Freya snaps her fingers and produces a small flame, lighting herself cigarette.
The two things you cannot escape are death and River; and one is not sure about the first. --Old Undine Proverb
Vị Thanh, an unremarkable fishing village, busies itself this day with preparations for the annual Southern Pilgrimage. Children try to make their very own paper lanterns; nervous els pick out the perfect gift from the dock market for a special ele; the smells of lemongrass and dill waft from kitchens; sacred songs are practiced to perfection; fervent prayers are whispered to small shrines.
...and the rushing water of River shouts joy to nearby stilt houses, and whispers secrets across the rolling green farmlands. Vị Thanh, home to traders, hunters, fishers, and watersingers. Vị Thanh, friendly to the innocent eye, but cold to outsiders as only an undine can be.
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Freya was toying with a small paper boat during most of day's journey, trying to get the perfect painted design. It was tradition to light a small candle and let the boat flow downriver, bringing thoughts of the distant relatives to the homeland. Though for Freya, she was more at home in Hearth.
Freya tries her best to reassure her friend. "You'll be fine, Novi! With any luck, they might've just thought you died or something. I'm sure they'll be glad to see you alive and well." Gently setting aside her poorly crafted boat, the ifrit pulls out a bottle of whiskey.
"Here, just a bit of liquid courage. That'll get you right as rain." With a wink, she hands Novalie the bottle. There's only about a cup left, as the ifrit has not been shy about partaking.
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Vị Thanh loomed ahead. It had been a shorter journey for her coming from Rushing Falls. If Nempura had her way, she would have taken an even longer journey, instead of the day's worth of travel she had down south from her home. She longed for adventure and camping out under the starlight, or seeing foreign sights. Instead, she was prisoner in her own private coach.
Some did not like her coming with them, as when the caravan arrived in Rushing Falls, her father had made a scene upon her coming along with them. She, being a noble, was escorted in a coach of golden embossing and white lacquered wood, and as per her father's instruction, she was to be driven at the head of the caravan behind the lead. This forced people who were experiencing less dust upfront, to have a worse ride.
As they enter into Vị Thanh, a small bell rings, signaling to Nempura inside the coach that they will be arriving soon, and the velvet curtain pulls to the side to allow Nempura to look out from her prison. Farmlands pass by and people joyously setting up decorations. Her hands wound around her backpack straps at her feet in anticipation. Festivities, singing, dancing, and learning new things all awaited her in this small village.
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It's nice to see everybody happy. I guess that's a plus. Iryani has mixed feelings about the festivities ahead. All the ceremonies require a kind of endurance that she just does not have. And her mother, oh dear, she goes from crazy to insane during this time. Their home always sprouts very spiritual decorations, but now it's a mad assembly of colours and statues. Hopefully, my friends don't come by and have to see this...
Iryani did her part, though. Her little brother Raymon was taking part in a play and needed help with learning his texts. Iryani already knew all the lines, because she had to perform the exact same thing several times in her childhood. She couldn't talk him out of it, and she wouldn't dare talk their mother out of it, so she stayed and helped...
Iryani, you hear your mother's tone echo from another part of the house, somewhere between enthusiastic and disapproving. "Iryani! I need you to go to market. I simply must have another bolt of silk for your dress. This is the year we catch the eye of that spice merchant's boy, what was his name?"
She trots into the room, windchimes draped over one arm and an assortment of sashes in the other. She smiles at you; never a good sign. "And maybe put on something a little more presentable before you go, dear?"
Nempura, the small bell rings once more, and the coach stops. You hear a familiar nasally voice from outside - Tuan, the young servant your father sent along, allowing no argument from you. Nervously clearing his throat, he says formally, "Is Cô ready to disembark from her coach, or would she prefer to rest first?"
At the sound of the second ring, Nempura readies herself. As the door opens, she steps out.
“I am more than ready, Tuan,” she replies with some irritation in her tone, but with a knowing smirk to the boy. It isn’t him she is irritated with.
After descending, she takes in a deep breath of air. The smells of River filled her lungs, along with the scents of fish and varied other scents of food and festival smells.
”My pack please,” she asks of him more diplomatically. “You can return to my father and tell him I arrived safely.”
Nempura: For a moment, Tuan looks ready to question your quick dismissal, perhaps thinking of what your father would say. However, something in your expression quashes that line of thought, and he gives a wide, apologetic smile, even though he has caused no offense. "As Cô wishes, of course!" With polite care, he bows, holding the pack on hooked thumbs such that you may take the pack without touching his hands.
"There's not gonna be any more silk on the market. If you haven't bought everything already, the rest of the village has." Iryani returns shrewishly. She purposely ignores the comment about the spice merchant, too.
But in order to get out of the house, she does pick up a basket and some coins from the counter and leaves the houses passing her mother. Not changing her attire.
Iryani, your prediction turns out to be correct - the first few tailors and merchants you walk by having nothing in the way of silk. You try one last place--if for no other reason than to preempt any complaints from your mother. It takes a a bit of walking to get there: a house on the outskirts of town, surrounded by stubby hedgeapple trees and surprised-looking mulberry trees.
Hồ Hải Yen is known as a skilled seamstress and silkworm breeder in town, but the general consensus is that her eccentricities outweigh her skill. You have had almost no contact with her throughout the years.
A wizened old ele answers your knock, her eyes bright with dementia or shrewdness. Those shining eyes are underscored with black rings, as if the seamstress has been sleeping poorly of late. "Hello, cháu, what can I do for you?"
"Too slow!" Freya says as she pulls back her bottle, taking a quick swig for herself. Novalie didn't respond, seems she was just too nervous for jokes. Freya felt bad and tried to reassure her friend, "Hey, it's alright, I'll come with you if you want me to."
Putting away her bottle, the ifrit focuses her attention on the paper boat. The craft is lopsided and covered in disorganized splotches of paint, but Freya felt a sense of pride in her handiwork. With a snap of her fingers, the young soldier lit a candle and set it into her paper craft. Gently, Freya knelt by the riverside and eased her completed boat into the water. As she continued towards the village, she watched the paper craft drift downstream to join the others.
She was eager to see her sister again, the thought putting a spring in her step.
Freya, you have been getting a fair amount of curious looks the whole trip down, being the only ifrit aboard. It is a strange reversal from the ifrit-dominated Temple and Army, where sometimes Novalie was the only undine you saw all day. Now undines are your only company.
A few of the children stare with wide eyes at your fire-trick and your boat, the whites of their eyes stark against dark blue faces. The undine adults quietly tell them to turn around and tend to their studies.
Nempura reaches out for the backpack strap without touching Tuan. Her slender hands will take it and heave the hefty sack onto her back. Immediately she regrets packing so much, but she is determined to make the journey on her own, and that means she needs to provide for herself in all ways. She will return Tuan's bow with one of her own of lesser depth and then will step off to the side and await for him and the coach to depart. Part of it was common decency in wishing him a safe return journey and part of it was making sure he left.
Her outfit is of the style of those who explore or adventure. It also has signs of newness of material and no wear. Embroidery and nice touches make it a bit more than your typical explorer's gear, but it still is worth the same and works no differently.
Other things stand out more about her though. Her well cared for beauty is one. The brilliant shine given to her jewelry and earring glistens in the sun is another. Each one's worth is more than most people make in many months. Her hair is done up with pomegranate silver pins in an elegant fashion and the dark purple strands of her hair match the simple greys of her outfit. Ultimately, to those who have gathered around to see the caravan pull in, she is well put together, and the behavior of her coachman all the more added to the fact she was a noble.
Without wasting time, she heads into the village. A limited few times she had been there, often staying in the coach, but she knows the way to Madam Yen's. She is important to Nempura's family, and thus to her. Despite Nempura's nobility, it does not stop her from greeting people properly that seemed to notice her, either with a smile and nod in passing or if someone bows for whatever reason, she too would return the bow. As she eventually makes her way to the door of Hồ Hải Yen, she will knock loud enough for the elderly woman to hear her.
Iryani, the seamstress looks over your shoulder, and her eyes widen. Her chin begins trembling violently, and she nearly knocks you over as she runs out her own front door. Piteously, the old ele prostrates herself upon the ground in front of a well-dressed undine ele, who has the bearing of a noble.
"Oh, mistress! I beg your forgiveness! I take the best care of my silkworms, you know I do! But..." She shakes her head, tears falling from exhausted, red-rimmed eyes.
Nempura is not expecting such a greeting from her elder, even if she is poorer. The look on her face is an expression of shock as she comes and bows to the ground before her. A look of empathy spreads over her face instead of one of scorn. Nempura's cheeks turn red as though her own sympathetic heart resists crying herself. After all, it was hard to see an old woman be exhausted and crying at your feet.
With grace, Nempura lowers herself with struggle due to her pack and takes hold of Madam Yen's shoulders to reassure her.
"I know...I know you do, most honored di ...Tell me what happened
Iryani strolled slowly through the village streets. She barely checked the tailors and merchants, because she knew better than her crazy mother anyway. But even short glimpses at their wares told her, she was right. Thus she enjoyed getting out and in her mind made fun of all the excessive preparations. Eventually she reached the end of the town and saw the house of Hồ Hải Yen. Well, I haven't thought of her...and I'm already here anyway...
A wizened old ele answers your knock, her eyes bright with dementia or shrewdness. Those shining eyes are underscored with black rings, as if the seamstress has been sleeping poorly of late. "Hello, cháu, what can I do for you?"
"Hello, mang Sông, bà. I'm here for what everybody seeks these days."
But before a conversation could start, the old lady flashed pass Iryani and greeted a noble woman outside. Iryani immediately recognised her as a watersinger. That could be me, out there...Thank you Whirl Mother that I am not!
Iryani stood in the door frame watching the scenery and bowed slightly, if someone recongnized her.
Nempura, you receive a disjointed account of the seamstress's silkworms all dying in the last few weeks, despite her increasingly urgent interventions. "Black, greasy cocoons..."
Iryani, you feel a chill at your back, as if the old ele's simple hut is suffering from a draft. But you feel no wind, just cold fingers walking up your spine like the ghosts of dead silkworms.
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Novalie watched the paper boat drift off, seemed thoughtful for a moment, coming to a conclusion in her head.
"You're right, what do I have to fear? Too much of my thoughts have been spent worrying about my parents' reactions. And I'm still thinking of them from the perspective of the twelve year old girl that ran away." she says while flexing a very muscled bicep her large volcano birthmark visible on her shoulder, "I think I've changed a bit" she says with a big grin, looking happier than she has in a long while.
Chuckling to herself, "Maybe they do think of me as dead, imagine their shock when I walk in. Perhaps they will think I'm a ghost and die of fright."
She picks up her pace a bit, a spring in her step, as she comments, "No fear, this is just like any other battle."
"How strange...," she answers while trying to see if the woman is telling the truth, "Do you mind showing me the cocoons?" Nempura's eyes would raise from the prostrated elder on the ground to her home, and inside was a person who stood more like a customer than family. Her eyes squint in slight study of Iryani for a moment before a subtle smile grows on her face and a small nod is given.
Freya let out a good natured laugh as Novalie came out of her stupor. "Now that's the Novi I know! I was afraid I lost you for a moment there. How about we go hit a bar or something afterward? We can complain about our families as much as we want then."
The Ifrit watches as Nempura left her private carriage, dressed in her jewelry and fine clothing. "Look Novi, there's a princess up front. Guess she's too good to travel with the flotsam behind her. Might catch our stink!" She jeered.
Nempura, Yen is far too distraught for any deception. She is telling the truth. She takes a deep breath, and steadies herself. "Yes, I can take you to them."
As you approach the hut, you feel the same chill that Iryani does - clammy fingers grasping your heart, pressing down on your emotions. Yen begins weeping again. "I'm so sorry, just a foolish old ele who can't even care for her silkies anymore..."
Swell. Now that arrogant noble gets first treatment? ... But what did she says about her silkies?
Iryani was intrigued by the situation. And suddenly also felt the chill. She looked around to find a source for the draft but couldn't.
She eyed Nempura carefully, while she was coming closer. Then she stepped aside and let them in. trying to be as formal as possible.
She said "I can wait, of course." and planned to wait the situation out as an observer. She was still uncomfortably chilly.
Grace and etiquette are important to Nempura, so she shakes her head to Yen's behavior. "No, you are truly good. No-one is as good as you, my family friend," she caringly soothes towards Yen, "No-one knows this field as well as you. Therefore, cheer up. I couldn't blame you in the least. Please don't cry, you'll make me cry." A quiet chuckle escapes her lips to show Yen everything is fine. "Let's just see what we can see, okay?"
After reassuring her, Nempura moves back toward the home with Yen. At the front door, there was Iryani, and rarely one to be rude, Nempura bows a greeting to her. Undine are resistant to cold, to when a chill goes up her spine, she wonders at it. It was an unnatural chill and that meant something was strange at work or just her nerves. It wasn't like Yen to fail. This made Nempura suspect poison or magic was at play, Dark magic.
"No, you have priority. Please discuss your business. I am merely observing the state of Madam Yen's silkworms. Please excuse me," she kindly voices out more directly to Iryani, with another lesser bow to the two of them. As she leaves the presence of Iryani and Yun to move a bit further in, she is cautious, as it can very well be the presence of the Dark at play. Her hand lowers to her Starknife and she casts a spell to detect the presence of magic, all while looking at the status of said "silkies".
Nempura, you see a sad, small pile of dead silkworms on a nearby worktable. The reels and spinners are devoid of silk, empty of purpose.
You see what Yen was talking about - a black, slimy-looking substance, more akin to tar than silk.
and coming from the black, tarry substance is a magical signature that reeks of the Dark.
"Well. My matter will be resolved quickly. I was about to ask, whether there is any silk to be bought here. But the being a long shot, I'm sure, I'll be on my way fast."
The old ele wipes her streaming face with the sleeve of a once-fine robe. "Of course, I am no good to anyone. I think I will just go back inside and lay down, and..." She mutters disconsolately to herself, trailing off. She accidentally bumps into Iryani, not paying attention to where she is going.
A face of revulsion crawls over Nempura's delicate features. A moment later, the results of her spell and focus begin to reveal hidden evils. Behind her, she can hear the comments of the visitor and Yen. Slowly she turns and returns to the two of them with clasped hands and straightened arms.
"I am afraid there is not going to be silk made soon. As I suspected, it is not your fault at all, Madam Yen. It is the result of magic--magic that is clearly the result of the Dark. What disturbs me is how it got there in the first place, and what else has it affected?"
Slinging her backpack off her shoulders, the clanking sounds of cookware can be heard inside and Nempura opens the flap to dig into the contents inside while resting it on a nearby table. A moment later, she pulls out the money intended to pay Yen for the noble outfit.
"Here...," she would hold out the bag to the frail old woman. "Because I have faith in you, I know you won't let me down. When I find the cause of this evil and purge it, you can breed more silkies. Perhaps next season you can make me that outfit as only you can. Either way, this should get you through the hardships of your losses."
It was enough for the garment, as provided by her father, plus a little extra as she had asked of her father as sort of an appreciative tip for the elder's hard work before she had left.
Nempura and Iryani,
the hut is suddenly a melting pile of sludge on top of you, walls dripping with midnight ichor, closing in, dripping on your shoulders,
...but, no. A trick of the light? The hut is perfectly normal, and all traces of tarry cocoons are now gone. A perfectly normal hut.
Freya and Novalie, you are heading toward Novalie's house when Freya receives a sharp, piercing pain in her head, like the claws on an unseen monster digging into your temple.
Your head turns to a hut off in the distance, surrounded by exotic-looking trees. Freya has no doubt - she has felt the presence of evil there.
"Novi, over here. There's something wrong." Hand on the pommel of her sword, Freya slowly makes her way through the trees to the seamstress's hut. The paladin sweeps her vision through the trees for lurking threats before entering the building.
She recognizes the noble from before with a flicker of distaste, but doesn't take any immediate action. The others are foreign to her though, and she has no reaction to them. "I'm Freya Argento-Mau, Valiant of the Order of Swords. I sensed the presence of the Dark here... Is there anything you can tell me?"
The ifrit had completely switched tracks from relaxed festival-goer to on-duty paladin in a matter of moments.
Nempura is a woman of class. Even her fin-like ears and webbed hands and feet show signs of some sort of manicured touches. One would think such an individual, well-clothed, prim and proper, would become undone seeing the ichor of the house descend upon her shoulders and face as she looks up, but instead, she remains calm--gracefully raising a free hand to block any further dripping into her eyes as she evaluated the situation. Internally, Nempura was freaking out.
As it fades away, she is unable to focus long enough on it to detect illusion or some strange other effects, but she has her suspicions. Everything returns to normal, at a large relief to her, but again, it is not shown. Then the orange-skinned paladin rushes in. Nempura tries to recall the proper way to greet a Valiant of the Order of Swords as a stranger. She also tries to see if she has heard of this woman, Freya.
"Greetings Valiant Argento-Mau. I too sensed it, and we here saw what seemed like the remnants of it, however, when I cast to detect, it fled away shortly after. My name is Nempura Babblebrook from Rushing Falls. This is Madam Hồ Hải Yen, and I have not been introduced to your name yet," she would kindly offer toward Iryani. After introductions, she would turn to Hồ Hải Yen and would beckon her to come to see her "silkies".
"Iryani. That's my name." The huntress was obviously startled and couldn't do more than studder her first name.
The sudden presence of this strange feeling first and this strange arangement of characters confused her intirely. She shook her head.
"The Dark, you say? Wow, that's bad..." Iryani was always hoping for something exciting to happen in this boring town. But now that she actually felt it, she wasn't so sure anymore.
Freya nodded as the others told her the situation. "Hồ Hải Yen? This is your store, right? Has anyone... unusual visited in recent days?" She continued to focus on her evil detection, looking over each person in turn before looking around the room proper.
Breaking her piercing gaze, she remembers to introduce her companion. "Oh... and this is Novi- I mean Novalie, She's also from the Temple."
Yen, the aged ele seamstress, has not noticed anything amiss in the last few moments. Instead, she thanks Nempura for her kind payment, bowing low again and again.
She then turns to Freya, brow furrowed as she mouths the paladins words again, struggling to remember them. "Unusual? Just the normal customers, so many elens want new clothes for the festival, in fact a young ele..." She rambles about customers that do indeed sound perfectly normal for a minute or more, "...and the el in those strange robes and glasses. He was handsome in his own way, but I didn't like the questions he asked very much."
Nempura, Novalie stares at you flatly, as if daring you to say something about her Volcano birthmark or her ifrit companion.