Compass (anyone welcome)

[Velx]

The 3rd of Frost, 4623

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.

[Gloomcrest]

3rd of Frost, 4623

“How long ago has it been since I have been here? The wind seems to stir, and my weary body continues to move against the grains of the earth itself.”

The amber-eyed thief couldn’t help but ponder to himself, thinking about how much time had passed and how stagnant he had become over the past few seasons. At one point, he was running rampant in Amoren, stealing various trinkets and baubles to add to his collection; another was spending time back in Genteven, scurrying away at cooking & training in his arcane arts of Lucence, but most importantly, fostering his divinity which the amber-eyed man still bewildered by.

The dishonest man was and still is coming to terms with whether being reborn as a Draedan was a gift or a curse, possibly both, as he did not know what his birth meant and what that meant for himself and the cause of the world itself. From what he recalled from his brief discussion with Taelian, a fellow Draedan that he came across a few seasons ago, the birth of a Draedan was a sign of change, depending on who the parent was.

He was briefly staring at his bare hands, covered with scars that have healed over time. His thoughts shortly turned to how his status from being a self-taught master over the umbral arts, which brought him closer to his ruination, became the catalyst, the seed to becoming a child of Saren, the defiled god of Time, Decay, and Fate. By all accounts in history, Saren had only a handful of children that could be counted on one’s hand, and joining that coven of children was no less confusing.

Cloaked in a tattered cloth of earthen tones akin to that of the arid land, blending into his surroundings whilst the scorching rays of light bear down on the barren wasteland of the Imperial Badlands. Jared was currently marching through the wasteland with a decent amount of provisions by his side. His only companion is his thoughts, which have led him to a desolate land.

“Would be nice to rest back at home, but can’t really stop… Not until I have gathered enough strength to defend myself… Surrounded by enemies is tiring, and I don’t know what I am supposed to be doing at this point… Taelian… How did you get past this trial set by the gods? How did you manage your internal crisis…”

Weary, battered and bruised, the thief continues to journey through the Badlands with no end to his venture, merely experiencing the journey of his chapter of becoming something more, but it would seem that fate has other plans for the young Draedan.

[Velx]

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.

[Gloomcrest]

3rd Frost, 4623

Feeling the exhaustion of travelling long distances, the amber-eyed rogue took a moment to look up at the harsh skies of the desert sun. The light that is cast bears the reality that not everything lives on the soil. It had been a while since his magic had blossomed into something new. He conjured an orb of light and a sphere of umbralplasm, dancing at the palm of his hand as it swirled slowly.

The Draedan took a moment to recollect his journey and how far he managed to get to where he is now. Briefly splitting the two orbs apart, the amber-eyed Draedan took a moment to shoot the orb of light into the air before it exploded, leaving behind a faint shimmer of golden white light that trailed down for a moment before fading.

“The sun in splendour radiates, yet with its light and creation, wherever it touches scorches those unprepared. The elegiast remembers those who are now forgotten.”

From this point, the wandering thief took a moment to grab the edge of his cloak, infusing it with his divinity to alter the perception of his cloak; in mere seconds, the sierra-brown hues on one side of the cloak would soon become colourless and transparent; the once-hardly seem figure that could be seen in the distance would soon blur out of existence. Jared needed to be careful, but hopefully, fate had something installed for him as he continued to reach a destination that even he didn’t know where he would end up.

It was only then and there that something unexpected caught his eye. It was fair to say that being a demigod has its advantages since it has enhanced abilities, and with that, his vision could detect a decent range… A figure who was alone was conducting something unfamiliar to him. The dust surrounding them stirred for a moment before a blooming visage appeared.

“What is this? I've never seen anything like it before… I wonder if I can observe closely and figure out what is going on from there.”

Taking a moment to fill his vessel with divinity, Jared coats his body with radiant energy as the marking of wings appears on his back, torso, arms, and legs. The sensation itself was relatively new to him. Still, with practice, enhancing one’s speed and having a naturally increased physical capacity should be enough to make one's journey short towards his destination.

A soft yet deep breath was taken before the thief quickly dived towards this mysterious figure. It would be evident that a brief dust trail could be seen but with a barely visible figure. His transparent cloak would make it hard for people to see his form, but a keen eye could at least spot something amiss. Nevertheless, the Draedan had a mark that he wanted to investigate, and he would do so by any means necessary.

[Velx]

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.

[Gloomcrest]

3rd Frost, 4623

As the dashing robber started to close his distance towards his targeted destination, his cloaked visage was enough to keep his presence hidden from a visual standpoint. However, there were other methods that a person or a creature could use to detect one that wishes not to be seen. Seeing this weird amalgamation start to perk its ears up and look around. Something didn’t sit well with the thief. Jared wasn’t sure if he could fight a creature in a matter of might since most of his experience was fighting other humanoid creatures such as guards and other magus.

“What the hell is that thing? It is best to keep a distance and observe. If push comes to shove, I have an array of tools at my disposal… After all, windows of opportunity come when the enemy least expects.”

Keeping a sizable distance, the Draedan of Saren took a moment to devote some of his divinity to enhancing his eyesight; his amber-hued gaze simmered in a brief alabaster light as his vision’s range started to clarify and refine to the extent of using binoculars. While it was a bit straining on his eyes, it was better to be safe.

He was taking a moment to look around at his surroundings, attempting to find any natural terrain or foliage that could be used as cover for a time. It would soon be apparent that there wasn’t anything available to hide in.

“Well, I guess I must keep the cloak up and move a bit closer, one fleeting step at a time.”

With a plan set in motion, the thief started approaching the makeshift campsite or possibly a ritual site with an umbralplasm compass in his hand, a familiar magic that he had once lost when ascending to his truth, but what was lost for some time has been regained, and it was time to relearn everything from the bottom up; and if that meant that combat was needed, so be it.

[Velx]

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.

[Gloomcrest]

3rd of Frost, 4623

The raven-haired thief couldn’t make heads or tails as to what was this strange creature; it was something beyond his current understanding of flora and fauna for the most part, but one thing was for certain that: his nature of being very cautious would prove to be both a virtue and flaw.

“Should I strike whatever this thing is… It is possible to sear, but that would raise many questions depending on the result of the initial strike… You should have practiced more on lethality rather than incapacitating people, but that is the choice you made,, J…”

Muttering to himself for a moment before closing in, it would only be a couple of metres away, skirting on fringes of light and shadow that the campfire would cast its radiance that a figure was present. It was evident that light was bending around the figure, almost dispersing the light to make it difficult to see; it was only possible due to the Draedan having mastered the unique set of abilities that he had practised and manifested over the many seasons. With initially having some mastery over darkness through his mark of Nightfall, it was perfect for a scoundrel like himself to learn to move unseen, unheard, eventually, a mere figment to one’s imagination and more.

But as the cloaked Draedan shifted closer, his ears briefly twitched as a voice echoed about going against one’s contract/ It was then that a figure was laying low on the ground, unsure about their size or if it was a distraction. The thief took a moment to calculate his options: Watch from the shadows or make contact first. Deciding to leave it to fate, the Draedan took a moment to step closer towards the campfire’s light; a brief shimmer would cascade over the cloak as he disconnected his channelling of divinity to alter the properties of the said cloak, revealing a hooded figure that was covered in a tattered-sienna brown hue.

“Apologies for interrupting your rest; I saw something in the distance and decided to investigate. I mean no harm but merely cautiously approaching, especially since the Badlands are known to harbour lawless men and savage creatures.”

It is clear that under the cloak, there was a sphere of congealing darkness that simply hovered in his right hand. However, upon closer inspection, one could see that parts of his skin showed signs of cracking in an alabaster white glow.

[Velx]

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.

[Gloomcrest]

3rd of Frost, 4623

For a moment; Jared’s amber-hued eyes shift over to Velx, noting the brief twitching. Upon closer inspection, the thief didn’t know what Velx was; his confusion was evident. He could sense that magic was involved in the area around him, but that could be chalked to his previous affinity for magic before his rebirth. Divinity was the refined ether with almost no side effects compared to raw ether, which most magi use.

It was clear that while Jared is very much human, a variety of features made it almost uncanny. The nature of divinity made it so that his physical appearance seemed flawless; an aura to his presence seemed alluring yet dangerous. The globe of darkness in his hand would contort into various shapes as he practised channelling his divinity in front of Velx and her summons.

“If you are that concerned about a stranger, I am more than happy to stay at the fringe. My name is Jared. I am a traveller in search of answers to one’s origin. Seeking answers about Saren and more.”

Speaking in a gruff, gravelly tone, the Draedan took a moment to remove his cloak before producing a sphere of light that circled him, using his affinity to Lucence to conjure a Ray of Light enough to make the light close to a campfire. His face shows one that has experienced much hardship and offers a humble soul that was merely seeking out. It is clear that the Compass produced from Nightfall and the Ray conjured by Lucence was evident that Jared’s affinity to magic was apparent as having multiple Marks of Control was rare.

“Why are you out in the Imperial Badlands? Not many people venture out here, and it is a lawless place?”

The Draedan posed a question back to his newly acquainted friend or foe; the air about Velx was still shrouded in mystery as she stood up to her full height, evident enough that she was far taller than the thief. It was clear that the tension between the two was high, and the creatures around her obeyed her command to a degree. If a fight were to break out, the Alistian rogue needed to separate his opponents, but his object was to pacify rather than kill, but the die has yet to be cast.