Compass (anyone welcome)

[Velx]

When he was revealed to control invisibility at will – this was terrifying. When she recognized the usage of Nightfall, this added to the mystery – but she hadn't felt outmatched yet. The sand started shifting below her feet as the light added to it. Someone with two, possibly even three marks would be a horrible opponent to fight, especially when she didn't even know what all of them did. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly outmatched. While one of her forms of magic was more common, by his reaction to summoning – she was fairly certain he wouldn't be expecting anything close to Intercession. This would be the backup plan if it ever came to that.

As he spoke, his words scratched “Not many would wish to find Saren” she wasn't sure why anyone would throw that name around so casually. The corrupt bastard was a limited presence outside of her own culture. Perhaps the man had known of Arkanai connection to the deity – and yet, she didn't believe so. Judging by the way he was eyeing her, he had not yet met many or any Sarenborn before. A brief flash of clarity would wash over her, “Did they send you?” the Chronologers of course, but their name would not part her lips. “I normally receive new information directly from my own kin.” She would eye the stealthy individual with question in her eyes, wondering if she misspoke. Since it was mud already stepped in, she would commit, “Why the change?” one of her hands would swim out of the cover to gesture for Runt to stay in place. She was pleasantly surprised by how calm Horse stayed throughout all of this – but given who its travelling companion was, it was understandable.

She would proceed to introduce herself to this Jared creature properly, “I am Velexnia, but humans usually refer to me as Velx” she would eye him intently, judging to see whether her name was new information to him. If they really did send him, he would need some level of prior knowledge. She never did properly answer his question, but this seemed a lesser concern at the moment.

[Gloomcrest]

3rd of Frost, 4623

“Sent by who? I am not aware of anyone that may be related to you, nor do I know who you are; I am a stranger who has crossed paths in the fabric of time and fate itself, or so it seems.”

At random moments, a surge of needing to be cryptic and vague seemed to boil up from Jared’s Divinity Spark, a nature that appears in line with his divine parent: Saren, who by all means was a mysterious figure in the grand scheme of things. Not much was known about Saren, only that he was Venadak's beloved partner, and the mere name of Saren would usher in a series of questions that one could only fathom.

He keenly observed his amethyst-hued acquaintance. Something seemed off, but it was understandable to be on guard with a stranger like himself who appeared out of the shadows as if they were Jared’s closest companion.

“I see. It is a pleasure to meet you, Velexnia; my name is Jared… or Vendrel… It is hard to know which name is mine and mine alone…”

The thief paused for a moment, lost in his thoughts as he briefly spoke in Adac, which was a language made by the old gods and elves themselves that meant ‘Beloved’; a strange name to be given for sure, but there had to be more truth to it as the name was given upon a Draedan’s awakening.

“Apologies, I got lost in a bit of thought; I am struggling to understand my purpose, which leads to uncertainty. I am troubled by the fact that my understanding of things has rapidly changed over the years. I wonder if my father has awoken a spark to maintain something… Whether they are secrets to be kept close, to prevent conflicts or more… I honestly don’t know my purpose at the moment, and I venture to find answers.”

For a moment, the thief took his tattered cloak off his body as he lays it on the ground before taking his seat, slightly dazed but aware of his situation nonetheless; his honey-hued gaze watching for a moment to see what Velx would do next with all the information being sprouted upon her at this very moment.

[Velx]

Her eyebrows would slowly come up in confusion at the quickly pouring words. She had met similar people before, but they had all been old, broken or dying. It seemed quite strange for a young human to be so pressed with the world. That was the true blessing of humanity – you got to die young, before the world started weighing you down. This one seemed broken before his time, so she took caution in her words. There was no sense in damaging him further.

“You are welcome to stay close Jared, as long as you stay where Runt can see you” she would extend her hand towards the alien, and strangely enough she heard it edging closer almost as if accepting her extended hand. This troubled her – if it was this desperate to establish a bond, perhaps it truly was useless. Keeping the thoughts her own, she'd simply pull back her hand, with Runt keeping distance.

As the boy, as she currently saw him, took to the ground, she allowed herself to lower her stature once more. There was no use in high-ground of this caliber. If they came to blows, it would be decided by speed and number, and she was certain she had him beat in both at this distance. It was a shame she probably wouldn't get a chance to shut her eyes tonight.

“Are you not too young to question the world in such a way?” she continued, observing to make sure whether he was becoming calmer or more erratic. No matter the name he used or antics he resorted to, it was difficult for the woman to see him as anything other than a child at this point.

[Gloomcrest]

3rd of Frost, 4623

The Draedan in question couldn’t help but let out a slight chuckle, albeit with a sombre tone, as his gaze took a moment to soak the confused face on Velx’s face. As to what she was thinking, that was only Velx’s thoughts, and she’s alone; if Jared had Remnant, it would be possible to figure out what she was thinking, but whether that was intrusive is only based on morals.

“I appreciate the stay, but I am happy to keep my distance if you feel uncomfortable. And who is Runt?”

The thief momentarily tilted his head to the side as she indicated who she was referring to before giving a slight nod. The creature in question was fascinating to a certain extent. Still, if it weren’t for all of his issues regarding his life’s purpose and recent struggles, Jared would have been more upbeat about meeting a stranger despite his cautious nature.

“May I ask? Who are you referring to? All I know is that I am trying to figure out my path as a child of God… My understanding was that Saren is elusive, and I can agree; I do not know what his intentions were for awakening one of his children, but it is a lot to digest,, especially for someone who is merely a human… It is a lot to take in.”

Jared took a moment to look at the globe of light that he conjured out of his divinity, staring at it for a moment before the globe scattered into a blanket of starry lights that circle him. It would almost seem that his divinity was surging around him for a brief moment before turning his gaze back to Velx, his eyes glowing a mixture of alabaster white and a shade of midnight purple.

“Yes, you could consider me to be quite young to question one's life purpose, but I believe it is warranted when you find out that your entire existence as a mortal would suddenly change due to the actions of a God altering fate and changing the direction to places unknown to you... Apologies, it is sometimes hard to control one’s ether when emotions are involved; torrents of confusion and a surge of unfamiliarity is something that I am not akin to… Do you happen to know about Saren by any chance? Whether it is lore, sites or a location I could go, as I seek answers, the journey itself is unknown and mysterious.”

[Velx]

She would grow increasingly worried about the young one. It was beyond keeping a stone face, and her emotions were openly showing. It was hard not to feel some degree of pity over the broken mind. He seemed cordial enough, but his instability couldn't be understated. Whatever she felt about the boy, her feelings were very clear about the Creator.

“Saren does not sire children” there was no need to be loud, the rage was evident, generational. “He creates tools”. While there was something obviously magical and strange about the boy, it was hard to take him seriously as a supposed child of Saren. Arkanai knew the god's nature well, and it wasn't a fatherly one. It was better to have no father at all than to depend on one such as this. She surprised herself at the amount of venom she carried regarding the relationship to Saren. She had never met or directly interacted with him, and yet – to this day, her people felt his presence and failure. To this day, her brother remained engrossed into the work of centuries on the failure's behalf. As Valanox continued to look for Saren's legacy, she felt disgust at them both for continuously following after him. Rightful or not, they carried on the search.

“I know of Saren, and know where you could look. I know who you could ask” every inch of her ready to strike at the boy were he to become unruly beyond a reasonable point. “Let me pose a different question. Why look for the bastard? No one gets to choose their parents – and even if I believed you to be a child of Saren, you are likely better off without” she hoped he would take her words seriously. Even the Chronologers that sought Saren only really sought his gifts, not him. The world was better off without.

The only reason she even toyed with the idea of Jared being something other than a human was the strange nature of his ether. She would always keep at least a side glance at the boy. This wasn't a creature you turned your back to. He had already proved himself to be sneaky and unstable. There was no need to poke the fire further.

[Gloomcrest]

3rd of Frost, 4623

The Draedan couldn’t help but ponder for a moment, taking the Arkanai as her anger bubbles upon the surface of her face. It was evident that Saren had a role to play in Velx’s life, and the mere mention of Saren not siring children but merely creating tools poses a question in the Draedan’s mind. Was he simply a tool himself as well? Based on his brief experience with coming into contact with Saren, it was confirmed that Saren was an aloof being who merely kept plans to himself.

It is clear that before Saren went to his slumber, he possibly voluntarily accepted his death or what he suppose is death. Jared couldn’t help but ponder why the Empty Defiler would choose to expend a large quantity of his divinity to awaken a petty thief like himself. Yes, there were stories of Saren being a thief before ascending to his divine status, but if that was the case, was it out of pity then? Did Saren see a reflection within the young Draedan? There were many questions, but no answers were found for now.

“Why? I seek answers for a change that was imposed on me; I am just a mere street urchin who somehow stumbled his way onto a grand stage… I honestly don’t know…”

The thief took a moment to merge the scattered lights into a singular globe, noting that the lady standing a few metres away was still on guard. Still, even if the thief wanted to abandon his quest to seek answers, a part of his corporeal form was fostering a will that grows by the day.

“Nevertheless, I merely stumbled upon you in this barren wasteland, and you should rest. The Badlands are a terrible place, especially when a storm comes through… If it puts you at ease, I can make up my camp a distance away.”

With that said, the Draedan took a moment to pick himself up from the ground, briefly dusting off the loose dirt and soil off his tattered cloak before donning it back on, preparing himself to make a distant trek away from Velx’s campsite as he senses her to be unfriendly, whether it was himself or the way that he spoke, the thief didn’t know. Jared wasn’t adept at socialising with people in the first place, so it was understandable if he had crossed a line that would provoke such a response. He paid a cost to focus more on his physical and arcane capabilities at the expense of not being able to develop bonds well.

[Taelian Edevane]

Pain thrummed in his skull. His mind... not the physical brain, but the behavior that was engaging in thought--that was generating sensations beyond empty wandering--it brought him pain. His head was filled with a swarm of terrors, curtaining over his physical view. What he could see was an endless desert, with resonant, howling winds that felt cold even against his Argent skin. He was being compelled. He did not know by what... by his blood, by his God. He had been pulled away from the tranquility of his home in Radenor, back to this terrible hellscape, barely distinguishable from Arun. Taelian could not feel the warm sun, and he could not feel the soft blue skies. In his head, he was trapped in Arun again, forced to transverse the First Mantle with nothing but a tattered pair of trousers and a broken blade. It was Ard Fuil, the blade he wielded so proudly for years on end, crushed against the skull of a feral Dreg, or so he thought it was. He'd never come upon a pile of bone so durable.

Taelian had fallen into madness, its source inexplicable. Perhaps it was always meant to reach him, a child of Venadak, as it had his sister Lyria. He had some aspect of her within him now; some of her darkened power, which had strayed in its benign radiance along the centuries it sent steeped in the Endless War. Like her, he roamed seeking something he knew not the name of, step by step into the eternal desert waste.

And then... he saw a refuge. In the center of the infernal landscape that surrounded him, soiled and made ashen in his mind, was a pristine glint of light. A soft fire, the warm smile of a woman and the company of a man he knew. A man he cared for; one he could recognize even in the barren tumult that laid out around him. Taelian could feel Saren's presence in him, and in that presence he felt some sense of company, difficult to describe. It was special, and familiar. Perhaps it was what drove him to this corner of the desert, though he could not recall why or how he had come here in the first place. He knew that for a moment, he took flight, and then he collided into the encrusted earth that reigned as quadrillions of grains.

"...Gloomcrest," he whispered, the tall man lumbering into view. His body was scratched, bloodied and bruised all over; his lip was split, his eyes cast a low stare as emptiness resonated within them. He only just now realized how beaten he truly was--he had not felt these scars or this pain until he looked down at himself, now, in the illuminating light before him. Just what had happened to him? He did not know. "Ja...red. What are you doing here...? I thought... I thought we escaped Arun; escaped Bel..."

[Velx]

Jared spoke strangely. It was as if he was much older than he seemed. He seemed prepared to leave her alone and move away some distance. She wasn't sure how to feel. As much as she had confidence in close quarters, it would be difficult to preempt an invisible moving target that had some distance to it. She had already spent too much to consider combining disciplines this night.

Her thoughts were cut short as another, much larger figure, came into view. She was worried about lack of warning from Runt. Glancing at the creature, she could see it on edge and looking intently towards the second stranger. The one coming into view was towering over her, much like she did over Jared. She would notice the man being hurt, but made no move to come closer or assist. It would be unwise to come close to someone so much larger and seemingly as unstable as Jared was. He was mumbling and seemingly focused on the smaller man - she hoped it would stay that way. What history the two shared must have been bad, as the only word she could make out of his mouth was Bel – and while she never had interest in the subject, she recognized the name. She hoped that they were merely speaking about getting out of a bad situation, but their joint instability kept her on edge.

“Are you wounded?” she'd voice briefly. It was against her better judgement, but she was unable to keep completely still.

Keeping both men in front of her, she would turn to Jared, expecting some kind of reaction upon seeing the man. The stranger was obviously hurt, but perhaps the wounds were only physical. She wondered whether she would be able to get away if things turned sour, but held her ground for the moment. The next moments would decide the best course of action for her.

[Gloomcrest]

3rd of Frost, 4623

Just as Jared was preparing to leave the campsite, his divinity coated his tattered black cloak, which shimmered under the moonlight as it began to lose its saturated hues to become one with the air itself. His glowing amber gaze quickly turned to the new source of sound, one that was familiar and a pull he experienced when he was in Bel. A visage of Taelian, who was battered, bruised and wounded, caught the thief by surprise to the point that for a split second, his emotions flickered as part of his cloak started to decay before quelling the surprised reaction. The nature of his divinity was one of corruption, influenced by rapid decay and all things, living and dead to return to dust, a curse to keep his emotions in check for a torrent of death lays in the shadows, waiting for a moment to present itself.

“Taelian… What are you doing here of all places?...”

A wounded look, eyes filled with sorrow yet masked by a brief smile as it was a habit by the thief to keep people at arm's length for being vulnerable has burned him severely in the past. His cautious nature about his change made the umber-haired man’s paranoia worse over the many seasons as well.

He turned his gaze over to Velx, who questioned his injuries. The Draedan of Saren took a few strides over to Taelian, prompting him to rest on his shoulders momentarily. His gaze was wavering as if he was looking for help. He felt a sense of helplessness as he didn't know how to assist a close companion, who was suffering a moment of respite.

“I know. I just said that if my presence makes you uneasy, I would leave, but circumstances have changed. Would you be okay with us resting here for the night; since he needs help, I can prepare us food if that would help.”

Jared was thinking of anything he could bargain with to allow himself and Taelian to stay in the comforts of a campfire and a suitable spot to rest for the night. It would also be challenging to set up a camp with an injured person, and the Alistian thief knew. His heart and divine spark wavered as his proximity to Taelian made clear that the two were bonded by fate, a domain his father, Saren, would reign over and watch over until time ended.

[Taelian Edevane]

Taelian's eye lingered on the Arkanai woman--on Velx--as she questioned him. Just a single golden, glowing orb, stuck on her as he glared from a peripheral view. It almost looked as if the remainder of his face was curtained by shadow, the portion of it not lit by the gleam of the desert sun shaded by its absence. He continued to stare for a moment, taking her in. He could see her now: a tall, lanky, ghost-like figure with white tendrils that led into narrow, clawed fingers. She wore black armor, which only barely suited her form; upon her hair of black threads was a broken circlet, and more and more her eyes filtered red to reflect the deepened color of the sky above them. Yes: this was not an Arkanai, it was a Dreg. He could feel her presence shrouding the light around her. He felt her reaching into him, interrupting the purity of his mind. She spoke to him, breaking the barrier he had spent so long crafting, weaving; the one he had thought had fully formed.

She spoke to him through the Purgatory. The substance that filled his lungs: the mold of Hell, which he had been forced by his father's will to devour. A҉r҉e҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉ ҉w҉o҉u҉n҉d҉e҉d҉?҉" ? she asked. "How dare you?" Taelian suddenly snapped, his teeth gritting, the man's lips misshaping into a grueling grimace of rage. "You are the reason I have become this way," the Draedan spat. "You... POISONED ME. GET THIS FUCKING DRUG OUT OF MY VEINS."

His voice boomed. Resonance. It oscillated with a harrowing depth, the blunt sound of it so deep that his words increasingly projected into a reverberating echo. The sound would cause their bodies to physically shudder, until near the end of his words his voice gave in. Taelian began to cough and gag, and in moments a deep bile spewed from his throat: a black mold that melted the earth beneath it like a boiling acid. He hacked, his eyes full of unwitting tears, and he staggered as a mewling whimper left his mouth. "Jared--I've seen everything. I know what is to come, now. I've always wondered... why they... why those tainted Elves have been allowed to live; to inhabit the Outlands. I know why they are there, and I... I have to save everyone."

He nodded fiercely, willing himself to stay conscious and strong even as his eyes could barely hold open, and his irises rolled to the back of his head. His staggering became a tumble, the burly man collapsing onto the grains beneath him. He could still, even as he fell and stared blankly through narrowed eyelids, hear the sharp ringing in his ears. Within the ring was a darkly voice, speaking to him in a language he somehow instinctually knew. It was so chilling, cold and painful to hear. Every single word weakened him, and broke his mind.

It was Venadak. It was his voice. He was paying with his sanity to be his scribe.

Taelian went unconscious, and it would be some time before he awoke.

- - -

Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn...

A rumbling vibration. As his physical body fell, it was like his mind awoke. He could see that bleak hallway again; it was covered in Purgatory, the black mold completely concealing every inch of wall. Even to walk through it, he needed to drudge through the fungal waste, the psychoactive substance seeping into his bare feet. Purgatory allowed him to speak to the Dregs; the angels that stalked the trenches of Arun and served the will of the Imprisoned. It was through Purgatory that he could see her, the centipede-like pale specter of a woman, onyx-clad, the one that stood beside Jared as if a friend. She had been following him for hundreds of miles, longing to embrace him. She showed him things: fragments, like little memories stored and shared, which he experienced as vividly as touch or breath. He was there, flitting between Bel and the Outlands, seeing the mounds of corpses turn into walking horrors. He could see great pits, ones that dug into planets... trenches miles long, stuffed with millions and millions of bodies, like an inverted tower of corpses. The walls around them were study, built of a grey-colored stone, and the longer they wilted in those macabre tunnels the more vivid he could make out their shape. They became blackened, twisted, linked in an endless chain.

The tower became a lifeform: it became like a child, growing until one day it could crawl out of confinement and join the Krish in their journey. Those mounds of death became weapons, and it was one such weapon that had plummeted to their world not long ago.

It was a God. The Krish were creating Gods, ones that would feed the Outsider. This was how the Adac had become Gods before them... by harvesting the souls of entire worlds, millions and billions, into their great funnel. Their nemesis had learned.

As Taelian slept, he would shift, twisting and turning before speaking into the others' minds as that resonant voice. His father was speaking through him, using Resonance to attune the sounds he created so finely that it was His voice that spoke through.

But they would not be able to understand what he said. His words were a poison that they could not drink. So as they stayed by his side--however long that was--they would only hear those mortifying sounds, and that would be the extent of it all.