Fantasy &nbsp; The Guild of El&#039;yssi - Act 1: To Frolic &amp; Flounder

EMIYAman

Mood music:

Licht tugged at his red scarf as he continued his trek further through mountains to the foot of a tall, ironsided one. The ocelot beastman was not one for cold temperatures, being a creature of a considerably warmer climate. His hands were constantly active to keep the blood circulating, his ears covered to prevent too much heat loss. His breathing felt stifled by the woolen fabric provided by his sister, but better that than breathing the cold zephyrs of air from the mountains directly. He just needed to bear with the cold, suffer through it like the rest of the aspirants heading to this Seeker location.

Being so far from home was inspiring. The beauties of mountain paths overwatched by stubborn, white-crowned wardens as well as the rough and evergreen-dotted terrain proved breathtaking to the jungles of his island continent. However, the strange sensation of the ground hating you by wanting to slip away and the burning, freezing cold made the trip almost too challenging. If he was not as gifted with knifework as he was with the paintbrush, he may not have survived a plummet down the face of a cliffside. Still, he followed the marks one other aspirant, a human swordsman by the looks of it, at a distance. Perhaps the swordsman too noticed Licht behind him, and perhaps he did not mind being followed, but even with a quarter of a kilometer between them Licht silently enjoyed the company.

What proved most amazing of all was the hamlet in the faux-wheat flowers, its location in this terrain hinting strongly of the best of magics. The rainbow glow of it all made his hand seize, desirous to set up an easel which he did not have and paint the awe-inspiring landscape. The cold urged him forward, however. He did not have time for such frivolity yet, nor did he think the Seeker recruiters would enjoy their secluded location being painted and later discovered. He would have to trek on.

Once in civilisation again, or at least what one can consider civilisation outside of his familiar territory, Licht slipped into streets, crunching snow underfoot with wrapped feet and not caring about the distance behind the swordsman anymore as the latter slipped out of sight. He looked into windows at blazing hearths yearningly. The Village of the Lost -- for such a haunting namesake, seemed like a more comforting place than originally conceived.

It took him a few tries, not being familiar with the building structures of the new lands, but he found the inn where the other Seekers were housed. He nearly closed the door on his tail trying to keep the elements from entering with him, and flooded with relief once the warmth inside struck him. He could rest his weary feet by the warmth of the fire. He hoped the others wouldn't mind.

The crowd did not seem too many in total, mostly humans so far in conversation. There was one older fox beastfolk in the group, however, and an Otari who seemed busy with others. Licht was glad he did not stick out too much like a sore thumb, though perhaps his avidness to get to the fire was striking. A purr erupted from his throat as the heat seeped into his tail and backside, head a-swivel to overhear conversations.

Ah! The swordsman! He made it here plenty fine himself, and now Licht could see him up close. Concluding perhaps it was best to interact with him now instead of later, he took a seat next to him, flashing his teeth joyously at the man with a swishing tail showing excitement.

"Wanderer fellow, welcome. This one greets you. From what land do you hail?"

Licht's voice was feline soft and his words provincial, unrefined as if a second language. At least he felt composed enough to speak without the need of a traveller's handbook (which is where he got some of his spoken phrases).

NotDave · May 5, 2025

Yanisin Mohran

Yanisin pulled his cloak tight, the blizzard cold enough to almost freeze his horns off completely. He stopped and looked around him as best he could, the violent snowstorm buffeting his vision relentlessly - though barely perceptible in the distance he could make out the faintest glow of light over the horizon. He leaned back and let loose a booming laugh, the sound echoing in the winds around him.

“It would seem I am the victor this day, Theros.”
He began trudging through the maelstrom once again, determination blazing a path forward with each step. Yanisin grinned to himself triumphantly, the thought of a warm bed and cozy fire interrupted by a particularly icy patch of rock, tumbling the Beastfolk gracelessly down the hillside and with a forceful THUD, he came to a stop at the base of a frozen tree.
As his consciousness faded, he cursed the mountain and its trickily treacherous terrain, reminding himself to strangle whichever genius came up with this trial as slowly as possible-

Before blacking out entirely.

———

The sounds of frequent hammering, ringing bells, and yelling voices stirred Yanisin from his long and restful sleep.
He’d arrived at the busy port-side locale mid-afternoon the previous day, paying an overpriced sum of coin to an unassuming tavern just down the road to relax his weary bones in after an extensive journey on the ocean waves. The room he now presided in was a small, modest space with only a short bed and single open window to note. The morning sunlight was accompanied by the salty ocean breeze, a smell Yanisin was now overtly familiar with and very keen to get away from.
He’d heard rumors one of his kin had recently accomplished some significant feats in this land and curiosity had taken to the young Beastfolk. It sounds like you have grown, my kin. Would you be pleased to greet myself as I you?
As Khanhood rivals they were supposed to avoid one another, but the thought of seeing one of his kin again filled Yanisin with a warm feeling, smiling at the thought.
“My brothers, my sisters. It has been so very long, and yet our journey is only just begun.” He spoke softly as he lay back on his bed, placing his hands behind his head. “Do you dream of home as oft I d-”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KN-

The sudden banging at the door startled the poor Beastfolk, knocking him onto the wooden floor with a heavy THUMP and a sharp inhale.
“Urgh... What is it you want?” Yanisin grumbled, speaking in common tongue. Though still unfamiliar with the deeper nuances of the language, Yanisin had learned enough over his travels to get by without too much issue - though he reckoned he was likely on par with the permanently disgruntled tavern-keep who ran this equally disgruntled establishment.
“YE GOT MAIL, AIN’T YA?” A voice not dissimilar to rusty nails gargled through the door.
Yanisin groaned as he slowly stood to his feet, the planks beneath him protesting at his cumbersome weight. It had been many years since he’d left the Great Forest and his body had grown significantly in that time. He stretched his large, caramel fur-covered arms above his head, using his horns to scratch a passing itch in the deep, cool green scales that adorned his forearms. The discolored wraps surrounding his darkened shins loosened as he tiredly stepped forward and opened the door.
“FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES YA BIG LUG, HUH?” A small, thickly muscled man wearing a loose-fitting black singlet tucked into dark beige pants and large combat boots stood stoutly before Yanisin, tapping his foot absent-mindedly as the Beastfolk yawned again. A large scar disfigured half the man’s face, carving it’s way deep across the back of his skull. The tavern-keep looked Yanisin up and down before whistling to himself.
“I am... Unfamiliar with this term... Lug?” Yanisin cocked his head in confusion, a toothy grin spreading across the man’s face.
“YER’ A BIG FELLA, AIN’T YA?” He slapped Yanisin’s arm enthusiastically, handing him a small envelope with a red wax seal. “FROM THE GUILD, INNIT?” The tavern-keep winked, the grin almost sly.
“How-” Before Yanisin could process his words, the tavern-keep leaned forward and bellowed a mighty laugh.
“GO ON, OPEN IT UP THEN!”
Yanisin shook his head slightly and shrugged, then as delicately as the big Beastfolk could he tore off the seal and read the finely written letter inside;

To those who seek the secrets of the land,
Venture to the base of the mountain's hand.
There you shall wander the woods of the frost,
Only till you discover the village of the lost.

Yanisin tensed, reading the words over and over. “This must be my...” He paused for a second, struggling to find the common-tongue word. “Trial?”
The tavern-keep nodded. “WELL, YE’ LOOKIN TO BE A SEEKER AYE?”
“You are correct,” Yanisin smiled. “Though I do not think I quite grasp this letter entirely.”
The tavern-keep closed his eyes, musing to himself. “WELL, IT WOULD BE UNFAIR OF ME TO TELL YE’ THE MEANING OUTRIGHT... BUT I SUPPOSE I CAN TELL YE’ THIS.” He leaned forward. “AS LUCK WOULD ‘AVE IT YER ON THE RIGHT TRACK, COMIN’ TO THIS ‘ERE PORT. IF FATE BE ON YER SIDE, I’M SURE YOU’LL FIND YER WAY FROM HERE.” The tavern-keep let out another hearty laugh, putting his hands on his hips.
“You have given me much guidance already, it would seem,” Yanisin bowed his head, continuing. “I thank you, sir.” He turned around and began collecting his various belongings.
“DON’T THANK ME YET, LAD. YE GOT A HELLUVA JOURNEY AHEAD OF YE,” the smile dropped from the tavern-keep’s words, though Yanisin didn’t notice. He tightened the wraps on his shins before standing straight, stretching one last time.

He grinned excitedly.

“Then it would seem I best get started.”

———

Yanisin opened his eyes with a jolt, pain radiating what felt like every muscle in his body. He grimaced as he heaved himself slowly to his feet, the surprisingly thick layer of snow that had accumulated atop him falling to the ground in a heap. The wind had calmed down momentarily, but Yanisin was too preoccupied to notice as his fur suddenly stood on end; a deep, guttural growl cut through the wind like a sharp blade. A wolf-like figure slowly approached, its deep gray fur shaggily draping over its impressively large stature, with sharp yellow eyes that were hungrily glued to Yanisin.
I was warned of this creature - A direwolf, was it? Yanisin shook his head, waking himself from his stupor. He grunted as he planted his foot heavily in the snow, anchoring himself as he bent his knees, pulling in his arms and inhaling a deep, frigid breath. The warmth of his Essence circulating through him calmed his senses as he brought his fists together in a practiced and swift motion - stone beginning to crackle and grind as it formed a protective shell around him.
Yanisin raised his arms into a fighting stance, the rocky shell thickening as the direwolf tensed its muscles, baring its teeth with a raspy growl. Then, without warning it sprang forward, snarling as it teared towards him. Yanisin twisted as he swung his fist sharply into the side of the direwolf’s skull with a sickening cracking noise. He twisted his hips and followed the motion, tensing his forearm as he bent one knee and thrusted the direwolf into the ground, snow exploding outwards at the sudden impact.
“Sleep now, direwolf.” Yanisin closed his eyes and murmured a small prayer for the beast as he lifted it onto his shoulders, blood trickling down the stone layer that now fully covered his body. He began trudging up the steep incline ahead of him, gritting his teeth and ignoring the protests of his aching everything.

2 hours later, a deeply tired and breathless Beastfolk stumbled into the tavern, throwing himself onto the floor with a grunt.
“Please tell me...” He looked at the various figures around the room, catching his breath as the door closed behind him.

“Is this the... village of... the lost?”

(Sorry for taking so long! A couple life things popped up and this ended up taking way longer than I meant, it also ended up waaay longer than I planned too lol. Will be more punctual in the future. Anyway, glad to finally join the party

)

Azukai · May 6, 2025

Mentions: Everyone.

The tavern door swung open as Helen stepped inside with an impossibly large sack of meats, vegetables, and fruits slung over her right shoulder. Without so much as a grunt, she reached down with her left hand, grabbed Yanisin by one of his shoulders, and pulled the minotaur back onto his feet, slightly out of her way.

"A village isn't lost if you've found it, now is it you lazy lugs?" Her question was mostly rhetorical, though there had been a hint of emphasis on her last spoken words. She didn’t wait for an answer, nor did she so much as glance at the other applicants before trudging off into the kitchen. Moments later, a heavy thud shook the very foundation of the tavern, likely from the sack of groceries hitting the floor. A clatter of pots and pans followed soon after, and before long, the savory scent of herbs and roasting meat began to waft though the air--a tantalizing preview of the potential meal to come.

Apart from Helen and the applicants, the tavern was still rather empty. Most of the townsfolk had long departed for the fields, where the seasonal harvest of the blue blossoms was currently underway. Yet unlike other farming communities, there was no laughter, no singing, or even idle conversation happening amongst the villagers. Each worker toiled in silence, filling their buckets to the brim and emptying them into the nearest collection basins at the edge of the fields, closest to the village.

Back in the tavern, the door once again swung open; this time revealing a new arrival--a thin, dryad woman dressed in a travel-worn cloak with a magnificent crown of flowering vines and antlers sprouting from her head. Each bloom was a different color and seemed to pulse with a distinct elemental essence, albeit fairly weak.

"H-Hello..." She whispered under her breath, her voice so soft that it was unlikely to be heard. "I-It's nice to meet you all..." Like Helen, she never waited for a response. Instead, she scurried to the farthest table from the entrance and took a seat, while quietly twirling one of her vines between her fingers.

magicalmace · May 6, 2025

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EMIYAman

Ralf took a second to process the new guests to the tavern.

The swordsman and the cat seem to be pretty busy with each other. That Minotaur fellow looks pretty tough, but that woman seemed almost monstrous in comparison. I have to assume that she’s not also an applicant, because if she is then I’m extremely out of my depth. Well, more than I already am. The dryad is interesting as well. Reminds me of Sprongly in her younger days, from the portrait she had hanging up in her workspace. I’ll have to make an effort to go speak with her at some point. But for now, I should probably focus on the person in front of me.

Ralf took a break from his thoughts, and looked the person seated beside him up and down before formulating his response. He noticed the intricate craftsmanship on nearly every piece of clothing the self-proclaimed scholar wears. He reflected on his own traveling clothes, being even more tattered and worn now after his trials in reaching this village, and while he initially thought of responding with sarcasm, the chip on his shoulder feeling increasingly heavier, he eventually cooled his response to be more social.

“I’m Ralf. Ralf Cragg. Don’t worry, I haven’t caused any explosions. Yet,” he said with a smile. Cassiel’s surname sounded vaguely familiar, even if Ralf never bothered with learning all of the noble houses.

If I can remember his name at all it’s gotta mean he’s pretty important. Probably a good person to ally with to get through this. Which means I gotta come across as likeable.

“At least for this,” Ralf said, gesturing to his burner, speaking a bit louder than usual, as he hoped for others to hear his explanation, “it is for alchemy, yes. This is a Duller,” Ralf explained while displaying the flask in his hands. “A common,” he stopped himself, adding in, “but still complex, potion. It helps to numb minor injuries, which, I don’t care if someone’s the greatest warrior to have lived, they’re going to be even greater if they’re able to shrug off pain with more than just willpower.” After making his sales pitch, Ralf thought he might’ve seen some sign of boredom from his newfound conversation partner. “I’ve actually studied under some of the top alchemists in Synthos, and they do take extra care to show you how not to blow yourself up.” Ralf chides himself for repeating the same joke from earlier, and hoped that Cassiel didn’t notice.

“Antiquity though, that sounds far more interesting than potion making. I remember reading about ancient tombs and artifacts during my studies, and always found those accounts so interesting,” Ralf said, hoping he was displaying the half-truth of his interest as a full one. He continued down the same train of thought, and tried his best to come across as confident but not cocky. “Got any good finds or stories? I’ve got some more work I need to do, and I would appreciate the distraction. My work is just so routine at this point, it gets boring on its own.”

EMIYAman · May 6, 2025

Cassiel Vaudrin
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Azukai

Cassiel observed the man across from him with practiced precision. Behind the glint of his polished monocle, his eyes swept over the figure now introducing himself as Ralf Cragg, assessing him with an academic detachment sharpened by years of research and social maneuvering.

“A pleasure, Mr. Cragg,” Cassiel replied, offering a courteous bow with a sweeping hand. To the unrefined, the gesture might have seemed theatrical—but among nobles, it was as customary as a handshake. “I believe I’ve already introduced myself, but do feel free to call me Cassiel.”

With pleasantries exchanged, their conversation turned quickly to matters of craft and profession. Ralf, with his energetic if slightly awkward demeanor, began describing his alchemical pursuits. Though alchemy wasn’t Cassiel’s specialty, he listened with patient interest, nodding at key terms and responding with just enough knowledge to show engagement—without pretense or false familiarity.

“A fascinating concoction indeed,” Cassiel said, fingers steepled before him. “I can only imagine the trials one must endure to achieve such a level of precision. You’ll have to excuse my ignorance in the more... specialized vernacular, but I do have a sincere respect for all those who engage in learned study. Tell me—your mentors—do any names come to mind that might ring familiar? I’ve circled through a number of academic institutions and corresponded with more than a few eccentric minds in my time.”

He leaned in slightly, his tone more inquisitive than indulgent. There was a glimmer in his eye now—subtle but unmistakable.

As Ralf turned the question back toward Cassiel, inquiring into his own experiences, the nobleman visibly brightened. His posture straightened, and with a small, confident smile, he reached up to adjust his monocle—removing it with care and drawing forth a cloth so pristine it seemed to glow faintly under the tavern lights.

“Stories? Oh yes. A few.” He began polishing the lens with smooth, meditative movements, more to gather his thoughts than to clean. “There was one particular excavation... in the western reaches, just within sight of the Grasslands. I shadowed a seasoned archeologist at the time. I was earlier in my career then—still prone to deference, which in hindsight I now consider a misstep.”

He smiled wryly, then continued with more vigor.

“What we found were ruins—ancient, certainly—but the truly curious thing was the texts. They spoke not of the builders, but of another group entirely. Aboriginals, it seemed, whose culture was not only distinct but obsessively chronicled by the ruin's creators. And yet... no physical trace of these so-called aboriginals has ever been found. Their presence appears only in writing—and even then, only in scattered references across disparate eras. It's as though they flicker in and out of history like a mirage. I fully intend to unravel that mystery. It is, in fact, one of the primary reasons I’m here—to join the Guild. The resources afforded to members could very well grant me access to long-lost records.”

His voice, until then calm and reserved, had gained momentum with each sentence. He caught himself only as his gaze was drawn to the tavern’s entryway.

A loud voice—Helen’s, most likely—echoed from the front, causing him to pause mid-thought. His attention shifted from the boisterous woman dragging her supplies toward the kitchen... to the next entrant.
A Dryad.
Cassiel’s tone dropped to a thoughtful murmur, though he made no effort to conceal his words.

“A Dryad... Fascinating. One doesn’t often encounter them outside their forest dominions, not to mention alone.”

He turned slightly, peering through the glow of the hearth toward the plant-crowned figure. Raising his monocle once more, Cassiel activated its hidden function—an Essence-focused lens. To most, Essence of low density was imperceptible, but through his eyes, its faint luminance pulsed softly around the Dryad like dew catching morning light. Her antlers seemed to draw it in—though whether it was Emitter behavior or something else entirely, he could not yet say.

“Curious… Her antlers—are they absorbing Essence? No, not quite. It’s as if they invite it, not command it. And those blossoms… Even without amplification, the Essence density is nearly visible.”

He trailed off, clearly enthralled. Though his attention was fixed elsewhere, he addressed Ralf once again.

“You see it as well, don’t you, Mr. Cragg? An encounter like this—how fortuitous for two men of learning. I suspect few in this room truly understand what sits before them. Forgive me if I 'cannot see the peaks of Kryora' but as I am still young I have not had to opportunity to meet such a being. I imagine you may be able to empathize.”

Cassiel finally glanced at his companion with a thin smile that suggested inevitability.

“But I believe that’s about to change. Would you care to join me?”

Whether Ralf would follow or not seemed irrelevant—Cassiel was already preparing to rise, driven by a curiosity that, once kindled, could rarely be dimmed.

NotDave · May 8, 2025

Yanisin Mohran

Yanisin stood in the center of a raging maelstrom, Essence surrounding him like mighty waves crashing upon a cliffside with such a raw and ferocious tenacity he couldn't move or speak - yet a strangely embracing warmth enveloped him amongst the overwhelming sensation that radiated from the strange woman's touch.
Then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Yanisin leaned against the wall with widened eyes, unable to entirely process what he just felt.
Such incredible Essence... Who is this woman? He looked toward the direction she'd gone, a flicker of recognition flashing across his face as he returned to reality hearing the last few words she spoke.
That word again... Just who was that tavern-keep? He slowly grinned to himself.

This is seemingly a most interesting path indeed.

Yanisin stretched the weariness from his arms, twisting and cracking his joints one by one in rhythmic motions as he let the warmth of the tavern wash over him. He'd left the unconscious direwolf resting peacefully amidst the astonishingly vibrant bloom of blue blossoms that lay on the edges of the town, having transferred a small amount of Essence to the beast. Rest well, and may we one day meet again, young wolf.
He gazed around the room, curiously inspecting each individual wrapped in their own conversations; Ahead of him sat a spotted Beastfolk swinging its tail merrily beside a rather imposing man clad in orange, Yanisin noting the sword resting gently against his side. To his right were two men in deep discussion about potioncraft and archaeology, one wearing a cool-blue, well-fitted outfit with a monocle that occasionally glinted in the firelight. The other's outfit in contrast, was far simpler - showing various signs of well use. Yanisin tried to piece together fragments of their conversation but many of the common-tongue words being expertly spoken flew right over Yanisin's head - though the passion woven within them was not entirely lost.

The delicious smell from the kitchen began to gently waft into the front of the tavern, breaking Yanisin's concentration. His stomach rumbled hungrily, but as he stepped forward to find a table of his own the door to his side swung open, a small, cloaked dryad stepping through gracefully with a trail of biting wind trickling behind her. She spoke gently, and before Yanisin could make out the words she was on the other side of the tavern, seating at a table alone.
In the Great Forest, dryads weren't an uncommon sight - the Great River Tribe shared a deep and familiaral kinship with them, their similar beliefs and respect for the natural cycle forming a strong yet considerate bond. Of course, not all dryads across the world shared the same notions or beliefs, but the reminder of his kinship with those of his home gave him a small nostalgic feeling in his chest.
With a pleasant grin, he slowly approached her table.

"Greetings, green one," he spoke warmly. "I am Yanisin Mohran of the Great River Tribe. It is a..." He paused, thinking of the common-tongue word. "Pleasure, to meet you." Yanisin looked down at the seat across from her, nodding towards it. "May I sit with yourself?"

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Thanny · May 9, 2025

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NotDave

ThatWhichShouldBe
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magicalmace

Licht didn't get far into the conversation when a fellow beastfolk, a minotaur by the looks of it, clomped through the door of the inn with waves of cold air and exhaustion. Licht's eyes widened as he studied the creature and made a move to help with an "Excuse me" to his companion. The otari woman, Helen, was quicker than he was, pulling the monstrously built fellow with a finesse that suggested more strength, all while holding a sack of foodstuffs with her other arm! His eyes twinkled. Will he ever get this strong if he cultivates enough? Probably not, but it is not hard to dream, and he housed so many dreams that what is one more?

With Helen in the other room, possibly cooking, he turned his eyes to everyone in the room again, especially the minotaur to see if he truly was okay. The shine of frozen blood specks made him suspect, but not much more. The roads and unmarked paths had dangers aplenty in these mountains. He was lucky to not have run into anything at all. When the dryad -- a pretty one at that -- entered the room and slipped away to the furthest corner, the minotaur migrated to join her. Licht smiled at this.

Tugging off his scarf to fully reveal his ears and features and tucking it within his clothes, as he had grown warmer in the heat of the room, he pondered if he should return to his seat to talk with the swordsman or move on to meet more applicants.

He chose the latter, but invited the swordsman to come along too, saying in broken common tongue, "Come to meet with others?" The two studious humans were busy with each other, their conversation appearing fiercely intelligent with their chosen words because he had difficulty following along, so he aimed to join with the non-humans, standing nearby but not sitting yet.

"Can this one join you too?" he expressed eagerly. If he was to make friends, he wanted to show genuine interest. "Licht is this one's name, of a faraway place. The Village of the Lost . . . it seems you have received the same message as Licht. He has aimed for this place too, and is glad of it because it appears correct."

He glanced over to the dryad, fascinated with her flowers which flowed inwardly and outwardly with garnered Essence. He wondered how much she had garnered for such visual effect. His was quieter, tucked away as deeply as his materials in his backpack.

"Are you a Seeker already?" he pondered aloud, tilting his head.

ThatWhichShouldBe · May 11, 2025

NotDave

Thanny
Hoyun
So far, this seemed like a lively bunch. Usually, he contented himself with remaining in the background- cultivators were rarely that friendly with each other. Those in the spotlight tended to have to fight to keep their position. He needed no fame, so he refrained. Things got bloody if he didn't. This, however... This was a bit more friendly. Especially that one called 'Licht'. He nods to the feline fellow, considering carefully what to say next. He wasn't very much the talkative sort, so he preferred to let every single word count. Of course, it was at that point a certain Helen came through the door, so Hoyun turned his attention to that instead. And most importantly, the smell of FOOD, wondrous food, wafting out of the kitchen. Would the lady take requests? She didn't seem too approachable.

His Qi-sense is what shifts his attention away from the enthralling smells. The sense of heavy, dense qi. His hand shifts, moving towards the hilt of his sword. Then the dryad comes through, and he relaxes. She simply... looked far too meek to register as an active threat. Others begin to approach her, Licht one of them. He nods to the beastfolk and so they are oft, approaching the dryad. As he goes, Hoyun weighs the environment carefully. Back home... She would probably be the sort of person either carefully cultivated by a sect, or soon to be kidnapped by one. She was simply... too valuable. It was that dense qi. Practically a treasure of its own.

After all the others speak, Hoyun speaks in his own turn- entirely conscious of the dryad's nervous expression.

"I am Hoyun. If you wish to not be disturbed, we can leave. We wouldn't want to trouble you."

EMIYAman · May 11, 2025

Cassiel Vaudrin
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Azukai

Cassiel’s grip on his chair tightened ever so slightly, the light temble on the surface of the wood betraying a tension he refused to show on his face. The dryad was a rare variable—an elemental with an unshaped Essence signature, unacquainted with the local social lattice, and, more importantly, untouched by outside influences. Or she had been.

He watched with growing disquiet as one by one the others made their way to her table. First the minotaur—brash, but harmless. Then Licht, the feline beastkin, radiating open curiosity and warmth like a hearth fire. And now even Hoyun, with his calculating stillness and disarming sincerity, had added his voice to the growing circle.

With nary a word to his tablemate who had been engaged in riveting conversation with till now. Cassiel politely pushed in his chair with mechanical precision after having rose from his seat. He adjusted the line of his collar, checked the placement of his Essence pen, and moved toward the gathering with deliberate calm. Not rushed. Never rushed. But there was a practiced urgency beneath his composed exterior, like an archivist watching mold begin to spread on an ancient manuscript.

“Pardon me,” he said as he stepped into the circle, his voice smooth and cool as winter air. “I had hoped to make an introduction before the… entourage overwhelmed her.”

His gaze swept the group—measured, not unkind, but faintly reproachful—before settling briefly on the dryad. There was a flicker of genuine curiosity in his eyes, an almost wistful longing that he rarely allowed to surface.

“I don’t mean to intrude. Only to offer a proper greeting.”

Then, shifting his attention subtly back to the others, his tone lightened but lost none of its edge. “Though I do wonder—how often does one encounter a Dryad so newly arrived, yet so visibly steeped in Essence? It seems to me the situation might benefit from a more deliberate, respectful approach.”

The words were wrapped in politeness, but the implication beneath them was clear enough. You’re tampering with a rather valuable specimen.

Turning fully toward the dryad, Cassiel inclined his head with a scholar’s respect. “Cassiel Vaudrin. Scholar of antiquity, and soon to be Seeker. A pleasure, miss.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, posture measured and restrained, but the slight gleam in his monocle gave away the tension behind his eyes—the anxious calculation of a man watching an alluring conundrum before him.

magicalmace · May 12, 2025

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Azukai

Ralf watched Cassiel stand up and make his way over to the Dryad with a mix of frustration and curiosity. The others in the room all seemed to fawn over the soft-spoken girl, but Ralf did not have any particularly great interest in throwing himself into the crowd. He sensed the obvious power coming from her, but she did not outwardly fit the requirements of someone who Ralf was eager to pair up with. He needed someone sure of themself, and the quiet entrance was did her no favors from that point of assessment. On top of all of that, Ralf struggled to see a world where someone who had so many admirers would bother to sign up with him. He could only bluff so much, and did so much better in a one-on-one basis.

"Well, it's not like I'm new to the concept of spending time alone," Ralf said, louder than he wanted, but with almost everyone on the other side of the room, he did not have much cause for concern.

He turned his attention back to preparation, as he wanted to ensure that he was as ready for the trials ahead as he could be. His potions properly bound together, the heat and stirring he did earlier caused the various ingredients to fully combine into their new form. He looked over the other pieces of equipment in front of him, and remembered the blanket that he had found draped over him when he awoke, now seated on the chair next to him. He pondered the thing, as he had not given it too much thought before.

"I'd like to think I am not one to let a kindness go unpaid, few as I receive. I suppose the only question is who it is that is owed the debt," he said to himself. He scanned the room again to try and determine who could have been the one to place the blanket over him. He looked at the crowd around the dryad, and quickly discounted any of them as being the overly benevolent sort. Seeing not much other activity around the room, he turned his attention to the kitchen, where the monstrous woman had gone into. He put his things together and into his pack, and slowly got up, blanket in hand, to make his way over towards the entrance to the kitchen, fear rising in the back of his throat. He could see in his mind's eye the absolute ease that the woman would have with snapping him in half like a twig she failed to notice underfoot. He arrived in front of the kitchen entrance, and meekly spoke up.

"Hello? Excuse me, very sorry, but I was wondering if you know whose blanket this is. I found it atop me when I woke earlier this morning, and I would want to make sure that I returned it to its rightful owner. If you want, I can just leave it here if you're busy. Apologies for intruding." He rambled as he spoke, getting less and less confident as time went on.

Azukai · May 12, 2025

To put it plainly, the Dryad was overwhelmed.

She responded to the first few interactions with quiet, anxiety-ridden whimpers. But as the crowd grew, her body began to instinctively respond. The vines hanging from her head curled inward, gathering around her face as if to shield her from view. Even her blooms began to glow with far more intensity than before. No longer were they a shifting myriad of colors; instead, they burned in vivid shades of blush red.

Then, defying all known research, her Elemental Essences began to shift. The once-balanced collection of water, nature, and earth faded, gradually replaced by a single dominant Essence...Fire. Small sparks flickered from the petals of her blooms--wisps of flame that gave off neither danger nor heat. yet the sensation they carried was as undeniable as it was inexplicable. From each bloom radiated raw emotion--her anxiety, her embarrassment, and a trace of sorrow born from her struggle to connect.

With every passing second, the intensity of her emotions only grew, becoming an overwhelming force of Essence that spread through the tavern and thickened the air.

From the other end of the room, Helen burst through the kitchen door, pausing only briefly to acknowledge Ralf's approach. Without a word, she snatched the blanket from his hands and crossed the tavern floor in a single, Essence-empowered step. Immediately, she wrapped the Dryad's entire body in the freshly acquired blanket and exhaled a small sigh of relief once the overbearing emotions began to fade. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it would have to do.

TWACK, TWACK, TWACK, TWACK

In a blur of motion, Helen spun around, flicking the foreheads of each and every applicant who stood nearby. Each strike was carefully tailored to their individual physiques--just enough to sharply sting, but not enough to bruise.

"To be a member of the Guild is to understand the world that surrounds you," she scolded, her tone more of a mother's reprimand than that of anger. "Surely, you must notice that your kindness, authentic or not, is not yet welcomed by this one."

Her scowl faded, replaced with a warm smile and a few light chuckles. "The burning passion of youth will reward you with much success, but we must still remember to mind the personalities that differ from our own." This time her words had been directed to everyone.

Behind her, the wrapped Dryad began to stir. She adjusted the blanket around herself, keeping everything but her face still hidden under the covers. Though fear still lingered in her expression, she took a long steadying breath.

Then, in a shaky but audible voice, she spoke. "H-Hello. My name is Sylvia--"

Her introduction was abruptly cut short by the unmistakable sound of distant screams.

Outside of the tavern, chaos had erupted in the nearest field of wheat where workers cried out in panic and fear. At the center of the field laid one of the village men, lifeless and still. His body was already cold, and utterly void of any and all Essence.

Within moments, all of the workers, even those from the other fields, gathered around him, murmuring theories and speculations over what might have occurred.

Then, just as quickly as the alarm had spread, the concern vanished. They walked away from the corpse--returning to their tasks as if nothing had ever happened...

ThatWhichShouldBe · May 12, 2025

Hoyun
Immediately, he feels as though he has made a mistake. It was the whimpering, like a kicked dog. He would have backed away, but then his instincts go into overdrive as he senses the shifting Elemental Essences. His intellectual mind told him this was impossible- his gut told him this was a potential threat. Was she so aggrieved she was preparing to attack? Well... he wouldn't blame her. This would feel threatening. The torrential storm of Essence surrounding him was... just emotions. Feelings, buffeting him like a wave. Drowning him in her traumas, her pain. It doesn't affect him too much directly. But it does strike his heart in a different way.

He'd thought she was just shy. This- this was much, much worse. He opens his mouth, trying to find the words. To apologize. To soothe. Nothing really seems right. The sheer magnitude of it defied simple redress. By the time Helen intervenes, the shame of it had done far more pain than a thousand blows from the woman ever could. Hoyun simply bows slightly, enough of his faculties retained to mutter a sincere apology. He waits for her to speak patiently, prepared to simply remove himself from the situation. It was the least he could do for his part in shaking Sylvia like this... and then the screams reach him.

The swordsman whirls around, his hand immediately reaching for the sword by his side. He turns from a chastised boy to a drawn blade in the blink of an eye. An attack? Here, now? Against the Seeker Guild? Did they truly seek death? His own qi rises. It's not a storm, like the Dryad's was- it is honed to a keen point. A single cutting edge that seems as if it could cut just by being perceived, that would cut through night and day and heaven and earth. His eyes lock on the corpse- how it is drained unnaturally of Essence. And how the other villagers simply... began to ignore what's happening.

"Essence-draining attacker, able to evade perception and affect the mind. We can't use wide-range assaults to flush them out, the villagers would be caught in it. Circulate your Essence through the channels of your brain, if you feel a disturbance, yell for help. We can't let it affect our minds too."

He narrows his eyes. The invisible nature of the attacker was another matter.

"We need to fan out to find traces of it. If there are tracks, or traces of essence, we might be able to stop it from killing more."

Hoyun draws his blade an inch out of its scabbard.

"Two of us should remain here with Sylvia. With how much Essence she emanates, she is likely its most choice target. I'm quick enough that I should be able to strike when I sense it, before it hits me with... whatever it does. But I would rather have a second person here to act as a backup should I fail."

Thanny · May 13, 2025

Licht was uncertain of what was before him, a tangible pulse of fear and other sensations. What was the cause, if not him? Did it come . . . from the dryad? Whether a self-defence tactic or a blurt of shared emotion, he felt bad for the girl and backed off with ears hanging low moments before being plunked in the head by Mother Hen's finger. He did not blame her. Like Hoyun, he was well humbled and cowed and would need to think twice before acting as impulsively as he did.

Speaking of impulses, the panicked scream of many pulled his attention outward. Hoyun's qi spiked, and others too in a sense. His did not. His was paint to others' water, but Licht's eyes and ears darted about to sense the danger, near first, then far.

The swordsman was quick to leave, and so was Licht. The absence of life and Essence drew him in more so than the gathering, a recent wound in the region. One more life lost. It injured him, human though the victim was.

Licht pressed his left hand to the bone knife at his chest, suspended by a leatherbound sheath beneath his hempen shirt. Whoever did this was quick and efficient. His remaining hand tested for warmth from the victim's body, if there was any left.

"Licht can act as second," he voiced to Hoyun with a chill. He forgot putting on his scarf. "Though not efficient with killing, Licht can work well with holding one in place and cutting paths in the wheat for view."

Pouring Essence into his cognitive senses, he looked about. Wheat provided a good hiding place for and against the attacker. He would have to level the playing field as a bushwhacker and scout. Keeping an ear out for rustling and for Hoyun's instructions if offered, he would slip into the flowering wheat and assist Hoyun with protecting the dryad girl and any others who needed their strength.

Glancing about at the decreasingly crowded fields, he recognised many of the faces that were from the tavern, each keen on taking out whoever force had taken the life of this unfortunate individual that had been robbed of his Essence. The others seemed to have been working together for a search party well enough. Some were even performing something with the body that he could not well discern, but his heart slipped back to the dryad whose emotions he had stirred in what he considered the worst way possible. They had plenty of help here, each of these aspirants doing incredible things and showing so much potential. He wanted to show off as well, to prove that he was also worthy of the limelight, and sure there was Helen and the older gentleman of a beastfolk . . . but what if . . . ?

"Licht will guard, just in case," he spoke loud enough for Cassiel, Yasinin, Ralf, and potentially Hoyun to hear before slipping through the wheat strands and flowers toward the inn where he had once been. He wanted to be just secretive enough to not have the killer overhear and understand, but have others know where he was just in case.

Licht ran with cautious haste, slowing now and again to see and hear if he was being followed in the wheat field before entering the village itself where he swiftly ran back to the inn. Nervously he wrung his hands before arriving at the door and opening, hoping to the heavens above and below that she was not targeted as a victim while he was away.

EMIYAman · May 13, 2025

Cassiel Vaudrin
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Thanny

ThatWhichShouldBe

Cassiel adjusted his cuffs with an absent, practiced motion, the motion giving his hands something to do—something to anchor him—while the air still shimmered with the remnants of emotional Essence.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what had happened. He did. The dryad—Sylvia—had suffered a flare of Essence born from extreme distress. A psychological shock powerful enough to override her elemental balance and project raw emotional resonance into the environment. A fascinating phenomenon. Deeply rare. Likely undocumented in modern Essence taxonomy.

But still…

He exhaled through his nose, adjusting the slight tilt of his monocle. The pulse of her Essence had not just filled the room—it had gotten into things. His thoughts. His skin. Like scenting smoke and then realizing it had clung to your clothes.

The flick to his forehead still tingled.

Helen had said nothing more than needed—but the message had landed with all the force of a well-aimed book spine to the temple. He’d been too close. Too forward. He thought he was being considerate—an introduction, an academic interest, politely phrased. But in conjunction with all the others around it had overwhelmed her, and he had missed the cues entirely.

Unacceptable. He prided himself on etiquette.

Even if—and this was a private thought—the situation had been a bit dramatic for his taste.

The burning blooms. The tears. The emotion made physical. It had all been… too much. He had little framework for processing feelings that large. His own rarely reached above a simmer. Sylvia’s Essence had hit like a kettle boiling over.

So now he stood a measured distance away, posture immaculate, watching from the periphery as Helen soothed the Dryad and the others stood around her like protective satellites. He kept his expression neutral—respectful, but inwardly grateful for the social excuse not to approach again.

Then came the scream.

Cassiel’s head turned, sharp and immediate. Not from fear—he wasn’t especially prone to panic—but because a new variable had entered the environment.

His steps were quick, but not hurried, as he made his way to the door and peered into the field where the villagers had gathered.

A man, lifeless. Essence drained.

He squinted behind his monocle, focusing not on the body—death was unremarkable—but on the reactions. The way the villagers slowly… forgot. The sudden collapse of urgency. As though someone had exhaled memory itself.

“Hm.”

His fingers tapped idly against the spine of his Essence pen, not from nerves, but calculation.

“This is not natural. Not a rogue beast or a wild elemental. Essence removal is one thing. Cognitive disruption is another. Both together?”

He turned back just enough to cast a glance toward the tavern—and to Sylvia, still bundled in her blanket. He felt a small itch of curiosity again. Had she sensed it? Reacted? Could a Dryad feel the absence of life in the field? Would she process it differently than a human mind? In all likelihood not, but such an idea... Of course Cassiel had many questions. Few could be answered anytime soon.

So Cassiel did what he did best: he compartmentalized.

He addressed the others—Hoyun, Licht, whoever else was listening—with his usual evenness.

“I concur with the swordsman's assessment. It appears we are dealing with something that can remove Essence and suppress the mind’s natural alarm response. If you’re not already maintaining a mental flow of Essence through your cerebral pathways, do so now.”

Having said so Cassel was already doing so. While the more physically inclined Essence techniques weren't his forte as a scholar prided on his mind, he could manage.

He paused, glancing again at the field with reluctant intrigue.

“I’ll examine the site. Not the body—I doubt it has anything new to tell us. But the memory collapse... that bears study.”

He stepped forward, walking deliberately toward the wheat. But even as he moved away, his thoughts trailed back to the Dryad.

Not from emotional concern. But because, despite the awkwardness… she was the most fascinating anomaly he’d encountered in months. For a brief moment he considered staying behind to "guard" her as Hoyun had suggested. But Cassiel also knew he was uniquely suited for Essence Detection.

So unfortunately for him, such academic pursuits had to be shelved in lieu of this current problem.

With a swift motion he drew his Essence Tech pen though he did not write anything with it yet. Instead he adjusted his monocle once more revealing the more discreet forms of Essence. His eye outlined the area searching for any Essence signatures outside the norm. The flow of Nature Essence within the farmland served as "noise" drowning out the smaller remains of Essence, but whatever triggered the Arte which had likely drained the man dry should've been strong enough to linger. Unless an unforeseen variable presented itself.

magicalmace · May 15, 2025

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Thanny

ThatWhichShouldBe

Ralf’s confusion at the blanket disappearing out of his hands quickly turned to confusion when the scream from the fields reached the tavern. With the call from Hoyun for another to guard the Dryad girl, and Cassiel running out the door, he found himself following after Cassiel in the moments following after. He did not want the weight of responsibility of protecting someone to fall on his shoulders.

He remained quiet as the others spoke and planned, as he did not feel especially qualified to speak on matters of Essence when he lacked their proficiency in its control.

Moving Essence through my brain? I barely passed the class on Innate Essence control, and only because I cheated a little…

He looked down to his pack and supplies and realized that he could still cheat, to an extent. He pulls out a Duller, and downs the potion in one gulp. The small aches and pains that had overstayed their welcome from the day prior faded away, and the raging stress headache that Ralf was beginning to develop also went away quickly.

If you don’t have your own Essence, just borrow it.

He laughed at his own mental joke, but he was mostly certain on the principle of the idea. Potions were an amalgamation of the various Essences and properties of their reagents, and so at least for the duration of the Duller, he would have a healthy amount of Essence preventing any sort of direct interference. Probably.

“It seems like you all have the search for whatever did this covered,” Ralf said with a laugh. “I’ll just, uh, be over here.” He made his way over to the body that the others had already inspected.

“Totally lifeless, huh,” Ralf said to himself as he crouched and inspected the body. He noticed the eyes were still open and quickly closed them for the corpse. His cursory examination also found no open wounds, which Ralf found quite strange. “The others walking away without a care certainly is strange… but why? What does an attacker stand to benefit from causing others to forget that a kill has happened? It… probably doesn’t have the power to take on everyone all at once. It causes memory loss to stop its enemies from looking for it as it easily picks off its prey one by one. It could even be a sniper of some kind, and it needs time to ‘reload’. That, or it isn’t an enemy at all, and the land is just this volatile, but then the Guild wouldn’t set up here, so that’s probably out. It’s gotta be a weak attacker…”

Ralf pulled a flask from his pack, and quickly created some water utilizing the method from the tavern of combining ice and fire. He then heated the water without adding anything to it, and put the flask to the corpse’s lips. One of the basics of Essence based medicine, or any medicine really, is to find the source of the problem. With water that has been heated by Essence, it retains the power, which allowed for the flow to be tracked, and therefore any blockages or non-visible wounds to show themselves. Not necessarily tracked by him, as his skills did not allow for that, however. He called out to the group hesitantly.

“Can someone keep an eye on the corpse’s Essence? I know it didn’t have any until just a second ago, but I did something that might show something. I could do it, obviously, you know, with no problem, but I have something else I want to look into first,” Ralf said to the others, as he quickly stood up, and walked over to the closest farmer he could see.

“Hey. Hope your day’s going well, I guess. Just had a quick question, if you have the time. Well, two, I guess. First is just, uh, how is your day? Anything weird happen? Second question is do you know who that is?” Ralf asked as he pointed towards the body. A second later, he continued his interrogation as an idea struck him. “Third question, sorry, I thought of another, any notably dangerous crops or animals around here? I’m new, and would rather avoid getting eaten, I’m sure you can understand?”

NotDave · May 17, 2025

Yanisin Mohran

Yanisin stood still, blinking in surprise. He lowered his head, placing his fists together while bowing towards the dryad in a wordless apology, the slight pang of guilt radiating from the flick on his forehead a reminder of something he'd forgotten after the years he'd spent away from home; though the dryads of the Great Forest were familial kin, their emotional elemental resonance was far stronger than that of other species, leading to a stern warning from the Elders - Care not to disturb or distraught our Dryad kin, for their Essence and emotion are intertwined like fibers in a thread. Fray that thread, and you may not only hurt a beloved friend, you may also find they unintentionally hurt you.

And that, my dear boy, would pain them most of all.

Yanisin looked up and smiled as the dryad spoke her name - Sylvia. But before he could respond, a bone-chilling scream pierced the atmosphere inside the tavern that stood his fur on end. The first to react were the orange swordsman and the well-dressed scholar, the scholar disappearing out the doors immediately and efficiently. The swordsman followed, speaking with a calm and authoritative demeanor, his recommendation of circulating Essence throughout their minds a smart and well-assessed notion after spying the freshly deceased farmhand laying on the ground in front of them. Yanisin closed his eyes and breathed in deep, performing the base motion of the Mountain Stance - feeling his Essence flow throughout his already weary body. After the strenuous trip here Yanisin had hoped to rest inside the comforting warmth of the tavern behind them, but alas this was no ordinary hamlet, and this was no ordinary evening.

As the group split to confirm their various suspicions, Yanisin stood with the slightly ragged man who'd been in discussion with the other scholar earlier, listening intently at his various speculations and determinations, though Yanisin struggled to piece together the faster and more rambled words. The man took a flask from his pocket and performed a technique Yanisin had never seen before, sensing that the newly created water inside the flask bore a sliver of Essence - to which the man placed the flask to the corpse's lips and tipped it back.

"Your name is... Ralf, yes?" Yanisin thought back to the earlier discussion, as the man stood straight and strode towards a nearby farmer, his request to keep an eye on the corpse's Essence one Yanisin decided he would oblige. Wordlessly and without confirmation, Yanisin bent down and placed his open palm on the corpse's lifeless chest, letting his own Essence interact with Essence flowing inside the body. He wasn't exactly sure what it was he was looking for, but he decided he'd speak up if anything of note happened.

A technique that can drain Essence and impact the minds of those nearby. Alone, one is scary enough. But both? That scholar is correct, both in tandem... But are they from the same source? Is it possible that multiple assailants could've... Are they amongst us now? No, it could still be a single threat... Yanisin's thoughts trailed off as he speculated, frustration and tiredness tinting his judgements. There wasn't enough information, nor had he encountered anything like this on his travels.

He sighed, deciding to focus on the body below him.

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ThatWhichShouldBe

magicalmace
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Azukai · May 18, 2025

Mentions:

Thanny

ThatWhichShouldBe

Unlike the commotion outside, the inn remained a peaceful haven. Sylvia stayed snuggled beneath her blanket, while Helen had returned to the kitchen to begin serving food. As she departed, she called out over her shoulder, "There are no further sounds of panic. Let the other boys investigate and report back to us with their findings." It was sound advice for the lingering applicants, and one that gave them an opportunity to finally socialize with the shy dryad.

"I-I want to apologize for my earlier display," Sylvia suddenly announced, her voice still shaky, but far more confident than before. "This village is...strange. I do not feel comforted by the nature that surrounds me. It leaves me on edge. And then all of you...all at once...I-I..."

Her words trailed off, and once again, her emotional Essence began flare. This time, however, she managed to steady herself, drawing in deep, trembling breaths--each one calmer than the last. Slowly, she lowered the edge of the blanket that had covered her head and offered a warm smile to Hoyun and Licht. The flowers along her vines had returned to their usual multi-colored display, and all traces of her peculiar emotional Essence had vanished.

"Allow me to properly introduce myself," She said at last. "My name is Sylvia, a Dryad from the Great Woods of Dazkla."

She dipped her head and upper body into a curt bow, then immediately blushed as her stomach erupted with a loud, gurgling growl. One could hardly fault her, though; the air was growing increasingly more rich with the mouthwatering scent of stewed vegetables, spices, and meat.

Just then, Helen emerged from the kitchen with three trays of a food--one in each hand, and the third balanced on the top of her head. Each tray contained a bowl of beef stew, a side of pickled vegetables, and a second bowl filled with a mound of tightly packed rice.

"First, energy for the Dryad. You must be exhausted after your outburst of Essence." Helen declared as she beelined toward the table where Sylvia sat. The other two trays were then placed on the nearest table beside her.

Without waiting for the others, Sylvia eagerly dug into her stew, practically squealing with joy after the very first bite. The way the meat melted in her mouth, the complexity of the chosen spices, the explosion of flavor--there was no doubt that this was the best meal she had ever tasted. Ravenous, she dove back into her stew with far more vigor, pausing only when a string of deep yawns interrupted her feast.

"I-I'm so...sleepy..." She cooed through another yawn, only to collapse backwards into Helen's open, waiting arms.

Helen sighed. "I expected this would happen." She said. "With the amount of Essence her body burned through, it's no surprise she's fallen asleep."

After gently swaddling the Dryad into her arms, Helen gave her final wink toward the others. "I'll take her to one of the rooms upstairs. You boys, come eat. Depending on what the others discover, you will need your strength as well."

Azukai · May 18, 2025

Mentions:

EMIYAman

Contrary to Cassiel's prediction, there were no suspicious Essence signatures existing within the farm, let alone any lingering traces of an Arte having been cast. In fact, it was almost unsettling how mundane and orderly everything seemed to be. An abnormally steady flow of nature, earth, and water essence ebbed between the ground and the wheat, with faint traces of that energy having been cultivated into the workers through their toiling of the land.

Normally, one would expect to see some variation, some measure of chaos, in the natural state of an environment. But here, the fields were utterly perfect.

Over time, however, subtle changes in the visible Essence began to occur. The wheat, whose flowers had long since been plucked, began to sprout small, budding growths at the head of their stalks. It was a logical conclusion to assume these buds were the next set of flowers, soon to bloom and be harvested the following day. Yet, there was something peculiar about the miniscule traces of Essence pooling within them.

It was common knowledge that flora often exhibited simpler Essence structures compared to fauna. After all, the biology of plants was rather straightforward--relying on trace amounts of innate Essence to maintain their structural integrity, and drawing on various forms of elemental Essence to sustain their daily functions and reproductive cycles. Because of this, most flora lacked Essence Cores and instead, relied on Essence channels and their connection to the earth to distribute Essence throughout their bodies.

Which is why the intricate blend of elemental and innate Essence swirling within the countless core-like structures in each bud stood in stark contrast to all expectations--almost as if something faunal were developing within the bloom.

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NotDave

The initial response to the Essence-infused water was rather underwhelming. The liquid merely trickled down the corpse's throat and eventually settled somewhere along the digestive track. Gradually, the Essence from the water began to seep into the body's Essence channels, but it was thanks to Yanisin's direct injection of his own Essence that the two sources began to rapidly circulate instead. Yet, much like before, the body's response to the Essence remained uneventful.

Apart from bring completely devoid of native Essence, the corpse was otherwise intact--no injuries, internal or external, could be found. Even its Essence core and channels remained unimpaired and functional, as evidenced by Yanisin's success in initiating and maintaining assistive circulation.

But as more Essence continued to spread throughout the body, the excess began to pool within the corpse's core--and it was then that a response was finally triggered.

All at once, the foreign Essence was drained from the corpse, siphoned into the ground beneath it. But it didn't stop there. Whatever force was responsible for draining the Essence, reached out and latched onto Yanisin instead. The sensation was overpowering, commanding; an unseen will compelling him to maintain the connection with the corpse, even as his own Essence was being forcefully ripped from his own core.

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magicalmace

The farmer reacted almost immediately to Ralf's interrogation. He swung around to the face the applicant and responded with statements that felt far too mechanical--forced, even.

"It's a great day today. Its a great day in the village. No danger to darken our days."

Without another word, he turned back around and continued his work, plucking flowers from the nearest stalks and dropping them into the bucket at his feet. After finishing an entire stalk, however, his motions began to slow, dragging as if he had lost control of his body. Then, he gradually pivoted to face Ralf once more.

This time, his demeanor had entirely changed. His overly cheerful expression was gone, replaced by a blank stare that left him looking like a soulless husk.

"B-Brother...W-We must cultivate...T-The F-Flowers...O-Our D-D-Dreams..."

Normally, such a display would have been disturbing to witness, yet in that moment, it felt oddly comforting to Ralf. The man's trembling words reached him not as the ramblings of a madman, but as a tempting offer to join him in the fields.

And then, he heard it.

A voice, soft and feminine, blooming within his thoughts like a seductive whisper from his dreams.

"With me, you wouldn't have to borrow Essence from the potions anymore, Ralf. Think of how your family would accept you...love you again...if you could be like the others. My flowers hold this potential."

The voice giggled, faint and sweet, before fading into silence.

It was as if nothing had happened. The farmer was gone, off to empty his bucket at the nearest basin.
Only a hazy mind and a lingering yearning to embrace the nearest flowers remained.

magicalmace · May 18, 2025

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NotDave

Ralf took a moment to try and understand what had just happened to him. The farmer had been... strange to say the least, and clearly not in his right mind. He had made strange claims about things being great, which they clearly weren't, and then responded as if he was a hand puppet, his mouth moving but not by his own design. After Ralf heard the lilting voice and did not find anyone around who could have said anything to him, he wondered if he was in his right mind as well. He felt a strange compulsion to join the farmer and leave the others, and not tell them of this new information he had learned. He also found it increasingly difficult to to resist this temptation, and before he could recognize it, his feet began to move on their own.

Yes, let's go pick some flowers. That sounds nice. They look so pretty too... The others can handle everything here. What am I gonna do about all this anyway? I'm out of potions, and I don't have any useful Artes. Picking flowers just seems so much easier. It seems right.

"No." Ralf heard the voice coming from his own lips, but in his current state, he did not recognize his own voice.

What do you mean, "No?"

"You can tell this is weird, right? Or did all of your sense leave you on the climb up here?"

The climb here was dangerous and we almost died over and over again. We're not cut out for this. Staying here and enjoying the flowers sounds nice, doesn't it?

"Maybe for you it does. But I worked my ass off to get here, and I refuse to ignore the very clearly staged mission in front of me to spend time frolicking in the fields."

But... the power. Think about how it would feel to stay here to grow powerful, then return home. Think about Mother and Father, and how they would welcome us home if we could simply use the techniques that our body has to offer.

"They threw us away, and told us to never come back. Never. You still know what that means, right?"

But if we can just show them our power, how could they say no to us? If we can master the use of every Gem at once, they won't be able to turn us away. And even if they do, we would have the power to take revenge against the Beevyls for stealing everything from us. That is what we have craved since the moment that they left us out on the street, surely that is enticing?

"I made up my mind about all that a long time ago. While I'd like for nothing more than to see their dumbfound faces, I'm joining the Guild. I'm making the Panacea, and I will go down in history as the greatest Alchemist the world has ever known. And I'm not gonna let anything stop me."

But, what about-

"I'm done with this farce. I may not be strong, but you know what else I am? Smart. And very stubborn." Without him having noticed it, it seems that his hands had gone to his pack and produced his Lightning Gem, which now resided inside of his closed fist. Essence began to flow into the gem, and Ralf could feel the prick of pain as the discharged electricity went inside his body. All of a sudden, he could see the situation plainly, all control of his mind returned to him through the shock of the pain and the new lightning Essence flowing through him. This did result in him feeling the full pain of having a jolt of electricity go through him, but thankfully the Duller was still in effect, and so the pain as not so great that he could not do what he needed to. He turned around and began to run back to the group, his body having traveled a surprising distance before he regained control of it. He called out to Cassiel and the Minotaur, sending another jolt of electricity through his system as he noticed the urge to not say anything.

"The flowers! They're doing something to the farmers. There's something... someone... controlling them. Promising what they want. A voice. A woman's voice!"

EMIYAman · May 18, 2025

Cassiel Vaudrin
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NotDave

Cassiel had been lingering at the edge of the group after his initial survey of the fields, golden eyes narrowed with quiet disdain as he paced the too-perfect furrows between the stalks of wheat. The field reeked of order. Not natural harmony, but a mechanical, imposed stillness—like a diorama dressed as nature, yet utterly artificial in its balance. It sent a chill down his spine.

And then—

“—No…”

The word came unbidden, soft and sharp, like glass cracking under pressure. His head snapped up.

His senses flared. A vacuum. A pull.

Essence—draining.

Cassiel whirled, already sprinting toward the corpse where Yanisin knelt. He saw it—the light bleeding out unnaturally fast, the tether Yanisin had formed unraveling as if sucked into the ground.

“Step back!” he shouted, his voice commanding, even as his hand drew the Essence Pen in a single motion.

His fingers danced, carving sigils into the air with brutal precision. The pen’s gemstone glowed with piercing cerulean light.

“Sigil of Stillness!”

The glyph unfolded like snowflakes under a microscope, fractal and layered, circling the corpse. A pulse radiated outward, freezing motion, silencing sound. The earth hushed, Essence halted.

For a moment, the drain stopped.

Cassiel dropped beside Yanisin, his breath clipped, a fine bead of sweat clinging to his brow. His complexion paled. Sigil of Stillness was not meant for this scale, and certainly not meant to be cast solo. But he held it. Barely.

He pressed two fingers to the corpse’s sternum.

“The ground’s… drinking it,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone. “No—worse. It’s assimilating it. The channels aren’t natural. This isn’t just bad design, it’s deliberate. We’re standing on a ritual array—disguised as farmland.”

His gaze snapped to Yanisin, eyes sharp and full of fury—not at him, but at what nearly claimed him.

“You could’ve been bled dry,” he hissed. “You almost were. Do not anchor again without confirmation.”

A pulse trembled through the sigil. Cassiel gritted his teeth and forced more Essence into it, buying a few more seconds. The stalks swayed as if disturbed by a breath that didn’t come from the wind.

“Those wheat buds…” he said, tone flattening into academic focus. “They’re not just vessels. They’re building cores—like fauna. These aren’t plants. They’re incubators. This wasn't just a murder…”

His words trailed off.

A sound—footsteps. Running. Then a voice, ragged and urgent, breaking through the stillness.

Ralf.

Cassiel turned sharply, eyes scanning the young man as he stumbled back into the group. Shouting about a woman's voice. The lightning in his aura was wild, jagged—desperate. He’d forced his own clarity with pain and Essence. That much was obvious.

“Idiot,” Cassiel muttered, rising shakily to his feet, still maintaining the sigil behind him. “But… well done.”

He strode toward Ralf with urgency.

“You said you heard her, didn’t you? A voice. The flowers are conduits. That confirms it—these aren’t passive Essence constructs. They’re sentient interfaces. She’s using the crops as nodes to interface with minds. Possibly even rewrite them.”

He glanced out over the field, calculating, thinking several steps ahead.

“She’s not just draining the dead. She’s cultivating the living.”

He pivoted to the others, voice now raised for all to hear.

“This entire field is part of a living construct—a domain in embryonic form. The voice Ralf heard is likely the entity at its center. We’re not here to solve a murder. We’re inside the growth chamber of something.”

He turned back to Ralf, lowering his voice just enough.

“You resisted it. That matters. Keep your gem close and your thoughts clearer. If she tries again, you tell me immediately.”

His hand twitched, as if aching to draw another glyph—but he refrained. For now. Drained as he was from the Sigil. The normally nonplussed scholar seemed well and truly weathered now. His eyes having become far more intense and his normal aura of elegance was frazzled by his swift desperate acts.

Then, quietly, to himself he muttered:
“…If that voice can already project to this extent, then this is progressing faster than I hope.”

Thanny · May 19, 2025

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