Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

Three head of cattle gone. Two people missing and presumed dead. Blood upon the ground and screams and whines heard late throughout the night. It could have been any number of things, but when some of the locals claimed that they believed it was all done by a man, it piqued her interest. Further inquiry told her more – the creature was constantly on edge and full of jerky movements. They told her it avoided the light, firelight. When all these stacked upon each other, she was fairly certain that these were at least related to the Dranoch rumors which brought her to Radenor in the first place. The rumored infestation was most commonly reported within the ruins halfway between Lanbridge and Leiden.

On the back of Horse and in thick garments, she would pass through some of the villages the rumors came from. The welcome proved colder than the weather. After their people had started going missing, the people lost much of their natural charm and instead turned to more exclusionary policies. Their loved ones were clearly taken by foreign devils, either of Jorikford or beyond. Being a clear outsider, she did her best to keep her head low without hindering her purpose too much. The few people who agreed to speak with her couldn’t veritably agree on the description of the creature, or person as some claimed. This was understandable – stress did strange things to the mind. And yet, it was an omen of a darker possibility. What if there had been multiple of them in the local area. Was it possible that posh lands of Wexford actually had an infestation on their hands?

She opted for reaching and potentially exploring the ruins during the daylight hours. It would’ve been foolish to engage a Dranoch in the dark unless forced to. Refusing to go in blind, she would get several things handy – a torch was lit prematurely, even though the Sun was still far above, her bow was in her right and the initial echo she gusted out wasn’t bumping back anything save for bare rocks and their cracks. The ancient masonry was failing, and the ruin was apparently vacated. Still on edge about the possibility of the waves breaking before they could properly reach the beast, she headed in. With the near complete lack of roofing and many holes in the surrounding wall, it was a near miracle the building still stood upright for the most part. It would have been awkward to try and nock an arrow with both her hands occupied, but she was open to the idea of summoning in additional assistance. There was always someone who could give her a hand.

Even after this many years, she still felt her stomach sink at the possibility. The fear and the hatred were insurmountable. She knew she put the bond in danger every time when she engaged in these pursuits – and yet – even the slightest chance of Davanor being on the same trail would reinvigorate motivation.

Horse was left behind, unprotected. She hoped her ether filled blood would prove a more appetizing invitation. Still, she did carry the kit on her back.

Fools hoped, she had learned to worry.

Hoping to learn more about Radenor's past, Arnos had opted to set out on the closest thing to an adventure that he could at the moment. There were all kinds of stone ruins, from the times of the First Kyngdom, spread across the land and if there was anywhere that he could acquire some answers, these would have to be the best place to look!! Even though he had been working as a Scribe for his hometown of Nurin for quite some time, there simply wasn't enough information within those pages. Nothing that would help him in any feasible way. Not unless he could over the secrets to the now dead language of Radenor, Norunr. With this having been the case, Arnos would set out on foot to hopefully uncover some kind of truth. While it would take him quite a bit of time, due to his walking on foot, Arnos would eventually manage to uncover one of these ruins that he had read so much about!!

To say that this man was unprepared for such a journey was an understatement. He hadn't thought to acquire any sort of mount to make traveling easier and he sure as hell didn't anticipate the need for a tent. The Moroi might have been a rather intelligent individual in terms of his book smarts but as for his street smarts..?? Well unfortunately they weren't all there. Such is the way of life when your entire existence is spent within the same little town, more or less. It was thanks to these things that the Moroi had been rather worn down by the time that he had managed to uncover the stone ruins. His hunger was satiated through the use of rations and he had thankfully been able to hold onto the majority of the contents of his waterskin but his body?? Well that was just dead tired. This would likely lead to a few negative consequences in the event that something were to happen to him but well.. That wasn't the kind of thing that Arnos had been expecting!!

Attempting to blow past the fact that he had been actively worn down at the moment, Arnos would throw his entire being into the fact that he had managed to uncover something that was likely unexplored for the most part. A rather dopey smile would curl upon the androgynous mans face as he had continued to push himself towards the ruins. Just what wonders would he uncover within?? According to the horse that was currently resting outside of the entrance to the ruins, not much. Naturally, the smile that had been plastered upon the Moroi's face was depart as he would witness another individual having currently been here. Well... Damn. I honestly can say that I wasn't expecting this to be the case. Am I going to have to fight whoever is in there or are they going to be rather amicable company?? From his understanding of most of the people that he had come to meet, this encounter was going to go one of two ways. Either he was going to be completely drained after dealing with whoever was inside or their company was going to be spectacular. I guess that it's time to go on in and find out.

Whilst passing by the horse that had been left behind, Arnos would take the time to reach into his backpack and produce a hardtack. Perhaps one of the more plain rations that he had been carrying on his person but certainly one that could be fed to such a creature. Before fully making his way past, Arnos would split the hardtack in half and place the two halves in different hands. His left hand would extend out towards the mouth of the horse as he would hold the ration out for the creature to enjoy. His other hand would reach up to around his neck so that he could feed the other bit of the hardtack to the beloved feline that had been currently draped over his shoulders. "I know that it's not much guys but.. I hope that this much is enough to hold you over for a bit." Taking one last moment to smile to the horse, Arnos would finally enter the ruins that lie before him.

"Fear stops life. Not death."

Carefully threading through the commotion that spread across the floor, she did her best to frequently inspect the edges of her vision as well. She was faster than most creatures, but only if she reacted in time. The biggest issue was that with Dranoch there was seldom enough time. Still not fully trusting her initial echo, she held onto the torch manically. In these conditions, it felt like the torchlight was doing more harm than good. The extra illumination produced wasn’t making an impact, but the small blind spot it led to couldn’t be overlooked.

The walls appeared to be covered in two types of markings, both scribbling. One of them looked to have originally been part of the building, in an unfamiliar script. The other option looked more like shaky claw marks, chiseled instead of painted into the sides of the structure. She could feel a faint metallic scent in the air. Even though there was some airflow through the many gaps, the atmosphere continued to be stuffy, full of humidity and decay.

It was at this point that she heard a new sound far behind. It took her ears a moment to adjust and recognize it for movement. The pace was slow and easily reacted to, but in the initial moment instinct took over. She spun on her heel and extended her torch arm fully. When the immediate attack didn’t come, she would move the light slightly to the side and try to take in what was happening in front of her. Whatever it was, it passed by Horse. Hopefully nothing bad had happened there. She would need the animal’s help to go back the way she came. There was little hope that she could get a mount from the locals with their current moods.

Letting out a faint echo, she would briefly shudder. The feedback outlined 2 things of line different than the rocks, one straight the way she was looking, and another further behind her. If they were both out to do her harm, her current position was greatly disadvantageous. Slowly creeping more towards the corner of the structure, she aimed to have at least her back covered as the two sonic silhouettes drew closer. She turned her head to where she had left horse, and torch towards the other. It was impossible to outrun a Dranoch in these conditions, but perhaps they were simply botchlings and therefore manageable?

Excited at the possibility of uncovering something truly magnificent within, even with the possibility of him having been the second person to discover such a thing, Arnos would continue snaking his way throughout the ruins. As he would continue to make his way along the pathway, the Moroi would be sure to keep his hands up in surrender. There was no telling whomever was inside and from his own experience in these parts, it wasn't often that the humans that hadn't met him had gone out of their way to be understanding. If nothing else, the people of Radenor were mighty suspicious of those that they hadn't understood. I'm really hoping that whoever is in here is nice. I don't think that I have the energy to deal with someone lashing out at me right now. I get enough of that back home.

A few more minutes of walking and Arnos would come out into a rather open area. It was as he had made his way out into this area that he would come to feel a smidge uncomfortable. There was a torch jutting out in his direction, as far as he could tell, and this didn't exactly feel like the place for such a thing. At least not during this particular time of day. "Uh..." For perhaps the first time in awhile, Arnos had no real idea of how he should react in this moment. Was this some kind of booby trap for the fool-hearted? Or was it perhaps just a joke of some kind? Trying to figure out how he should really react here, Arnos would begin to mumble beneath his breath, speaking to the cat that was currently around his shoulders. "What do you think I should do here Amara? Should I just.. go under it?" The thought of blasting the torch away with a Weave had occurred briefly in the Moroi's mind but this didn't simply seem like the time for such a thing. Not while he was this worn down.

As the man would draw closer, he would be sure to slow his pace. He would even go as far as to crouch down to his knees so that he could at least try and understand what was going on with the torch. It was as he had been doing this that a single bony purple hand would fall within the mans vision. Were there... purple individuals other than the Moroi? This was the first that he had ever heard of such a thing. Figuring that this might be one of his people, Arnos would allow for his lips to curl up into a smirk before speaking aloud to the individual on the other end. His words were in Kornaan and were as such, "Moroi!! Are you perhaps a Moroi such as myself?!"

"Fear stops life. Not death."

One set of footsteps drew closer as her arms tensed with expectation. The movement was too predictable for a botchling. She could make out faint mumbling. If the tongue was known to her, she couldn’t comprehend it. The unintelligible noise was followed by more slow movements, she could almost hear what felt like gentle scraping across leftover floor. Doing her best to divide the attention between both points of entry, she reduced herself further into the corner, the torch pulling back with her and making sure her hand wasn’t a target.

That’s when she heard an almost excited voice speaking in a familiar tongue, but not fully known to her. Under these tense circumstances, she couldn’t wrap he hand around what it was she was hearing, but they did use a word known to her. Moroi. Those people weren’t normally a threat, and had it been afflicted, she’d have lost the torch by know, fangs likely tearing at her once exposed wrist.

Prompt judgement caused her to turn her direction fully towards the other silhouette she knew was close by but could not yet see. That one had made no sound, and gave no warning of its presence. For the moment, if there were Dranoch here – the primary suspect was in said direction. Leaving her back turned to the supposed Moroi, she’d try to warn him before the clash came.

“We aren’t alone here” her voice was barely above a whisper, but at this distance it should’ve been sufficient. “To arms” she’d say sternly in Silvain without meaning to. Old habits clung to her like the mud she dragged in. For a change, it was her who got to say this, and it evoked nostalgia.

Her thoughts were cut short, as she could detect a snicker on the far side.

“Blood that was promised” a low growl in unmistakably accented Silvain.

To Arnos' surprise, the feminine voice that would come from the presumed Moroi had actually belonged to a member of another race. A fact that he would come to learn quite quickly. Even more to his surprise though, it would appear as though this woman had known Silvain. A language that Arnos himself had actively been working to become fluent in. Even knowing what the woman was saying though, it wasn't as though he had known how to properly react to what was happening. To arms? What could possibly be lurking about in these parts that would make her say such a thing?

Rather than choose to react negatively to the woman's words, Arnos would simply remain still whilst putting up his guard. While he may not understand exactly what was going on, it was rather clear to the Moroi that there was some kind of enemy lurking about. Perhaps it was some kind of beast or assassin sent to track the woman down. Perhaps it was the former inhabitants of the ruin, finally unearthing themselves after centuries. Either way, Arnos knew that now wasn't the time for him to be messing about. Taking a moment to lower his voice so that it was merely above that of a whisper, Arnos would go on to say, "I trust that you'll explain everything to me afterwards." He would say as much in Silvain, albeit some of the text had likely come across wrong. Hopefully it wasn't a big enough mistranslation to cause any problems between the two.

It was then that Arnos would pick up on the snickering coming from the other side of his purple skinned companion. Clearly the individual that this woman had just referred to had been on the other side of things. The whole situation.. was admittedly a tad overwhelming. All that Arnos had wanted to do was explore a few ruins and pick up on the language of old. Was that too much to ask? Just why was it that he was now finding himself in such a dangerous predicament? This kind of thing had already happened far more than enough times to his own liking. Hopefully, whoever this individual on the other end had been, Arnos wouldn't have to utilize his magics in such a situation.

"Fear stops life. Not death."

Caught between two accented speakers, she couldn’t help but be reminded how much different they sounded from the language she was thought when living in Elaine. The assumed Moroi was accepting his part in what was to be a violent ordeal and it made part of her less tense. It would have been suicidal to hold ground against two Dranoch without proper preparation. The single one could be handled, with potential help and definite distraction perhaps even more easily. Once the botchling was handled, they would need to parse the bigger questions.

Who was creating botchlings in the sticks of Radenor? What was there to gain from feeding on peasants, even if they were richer than many of the other parts of the region?

Her thoughts were cut short when the creature moved unnaturally fast. It felt like the snicker was halfway to her ear by the time she fully processed the movements following it. Pushing itself off something in the background, it came feral and four legged. The abrupt mechanics of the charge were illustrated in a skewed posture, slanted to the right. It felt almost like creature’s right limbs were shorter or perhaps more tense.

It came for her first as she was the closest. Its speed resembled a blur for the uninitiated, but still far too slow for her to be truly cornered. A split decision between resonating the torch into its shape and blinking behind it, she let the danger closer still. Even at this distance, it was possible to miss with the violent jerks of rattle. As the scene reduced and the menace took up most of her vision in a twisted jump, it made a mistake and revealed its middle.

The skidding of the floor fed into the frequency of snicker, reverberated by the nasal tones of the missed accent, bouncing back off the ruined stones. She fed frequencies to the ether and felt herself invested in them. As quickly as her power left, it came back in a directorial role. Vibration became manifestation, became rattle. Investiture grew and rattle became a burst. Fire kept its purpose, but the stick had become a blunt bolt.

A simple nudge had the force of a cannonball as she could feel the burning of her skin, friction and splinters across her unprotected palm. She had overindulged in her bloodthirst.

As the creature was struck mid jump, the force was insufficient to repel it, but it did stop it short of reaching her. Flames hugged the screams.

For a Moroi that had never truly experienced anything this dangerous, except for that time with the bear perhaps, Arnos wasn't quite sure what he should be doing. He could already feel that his fear was beginning to overtake him.. and yet he had refused to back down. Forcing himself to calm down, Arnos would begin to survey the scene before him. From what he could tell, there was some kind of quadrupedal creature rushing towards them in a rather grotesque manner. It was moving with a speed that he couldn't quite process in a way that he would have liked. On top of that, the woman beside him had been preparing something... Something that he couldn't quite see yet again, as it had begun to develop as a kind of blur. Honestly, this entire situation was a bit too much for him to be trying to make sense of.

Unsure of what exactly was going on, Arnos would try to focus on the things that he did understand. Things such as the fact that this creature had just rushed the two of them and had been snickering upon doing so. That being the case, it was rather evident that it was some kind of enemy, right? Right. And what does one tend to do when their very life is being threatened? Well they instinctively decide to either fight back or run. Whilst Arnos would have most certainly run if it was just him dealing with this situation, he had refused to leave this woman here on their own. That being the case, the urge to fight would overtake him. Even though he didn't wish to risk using this magic and getting dragged out to the Guild, Arnos didn't see much of a choice. He was going to have to use at least some of his power to ensure that they could get out of this situation...

Thanks to the effort that Velx had put in just now, the creature that had been rushing towards them had stopped the creature in place. It wasn't enough to cause any serious harm but it was at least enough for Arnos to get involved now. "Fuck off dickhead," the man would mutter beneath his breath in his native language of Kornaan. As he would do this, a nearly transparent, purple and crystalline glitch would manifest around the head of this thing. This glitch would than just the head of the beast backwards, not with enough force to kill it but at least enough to strain the creatures neck and throw off its balance. "This is no good.." If the Moroi would have procured and trained in a weapon of sorts, this situation would have been much simpler to put an end to. Seeing as he was more of an academic though, it was unsurprising to see that he had done neither of these things. "I can try to hold it back but you must kill it," were the words that would soon leave the Moroi's mouth in conversational Silvain. It likely wouldn't come across in the exact way that he would have preferred but it was the best that he could do with what he knew.

"Fear stops life. Not death."

Its head snapped back and what was once a man jerked several times. The bend lacked the aggression to actually incapacitate the creature at the neck, but the help was appreciated. She wasn’t certain up to what extent botchlings were resistant to magic. Stranger’s powers worked for the moment, but it was hard to tell how much longer they’d continue to do so. His application of power was unclear to her, perhaps mentalism, but it was definitely magical in nature.

Since the Moroi seemed unsatisfied with its attempt and the botchling was still capable of movement, she would use the distraction. Still caught in flame, the creature would clearly try and get itself away from the flames or the said fire away from it. Since the still ignited piece of wood was sticking through its chest and it couldn’t get a clear look with the interruption, the next step was incapacitating its hands. Given enough time, fire would be the death of it. They just needed to either secure it or become more violent quite quickly.

“We let it burn” knowing both could understand Norai tongue. As expected, the creature’s hands reached for its chest, but she was there, waiting. Focusing on what seemed like a signet ring on its right, she would invest a miniscule amount of ether merely for the vibration of it to compound with other issues and delay the beast’s reaction. She was about to pull out a couple arrows and sling them at the enemy when the realization hit. Her torch hand bled. If she saw, it saw. As she quickly tried to see something she could bash its head in with, there was a change in the movement. It was no longer trying to clutch at its chest alone, but it was also sniffing.

“Fire will kill it” more a prayer than advice, but true nonetheless.

As the creature was slowly regaining its senses, she focused her attention on a small outcrop of ceiling. Tapping her knuckles off the stones, frequency bouncing between a thump of pressure, a squeal of pain, and the groaning of effort – she would focus her attention on a looser looking portion of what was once ceiling. Ether poured out without an application yet, and she could feel pressure squeezing behind her eyes as the frequency changed. Static was now vibrating, potential slowly leaning into kinetic, ready to be directed. Spasms started running up her outstretched arm, as if to mimic what the rock was feeling.