Chezarina blinks, definitely given pause by the statement. Still, it seems the gods are not overly important to her, for she is less surprised by obscenity than audacity."Well, a bold claim. I suppose I cannot fault you for lack of courage."
Chezarina blinks, definitely given pause by the statement. Still, it seems the gods are not overly important to her, for she is less surprised by obscenity than audacity."Well, a bold claim. I suppose I cannot fault you for lack of courage."
"Albert rather excels at those, and I think even the gods may be amused from time to time, but there's no lack of truth there, just faith. But rest assured, the gods won't be diminished when we understand them better, regardless of our path to understanding."
"I found something." Edmund drops the proclamation like a stone in a calm pond, dispelling the pleasant moment of conversation.
"An ugly thing. Could be a corrupt elemental, or something worse." He seems clinical, detached from all the goings-on.
"I found something." Edmund drops the proclamation like a stone in a calm pond, dispelling the pleasant moment of conversation.
"An ugly thing. Could be a corrupt elemental, or something worse." He seems clinical, detached from all the goings-on.
"There's a lot of room within 'worse' -- can you describe it, or do we need to go see it ourselves?"
"It was moving slowly, and screaming. It had fangs. It might be related to elemental Smoke." He seems reluctant to say more.
"Where?" Chezarina is first concerned with discerning whether this is an immediate threat, or one that can be reconnoitered.
Albert smiles and nods at Zephyr. His was not an uncommon view among Sylphs who had long felt abandoned by Fallen Sky. Zephyr struck him as odd for continuing to hew to the old ways. Yet they coexisted.
But Edmund's declaration draws him to immediate attention. "Within or without the Breathless Valley?"
Was it one of Moon's, like those of crackling lightning throughout Ramé? Or was it feral, owing no allegiance to any except itself?
He stands, knees creaking as he does so, nodding at his sling-armed friend to lead the way.
"Although my friends would disagree with me, I am also not much one for mysticism. For me, even the strangest things can be explained by the natural laws of the world." He takes a breath and utters what he's sure Zephyr and Edmund would consider blasphemy. "Even the gods."
"You don't think the gods are part of - and subject to - the natural laws of the word?" Luu Sânh blurts out in surprise. To her River is both divine entity and a fundamental part of the landscape and it had never crossed her mind that others could dispute what seemed self-evident to the undine.
The philosophical train of thought is cut off abruptly at Edmund's pronunciation and her sword arm immediately snaps back to her scimitar's hilt. She bounces on the balls of her feet, a coiled spring set to go off as required. She looks to the el, waiting for him to elaborate. No soldier, this one, she thinks to herself.
Albert's brow rises, displaying furrowed wrinkles. "That is precisely what I believe," he responds. "They may be more easily able to bend the natural laws to their will through powerful magic, but...that is all."
To Albert, the notion of divinity was misplaced. The gods were likely merely elen who had discovered some font of power and secured it for themselves. That they fed on worship and provided a fraction of their power in turn simply meant that there were parts of their font that remained difficult to explain with current techniques. But it could all be explained.
Before he lapses further into heresy, he pulls his helmet up, draws out his sword, and moves to follow Edmund.
"It was inside the Valley." Edmund seems completely isolated from the conversation, despite being a priest of Silver Bringer himself.
**
After a short sojourn, a gray speck is visible from a distance. You walk closer, and there is a haggard, yellow-gray elen. Ragged hair and torn clothing hang lank about glaring eyes and a snarling mouth full of teeth.
The creature is almost stationary, but you can see it moving at ponderously slow rate through the invisible current of the Breathless Valley.
"Well, they are not popping, but maybe the strange effect of that air is slowing them down. I do not think my arrows will reach." Chezarina quickly approaches the problem from the perspective of her skills.
Still, she takes as best a look as she can. Does this elen seem truly afflicted by madness, or are they simply judging by appearances? She's seen some haggard and harried faces that may seem aggressive at a surface glance. But she's also seen maddened Elens in Light.
Upon closer examination, this is an elemental, something in the sublimation realm. It is in a corrupted form, so it is difficult to tell exactly what element it might be composed of at first glance.
As they approach the corrupted Elen, Albert does something that might seem odd to those witnessing it for the first time. He checks a few of the exposed wires and hoses on his metal outfit before covering them with panes of tempered glass, and then reaches to several parts around his suit of armor. Turning dials and pressing buttons, he presses a hand to a tree to steady himself and grunts in pain. A pulsing hum takes up to add to the chorus of birds and bugs in the nearby trees and bushes as the tubes filter a painter's palette of colors downstream, presumably into Albert. He shivers and takes a closer look at the strange elemental within the Valley.
The tell-tale signs of trauma -- burst blood vessels around the eyes, self-harm with nails -- tell you this was likely an elemental possession of some kind. The formerly beautiful sylph (you think) is wrapped in corrupted air energies, making it closer to Smoke. There's a strange core of energy within this creature that you cannot quite identify. It reminds you of an old passage you once read regarding 'stars', and their pulsing energies.
"Well that's unnerving," Albert says, pointing out what he's noticed. "It looks to have been a sylph before becoming possessed. The possessing creature has caused and is continuing to experience trauma. Note the burst blood vessels around the eyes, the jagged scratches in the flesh. Edmund is right that this appears like Smoke. And then there's a pulsing energy within, sort of like...I think they're called Stars."
He stops and turns to the others. "I don't think it's wise to try to go in after it. We could try to lure it to us. But I'm not generally able to undo a possession, so any methods that I have would almost certainly be lethal. We should determine our goal with the creature. Mercy killing? Rescue? Capture? Study?"
"Ignore it if we can and just get through the damn Valley another way?" The casual swearing seems ridiculous from the normally proper priest, almost childish.
Luu Sânh nods at Edmund's suggestion, for perhaps the first time seeing him as a voice of sense. "Works for me. I'm not here to go picking fights I don't have to." She looks to Albert. "What could we actually do for it? Is there still anything of the original elen in there or is that gone? Mercy killings have to actually be merciful, otherwise it's just murder." She's wary of tangling herself further in things that she doesn't understand, though is conscious that expanding her knowledge of the situation is ultimately why she's there.
Muffled by the barrier...the faintest whisper of... Abbygailiwy...hungers...please...
"I don't think anything good is to come between us and this- that said, I'm not sure we have an escape. The way this barrier is designed, the curve, I wouldn't be surprised if it's a full circle around Light. I presume Zephyr has attempted to see if it can simply be gone over. Which leaves us with perhaps under? Does anyone know of tunnels?"
"There's always through." Edmund shakes his head, realizing what his words sound like. "Not throwing ourselves in. I..." he clears his throat, "I had a vivid dream last night. I believe it was a vision from the Silver Bringer, perhaps one last little vestige of Him. A true vision. He said that I might show the way, through a place that sylphs fear most." With a small gesture toward the Breathless, he says, "I can think of no place I fear more."
Looking toward the ifrit and the undine, he says, "I know that this is a large thing to ask, especially since we've just met, but will you trust me? I will show the way, and you must be quick." Edmund looks worried that you will shout him down, or walk away.
"If you don't mind me asking, if you knew a way to leave the whole time- why wait until you met us? Why didn't you leave with your friends?" Chezarina is understandably a bit suspicious.
"The dream said to find new fire and water first. I think that referred to the two of you." He smiles. "I'm sorry I'm being so cryptic. I'm also very tired. Sleep may heal, but these visions drained me instead."
His eyes stray to a hilltop that touches the barrier, half a brutbreve field away. "Pack your things. I think the time is near where it may be done."
"That makes sense," agrees Luu Sânh. At least to a point. She is struggling to get a handle on Edmund, his flipping between straight talking and evasiveness, non-sequiturs and contradictions. It's far too much like politicking for her liking and she feels like an undine away from River in such situations. Give her a mission or a battle and she can analyse it and pick the right tactics and approach. Give her an academic problem and she can get stuck into research and puzzle it out. But she has no time for complex layers of meaning in social interactions, subtle balances of power and influence and deft insults buried amidst honeyed words.
Taking one assent as good enough, Edmund heads toward the top of the hill. "Albert, I'm afraid I used your relay tower a bit harshly, but I managed to get a message sent to the rest of our people. I don't have your fine touch with those smaller inventions." Just a hint of the old Edmund in his smile, for a too-short moment.
"They should have all the healing and alchemical supplies they could carry. I timed the prayer--spell, whatever--to get them moving as soon as I saw that monster thing, so they should be here soon. Whoever survived, anyway." All humor gone now, the last is said with a note of quiet dread.
Uphill now, the Abbygailiwy-thing small in the distance again. Edmund finds a flat piece of ground near the barrier, and sits. With some difficulty from his splinted arm, he unpacks his ceremonial anvil and hammer. With great enthusiam, he rings it, the sound climbing into the air.
Ting, ting, ting! Ting!
After two minutes of this, right as at least one of you is ready to ask what in Volcano's pit he thinks he's doing, a ragged group of elens break through the brush and wave to you.
A motley assortment of healers, alchemists, medics, tinkers, and even a handful of young mystics walk toward you with purpose. Their faces are a mixture of joy to see you, and fear from something they just escaped.
When you turn back from the sight of these new arrivals, you see the impossible - a small arched tunnel has opened in the barrier. You can see through to the other side, with no distortion in between. The high and keen ting! of the silvered anvil causes the nearby parts of the Valley waver slightly in response.
Edmund's voice is strained. "Be quick through the Valley. Go!"
Wrong-footed once more, Luu Sânh gazed at the sylphs expectantly, hoping for an explanation to the questions that she doesn’t feel are necessary to ask.
"Well, if this is all some Moon-crazed way to kill me, I'll admit, it wins points for originality. Might as well." Chezarina shrugs and tries going through the valley.
From the front, the barrier appears to be quite thin, but now that you are 'inside' of it, that same thin dimension has been smeared and stretched into a long tunnel. You see two halves of the same tree, seemingly cleaved through, but it is all some strange trick of perception.
Chezarina is safe and alive after a few steps into the archway.
Her natural suspicion causes her to doubt what her eyes are telling her but as far as Luu Sânh can tell Chezarina is unharmed by venturing into the archway. "Fine," she mutters to herself, still unsure but heeding Edmund's order to hurry; orders at least are something that she understands. Grabbing her pack and swinging it over her shoulder, she does a quick check about her and heads into the valley after the ifrit.
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Zephyr emir flies down to urge the new arrivals forward - this must be the remainder of the crew that Luu Sânh and Chezarina were just told about.
No hesitation, his very breathing an act of faith, Zephyr plunges into the archway and waves for his fellows to follow.
Again, the tunnel seems far longer than it should - it is almost a full brutbreve field to go through the barrier.
high perception check tells you that the Abbygailiwy-thing is moving steadily toward your position - the grey dot is growing. It is moving much faster, now that you are on the 'inside' of the Valley along with it.
This Abbygailiwy had been an uncertain creature. Albert had merely raised a few possible options to start a discussion and felt that his organizational input had been ignored. But no matter.
He had smiled at Chezarina's thought process of going under and begins discussing the tunnel creepers that he could make facsimiles of. But he hadn't considered the Runts and their prospective reaction.
But Edmund's sudden revelation strikes him as very odd. Of all the possible magic, Albert put the least stock in divination. Prophecy and vision could easily be explained by rogue neural impulses and the brain's near-infinite capacity to seek order in noise. But of course, Albert finds himself in the minority of that.
And then Edmund makes his most haunting, cryptic declaration. Was he aware of an attack suffered by those they left back in town?!
"Edmund, what are you--?!"
The Professor paces back and forth as Edmund refuses to answer questions and instead begins acting mere minutes before a group comes rushing up. Albert's eyes glaze over the group, counting, trying to account for who was there.
"Le do thoil nach maith liom mé a tachtadh ar mo anáil féin," Albert swears. "You comin' with or not, me birdo?"
But he feels like he already knows the answer. As soon as the last of the group aside from him and Edmund are through, Albert gives a nods and rushes through.
"Keep an eye out for company, anyone who can't fight, move faster." Chezarina's words are terse, but at least she shouts a warning.
Her free hand hesitates by her quiver for a moment as she considers firing an arrow, but decides she can't know for sure how the barrier works. For all she knows, firing an arrow would pierce whatever magic sustained this tunnel, and she simply focuses on running faster, though keeping an eye out as best she can.
Three groups run, ragged and tired, up the hill and through the Breathless Valley. You see Gamberino with a few of Albert's alchemists and medics; next comes Iris with Edmund's remaining acolytes; Anan flies like the wind while urging Bye, Gull, and a few remaining initiates forward.
The archway is only wide enough for one at a time, and the single-file pace eats away at agonizing seconds as Abbygailiwy gets closer.
Her gray-yellow mottled claw is but inches from Anan. Her mouth is slowly opening in ecstasy and hunger.
No, no, no...
Things had been safe. Or safe enough, at least. What had Albert missed?
He hits a few buttons on his wrist and aims at Abbygailiwy. "No you don't," he whispers. The hoses on his left arm begin swirling with fluids of different colors and viscosities, imbuing his next shell with a substance that--when exposed to oxygen and heat--would become incredibly adhesive.
A creature that takes a direct hit from a tanglefoot bomb must save against the bomb’s DC or be entangled and glued to the floor as if it had failed its save against a tanglefoot bag. Creatures in the splash area that fail their saves are entangled but not glued to the floor; those who make this save are not entangled at all.
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"It has been so long since I tasted the honeyed nectar of blood!-"
[dice=Abbygailiwy, fast as smoke, but hindered by the valley]1d20+6-2
"It has been so long since I tasted the honeyed nectar of blood!-"
"Anan, lead! Help those who are not swift ... I will fight."
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While the others make their way through single file, Chezarina pauses, and seeing the foe is upon them just in the nick of time, pulls forth four arrows with a single hand, and lets them fly one after another so quickly they could have all been fired in a single leap, if she had more room for acrobatics.
"To arms, those that have them, she's upon us!"
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Abbygailiwy, a writhing smoke elemental currently possessing some poor sylph's body, is a like a flitting, poisonous bird. Quick, darting, deadly. The kind that a skilled ranger's arrow can pierce against a tree.
Chezarina knows these type of creatures all too well. She has slain more of these wispy, sneaking things than she can count on two hands (best hope the flying mystic and his "Fury" friend don't learn too much about past exploits...)
Abbygailiwy reaches through the last inch of the barrier. Chezarina breathes in, knowing that the instant she breaks through, the elemental will streak forward fast as anything-
the ranger breathes out,
the beast lunges,
the arrow
-forward
-eye
-thud
And the wet, dead smell of a campfire extinguished permeates the air as Abbygailiwy lies dead upon the ground. The barrier closes, Edmund left on the other side. One last silver-anvil
ting
reaches your ears, then silence.
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Albert screams for Edmund on the other side, knowing with near certainty that his friend and colleague can't hear him. He's too frustrated and (admittedly) frightened to be impressed by Chezarina's display of prowess, though he's sure to notice that before too long. Instead, he lets down his practiced guard in spite of being in front of so many of his students and keeps shouting. Tears streak down his face. He knows that when he turns to look at who is left, he's going to find himself even more distraught. He isn't ready. Please, not yet...
Not for the first time in the short while she has known her, Luu Sânh marvels at Chezarina's speed and prowess. She knows that she is fast - not a boast, as she sees it simply a fact - but the ifrit's rapid hail of arrows was both quick and devastating. Before the undine is even able to get further than tensing to spring into action, the elemental has been brough low. She waves a hand in a curt gesture of admiration for the skill, though as yet she unclear of the consequences of either the attack or the tunnel.
Albert, you immediately notice the absence of Washakie, the only oread in your entire group. The loss of his strength and patience is a hole in your chest. Bye wanders into your vision, and you wonder who will help you with the sylph's shattered mind now that your chief therapist is gone. Gull follows after like a dazed baby chick.
Your mind continues with frantic lists. Gamberino is here. Iris, Mato, Fredrik, Drook, Anan, Ciela, Natann, yes...but the tall, shy initiate, Pol, is gone. The medics, the acolytes, and the initiates have all taken losses. Involuntary numbers dance in your head, giving you slightly above an eighty percent survival rate since you've left Light.
Feeling his throat tightening involuntarily, Albert takes a few calming breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Pursed lips. Just like he taught back in Light. Increase the resistance and prevent aberrant ventilation on either extreme. Allow the muscles to relax. Cycle more oxygen into the blood.
"What happened?" he asks, trying to keep his voice calm with the knowledge that one in five of the people he had been traveling with had just been lost. It's not accusatory. It's just...he wants to know.
Feeling awkward that she is intruding on someone else's grief and unsure what exactly to do in the situation, Luu Sânh shuffles on her feet and manages "I'm sorry, Albert," in a quiet voice.
Although she can empathise with the loss - such losses were hardly unknown on the front in the war against Dark - this has never been an area she feels well-equipped to deal with. A drink, a distraction or unburdening herself with Mai and Aong were how she would usually deal with such situations but none of these seem to be on the on the table or appropriate to the situation.
Gamberino speaks first. His words are punctuated by gasping breaths as he tries to calm his body from the last candle of desperate running. "I don't know how, but...the gray Inquisitor. That Inquisitor Key guy. We all saw him, every single group. He stirred up the lightning hives early." A moment of silence as Gamb tries to look away from the horrors in his own eyes.
Someone hands him a canteen, and he takes a grateful drink of water. He talks quickly now, "Most of us had time to run. One group didn't. We was almost out when a pair that looked like dogs started catching up. Mato was slowing down..." He closes his eyes. Shaking his head, he opens them once more, and continues, "Wash didn't hesitate. When Mato stumbled, he picked the kid up, tossed him to me, and in the split second that took..." and he ends with rough, angry clap. "He was gone."
He looks around, as if seeing his surroundings for the first time.
"And here we are. What the hell is this clear jelly stuff hanging in the air?" And where's Edmund?"
Chezarina had little clue what was going on, save that many were likely dead. Many that it seemed Albert was close to.
For her own part, she knew she was not a great comforter, much better suited to volleys of arrows, and sat to the side, leaving time and space for those more suited to the task. She had just met him, and doubted he seek her counsel in matters of friends.
Pulling from her pack a small stone, she twirled it in her hand to pass the time.
Chezarina, a small sylph boy sits down next to you. His wide-eyed look is somewhere between curious and dazed. "My friend Albert killed a golem and took its clothes I think. Why do your arrows hurt so much to look at? Are they cursed or something?" He asks these questions directly, in the naively rude manner only the very young can achieve.