Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

Humming equalled safety on the sandy road. So she did. Personal quiet was useless, as the landscape ate all, and what it couldn't, the nomads claimed. It was better to be ready than silent. Every inch of time accompanied in melody, ready to be bounced of the barrens surrounding her. She couldn't help but feel ocean borne. Her folks would always tell stories how animals in the deep could see you by yelling at you. It was a familiar concept, so it was no wonder her mind took to Echo so quickly. She did her best impression of a whale and hummed. What the ocean lacked in water, it made up in sands and stars – two currents swimming together without touching.

Radenor had been a failure. Rumors she heard, she could never substantiate. She went there hopeful and optimistic, against her better nature. Disappointment and empty hands had been the way of the road for cycles upon cycles – it felt silly to have ever felt closer than when he first left. She could hardly tell if it was even love that egged her on after all these years. Perhaps it was pure survival. He committed to a dangerous life. His decision in turn endangering her own life. Considering he hunted creatures more sinister than both of them combined, it was a creator-given miracle that they both yet stood. Together or not, love or not – she knew he lived, because she felt her own heartbeat as rhythmic as ever.
Arleads were fickle things, and yet they provided certainty no love ever could.

She remembered one of her previous journeys through the Badlands and her once companion – Isidro. What a mess that had been! Hope was against her better nature, but she did.
This needed to be a quiet night for both her own sanity and for others' safety.

Horse was becoming slow. Whether it was age, road or both – she knew they needed to stop.

And so they would.

She would abandon what could generously be called a road in this wasteland and opted for a cold camp. There would be no fire to betray her. Blankets, rocks to shield the wind and the proximity of Horse would have to do when it came to warmth. She would not forget to backtrack and wipe away the tracks their descent from the road left, as she had some five or six odd years ago. It was strange how memories melded together at her age.

She wondered if Davanor had any clear memories at all, considering how much older he was.

“Quiet” she muttered more to herself than Horse. She patted him, banishing the thoughts.

Leeward and tucked between the small outcroppings, she'd do her best to further ensnare herself in blankets. Nights were cold here, and it had been many visits since last she had been unprepared. The boiling days often provided false translations into freezing shadows – skittering away from the sunshine by day, and teeth chattering in the night.

She had survived the waste too many times to ever truly feel relaxed upon it. Having neither guard nor guide, she would feel her mind pull towards the Eldashan. It was never clear whether trading with them was the proper way of things – but once you first grasped the concept, it was difficult to ever allow for true loneliness.

She required a guard – sensing and agile. It would be best to steer away from Margos as they indulged too freely and obeyed too slowly. She would instead opt for a form more soothing. Trying to recall the vines that made up the creature, her fingers would infuse with ether as they first formed a cap honoring She of Shrooms. Further interlacing her digits, mimicking both the coat of the creature she reached out for and the tendrils the Patron clung to the soil with. “Lachrann” the voice from her would collect into a myriad Norai sounds, all just off the mark of a particular language. The name was the gate and the key, and in a blink its opening mirrored her own gaze.

She was never able to emulate the bearing of Hyr, so her call instead embodied the hunger of Sil. Mimicking her own calls of hunger with their own, she would soon make out the Cordreyn emerging from the beyond. A single visage blooming into a dozen, splitting again against contrasting types. The Shroomborn were ready to bargain. She could already feel the slight spending, even though she had yet to feed any of them. Her mind focusing away the unnecessary attendees, she would turn to a pack of Faen'Kor. Her breath mimicking the rustling of leaves and dripping of water on slippery rock, the water pounding for the immediate need, the single drop following an expression of singular. However much she needed, she needed of one. The commotion between them would always produce the largest, as that was the one most commonly fed. Sadly, also the one taking the most. The art of bargain asked that she instead dangle the promise of sustenance to the runt of the litter.

Growls of mocking from the largest. Whimpers of caution from those middling. Purr of hope from the one selected. The woman's voice becoming animalistic, the growls of barter unnerved Horse.

A single Sun of service – her own hand bloomed with the ether she deemed appropriate expenditure. The canine seemed hesitant. It was bound to be a greater meal than any sustenance it had previously seen if its stature was anything to go by – and yet it seemed to crave more.
Pressing instead on their shared need, she started mimicking a clutching of her hand.
Sun reducing in time, meal reducing in size – she gestured to the wolfkin, her offer slightly diminishing.
The mocking yelps of the pack carried but a single word – weakness – mocking them both.
A weak offer for a weak specimen.

Gesturing to her middle with the meal, she would confirm their shared trait.
Alone. Both Weak. Together. One safe. One full. Both strong.
She mimicked a neigh of annoyance, her most animalistic trait stemming from her equine companion.

Too afraid of losing the meal, the runt would pull closer – sustenance causing its coat to spring new vines which braided along the torso. Finally, she pulled her hand back to her own world – an invisible leash pulling out her new sentry.

She formed the command of protection voiceless, sniffing, gazing and hearing the surrounding nature to mimic the minion's duties. Arms spreading across the barren landscape, he was free to explore, as long as its duties were remembered.

Fatigue finally allowed to set in, they would lose sight but not sense of each other.

With some luck and time, she would finally have a good night's rest.

Never having felt a true summon before, the Runt felt unease at the caller slumbering. There was fear that with her eyes shutting, so would the stream of sustenance. He could feel his assigned role – small, weak, and cheap. He would serve. He would eat. He would grow. He would make them call him by a proper name. Lost in hunger, it would take him longer than it should – there was a smell here – one of manflesh, but also of something like Veratelle or the Patron even.

Ears pricking up, he huddled somewhat, fighting the urge to roll into brush – it would not fit into this place. Everything was dead here. Hiding would make him easier to find. With his smell and hearing so keen, he was sure something was out there. It bothered him to no end that he couldn’t see it. His sight wasn’t lacking. This was a creature of hiding. Perhaps something was simply passing them by – but it was difficult to decide. Why go the bother of hiding so well if a simple walk-around was the only thought?

The correct manner was to rush the target while the smell was still unspread. Soon, it would move around, and pinpointing the most recent musk would prove an additional difficulty. His caller would be better suited if she called two of them. One could stay and another gather information on the coming scent – but he didn’t have that option. He eyed his master, almost deciding to wake her – but fearing that he would fail his duty and not get summoned again, not get fed again if he failed so quickly. His were a pack kind – perhaps the comer would assume there were more of them and stay its hand, keep its distance.

Pulling back towards the sleeping form of the caller, he would prepare a lash for her. If he failed his watch, he would at least wake her.

He could not out hide the hider, so he instead turned his eyes in the direction of the smell. There would be no secret approach. If the creature could see him before he saw it, he hoped it saw his bared fangs and thought again.

The night was dim even for him, but luckily caller had not lit a beacon to guide the comer straight to them.

Seeping in like sand between his paws, he could feel the scent washing over. It was getting thicker than before, the hider approaching. Instinctively pulling back towards the makeshift pack, he would snap the readied vine – fear betraying him. The yelp of pain reminded him of his own cries of submission within his own group. The cry led the four-legged animal to unsettle and rear upon his hinds. Much like Runt, this one also had an exceedingly soft belly. He would remember it in case it came to that. He couldn't process the waking of the caller, as the four leg wasn't pleased by the mess he was making. The animal stomped close to him, and before he could react, he could hear a shush from the caller. The animal slowly steadied, likely used to the female's voice.


“You go against contract, little one” it felt strange for her to call a creature of its size little – but she knew it was compared to others. Aravon had told her that sometimes the summons rebelled, but other than those of Veravend, she found most of her minions wouldn't dare go against her wishes. Even the rebellious ones normally only opted to freely interpret their instructions. Yet the Kor weren't supposed to be of such nature, so instead of letting her disappointment and surprise fully wash over her, she instead rubbed the waking wound. She sat up, eyes glaring in the direction Runt looked. She could not see. It was unclear what sense the creature used for detection – but she was certain her eyes weren't up to snuff. Keeping the blankets wrapped around her, she did her best to keep her true size obscured, remaining low to the ground.

Unsure of the distance, she wanted to echo out ahead, but feared it could fall short. Kor had an impressive sense of smell – it was possible that the disturbance was still out of range. Having already spent some of her resources on the ritual, she hesitated in attempting further expenditure. Whatever it was, it should come close enough for the Kor to pinpoint before she could proceed.

Caught between a sit and a crouch, all but her head under wraps, she waited to see what was the reason for waking her.

She would visibly twitch as the figure came into view. It was difficult to judge what exactly it was. It reminded her of a human, but its features were slightly off. Mages she had met in the past often showed some signs of mutation, which would separate them from a more regular appearance. This observation kept her on edge – usage of magic changed one's body significantly only after prolonged use, and being near invisible was certainly no small feat. Her fingers almost gestured in instinct, wishing for Intercession – but since there was no ether investiture, no change came about. Judging by the attitude of her sentry, it was clear that the newcomer was worrisome.

“Easy” she would whisper, as she did her best impression of a calm person while feeling anything but. Her gesture was towards the two creatures keeping company, but she didn't dare inspect whether her words took root. This mage seemed sane and calm enough to not provoke immediate violence, and while that did raise her suspicions, it did reduce her initial aggression.

As the darkness in his hand swirled, it would make her think of Nightfall and her own family's experiments. And yet – there had never been anyone among them with the ability to be so thoroughly invisible. The fear she felt from the man was bleeding into respect at the skill he clearly possessed. Whatever height of magic he embraced, it felt like his vessel could barely contain it. Cracks across his seeming opposed his measured actions.

“And are you” she would slowly get up to her full height, realizing she had six inches on him at least. She hoped her full size would give him some pause, as she kept herself wrapped shoulder to toe. “lawless or savage?” just as the cracks in his skin betrayed his power seeping out, she knew if she called upon the ether – her own skinmarks would betray her. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, but if it did – she hoped she would be quicker.