Rose cried out as the strange energy streaked up and then came raining down on herself and her allies. She was still gripping her staff tightly as she was driven to her knees by the shockingly powerful energy that burrowed its way inside of her. She could feel her lungs burn as she struggled to breathe under the overwhelming onslaught that drove the air from her lungs as she cried out. She shut her eyes, gritting her teeth, trying to keep herself from biting her tongue as she squeezed the wood in her hands, feeling it grow warm.
She was concerned that the staff would catch fire in her hands, becoming ruined or even destroyed, but she couldn't even will herself to let go of it, as her muscles wouldn't obey her. She did her best try struggle and stay awake, but consciousness had been stripped from her as the energy continued to pour into her.
When she could breathe again, and the power stopped raining down on them, she finally stirred back to consciousness slowly. She could still feel everything sting and tingle from what had happened, and her vision was slowly refocusing from the haze it had become. She finally pulled her hands from her staff one after the other, wincing as she could see the scorch marks and imprints made from her hands gripping it. She could also feel some of the power that surged into her had also lingered inside of the staff, looking at it in silent awe as she ran her hands over it.
Moira was halfway through a swing at the specter before she stopped herself. For the briefest moment she thought her father was standing before her. Grey-streaked hair, bushy beard...and the holy symbol around his neck. But that is where the similarities ended. In fact, she felt silly for even thinking he was here. He was miles north of here keeping the balance of nature and what not. Surprised by the moment of melancholy she almost misses it's response to Dom.
She was not prepared for what happened next.
Blue-lightning streaked down from the heavens, too fast to dodge. The impact drove her to a knee and continued pushing until she was on all fours. Strangely, she didn't die immediately nor was it all that painful. Despite the almost crushing weight she felt more warm than burned. A warmth that suffused her being, filling her with strength and new vigor. When it was over she felt every hair raised and goosebumps all over. She convulsed as every nerve seemed to tingle simultaneously. Then it stopped leaving her charged and ready for a fight.
"All this s&#@'s going to give me a heart attack," she muttered. More loudly she called out, "Everyone still alive?"
Lyra had been blown flat onto her back from the lightning and was slow to sit up, her muscles jumping and twitching from the residual energy. "Ow." was her answer to Moira as she sat up slowly, her hand going to check her thick mane of hair and sighing with relief as she found every lock of ruby red hair untouched. "That wasn't normal lightning."
Standing didn't produce the head rush she was expecting so Lyra stretched her aching muscles and found that pain from the surge of power was fading quickly and she quickly felt normal again. She checked for Shirak and found the powerful tiger cleaning it's fur of demon blood. Smirking with one half of her mouth the druid flicked her fingers and a tiny cloud appeared over the feline and began to rain. Shirak jumped in surprise and eyed the cloud with suspicion before smelling the water drops and, finding them clean, moved back under to let the water do the work.
The two celestial wolves rubbed against Lyra and shoved their heads under her hands, unconcerned with the muck they rubbed on her. "Ugh!" Lyra snapped, dispelling both wolves with a wave of her hand and eyeing the mix of blood and mud on her hands and pants. An impatient flick produced her own miniature rain cloud that began to produce a steady downpour of warm water that steamed in the chilled air. Using the water to clean herself the woman looked around at the group. "Anyone else notice that vibe going away?"
"So you were the ones spoken of in my vision." The ghost said as he looked up at the now quiet clouds. "Fire and lightning raining down from the clouds and scouring the evil from this hill."
Anyone looking at the ghost would see him become less visible, his face looking more haggard as if something was sucking the strength from him. "I understand finally. My repentance was not to guard the demon but to hold him here and wait..for you. My salvation lies in your hands brother. Quickly now before the last of my strength flees, take up my weapon!" the spirit said, pointing over at a small pile of rubble leaning against the wall. Moments later he vanished completely from view.
Anyone looking over there will see a booted foot sticking out from the pile of rubble, unmoving and obviously dead.
Moments after the ghost faded everyone will feel an unseen tension lift from their bodies as if color was leeched back into the world around them and the broken sunlight filtering through the clouds was just a little brighter.
"Everything is vibrating right now," Moira says to Lyra. Here hands and legs shook as she stood up. But not from exertion. It felt like nervous energy. Like just before the perfect shot. Or in the final stages of hammering a blade she was experimenting on. She stood in time to hear the ghosts last words and fade away. She gave the others a confused look. "Yeah. Okay." Whatever that was no business of hers. Instead, she looked down at the demon, giving it an appraising look. Demon blood, feathers, and claws. Morphing, or maybe retracting, arm blades. Those might be useful in crafting later. When was the next time she was going to fight a demon anyway?
...Scratch that. The possibility is probably a lot higher than normal around here. Someone was selling or giving these coins away. So that meant they were likely going to run into more people being turned into demons. In that case, instead of using the parts to craft weapons, she could use them to test materials that were opposed to it. Holy weapons like those of a paladin.
Moira shook her head. She was thinking too far ahead. Have to figure out how to make a magic weapon before she could decide what [i]kind[/b] to make.
With that decided she took out a large hunting knife and knelt next to the body. That's when she got a real good look at it. Only when it was fighting was it the size she expected it to be. Now that she got a good look at it, it had human muscle structure. The demony bits seemed...grafted on almost. "S~@#! This was only a half-demon," she says out loud. "This could have gone a lot worse if this was the real thing." Thank all the gods for that at least. All the more reason to find something to fight these things.
Moira moved her knife towards the wing for a few feathers when she noticed something on it's back. There were small, circular indentations all around the wings and down the arms. Odd. Moira gingerly poked one and noticed a green powdery substance on her blade. It grew into a small, ugly green vine. Spores. She forgot this thing grew harmful spores. And it's body was inundated with them. She stood up and called out, "Anyone got something to protect against demonic spores? I want to get some samples. Blood, feathers, claws...those arms blades."
Meha tries her best to shake off the effects of the supercharging they all received, but it only added to her feeling of unease. Now all of them had been touched by some force of nature or a deity, it felt as if they were being prepared for something more, something bigger. She couldn't place it however, as every time she thought she had it figured out, they would overcome the issue. She turns this over in her mind as she shifts through the rubble and the debris to find items, enough to make her feel as if they need search more thoroughly and completely.
As she is walking back to the group, she overhears Moira mentioning the part about a half demon, giving her pause.
"So it wasnt a full demon? So does that mean what exactly? Was it born then? I know of a few angel and demon touched priest. Some have the most beautiful hair." She pauses for a moment, thinking this over. She supposes they did come from somewhere. "But unless it is an issue, perhaps we should bury the body and give it a proper respects Moira? If it was human once, it needs to be respected. Bad things happen to those who upset the gods."
Pain, pain and fire, and a distant scream. Every cell in Domitian's body quivered as the lightning danced through him, and all thoughts or concerns for the ghost fled from his brain. He fell to his knees, unable to support his own wait. Yet, even as he fell, he felt more strength than he ever had before. The lightning cleared, and he looked up, his eyes brighter than ever before. He locked his gaze on the ghost, and in that moment he understood the man he had been. The weakness he had felt. His eyes widen as the ghost's pleas reach him, and he processes his request. He quickly rushes over to the pile of rubble, ignoring everyone else as he moves to help his fallen brother. He quickly begins trying to clear the rubble, searching for the weapon in question.
Domitian will find the crushed and broken corpse of the ghost. In its hand the body held a simple longbow that the paladin could feel resonating in his very bones. The moment he reaches down to touch the bow the spirit of the tortured elk vanishes as the grain of the weapon twists and reshapes itself into a thick limbed, recurve bow. As he lifts the beautiful weapon out of the rubble the paladin will hear the ghosts voice resonate in his mind. Thus I now serve eternally. Hunt well brother.
This thick limbed recurve bow is carved from the black heartwood of otherwordly trees and strung with unicorn hair.
+1 adaptable Composite Longbow that bestows the cold iron property on it's ammo with the Intelligent and Eagle Eye legendary abilities
Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 12
LG
Ego 19
Senses 30 ft
Telepathy
Speech
Surge 2/day (1d8)
Eagle Eye - No penalties to attack due to range
Domitian looks in awe at the longbow quivering in his grip. It is beautiful... I can only hope to do it justice. "Akiivos..." he mutters, as the name resonates in his mind. Can you hear me? Like this? Incredible... I will make sure your body is laid to rest properly, and then I will use this gift to the honor of Erastil, and to you.
When the others were discussing the disposition of the body of the demon, Domitian will call out "We should see to this body first. Then we will discuss the demon's body." He stands, pulls off his old longbow, and lets it clatter to the ground. Then he reverently puts the new weapon in it's place. It fit, as if made just for him.
Rose slowly and steadily made her way back to her feet, gently cleaning some of the residue and scorching that happened to her staff. She breathed a deep, steadying breath as she watched the others. She brushed her white hair from her face, tucking it behind an elongated ear. She did pick through the rubble some to find anything of use readily, but she didn't dig too much, trying to save her strength after both the fight and the taxing feeling of the power surge. Her limbs still trembled from the feeling of all that had just transpired.
She sighed, she had tried to curse the demonic being with a hex, but it didn't seem to have had any effect unfortunately. She bit her lip in thought as she pondered the implications, she didn't want to dwell too much on it for now.
"Well," Moira says looks over the body. "Considering the two guys we already found with demonic power, pretty sure this guy started the same way. Swallowed a coin and did stuff so monstrous he finally became one." She looked up pointedly. "So I don't think he really deserves any respect." She stands and looks back down at the body. "What I plan to do is better than he deserves anyway. We have a problem here. I doubt this is the last time we will deal with people like this or these coins. So, I plan to take some samples and see what works best against demons. Ores, magical creatures, plants, reagents. Then maybe I can make some weapons that will work against them better." She folds her arms and gives Mehaila a predatory look. "A hunter always goes in prepared. My god appreciates that."
Moira then turns to Dom. The body on the ground must have belonged to the soul that was speaking to them. It had mentioned something about a weapon. Was it the bow the paladin had now? What was...
"So. You're just going to leave that there?" she asks him coldly as he drops his old bow to the ground, clearly already forgotten.
Domitian, distracted by his new bow and focused on the demon, barely notices the coldness coming from Moira. "Yes, for now. We can pick it up with the rest later. There are more important concerns at the moment." He makes his way over to the body of the fallen demon. "I want to see if we do have another coin at the heart of this beast." He closes his eyes momentarily, utters a quick prayer to Erastil for his holy vision, and then opens them again, gazing down at the fallen demonic form.
Moira stares at the bow and then at Dom a bit longer but gives up when she realizes he isn't paying attention. Later then. She watches him and waits as he does whatever paladins do to see evil things. The wounds might be gone but she vividly remembered the attack he suffered from the demon's arm blades. It didn't put out spores like a normal Vrock. Did it only activate during an attack? He didn't seem affected.
"This thing has diseased spores like a regular Vrock but nothing happened during the fight. Then again it only attacked you. Did you feel anything or do you have some protection? Cause I as thinking of getting some samples but I don't want to get a face full of those things without some protection."
Domitian shakes his head and allows his spell to lapse. "No coin, as far as I can tell. Nothing but a fading evil aura, as expected for this kind of creature."
He looks at Moira as she asked her question. He shrugs, an unsure look on his face. "I have many protections as a paladin of Erastil, including an immunity to disease. I was also under the effect of a protection from evil spell. I didn't feel anything when he hit me, other than the normal amounts of pain from that sort of a blow. I couldn't tell you if any of my protections did anything or not. If these spores are a disease, though, they wouldn't be able to affect me." He gives an apologetic smile and shrug. "Not sure if that helps you or not."
"I don't think we need to worry about paying proper respects to this monster." Lyra said, nudging the demon's leg with her toe. "There is nothing to purify. The moment he became a half-demon and reveled in the chaos and blood he consigned his soul to the abyss. And besides Domitian-" she glanced at the paladin and gave his fancy new bow the stink eye. "I have a sneaking suspicion that there was at least one god present who would happily drag this creature's soul to the Boneyard for Judgement. And with the exception of him-" she pointed at the broken corpse that Domitian had uncovered "I say we just pile the zombies onto the demon, add some wood and accelerant and poof! Problem solved."
She walked over to the entrance of the fort and leaned out, looking south. She stepped back into the fort and spotted a set of precarious but still intact stairs leading to the top of the wall. At the top of the wall she looked in all directions with a hand shielding her eyes as the storm clouds began to break up, allowing beams of sunlight through. "There is a box of potent alcohol next to the fire the demon was sitting next to, the same stuff we scavenged from the bandit camp in the forest. It burns extremely hot so adding it to wood will ensure that even the bones turn to ash. I'm going to take a look around."
With an enigmatic smile Lyra turned to the group before stepping back onto the wall and toppling over. A second later a large brown eagle flew up into the sky and screamed with joy.
Shaking her head, Mehaila mutters " Savages." She then tries to think of the best way to phrase it, before Moira's comments throw her off. It was a very good point that one he was a demon they should use him for testing, but she also felt they needed to respect it. After a bit of thought, and knowing the parties feelings she says " Perhaps we should bury something as a symbol? Maybe Dom's old bow, as a way to show respect to those slain unjustly to this demon, and perhaps it would help. You never know which god is watching or guiding us. The best revenge is to live well, and by showing some respect we are showing to be better than him."
They could tell she was grasping at straws for she could understand the allure of power and all its trappings. Not everyone had the same choices they did, or the same skills or paths. Who knows how this man could've turned out. Added that they did have a body that did need proper burial, it felt wrong to not do something for the rest.
However, she would help with moving the bodies and securing everything, trying to smooth the process as much as she can
Rose took a look at the alcohol that Lyra mentioned, and after uncorking one and taking a good whiff of it, she had to blink. "Yeah, that will probably be a good way to start the pyre for sure." She cleared her throat a bit and waved some of the lingering fumes away, as she wrinkled her nose. She was genuinely surprised anyone would want to drink something that potent considering how strongly it smelled of disinfectant.
She decided to join her sister by the wall, sitting beside her. "Well we once again were favored by fate, eh?" She gave a cheeky smile to Lyra.
"It does. Here," Moira she says handing him her knife to Dom. "Get me as many feathers as you can, some bones, claws, the arm blades, and...hey Rose?" she calls over to the alchemist. "You got any empty vials? I'd like spores too. You might like spores too." She then walks over to the crate Lyra mentioned and cracks it open. She pulls out one of the bottles and gives it a once over. She didn't recognize the label, what little was left, so she pops the cork and takes a swig. She grimaces in distaste and shivers.
"That is awful. But it will definitely burn." She replaces the cork and sets it back with the others. She pats Dom on the shoulder as she walks by. "I'll take care of the dead guy. I'll bury him out back. Saw a nice lake." So saying she dug the poor paladin out and slung him over her shoulder, apparently not minding the questionable grime coating him.
Dom looks down at the demon with a frown on his rugged, almost ugly face. He doesn't seem very pleased at the thought. He sighs, though, knowing it is important to Moira, and willing to go along. At her suggestion of dealing with the paladin's body, though, he firmly shakes his head. "I'd like to be involved in laying him to rest. His name was Akiivos, and it was because of him we were able to battle the demon here, contained, rather than out in the open."
He looks at Moira and says "I will get your samples for you, after we lay Akiivos to rest." Having said that, he starts laying out Akiivos' equipment, and places the man's silver holy symbol around his own neck. He then helps Moira move and prepare the body. After laying him to rest and saying a few quick words, he'll return to the demon and begins collecting the requested samples.
While Dom and Moira was solving the mystery of the dead paladin, and due to it being their deity, Mehaila was checking over the loot and everything they pulled. After moving everything into a magical and non magical pile, she then places items with a neatly written note in Common about what each she was able to identify was. She left another note on the jars to let Rosa look at them, since she was more familiar with potions. Out of all the loot, Meha only took the rapier, and left the rest for her party. It fit her hand nicely, and though her old one had served her well, this one was more powerful, and would be a bit more helpful in their coming trials she felt.
" Hey, I moved around the items we have gathered, get what you want or can use. I left a note for what I identified." And with that she would then say a pray for the dead Paladin after Moira and Dom were done with his grave, giving him the proper respect one gives another priest of a good deity. She then started to dig a grave for the zombies and the demon, but would not move any of them until the group was ready to be done with the bodies. Even if the graves held only the ashes, it was still respectful.
Rose turned to the others after various items needed to be identified. "I don't mind helping to identify potable liquids, they tend to be my specialty." She said with a bit of a smile as she carefully took the clay jars into her care and began to carefully identify each jar's liquids. She quickly identified all, but one of them, which she just attributed to tiredness.
"I am not sure about this one for the moment, I will have to come back to it at some later point. That is unless one of you want to brave consuming it, but not knowing what it does could be hazardous or wasteful unfortunately. She let out a bit of a sigh and then looked at magical bow they had acquired among other magical arms. Sure it didn't have quite the same pull strength as her current bow, but she heard that magic weapons tended to be more valuable and powerful than their mundane components.
"Does anyone mind if I take this bow?" She asked, not wanting to take the choice from another if they so desired it, as she carefully laid out the potables and explained each one as she did so, making note to identify which one she didn't know as well.
As Moira and Domitian saw to the burial of their fallen comrade the bow would remark to the Paladin "Thank you but that is no longer my body. Through Erastil's blessing I have been given immortality and the chance to atone for my sins. Do not worry about unquiet spirits for their power was being drawn directly from the demon. With his death their souls have become untethered and sent to their final destination. Burn their Corpses so that their bodies do not corrupt the Earth."
As the sun tracked over the heavens the land around the party seemed to sigh with relief, the winds slowing to a gentle trickle as the rain clouds thinned and dispersed until patches of shadow flowed smoothly over a sun-drenched plain. Plenty of wood could be found from the ruined buildings and within a few hours the party would assemble a large bier next to the shore of the lake. Old, dry wood drenched with potent alcohol exploded into furious flame the moment a spark was laid bare, fire and wind scorching away unclean flesh and corrupted form.
Shezen and the other kobolds would come up to the fort with the party's horses in tow, watching impassionately as the staglord and his bandits burned away into dust that scattered in the wind. "It is over?"
After a few hours on the wing Lyra returns while the party is seeing to the burning of the corpses and lands back in the fort. She immediately grabs a half ruined shovel from a pile of scrap and begins to dig straight down. She is still digging when the party returns and has excavated over a foot of hardpacked dirt when suddenly her shovel hits something hard with a loud TING!
Tossing the shovel aside she holds her hand over the hole and spits out a few words in a rough, grinding language. A rumbling sound comes from the hole before a lumpy creature of rock and dirt rises out of the ground and looks expectantly at the druid. Lyra says a few more words in the rumbling language and points down at the hole. The elemental nods and simply sinks back into the earth. The red-haired woman waits patiently until the elemental came back a few minutes later and begins to speak to her in the same rumbling language.
The two exchanged several terse sentences before Lyra waved her hand at the elemental and it fell apart into a pile of loose stone and dirt. Walking over to Rosa the druid tries to wipe some of the dirt from her filthy hands. "This hill is the bones of a very old mountain, solid rock over two thousand feet straight down. Old fold mountain with lots and lots of granite and other hard minerals."
She backs away from Rosa and holds her arms open expansively. "Imagine it. A settlement built with good, strong foundations, a grandhall that grows into a castle surrounded by a city, roads going north to Brevoy, water drawn from the lakes and rivers all around us, food from hunting and careful farming, exports of carefully controlled lumber. The forest west of us is immense, I flew as high as I could and still couldn't see the other side! Lumber, precious minerals, metals...we have everything we need to achieve our dream!"
Rose marvels at the little earthen creature that Lyra called upon the services of. Shortly she wrinkles her nose a little bit as she looks back over the the ruined keep that they had just dealt with the contents of. "We should probably do something about the rest of that, unless you think it is just fine to burn bodies. I don't know what kind of power leveled that place, and I don't know if we need to still purify it either." She offers a bit of shrug.
She contemplates her sister's words, hand on her chin giving her a thoughtful look. "I can imagine a settlement out here though. One that slowly sprawls and grows and becomes a safe haven in this stark wilderness..." She looks back up to Lyra and then the others. "I can certainly imagine it." She smiles.
Mehaila looks over to Shezen and with clear thought before speaking, saying " I am not sure this is the end of our journey, nor the exact end of the complete bandit danger... I think it is safe to say we have cleared this area of them for now. Your people should be safe, atleast with us they are. I may no guarantee's for other groups however."
Meha seems uneased by how easy this was, as it seemed killing a bunch of bandits should be harder for some reason. OR is it just they are favored by fate, destined to head towards greatness? They were a ragtag bunch, two humans and three elven kind. Perhaps this is why we are doing so well. We have strength in diversity.
The moon started to rise as the bodies and spare wood from the fort started to flame and ash, the redness of it casting a ill wind. She sent a few prayers to Calistria as she did not trust it, making sure each and every body was burned, and tossing a bit of burial incense, making sure nothing was left to chance that an ill spirit could attach to them. Something was just bothering her about this whole thing. Though it could just be her mistrust of the younger races coming forward, she could not recall things being this easy before in her life.
Once the bier had burned down to a pile of smoldering ash the moon was climbing higher over the horizon, a pale white disc the hung in the last vestiges of daylight as the sky shifted to a deep blue color. Lyra and Rosa, who had not taken part in the burning of the bandits, were just finished with setting up the cooking fire inside the slightly leaning but still stout walls of the fort. All of the tents were set up in a circle around the fire and spaced equidistant from each other. The gates had also been fixed, Lyra using her druidic magic to reattach the large doors to the walls.
Over the fire was a spit of a large elk, skinned, gutted and basted with a salivating mixture of herbs. In the neck of the creature large lacerations could be seen and Lyra would nod if asked about them, smiling coyly and stating only that dinner would be served soon. On a smaller cooking fire a small cauldron had been set up and simmered with a stew of wild vegetables and chunks of fresh caught rabbit. The bottles of potent liquor left over from the burning of the Staglord had been set out in a row upon a large square block of stone and one of them had been opened. Several mismatched mugs of wood and tin were filled with the potent drink and Lyra hummed while she cooked and took small sips from her own wooden mug while Rosa drank absentmindedly from a potion flask of the stuff and studied her growing collection of potions.
The mood of the evening was considerably festive as even the kobolds would partake of the food and drink and fall asleep in mid-sentence as they would fall over backwards and sprawl comfortably on the ground. All too soon Domitian would cut himself off from anymore alcohol as he began to visibly wobble as he walked, filling his mug with simple, clean water to help with clearing his head. Lyra would end up finishing her own drinking when she dropped her mug while trying to refill and unbalanced when she bent over to retrieve it, falling backwards and being caught by the observant Moira.
As Rosa was quietly watching the antics of her sister with her alchemical manual open in her lap and Mehaila absorbed with chatting with the paladin while showing off the full range of her lithe, feminine body, both were surprised when the drunk Lyra placed her arms around Moira's neck and placed a firm kiss on the fighter's lips. "Thanksss beautifuuul." she said with a coy, drunken smile.
Untangling herself from the taller women Lyra would daintily straighten her tunic while arching her back every so slightly. "My goodness it's warm tonight!" she said while walking, slowly, over to a large beam that had been dragged over for seating. Domitian would choose this time to bid everyone good night and retired to his tent with a large skin of cold water ready next to his bed.
The rest of the night would devolve into a drinking contest between the tall and powerful Moira and the lithe Mehaila, the two women matching each other mug for mug. When each had drank more than 2 bottles each of the potent liqueur it was Moira who admitted defeat, turning her mug over and pouring the contents into the fire which flared wildly for a few seconds. Rosa watched the entirety of the drinking contest with detached interest, her mug full of freshly brewed coffee as she showed no intent of going to sleep.
Once the stew had been consumed Rosa had scrubbed her cauldron clean with a powerful substance that stank of harsh chemicals before setting it back on the fire and filling it with her own alchemical fluids, doing nothing more then stirring it once in a while and keeping an eye on the sky. Lyra did her own sky watching while humming to herself, alternating between the rising moon and staring hungrily at Moira. The fighter noticed the looks and sent quite a few back, her own hunger and desire evident.
When Moira, tired of the drinking and feasting, said goodnight to the party and vanished into her own tent Lyra got up matter of factly and followed her. Before she ducked into Moira's tent she had already begun to unlace her tunic. The last thing Rosa and Mehaila would hear her say is "I'm hungry."
Mehaila would enjoy the night, drinking and reveling with her friends after the hard fought battle. Lyra and Rosa simple task of just having a meal ready was enough to set her at ease, due to just the simple nature of it. After every bad thing that has happened, the world does go on. Meha took her armor off, and brought out a simple dress, one that helped show off her lithe figure, but was not as revealing as normal, nor was it as flashy as her armor. It was just a simple dressing dress, perhaps more high on the thigh then was modest, and v-necked more than would be appropriate for a bigger chested woman, she obviously had dressed down and into a more simple and natural look, even changing her earrings for it was obviously a festive mood
It started out great, and she even got to flirt the night away with Dom, murmuring softly and joking with him, teasing him a bit, however keeping it well within what the paladin would feel comfortable with. Perhaps it was the coming power of the moon, but something was telling her the pay off for this chase would be well worth it, whatever it was. However, like all good things, it came to an end to early for her taste. This will be a fine joke one day. How to make a priestess of Calistria celibate? Ask her to seduce a paladin of Erastil. She would watch him go to his tent alone, a solid and stoic reminder that sometimes things had to be more serious and perhaps that was for the best.
After awhile however Moira challenged her to a drinking contest. While she was no coward, she was surprised when she won rather handily, and was not feeling much of anything. It would cost Moira a few jokes though,but it was all done in good jest, as the women bonded over things only they could share. However soon Moira and Lyra departed, and without question Meha and Rosa found reasons to be very busy and quiet.
The night grew longer, and the moon went dark with blood, she would feel a tingling in her body. It was as every nerve was alive, a bit electric feeling however not unpleasant like the recent experiences had been. She takes this chance to creep over to sit near Dom's tent, and while she does not enter it, she sits outside and start talking in Sylvan. It was a light language that her mother insisted she learn, and Meha found it made a great way to talk to someone without them worrying over the words, as it was a light and musical language. She told Dom stories of her childhood and her past, things she wouldn't normally share with anyone, but she felt he would enjoy knowing. It didn't matter to her that he wouldn't understand, for on a powerful night like this, it mattered little but just spending time with and near something you enjoyed. She sent a prayer to Calistria to watch over Lyra and Moira, and a thanks to Erastil for Dom being in her life. For even a priestess needed to be reminded the chase is half the joy of the hunt.
Rose would cock an eyebrow at the comment, exchanging glances with Mehaila over the rim of her coffee mug. She did take note of the moon in particular this night. She wasn't usually one for full moons as they represented the opposite of her own particular path, but the color of the one tonight gave her pause. She knew there was powerful magic being performed this night of all nights and she took a deep breath away from her cauldron, careful not to inhale the potent fumes wafting from it. She redoubled her efforts to finish cleaning it, as she wanted to perform ritual tonight, taking advantage of the magical celestial phenomena while she still could.
Upon finishing her chore, she carefully repacked the cauldron away once more and then taking her book and her staff she took some loose rubble and made herself a little ritual area not too far from the fire pit. Once she had created her crude sigils from small rocks and pebbles, she laid her book down and then began to chant while holding her staff, still bearing the scorch marks from their earlier "empowerment" as well. She chanted softly, giving praise as she went through her meditation ritual to bask in the magical energy that was being offered this night.
Once she had completed her ritual, she felt recharged and invigorated by the spiritual and magical energy the night air seemed to be positively thrumming with. It was a special kind of night, almost perfect for a dance.
Moira still felt energized. Even after hauling the body out near the lake. Even after digging a grave and seeing to the other rites Dom insisted on. Even after searching through rubble and hauling more bodies onto the bier to burn. Even after all that she felt like she could run back to Oleg's or carry another tree for 6 hours. So when the victory over the local bandit-leader-turned-demon turned into a celebration she welcomed the chance to blow off some steam. She ate more than she thought she could put away and still found room to drink Mehaila under the table. Who knew the little twig of an elf could drink like a sailor? Eventually she had to admit defeat before she embarrassed herself. She ribbed Dom and Rosa for giving in so quickly. She laughed as Kobolds fell about the place after only a few drinks. Most of all she caught the little looks Lyra was giving her and returned them two-fold.
Something had changed in her. In all of them. And it wasn't just the alcohol or the warm and fuzzies of a good time. Beyond the weird fiery wings or the supernatural speed she sometimes moved at was something more. They all had gained tremendous power. It both was both terrifying and exhilarating. When a new species randomly found itself in a new environment it threw the whole ecosystem out of whack. And it usually took generations before any sense of balance took hold. What would this new strength do to them? Were they the same people anymore? In a few more weeks or months would they even recognize themselves anymore? And what of the Stolenlands? They threw the whole area into chaos coming here. Kobolds, demons, giant trees, mites, all being carried along by the typhoon of chaos that was just five adventurers.
Despite all this Moira couldn't find it in her to worry over much. Not when she was lying next to pretty little elf. Things would be what they would be. Eventually they would find balance. It was the way of nature. And it was a comforting thought.
Despite that thought, Moira awoke around midnight from a vivid nightmare. It was nothing concrete. Just terrible images of fire and blood and an intense since of foreboding. For a brief moment her heart stopped as she thought part of it had come true.
The world was bathed in red.
Thankfully it was not actually blood. It was a faint red light suffusing everything. She carefully extracted herself from Lyra's surprisingly strong yet warm embrace and scooted towards the edge of the tent. She peeked out and found the fort similarly colored. She looked up and saw a red moon.
A blood moon. An extremely rare occurrence. It was a night of strange things and intense power. Reaching back, she jostled Lyra's leg while still looking at the moon. All she got was a grumbled reply. She jostled harder. "Hey. Lyra. Wake up. Shouldn't you be doing something on a night like this?" she asked. Moira was not a caster of any strength but she knew such people liked to utilize such nights for magical rituals or rites. Looking around she noticed Mehaila and Rosa already awake.
"You mean like you?" Moira snorted at Lyra's sultry reply.
"Don't tempt me. Seriously though, look around."
"Hmm." Lyra murmured as she was jostled awake by Moira, her hand moving out to rest on the fighter's leg. "I was doing something. Tonight is when you should revel in letting go to bliss!"
She sat up with a yawn, her ruby red hair tousled and messy. She returned Moira's snarky remark with a pouty frown before blinking the sleep from her eyes and peeking out of the tent. When she saw the red orb overhead the druid froze and a look of joy and uncertainty crossed her face. She sat there for a few indecisive seconds before clawing her hair straight and pulling her undershirt back on.
She grabbed Moira's face and planted a passionate kiss on the larger woman's lips. "Mmm tasty. I'm going down to the lake, stay away if you value your life."
Before an answer could be forthcoming Lyra ducked out of the tent and went into the one she normally shared with her sister. She was in there for only a short minute before coming out dressed in a simple white robe and barefoot, a sealed clay jar in one hand and a long bone dagger in the other. Every inch of the dagger was covered with intricate scrimshaw in an unknown language and stained with centuries of use. The druid clicked her tongue to awaken Shirak and the duo moved to the main gate, stopping once to look back at everyone. "Please stay away from the lake tonight. No matter what you hear or see know that I am safe."
As the blood moon approached it's zenith Lyra mounted her horse bareback and rode down to the shore of the massive lake. Shirak was a silent presence next to her, the white tiger almost glowing red in the light of the full blood moon. At the edge of the water the druid knelt and dipped her hands into the lake, the cool liquid sloughing away the dirt and grime of the day. She rubbed the water up her arms gently, almost reverently, her eyes drifting over the dark surface of the lake and the reflection of the blood circle high in the sky. Once her arms were clean the simple robe slithered to the ground and she stepped fully into the lake, immersing herself to the chin.
Shirak sat down on the shore, the tigers' eyes black with terrible purpose and mystery as the druids' guardian scanned the surround. With anyone still awake told to stay away from the lake and leave the druid alone the great cat was her only protection against the darkness. Here nature was raw and primal, unknown forces looming ever vigilant as the light of the red moon covered everything in the color of blood.
Once she was clean Lyra came back on shore naked and opened the claw jar. Inside was a pasty black substance that smelled strongly of herbs that she put on her fingers and used to draw on her skin. There was no rhyme or reason to the art she drew on her skin but when Lyra finished the paste gave her a savage and feral appearance in the red light.
Letting the empty jaw fall to the ground Lyra used the bone dagger to put a small cut into each of her palms, the resulting trickle of blood small but steady. The blade whetted and the form obscured the druid stepped boldly out onto the lake, her blood falling into the water.
"Mkay," Moira says distractedly after the kiss. Tasty indeed. Her mind eventually pieced together what the druid said but it was too late to comment. She was already headed for the gates. That was certainly ominous. She did value her life so she would stay away. That just left what to do now. What little sleep she got appeared to be enough. She could feel the power in the air. Like ever cell in her body was vibrating. She had to do something.
But what?
Lyra ran off to the lake. Rosa was doing something by the fire pit. Even Dom was awake again, setting up for some unknown ritual. She was tempted to join just because it probably had to do with Erastil but that felt like intruding. So what was she going to do? If anything? She had magic now but knew piss all about the rituals or, to be honest, a lot of theology. She hadn't studied it. She'd just gotten it second hand from her father before the bastard up and shoved some magic in her.
She took a look around the fort, her eyes drawn towards the partially excavated forge. Moira crowed with excitement when they uncovered it. Her hopes were dashed when she saw the state it was in. It was small, barely used, poorly cared for, dirty and missing a few bricks from the explosion. None of the important ones but it added to the shabbiness. Likewise, the buried tools were in rough shape. Barely serviceable. Any blacksmith worth the title wouldn't have let them get that bad or got new ones before they did.
But they were all she had. And this didn't seem like night she should waste.
Moira digs through the tent for her clothes and puts them back on. She adds her armor too. It'd have to work in place of an actual apron. She then dug through their ill-gotten gains from the traitorous kobold. There at the bottom was about 8 pounds of adamantine ore, maybe 5 of which she could use. She was going to save it for when she had more experience. But considering they had Cave of Wonder, mining or purchasing more should be easy. So why night take a chance? A true smith could work wonders with even the worst tools. Moira took the ore over to the forge and fished out the tools she could find from the rubble. She then inspected the forge making sure everything was serviceable.
It'd last...through the night at least.
With some flint, steel and good old elbow grease she got the thing lit. She gripped the massive bellows and pumped, watching the coals shine brighter and brighter. Instantly she relaxed, letting the heat and rhythm lull her into a kind of trance. Pumping. Heating. Hammering. Over and over until it was done. It was familiar and soothing. The burst of fire. The glow of the metal. The ting of hammer on metal and the vibrations it sent all over her body.
She sank deeper into the motions letting instinct take over. She was no longer consciously aware of what she was doing. She never noticed how the hammer glowed in her hand. Or how loud the strikes were. Or how every hit seemed to mold the metal faster. There was only a smith and her forge, finally reunited on night of power, surrounded by friends after a hard fought battle. Whatever she made would have meaning. Whether it was a weapon worthy of wielding or just an unformed lump of metal.
For once, everything felt right.
As Moira hammered at the glowing metal sparks exploded from each blow and showered the rubble and her with hot metal. No matter how many sparks touched her bare skin the fighter did not budge or flinch, her meditative trance making her immune to any pain as the tough metal bent and warped to her will. Her opinion on the ore quality turned out to be wrong as even the bad examples yielded to her thunderous hammer blows, the glowing blue hammerhead forcing each chunk of ore to fuse and fold in exactly the direction the fighter wanted.
The fire of the furnace burned hotter and hotter the more she hammered, the flames growing as red as blood. Soon even the bricks of the furnace were very faintly glowing as multi-colored sparks began to shoot out of the flames and soak into whatever metal Moira placed within. Soon the adamantine was acting more like a clay as the white hot metal twisted and folded in on itself over and over, ten layers becoming twenty, then one hundred. In a little under an hour Moira had refined all of the adamantine into 8 pounds of pure, high quality metal fused into a single block and folded over 8000 times until it shimmered with heat and magic.
Down at the lake the moment Lyra's blood touched the water the entire lake went still and silent, the turbulent surface becoming as smooth and reflective as a mirror. The liquid proved to be as sturdy as stone as the druid was able to walk, nay dance on the reflective surface. Faint whispers of otherworldly laughter could be heard over the gentle wind as the naked and painted druid offered a blood sacrifice and walked further away from shore.
Rosa's attentive nature and orderly mind rewarded her as after hours of brewing the alchemical goo began to glow with the same red light as the moon, her concoction successfully capturing the power of the night in a distilled form she could use later. After taking only 2 hours to make one dose of distilled power there was still plenty of time in the night for the alchemist to keep working.
Lyra's footsteps became light and festive as she undulated and capered on the moonlit water, her hands going up as she began to sing in an alien, fluid language that rang to all parts of the shore. Shadows and blood flowed across the woad on her body as she reached deep into the magic of the wild and plucked at ancient strings that sang in the sighs of the wind, calling. Her sweet voice rose up the sky and deep into the earth, gaining the attention of the elementals as she called to them all to join in her celebration of life and death.
The response was almost immediate as a single ripple of power sounded from everywhere as a vast and deep bellow sounded from the earth, detectable only as a vibration of the ground. The wind swirled around the druid in a whirlwind that set her hair to dancing and caused her to laugh, tickling her sides. The water began to dance and caper with the druid, forming soft waves that would catch Lyra everytime she threw herself down in the dance and right her.
Domitian was incredibly grateful to find the meal ready for them, after all the unpleasant business was complete. It had been such a long, grueling, emotional day, and the warmth and companionship did wonders for his mood. He even allowed himself to partake of the alcohol, something he usually avoided, at least until it got to his head too much. And he found himself talking almost exclusively with Mehaila. Her dress really was quite lovely, and she was really pouring on the attention. The alcohol helped him to relax more than he ordinarily would, and he found himself thoroghly enjoying the evening.
After some time, though, the length of the day and the effects of the booze would combine to drive him to beg off for the night. He retired to his tent, and settled down to sleep off the remaining buzz. He dozed on and off, the sounds of the surrounding party keeping him from truly deep sleep. He was startled awake some time later by the sound of Mehaila, surprisingly near to his tent, and speaking softly in Sylvan. He was surprised, not having heard her speak the language before; though come to think of it, that really shouldn't surprise him, given her elven heritage. He let the surprise seep out of him as he settled in to listen, her lovely voice combining with the musical quality of the language to be truly soothing. He really loved the Sylvan tongue. It made everything sound so magical.
His eyes widen a little as she begins to really get into her story telling. She told him of her past, things that were obviously important to her, foundational stories. He just laid there and took it all in. There was an energy to the evening, something he could feel deep inside, and it gave the whole experience a magical quality. It really moved him, that she was sharing all this with him, and he wanted to give something back to her.
He heard some additional commotion outside, and Lyra saying something about leaving; at that, he gets up and leaves his tent. Mehaila looks a little startled as he comes out, and it occurs to him that she might not have had any idea that he was awake. It makes him smile a little. He takes in the night sky, and the startling blood red moon. No wonder he felt such energy! He needed to get away, to get out and into the night; and he didn't want to be alone. He turns to Mehaila, takes her hand, and says in Sylvan "Will you take a walk with me?" When she responds in the affirmative, he turns and begins walking out of the camp, not dropping her hand. They begin to walk away from the camp and away from the lake, going deeper into the not-so-dark night.
Once they are out of earshot of camp, he begins talking in Sylvan again. "Thank you for sharing all that with me. It means a lot. My mother taught me the Sylvan tongue a long time ago; she always thought it was beautiful, and she taught me to love it too." As they walk, he continues talking with her more about his past, sharing back with her some of the stories closest to his heart. After a while, he stops. They are in an open field, out of sight of the camp, and the blood red moon makes a startling contrast with the surrounding field of stars. "Do something for me? Close your eyes." When she does, he continues. "Reach out with your other senses all around us. Hear the insects singing, smell the grass and the night air, feel the wind on your skin." He is quiet for a minute, and then continues. "Now open your eyes. This is who I am. I'm not at home in the cities of this world, never have been. The beauty of the natural world, the smell of it, the feel of it, this is who I am more than anything else. I guess I just wanted to share that with you, particularly on a night like tonight."
As Domitian led Mehaila down the valley floor the air became still and warm as hundreds of fireflies shook off the rains from their wings and took wing. Frogs began their nightly serenade as birds called mournfully to the sky. A thousand other insect and animal calls melded together to create a seamless symphony of the wild.
As Lyra danced with wind and water the earth responded by thrusting up an island a thousand feet from shore, the mud and kelp solidifying into a small island several hundred feet wide. The moment the island solidified several gargantuan menhirs burst from beneath the soil and arranged themselves in a rough circle around a low, wide table made from a solid chunk of rough basalt. A huge humanoid composed of chunks of granite and other hard minerals stepped out of one of the menhirs as if it was water, it's roughly shaped head topped with a crown of uncut gemstones.
In response the water began to swirl as a huge crested snake composed of pure elemental water rose up from the lake and slithered onto shore, sharing a nod with the earth lord. Thunderous clouds gathered in the sky in the shape of an immense falcon that crackled with barely restrained lightning before swooping down to the island in a whip crack of sound, stopping a foot above the ground. The air and earth elementals stared balefully at each other across the circle, keeping the stone table firmly between them.
All three elemental lords turned to beckon the naked druid amongst them, waiting expectantly for something from her.
Rose smiled in wonder at the new substance that she managed to create that reminded her melted red precious stones. It was syrupy and almost glowed with an eerie power. Curiosity most certainly got the better of her and she pushed to make as many does of the strange substance as she could, not wanting to waste the opportunity to make larger quantities of the strange liquid.
She concentrated on it, examining it, watching it shimmer and shift viscosity and thickness as she worked with it. She blinked in surprise and then checked the haphazard scribbles of her notes and formulae as the substance she had developed reminded her of something she had only heard rumors and myths about. "Damn!" She thought bitterly as she couldn't find the reference that she was looking for, perhaps was only imagining that this substance could be it or even a small component of it. The substance was certainly far from a finished product, but it looked like the start of something truly wonderful and terrifying nonetheless.
Moira placed the chunk of folded adamantine back into the forge to reheat it, staring unblinking as the too powerful heat soaked into the dense metal and brought it to white hot. When she would resume hammering she would notice that cracks were already appearing in her hammer, the wooden handle smoking and scorched where it attached to the glowing blue hammerhead. Chips were starting to flake off of the anvil as the magical power being thrown about began to overload the internal stresses of the normally durable material.
From the outside it would simply appear as of the strong fighter would heat the metal, hammer into a shape that began to elongate into a weapon of some kind, then reheat it, rinse and repeat. To Moira an entire text of ancient and lost knowledge from the time of the creation of the dwarven Sky Citadels was opening before her as the tattoos on her arms began to expand and glow, the dwarven script multiplying until in her eyes it appeared as an entire library was flashing across her arms.
Fold, cut, compress, deflect, concentrate and apply flux, these instructions flew through Moira's head almost faster then she could comprehend but her body moved in ways that only muscle memory could do. Hammer with just the right pressure, shift the angle and strike five more times to lock in the arcane flux at the right juncture point. An explanation of how simple heat and pressure could act as a lodestone for the currents of magic that flowed throughout the entire multiverse flowered into the knowledge of how Moira could make magic weapons and armor without a single spell being cast.
Using natural metals and minerals and other materials to act as the anchor and matrix for magic would allow her to use raw magic in it's purest form, neither arcane nor divine. She finally understood!
The long blade finally began to gain definition as the first hints of dawn began to peek over the eastern horizon, a barely perceptible lightening of the sky. As fatigue and weariness made her arms shake the fighter would drop her shattered hammer and pick up the masterful weapon that showed not a hint of magic but nonetheless glimmered with deadly intent and pure malevolence. The greatsword's wide blade swept back with two flanges that went to either side of the two handed handle, protecting the wielder's hands. The handle was spiraled and wrapped with black leather that provided perfect grip to swing around the large and heavy weapon. Glimmering at the base of the blade was a line of dwarven runes that named the blade in blocky and silver script.
Mehaila was surprised when Dom came out the tent, and even more so when he responded in Sylvan. She was unsure as she followed him from the camp to the field, her dress swishing as they walked. After a few moments, Dom asked for quiet, and she listened. The rustling of the grass, the far off animals, and the general peacefulness. It was similar and yet different from when she was home with her parents, as there was subtle music in her forest back home.
The sound was different and yet, the same. Even from different walks of life, different ways of viewing the world, just about as opposite as you could get, and yet nature called to them both. She stood quietly for a while, but then she walked over and placed a hand on Doms shoulder.
" Perhaps we are not that different. I can no longer tell if its a chase, or something more. What happens when the hunt continues even after you chase down the prey?" She queries, as she then lays her head on him. It was a quiet and touching moment, that part if her wanted to ruin, but at the same time, perhaps this was not the time nor the place.
Whispers. Visions. The sound of a furnace and pounding metal. Dwarven runes. Moira physically reels back as she snaps out of her daze. She places a hand to her head and hisses in pain. Knowledge. History. Experience. So many sensations and thoughts. She shakes her head, trying to settle the many pieces thrust into her mind. I all comes back to her. The glowing hammer. The cracking anvil. The intense heat.
She was right.
Over the course of her adventures she picked up the pieces she needed to finally understand. Her folding process was the right first step. And the magical creatures. They were needed too. But also gems. Powdered and applied in the right places in the right way with the right heat and force. She had the know how. She just needed to stop thinking and just...feel. Not the magic but the heat, the resistance in the metal, the colors. All hinted at what was going on.
It finally clicked.
Something else was there too. Advanced techniques. Calculations for different weapons and armor. All in dwarven script. That wasn't there before she was positive. Gromff had told her of the ancient Sky Citadels of the dwarves and the lost techniques. Somehow on this night of power in the unknown wilderness she had found it. Or it found her. Where had that even come from?
Moira tried to lift her hands rub her face and found her right weighed down. She looked down and gasped. She held a blade. The kind of blade a hero of legend would wield. She brought it close to her face examining the edge, the balance, the details, the unique guard. Perfectly balanced. Aesthetic in a deadly way. A blend of function and beauty only a warrior could really appreciate. Had she made this? She'd never even dreamed of a blade so magnificent and yet there it was, in her hands.
Crafted by her hands she remembered.
Moira took it both hands, marveling at the feeling. Then, like a descending lightning bolt, she struck the anvil. It split the rest of the way. So did the stump. And even the earth for a few inches. She yanked it out and examined the edge. Not a scratch. Adamantine was truly amazing. She marveled at the blade for some minutes before a thought crossed her mind. A promise.
She grinned.
She had the wax. She always carried beeswax to protect the blade from the environment after cleaning. That just left...
"Rosa," she called out. The half elf appeared to be finishing up some concoction in her small cauldron. She walked over and, in her own excitement, missed the mixed emotions running over the other woman's face. She was starring at a vial full of what appeared to be night. Moira had no time to question it. "Hey Rosa. You have an acid that can effect metal? Adamantine. Or can you make one?" she asked with a maniacal grin.
Rose jerked in response, careful not to drop her newly formed creations, as she slowly pulled her gaze from the bottle in her hand she was examining to meet Moira's gaze. "An acid that works on metal? I believe there is such, but it would take some time to procure or create myself. I would have to be careful as it is fairly corrosive to most minerals. It's designed to be used against mineral-like creatures, I believe it might be able to work on Adamantine." She cocked her head and gave a bit of a raised brow. "Unless you mean you just need something to refine or clean metal and not actually damage or eat through it... Need something of the sort for your smithing?" She asked as she carefully packed away the six strange potions she managed to create on this very special night.
"There is a common acid used to etch things into metal." she said holding the blade up to the alchemist. "You coat the blade in beeswax to protect it from the acid and scratch out the design you want. The acid eats away at that one spot for a few minutes leaving a mark in the shape of the design. I can't remember the name of it but most alchemists in a city have it if there are artisan blacksmiths."
Lyra nodded deeply in respect to the elemental lords and danced onto the island, her hands flaring out wildly as she spun and capered. Sparks began to trail from her fingers as she summoned fire that coalesced into a bolt of energy that Lyra threw at the ground opposite the water elemental. The firebolt grew in size as it traversed the distance until a huge dragon of pure multi-colored flames exploded from the point of impact.
The druid, bone dagger in hands that peppered the ground and stone table with blood, continued to dance and sing in the alien language as her feet carved an intricate pattern into the dirt around the altar. The elementals watched passively as the druid completed the ritual circle and stopped directly on the part of the stone table that pointed due north, her voice becoming silent. She leaned forward and placed both hands flat on the table, leaving bloody handprints that dried instantly and became part of the rock, eternal.
"What a lovely song, child." A woman remarked from behind Lyra, causing the druid to spin around with the dagger sweeping into a defensive position. Hands far stronger then her own locked onto her wrist and stopped her blow cold, squeezing hard enough that the druid gasped in pain before suddenly she was released.
"Do not bare your teeth at a superior predator unless you intend to challenge them." the exotic woman said as she took the dagger effortlessly from Lyra's hands and began to slowly walk around the table. The woman was thin but taller then Lyra with hair the color of autumn and skin the gold of a sunset. She was naked but for a hooded cloak of wild flowers and a beautiful belt crafted from black leather and pearls.
"It has been millenia since i've heard such a lovely voice in the language of nature's servants. Tell me, child, why have you come?" the nymph asked as she continued to orbit the table and Lyra, grass shoots blooming where she stepped.
Lyra was mute for several seconds as she froze on the spot, only her eyes tracking the movements of the fae. Without any visible display the younger druid could feel the power radiating from the nymph and trembled as a rabbit standing before a hungry wolf. Furthermore the bone blade the nymph had taken, the dagger given to Lyra by her druid mentor, glimmered with awakened power in the hands of the stronger druid. In the tongue of the fae she responded with "Ap-apologies if I have violated your territory, I was unaware that the forest had a protector."
The nymph laughed as she idly slapped the dagger's blade into a palm. "Relax child I am not going to eat you. This forest is not mine, these lands have not needed protection for millenia. Now stop using my native tongue when you were singing so lovely in the hidden language. Again I ask, why are you here?"
Lyra remained silent for several seconds as she forced herself to relax and think about the archdruids question. She discarded several empty platitudes before hitting on the truth that she knew would satisfy the fae. "I have come to claim territory and shield it from those who would despoil the wild. For that I need power."
"And how much would you sacrifice for that which you love? How far would you go for power?" the nymph taunted as she played with the bone dagger and stared down the nervous half-elf.
Lyra's eyes narrowed with anger as she recognized the trap in the fae's question. Tonight was not about gifts, not about wheeling and dealing, not about compacts with otherworldly power. Under the light of the red moon tonight was about blood and the shorter woman crouched down and let rip a feral scream that became the deep roar of a huge tiger that leaped across the table at the nymph. The menhirs flashed with magic as the nymph shifted into an equally large panther and the powerful animals clashed atop the stone table, rolling, clawing, biting and letting loose with an unholy racket of sound.
For several long minutes the two huge cats did everything in their power to end the life of the other, splashing both the table and the ground around it with blood. The elementals bore witness as the menhirs continued to give Lyra the extra power she needed to stand toe-to-toe with the much more powerful fae druid, power that made it barely possible for her to survive the mauling that the stronger panther was giving her.
Finally the last of her strength waned and the panther was on the tiger in an instant, pinning Lyra to the table with the panther's teeth clamped on her throat. The two cats froze in that position, both panting with exertion. The panther was the first to move as it released the throat of the tiger and stepped off the table, shifting back to the nymph in mid-stride. The fae was panting heavily and covered with several savage wounds that bled freely, wounds she closed up with a powerful healing spell that washed over her in a wave of green light.
Lyra shifted back into her humanoid form and simply lay on the table, hovering just above death and utterly exhausted. She was covered in blood, most of it hers, and it was hard to see where she wasn't cut or savaged. Breathing became difficult and she couldn't talk as the panther's bite had punctured her throat. As the last drops of her lifeblood trickled onto the table she locked eyes with the fae and was fearless.
The nymph returned the stare with an enigmatic smile as she climbed onto the table to straddle Lyra, the bone blade held in both hands over her head. "From death comes life, the cycle eternal." the fae murmured in druidic before plunging the dagger down with full force, stabbing the younger druid in the heart. Lyra flinched and arched her back in agony, held down and unable to struggle. A whispery, wet scream that caused even more pain tore out of her throat before she coughed as blood began to choke her.
It was over quickly, the dagger sucking the last of the breath from the young druid and pinning her soul to her body. The nymph bite into her own hand to produce a trickle of pearlescent blue blood that she dribbled into Lyra's mouth before pushing herself off of the altar and walking counter-clockwise around the exterior edge of the ritual circle. The spell circle began to glow with otherworldly light as the powerful fae druid murmured a long incantation, weaving magic unknown to mortals. Pillars of red, green, blue and white energy exploded from each elemental lord and lanced into the sky. The menhirs flashed the same color as the spell-circle as the magic sank deep into Lyra's flesh.
Her wounds began to close as the dagger still buried in her chest flashed with red light, infusing life back into her. The fae's spell completed at the same moment, the blue blood on Lyra's lips and in her mouth glowing white hot as it suffused her with power, changing her. The dagger began to rise as the killing wound healed, falling to the table in a clatter as the young druid breathed in deeply, her eyes snapping open with wonder.
Lyra sat up and looked around in alarm, confused for a few moments as reason was the last thing to return. She looked down and saw that her wounds had been healed and the blood was gone, her skin becoming the same golden color as the nymph's. She looked up at the fae who gave Lyra a genuine smile, holding her hands out to help Lyra down from the table.
"Welcome daughter." the nymph said. The circle went dark as the elementals expended the last of their energy and the menhirs reverted to simple stone, the spell-circle fading to nothing. Lyra carefully slid off the table and was surprised to see the eastern sky beginning to lighten with the sun.
"How-"
"Time flows differently under the light of the blood moon. Or something like that." the nymph said flippantly with a shrug. She held her hand up to touch the very first rays of sunlight and pulled a thread out of thin air, golden and shimmering with warmth. She handed the rapidly growing thread to Lyra and said "Here, while the last vestiges of the blood moon remain!"
Lyra took the thread in her hand and magic danced between her fingers, fusing with the string and weaving back on itself so fast is was invisible to the naked eye. As the druid spread her hands apart a voluminous golden duster began to form, complete with hood and lined with dozens of pockets. As the sun finally cleared the mountains to the east Lyra held the beautiful clothing in her hands, marveling at how soft and smooth the cloth was and how it seemed to warm her hands. Appearing to be made out of solid gold the young druid laughed as she slid the garment on, spinning to set the hem flaring out.
"Marvelous." The nymph said with a wide smile. "Truly a garment befitting a queen!
When Lyra turned back to respond she saw that the nymph was gone, vanished into thin air like she had never existed. A vanishing shimmer in the air where she had been standing revealed the last vestiges of a dimension traveling spell and the druid smiled. The elementals all prepared to depart when Lyra spoke to each in their native languages, thanking each lord for their presence this past night. Without pause the elementals left, the earth lord stepped into a menhir, water lord vanishing into the lake, air lord launching into the sky and vanishing into a cloud and finally the fire lord who simply flared out of existence, leaving behind only a flicker of smoke.
Dancing in the space where each elemental lord had just stood was a single spark of energy that danced and cavorted as four of them flew to spin around Lyra. The four elemental wysps, newborn from the power of the four elder elementals, spun around the druid with unrestrained joy, each singing to her in their own unique language. She laughed as she tried to watch their dizzying cavorting with and against each other and almost fell over from the effort.
"Enough, please! Let's return to my friends and you can explore to your heart's content." She laughed as she walked to the edge of the island. A glance behind her revealed the island wasn't sinking or vanishing, the menhirs stood massive and mute and the stone table was a black shape in the growing sunlight.
Satisfied that the holy site would remain she stepped out onto the rippling lake surface and walked across it easily, her golden duster gaping open at the front and revealing her nudity. Daylight set her red hair to shimmering like a blood ruby as she flipped it out of her face subconsciously, holding it back with one hand as she looked up at the fort. The elemental wysps followed their new mother, faerie lights that danced and cavorted around their fae mistress. The woad paintings from last night were still striking lines on her body, covering the supernatural beauty with something savage, something sensual.
Gathering all of the instruments from the night and secreting the bone knife into an inner pocket, Lyra, Shirak and the wysps saunter back into the fort like nothing was different. She ducks back into her tent and comes some time later washed clean of woad and dressed in a white tunic, leather pants and boots with the golden threaded coat draped over her shoulders and left untied in the front. She walks over to the ruined forge while tying her hair, her eyes roving over the exhausted and filthy Moira before settling on the wicked blade in the fighters hands. "Where did that come from?"
"Ferric acid is used for standard steel but I think we need something with a bit more oomph for adamantine. So..." Moira jumps at the voice behind her. She let the excitement of the moment dull her situational awareness and instinct took over at the surprise. She jumps to the side and puts the new blade between her and the approaching figure who she does not immediately recognize. "Who are..." is all she gets out. She was looking at a goddess made flesh. A thing of unearthly beauty her mind could not comprehend. A petite but athletic figure with skin the shade purple like nightshade and wrapped in a golden duster. Not actual gold. More like the color itself given form. Sitting upon it all was a mane of red...
"Lyra? Is that you?" Awe, surprise and suspicion war for dominance on her face. The blade stayed between them.
Rose became contemplative and bit her finger as she thought about the exact specifications that Moira was looking for. "Given time and some choice reagents I might be able to whip-" She started to respond to Moira before tilting her head to the side and her eyes narrowing in confusion before widening in realization. "Ly- Ly- Lyra?!" She said as her voice squeaked and cracked. Her sister had surprised her in many ways as they grew up together, but this was most certainly a first. "What on all that is earthen and firm have you done to yourself now? And you used to scold me for my experimentation." She crosses her arms and pouts, feeling all to aware of the growing envy she was starting to develop as her eyes unconsciously roamed over her sister's form. She shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts that threatened to corrupt and plague her thoughts. She felt herself forcefully tear her eyes away to break from the beautiful form that Lyra now had become.
She closed her eyes and one of her hands into a fist, clearing her throat into it as she desperately wished to regain any semblance of composure after all that had transpired in the mere seconds since Lyra's return.
Lyra smirked at the blade Moira was holding at her and jumped up in a little hop that carried her smoothly into the air to alit on the very tip of the weapon where she balanced easily, seemingly standing on thin air. She held her hands out to either side for a few seconds before going "Hup!" and jumping backwards before stopping to hover in mid air in a sitting position. The four elemental wysps spun around her through the little show and began to slowly orbit her as she hovered. "So are you telling me you are finally willing to accept your reverence for nature and walk upon the green path? If so I would be more than happy to explain." she smirked at Rosa.
Looking at Moira the fae's smirk grew into a genuine smile. "You have a birthmark that somewhat resembles a raven in flight on your....ah, posterior." she said while struggling not to giggle at the two women's shock. Finally she could not hold it in and let out a loud laugh as she landed on the ground and waved away the wysps with a flick of her fingers. "Relax, both of you! I am still me with just a little...more. Besides tell me how this any different then that!?" she pointed at the sword Moira was holding. She then points over to the six glowing red potions that Rosa had left on a table. "And since when have you been able to brew that many potions so quickly? For fifty years the most you've been able to brew was one, maaaaybe two a day. But six?"
Lyra looked back and forth between Rosa and Moira. "How about we all just accept that the power of a full blood moon affected us all differently?"
Moira tensed as Lyra seemed to leap towards her blade. The suddenness of such a dangerous act stunned her. She could only look on in rigid, horror as Lyra approached the blade. To her surprise Lyra appeared to weigh no more than a bird. She barely even felt the force of the druid kicking off the blade and hovering in air. She didn't release the pent up breath until the woman safely touched the ground. The confusion did a lot to quell the lingering desire Lyra's unearthly beauty invoked. Enough so she didn't blush as Lyra casually mentioned her birthmark. She distinctly remembered her saying that last night.
She brought the blade up to rest on her shoulder. Then she remembered it had a sharp edge and was enchanted to kill people like her. Instead she lowered the edge to the ground but did not put it away. She wasn't expecting this much...whimsy from their druid, wizard. Or such a change in nature. Her very being was different somehow.
"I'll relax when you answer the question. More what? What happened to you? I," she said, indicating herself and the blade, "just crafted this. I...realized my dream. I think." She paused for a moment, apparently just realizing that. Then she frowned. "And someone, or something, shoved some knowledge in me. Knowledge about pressure and angles and engineering and math I've never even heard of. And I hope it's just knowledge and nothing...more," she says, waving her hand in Lyra's direction.
The smile dropped from Lyra's face when Moira continued to push about the previous evening and something hard entered her eyes. She held a hand up to forestall anymore questions before answering, her voice hard. "Suffice to say you are not worthy of the deeper mysterious of my faith. None of you are. Stop asking."
Lyra turned away from Rosa and Moira and set about making breakfast, humming to herself while making a breakfast stew and some flatbread.
Rose let her gaze slip and she reached over to rub her other arm, which hung limply at her side. She recognized that look, that tone. She had heard it many times growing up together and there was no point in trying to force anything further from her. Anytime she had asked about the mysteries of the druids and their magic, it always was cut short with that reaction.
"Moira, let's not worry about it too much more for now. We should be happy that she came back to us in one piece and breathing. We are still probably feeling the effects from what happened last night with the moon and the magical energies. I am sure we are all very very tired as we wanted to take full advantage of the rare celestial phenomenon." She had a weary smile, still looking away to one side as she stood near the two of them.
"Maybe that is how she pursued her own connection and got her results." She added softly, slowly turning back to meet both of their eyes again.