deer

 

[idalie]

Eirianwen Llewellyn​

Eirianwen uttered the name of the strange fruit under her breath as if to commit it to memory, rejoining the procession led by Desrick toward where they would camp for the night. Whilst initially the healer placed her bags nearer the campfire and murmuring of voices, she soon turned away after a small while and headed toward both stream and basin; passing Ora who was on the return. Desperate to clean herself up from the smudges of filth from the battle with the blood oak, Eir scooped handfuls of the clear, cool water to splash and scrub at her pale face till it was pink with cold. Her lips and cheeks tingling, whilst her nose had become numb save for a few wiggling motions that helped it regain some amount of feeling. Slender fingers dipped in again, bringing them upward to watch droplets collect on the tops of her neatly trimmed nails. Serenity washed over the young halfling, finding relief in the repetitive action whereupon there was no thoughts of Cyndara nor the dead boys in the mist.

"Idir ann is idir as," Llewellyn began to quietly mouth, volume increasing to a soft whisper. "Idir thuaidh is idir theas," She smiled sleepily now as the water created the tiniest current about her submerged wrist. "Idir thiar is idir thoir; Idir am is idir áit." Eir slowly now lay on her side, cushioned by grass and moss, as the water spun in a waltzing dance to caress her palm. As if it was hungrier for more of the melody, droplets rolled up the skin of her forearm. "Casann sí dhom, amhrán na farraige. Suaimhneach nó ciúin, ag cuardú go damanta ... Mo ghrá," Tired and colder now, albeit freshened up and cradled; Eirianwen half let her eyes droop. Songs had magic one oft didn't realise, for music was the unspoken blade of all things that lived and breathed. From the babbling brooks to the whistles of wind, or the growing grass and grumbling mountains.

Alas, unlike in Sumenna, she heard the songs here. The stream which trickled sounded like a lullaby occasionally interrupted with a giggle or gentle scold. The language she didn't fully understand, but there was a recognition and few words that jogged a distant memory. One that perhaps was not even her own. Her robes cast a white aura of cotton swathes, whilst her hair projected a halo of golds and brassy hues. Eirianwen, barely awake, let her mind drift again. Back to the mist, as if it was still wrapped around her in a sickening, sticky blanket. The soldiers and their eyes, the looks of betrayal. Her heart sank, knowing their last moments were to be in pain. It wasn't as frightening as it had been, now putting it in hindsight. Alas, she knew they would be safe. Safer than they ever would be here on Bryn. Up past the clouds, somewhere near the sun and stars in an afterlife awaiting their loved ones with patience and contented natures.

It was a fanciful dream, but comforting to the elf. Knowing -- believing, there was something more than to cease simply being. A life couldn't be that small, could it? It all had to mean something in the grand scheme of things. For every patient cured was a way to change the world piece by piece. Passing on good deeds. There had been rowdy soldiers who were more concerned with what the nurses were like rather than their state of being, but their rude manner was easily dismissed. Even they, deserved to live fruitfully. Another chance given, whether or not wasted was up to the individual. All Eirianwen did, was give them the possibilities to make such decisions for themselves. A conductor and mediator to the forces above that wished good faith on all men and women.

SilverFlight Zazz Flutterby deer Brendanfp

 

[Zazz]

Lohrithe watched as the orc stood and left him for the beautiful half-dwarf. His friend was a good one; he had a big heart under all of that green brawn. The drow smiled softly to himself as the charm he had made for Desrick trailed from his axe. Lohrithe observed the others around him as he drank from his bowl. The little healer removed herself from the group after some time, stopping by the water. The drow's midnight and moss eyes observed the half-dwarf and her horns as she spoke to Desrick, though he cared not to strain to listen. They met eyes, once, until Lohrithe cleared his throat and focused his attention on his soup.

Finished with his meal, he took another bowl from the pot and carried it towards the small form by the water. Quietly, he sat nearby, dipping his feet in the water. He could use a bath, he told himself. "The water seems to like you," he mused softly. Holding out the bowl of soup, he asked, "Hungry?"

 

[SilverFlight]

Desrick regarded Ora ( Flutterby ) from a sidelong glance as she told him of her memories.
"That," Desrick said carefully, "Is what makes the mists so dangerous." The fact that they preyed upon weakness made by memories and feelings that clung to you like leeches. Using the darkest parts of you to manipulate your emotions. The darker your past, the more susceptible you were.
He smiled again as she spoke about her expectations.
"You and your companions aren't quite what I imagined either." He returned the shrug, then added: "The misinterpretations may have been on purpose, propaganda, or, perhaps for protection. Most of Cyndara does not make war. Most of Cyndara isn't even capable of it. Spreading rumours is good protection."

He looked at her in surprise when she told him of her status back in her home.
"You, are not ugly." Desrick said this with such definite conviction it was hard not to believe him. He followed her gaze back to his friend and tried not to smile.
"Your horns won't mark you for anything but admiration in Cyndara."
He fell silent until she commented on the stew, that got a deep, rich chuckle from him. "Haha, I'll wear that award proudly, at least until you sample someone else's cooking."
Flutterby

Movement behind them made Desrick turn and he gave the fairy a nod and a warm, welcoming smile in greeting. He spooned out a bowl of food and offered it to her.
"Good to have you back. We'll be resting here for a few hours before heading back to my village. Come, sit by the fire."
After a moment or two he voiced a thought that had been nipping t his mind: "I've never seen magic like that before. Where did you learn it?"
The Suspicious Eye

 

[Flutterby]

Ora listened as she worked at her stew, sip by sip, and nodded quietly. She could easily see why Cyndarans would be okay with, or even encourage, Sumennans to think them monsters. If they would surely lose, Sumennans would never attack. It was a good way to keep the peace. She was watching Lohr out of the corner of her eye, after he had dropped her gaze, but Desrick's next words brought her full attention.

Ora wasn't as surprised this time, but she was still just as uncomfortable; it was actually difficult to keep her eyes from shooting directly to the ground. His tone left absolutely no room for argument, so she held her tongue. The tips of her ears burned with a blush at his assertion. This kind of embarrassment was almost as uncomfortable as her entire way of existing in Sumenna. But he seemed so sure, and didn't seem to think it was a bad thing, so she said nothing, and took a long breath in through her nose.

Thankfully, he understood her timid humor, and it earned her a laugh, breaking the tension she felt. It was deep, rumbling, and carried true happiness in it. She flashed him a full smile, brief but bright, and found herself at ease with the orc once again. They were joined by another, the flying woman that had disappeared before the mists, and Ora gave her a small nod. "The stew Desrick made is wonderful, if you're hungry." She added to his greeting, and then returned to eating her own stew so she could listen to the explanation of this magic.
SilverFlight The Suspicious Eye

 

[The Suspicious Eye]

Lenore Ysseos

Nodding back to Ora she turned her attention back to Des. "Ah, thank you." Taking the bowl in her small hands she smiled and nodded to the orc boy. Looking down at the warm stew she took in the welcoming scents of food. It had been centuries since she'd last eaten anything and the meal seemed to put her back in the right mind. Sitting near a open spot beside the orc she put the warm bowl to her lips and drank it slowly. The food warming her from the inside out and rejuvenating the elderly fairy. "Truly delicious. Perfect after the long rest I've had." She smiled as she tiled the rest of the bowl back and drank it all in one gulp. Growing up around the beasts of old, table manners were not something she ever truly grasped. She saw the best way to respect food and those who made it was to eat it happily and hardily letting it nourish them.

Letting a moment pass, in between them Lenore gazed into the fire and thought back to the woman she loved. Her fire crackled and glowed and warmed Lenore whenever she was close to her. Now everything in her world seemed a bit darker without her. Try as she might to find her place in this new world she still feels this longing for her lost love. Her mind drifting off into the past once more she was pulled back to the present by Desrick. Looking over to him she gave a a soft chuckle and looked away with a soft sigh she spoke softly. "I suppose his teachings did not live on once I vanished." Turning back to Des she took a deep breath and spoke a bit louder. "I was trained by a master mage who specialized in magic with the earth. He was a great man and deserved to have his teachings passed on to another. He deserved a better pupil than myself." Looking a bit saddened at the disgrace she's put over her master. He took her in and gave the last years of his life to her and she hid herself away letting his wisdom fade from time.
SilverFlight Flutterby

 

[velleity]

Spoiler: Mobile Friendly

"D-Damnit all...!" Vyara snorted and spat a thick wad of mucus and blood to the dirt near the creature just slain. Its feather-covered face shook with a final ragged breath, and then it was still. The shifter rose to her feet with the help of her sword, her steel blade acting as a cane as she stepped forward to continue her way uphill. She cast a single, sorrowful glance back at the felled beast, an aching twinge of pity and regret in her chest. She should have known better than to chase a white stag so close to the border!

But it was right there, so close she could have brushed a hand against its antlers and let her wish be granted at last! It was right there...

Ugh...

Heavy steps saw her reach the summit at last and Cyndara's luminescent world greeted her in reward. Vyara gave her home only a quick glance over before turning her eyes the other way, towards the Half-Sun Hills and wall of mist that guarded the border. A glimmer of light peeked through the few gaps in the fog and last's year's fire sprang to the front of her mind. Her hands tightened around the hilt of her sword, her knuckles fading to bone white, her lips stretching from her teeth with a beastly snarl. Soon. She would gather an army soon, cross the hills, and claim Sumenna for Cyndabrynde at long last! No more arrogant humans or elves or other fanciful people with their blinding, all-consuming light! No more arrogance, no more disdain! Cyndarans would spread peace to the rest of Bryne, and admiration for the natural world, and acceptance of all its creatures, and Vyara Storenbrok would be the─

The shifter erupted into a fit of coughing that tore her from her stance. She fell to the earth in a heap and spat another mouthful of blood to the dirt. A quick wipe of her forearm saw her cheek smeared red before she dug around in her pack for a waterskin. It wasn't difficult to find now that her food rations were gone, but as she tipped it over her mouth, nothing more than a few drops splashed across her tongue.

A hollow laugh shook her shoulders and caused another fit. O, Great Mother, what a day! But, wait, what was that scent...? A gentle night breeze brought the scent of smoke across her nose and sent a fresh wave of energy through her bones. Smoke meant fire. Fire meant... No! No. Don't get worked up. Think logically now, it's not that hard. Well. It shouldn't be, anyway.

With a few pained grunts and groans, Vyara rose to her feet once again to scan what she could of the forest. There! From a little slope clearing half-hidden from her eyes by the canopy, one or two blurred figures stood between a stream and the source of the smoke. People! And water! And probably food, too! And they weren't too far, just down this hill and up another and she could be there in no time! She just had to think positive!

With a whispered prayer of thanks to her goddess, Vyara limped onward. She stumbled halfway down the hill, she tripped over every root and fallen branch, and her wild curls caught on thorns and limbs with every step she took. Blood leaked from her many wounds with the owlbear and left an easy track behind her. Needless to say, stealth was not Vyara's forte. But she emerged from the treeline nonetheless, leaning heavily on her sword, her breathing ragged, her vision swimming, and certainly worse for wear. She gave a pitiful salute as she glanced over the party.

"H-Heyy, howdy-ho, you, ah... y-you... fffine people, you...!" Her voice came low and weak, but no less friendly than if she was at full health. That is, until her her eyes caught sight of a beautiful elf by the stream. "Waih, you're... not C-Cyndarh..."

Exhausted and weaker than she had ever known, Vyara's sword fell away and she collapsed.

"D-Damnit all...!" Vyara snorted and spat a thick wad of mucus and blood to the dirt near the creature just slain. Its feather-covered face shook with a final ragged breath, and then it was still. The shifter rose to her feet with the help of her sword, her steel blade acting as a cane as she stepped forward to continue her way uphill. She cast a single, sorrowful glance back at the felled beast, an aching twinge of pity and regret in her chest. She should have known better than to chase a white stag so close to the border!

But it was right there, so close she could have brushed a hand against its antlers and let her wish be granted at last! It was right there...

Ugh...

Heavy steps saw her reach the summit at last and Cyndara's luminescent world greeted her in reward. Vyara gave her home only a quick glance over before turning her eyes the other way, towards the Half-Sun Hills and wall of mist that guarded the border. A glimmer of light peeked through the few gaps in the fog and last's year's fire sprang to the front of her mind. Her hands tightened around the hilt of her sword, her knuckles fading to bone white, her lips stretching from her teeth with a beastly snarl. Soon. She would gather an army soon, cross the hills, and claim Sumenna for Cyndabrynde at long last! No more arrogant humans or elves or other fanciful people with their blinding, all-consuming light! No more arrogance, no more disdain! Cyndarans would spread peace to the rest of Bryne, and admiration for the natural world, and acceptance of all its creatures, and Vyara Storenbrok would be the─

The shifter erupted into a fit of coughing that tore her from her stance. She fell to the earth in a heap and spat another mouthful of blood to the dirt. A quick wipe of her forearm saw her cheek smeared red before she dug around in her pack for a waterskin. It wasn't difficult to find now that her food rations were gone, but as she tipped it over her mouth, nothing more than a few drops splashed across her tongue.

A hollow laugh shook her shoulders and caused another fit. O, Great Mother, what a day! But, wait, what was that scent...? A gentle night breeze brought the scent of smoke across her nose and sent a fresh wave of energy through her bones. Smoke meant fire. Fire meant... No! No. Don't get worked up. Think logically now, it's not that hard. Well. It shouldn't be, anyway.

With a few pained grunts and groans, Vyara rose to her feet once again to scan what she could of the forest. There! From a little slope clearing half-hidden from her eyes by the canopy, one or two blurred figures stood between a stream and the source of the smoke. People! And water! And probably food, too! And they weren't too far, just down this hill and up another and she could be there in no time! She just had to think positive!

With a whispered prayer of thanks to her goddess, Vyara limped onward. She stumbled halfway down the hill, she tripped over every root and fallen branch, and her wild curls caught on thorns and limbs with every step she took. Blood leaked from her many wounds with the owlbear and left an easy track behind her. Needless to say, stealth was not Vyara's forte. But she emerged from the treeline nonetheless, leaning heavily on her sword, her breathing ragged, her vision swimming, and certainly worse for wear. She gave a pitiful salute as she glanced over the party.

"H-Heyy, howdy-ho, you, ah... y-you... fffine people, you...!" Her voice came low and weak, but no less friendly than if she was at full health. That is, until her her eyes caught sight of a beautiful elf by the stream. "Waih, you're... not C-Cyndarh..."

Exhausted and weaker than she had ever known, Vyara's sword fell away and she collapsed.

SilverFlight The Suspicious Eye Flutterby Zazz idalie | Noend Forest Campsite

 

[idalie]

Eirianwen Llewellyn​

Eirianwen was moments away from dropping off to sleep when her head suddenly tipped up to look towards the dark elf, lips curling lazily. "Perhaps. It's a nice thought to have." She pleasantly agreed, glancing back at the basin of water and letting out a pent-up breath. Balmy and soft, it carried a tune of its own, slowly sitting upright to put her cold, damp hand to her forehead; guarding against any dizziness she may encounter. As Lohr offered the bowl, Llewellyn reached for it with both hands to nurse the pot. "Just a bit, the mists were quite -- vivid. I suppose I should try though." Glancing about for a utensil, she soon gave up and tipped it against her mouth as if supping from gold rather than a makeshift husk of fruit. It was good, nevertheless and the warmth was comforting as it came to settle in the midst of your stomach. Grounding almost, for she hadn't eaten since they crossed the border. It had happened -- it was happening and sooner or later, they would find themselves in the settlement Desrick had promised. A settlement which must've had healers. There was a point to their journey, for her at least, a point that made it worthwhile to have painful memories pulled back up and attacked by flesh-eating trees. Admittedly, she hoped that part was over in the long run, however, it was doubtful.

"I think I might get an early night, I'm exhausted. My head hasn't stopped throbbing since we got past the mists and I think I may start going insane if I don't get a nip of sleep." Llewellyn managed to finish the bowl off, half standing now as she gave Lohrithe a squeeze on the shoulder. "Thank you again, by the way -- you've been nothing short of fantastic since we got here. It warms my heart to know that if there's one, there must be more. People like you have a knack for passing on good luck." The treeline shifted though as a shadow drew close, breaking through the foliage as a woman presented herself rather comically through salute and greeting ... till promptly fainting.

The healer dropped her bowl and set off into a run; quickly turning Vyara on her side to untangle the rucksack before using it to prop her legs up and over; rolling the woman till she faced upward. Straight into business, Eir checked up and down Vyara's exposed limbs and flesh till pulling open her mouth to look for any dislodged teeth that might've been the cause of blood which lined her lips. Llewellyn put a palm upon forehead and again, another upon the traveller's sternum. Hands glowing, resting on the injured girl before Llewellyn reached for her side-bag and dug around for ointment and herbs to help with swelling. Adrenaline made her focused, rigid, slender fingers scooping the chalky paste and dabbing it over the lighter cuts. An oil was rubbed into the bruising, hurrying back to the stream for cold, wet rags to aid.

By the end of her mothering, Eirianwen was ready to conk out. Her features seemed to grow paler -- as if it were possible, and furthermore sparrow-like as the healer crawled to her unopened bedroll; and plonked her head on it without bothering to use it for it's intended function. Half awake, she groped again for her bag blindly, pulling it up close to grab a small, clay glazed pot. Popping the cork, it held dried Feverfew flowers which the healer took a small handful of and packed into the side of her cheek. Eir felt as if her head was splitting in half, now refusing to move further than where she was curled up on the grass with an internal monologue of scolding that she had used her magic when it still had yet to replenish with a short rest or more.

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