Benedetto hangs on grimly, hoping that Aisling's idea will help. With only one flight potion, he doesn't want to have to spend any of its duration he doesn't need to...
He taps the ephemeral creature carrying them and switches to Sylph
"Má thugaim cosaintí duit, a dhuine iontach, an féidir leat sinn a chosaint freisin agus muid ag druidim lenár sprioc?"
With low, rumbling voice, the manta replies of slow Sylph.
yes, I will do my best to protect you. You must right what is wrong.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Gabe hears some rumbling from the space beneath him where the presumed manta existed. Sensing some movement was about to happen, Gabe prepares to hang on for dear life.
Aisling uses all his protective potions on the creature carrying them. He might regret it later. Probably will. But this creature is carrying them into danger without worrying about itself.
He chooses fire, hoping the acid part will only be from direct assault. Praying the creature can protect its passengers.
"What is your name, great one? In your own language and in Sylph? To know who to thank in my prayers and whonto recommend to The Mother."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
After the bright empty sky, Gabe welcomes the waiting gloom like an old friend.
Aisling uses all his protective potions on the creature carrying them. He might regret it later. Probably will. But this creature is carrying them into danger without worrying about itself.
He chooses fire, hoping the acid part will only be from direct assault. Praying the creature can protect its passengers.
"What is your name, great one? In your own language and in Sylph? To know who to thank in my prayers and whonto recommend to The Mother."
Now that you are in friendly contact with the mobula, you find communication easier. The ray's mental voice is like a warm breeze, strong enough to bowl you over. To small talking ones such as yourself, I am Eryddan. I am warm currents and cold; I am in the bestirring zephyrs and I live in howling gusts.
And you, who speaks with such fair words in troubled times? Who are you and your companions?
As the potions soak in and take effect, the manta's skin emits a small amount of phosphorescence in response. The mobula adjusts the various protrusions on its back, and takes you into its protective grooves. You can see all around you, thanks to the manta's tranlucense, while being neatly enclosed by its magic-infused hide.
You feel the mobula picking up speed, and the winds buffet your eyes and ears. The darkest clouds, the heart of the thunderstorm, draws nearer.
Benedetto holds on tightly, as much as he wants to shift his grip to the hilt of his sword, or maybe get out his bow. Until they get closer, the most he can do is watch his companions for signs of needing healing.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
The ray's mental voice is like a warm breeze, strong enough to bowl you over. To small talking ones such as yourself, I am Eryddan. I am warm currents and cold; I am in the bestirring zephyrs and I live in howling gusts.
And you, who speaks with such fair words in troubled times? Who are you and your companions?
"Táimid ag spreagadh athruithe sa chaidreamh idir déithe. Tá Dark ag truailliú an Bolcán dílis, tá an bhliainty faoi bhagairt, táimid ag dul amú ar an troid. Ach táimid, na cinn bheaga, athléimneach agus tapaímid chun athrú a dhéanamh.
Is é an rud a fheiceann tú anseo ná beirt, Gabriel, duine amháin ceangailte le heitleán eile, agus Samen, tá a chumhacht inmheánach, is é a intinn a chumhacht. Glantar an dá cheann ag cumhacht ársa na Gréine ó fhuil eiliminteach.
Is Ifrit é Benedetto, ridire naofa, a bhíodh ar Bolcán, atá anois ina churadh ar chumhacht chomhcheangailte na tine agus an aeir, leantóir bródúil as an Fhionnuisce.
Is é an ceann atá ceangailte ar an taobh ná Tallmind Theta, foirm ársa daonna saortha ón Dorchadas. Níl mórán eolais againn fúthu fós.
Is mise Aisling Catalys, The Dream of Sylph, iar-ghníomhaire don teampall atá tite go dtí an Dorchadas, soiscéalaí The Sky anois, The Tears mar chomhartha dá saol fiú agus an bhliainty tar éis dearmad go mall nach bhfuil sí marbh. Agus anois dúisíonn sí arís. Agus tusa, Eryddan, is laoch tú."
"We are harbringers of change in the relations between gods. Dark is corrupting the Volcano faithful, elenity is under threat, we're losing the fight. But we, small ones, are resilient and quick to change.
What you see here are two humans, Gabriel, one joined with another plane, and Samen, his power is internal, his mind is his power. Both are cleansed by an ancient power of Sun from elemental blood.
Benedetto is an Ifrit, a paladin, formerly of Volcano, now champion of the joined power of fire and air, proud follower of Phoenix.
The one joined on the side is Tallmind Theta, an ancient form of human freed from The Dark. We don't know much about them yet.
I am Aisling Catalys, The Dream of Sylph, former agent for the temple that has fallen to the Dark, now evangelist of The Sky, The Tears being a sign of her life even as elenity slowly forgot she is not dead. And now she awakens again. And you, Eryddan, you are a hero."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Qizz stays low against the spirit. A content stream of blue bubbles trailing behind them while they continue to tap themselves with the healy stick until the pain fades.
Smiling widely when Aisling starts rambling in a sing songy way they do not understand but Eryddan does not seem bothered by it. The dead are not limited by stupid elen languages that make no sense but sound pretty.
The mobula blushes a wave of red-crimson before becoming clear again. The manta keeps gently undulating in the winds, and it is only by the quick passage of floating rock-islands beneath you that you can measure your true speed.
"You do me too much credit, young Aisling. I will transport you through these stormy winds, but you must face this core of darkness on your own. I wish you all fortune and fair winds."
The mobula hovers near a bank of clouds, and you sense it is time to take your leave. As you all fly/float toward the imminent storm, the manta bobs once towards Aisling; a small show of respect for rising champion of Air and Sky. Indeed, even the air itself seems to obediently solidify under the party's feet, making the path easier.
A voice. firm but polite, gusts in Aisling's ears. Give us the three true names of the Sky God, if true Sky prophet you be. Speak them fair, from your own tongue. The windy voice sounds tired, but with a hint of hope it adds, Please.
[dice=recall that many mycos worship me on 1, 2, or 3]1d12
Gabe hears the speech back and forth but understands none of it. He certainly feels the blessing from the manta though. He does not voice his thanks but he thinks towards it, hoping it gets the impression. "I guess we must away... once more into the heart of darkness." Peering into their intended path, "Literally this time."
Aisling bows low and answers somewhat forcefully
"Ní féidir liom, más rud ar bith, rinne tú é seo indéanta i ngach ciall. An féidir leat gach duine againn a shamhlú lenár eitilt mhall féin, achar gearr agus muid buailte ag na gaotha agus na heilimintí ag teacht anseo gan díobháil? IS TÚ an laoch, Eryddan!"
Switching to common he quickly blesses the creature going into ritual sing-song and swirling spiral movement of his left arm with the right extended above with fingers spread wide simulating the sun.
"Go, with the blessings of The Sun and The Sky, you who are warm currents and cold; who is in the bestirring zephyrs and lives in howling gusts. Thank you."
I absolutely do not, if anything, you made this possible in every sense. Can you imagine us each with our own slow fly, short duration and buffeted by the winds and the elements coming here unharmed? You ARE the hero, Eryddan!
A voice. firm but polite, gusts in Aisling's ears. Give us the three true names of the Sky God, if true Sky prophet you be. Speak them fair, from your own tongue. The windy voice sounds tired, but with a hint of hope it adds, Please.
Aisling thinks about his vision and the instruction
"When the black and red burn side by side, when the lost return, when the silent sing - then you may speak, and I will answer.""Let's say black and red are burning in Phoenix. Did the lost return with the Sun visible? And with few people freed from the Dark? Let's be optimistic and say 'Yes'.
Who are the silent?" he meditates a bit on that, not saying anything to the others.
"How stupid can you be!? And you call yourself a herald. Ignore the others, they are a distracting." Aisling shakes himself from the momentary lapse in attention and proclaims softly at first, but ending with a strong voice of conviction, of an Evangelist speaking to his flock
"
Queen Zephyr,she-Sky, Mother of civilization
Caller-on-the-Horizon, soul shepherd, he-she who tries anything and everything
And finally,
The voice between the stars, god of flocks Prince Raven, he who marks the change, who surpasses limits of what is possible.
Hear me and know hope; for the change is coming!" Aisling looks at the air that whispers and whispers as he turns with his arms opened wide
"Know me, silent singers, hear me, for He returns."
Samen brings a small quavering light to bear in his palm and considers it against the gaping umbral gloom before them. Weak, small, and insignificant. But light has an advantage over the darkness, because light is, while darkness is not.
A single mind is much like this tiny light. Insufficient, but full of hope and life. It can grow, change, and evolve. It can be smothered and extinguished.
But a mind is not the only metaphor for light. It is also knowledge and wisdom, making clear the path. It guides steps, drives efficient action, and answers questions.
But light is also unity of purpose, a small band of disparate mortals striving against the so-called gods. Each with their own mind, each with their own knowledge, but unified across the spectrum of thought in this one objective, to cast out this darkness.
Samen focuses on this small guttering light and pours all he knows of his companions, their histories, their wills, their flaws, and their hopes into in a mental lens in front of it. Very carefully, he aligns the light with the magnification of his friend's live and pushes it through toward the darkness ahead.