Completed Ambush at Farreach Woods

[Geladryx]

The Dragon had just finished spewing forth the noxious cloud of chlorine gasses into the canopy of the trees when he became aware of a lone figure approaching him on horseback. Soon the gas would begin to descend towards the forest floor, heavier than air and ensuring it would follow the Rangers that attempted escape its embrace by retreating to ground level. Alas, there was magic at work to assist in the dispersal of the gasses.

As Monty rode closer to him the Lieutenant would gain Geladryx's attention by calling out to him, butchering his name in the process which earned some amount of contempt from the dragon as with head reared he stared down at her...

"Chat?"

...the Dragons lips curled into a snarl revealing the jagged teeth barely contained in his mouth. Forelimbs flexed as his claws tensed across the earth...

"Perhaps, once you are properly motivated to have the conversation I want."

...it appeared as though Geladryx might leap upon her and her mount, his hindlegs positioned themselves as though he were preparing to propel himself forward. Instead his tail came whipping around his right side like a wrecking ball aimed for Monty's horse, the largest target and with all the force necessary to hurl the animal aside like a toddlers toy, capable of shattering bone and rupturing organs to say nothing of what might happen to the rider in the process.

Narrowing eyes that shined with a sickly orange the Dragon was prepared to stalk after his prey following that, he paid only middling attention to the events transpiring around him at this point unless something else took his attention...

 

[Varys]

A little self-satisfied smirk adorned his features as his traps did the job. He saw several of the enemy forces bearing down on them sink into the ground where he'd hollowed it. He was getting better at that; a few months ago he could barely make one trap. If his Master were here to see him now... well, he'd probably rub it in his face.

Varys was a Speaker: A specialist in transmutation magic that allowed him to converse with the elements and world around him, connecting himself to the land, sea, and air in an intimate fashion that allowed for amazing feats to be performed. He hadn't realized he had that talent until just a few years ago, but his progress had led his Master to deem him a prodigy of the art.

After his apprenticeship though, he'd been struggling to find ways to test himself and improve his abilities. Keeley had been a big help, offering him a spot alongside her in the Rangers, albeit in an unofficial capacity. The two of them had hit it off well too; 'KeeKee' as she liked to be called, made being stuck in Alliria a lot more tolerable than he'd expected.

He chirps back to his lovely friend. "Just showing respect to a superior ranking ranger, KeeKee. Don't get your undergarments twisted just yet." He jokes.

There wasn't any joking when Jarrod scrambled down from the trees in front of them though, and Varys' face twisted in disgust. He'd never liked the guy very much, but he didn't like seeing him in such rough shape. The Dragon's breath wasn't just rotten in the way it smelled; even their attackers seemed to be fleeing from the fuming clouds that spread across the land. It didn't take a genius to figure out what that beast's intentions were. "Ugly bastard is trying to gas us to death, even if it means killing his own..." Clutching the arrow Keeley had given him, he darts underneath the tree with her as she makes an attempt at sparing them from its effects. There was so much going on that it was hard to keep track of; he could only hope this would work.

Now Varys had to live up to his reputation.

He pulls the arrow to his lips, pursing his lips and pressing a soft kiss to it, before speaking to it in whispers. It took a bit longer with manufactured items. Different components could have different voices and personalities, but after about two minutes, he held the arrow out to Keeley. "Listen to me, Kee. This arrow will hit whatever you're aiming for without fail as long as you say it aloud before you let it fly. I can't make these one after another, so make this count. Can you tell me if there's a body of water nearby?"

This wasn't Varys' territory, but if the land was right, he had an idea.

He didn't have time to hear her answer though, as he felt his hair stand on end suddenly. What was...? A spear, blazing and enveloped in heat flew at him with blistering speed. Varys knew as soon as he noticed it coming that he saw it far too late. He shifts his body to try and avoid the projectile, but it sears his flesh, and he feels the warmth of his own blood at his side. He slumps, leaning on Keeley as he grabs at his ribs with a swear "Damnit!"

It wasn't mortal, though it would have been if he'd been a second slower. He was wounded though, the edges of that spear had torn at his flesh and left him bleeding. He'd be fine, so long as this fight didn't last too long for him to get it wrapped up. "Shit... I'm hit, Kee. I don't think I'll be able to get back up into the trees like this."

 

[Monty]

“Oh fecking troll balls,” she barely managed to get her boots free from the stirrups as that scaly tail whipped around. She jumped but felt her boots catch slightly on the top part of the tail. Her horse shrieked and died on impact on some trees several yards away as she tumbled through the air and landed hard on her back.

For a second she lay dazed. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself back to her feet. She gazed up at Geladryx. “How do you know I’m not properly motivated?” A huff. “What’s your deal? This a typical raze everyone and everything blahblahblah? Or yah got some other goal here besides pure slaughter?”

She rolled up the sleeves of her jacket, feet set. Ready.

 

[Hanuman]

The astra flew behind Varys and the rangers and hit a tree, exploding it into a hundred tiny pieces of wood and toppling what remained of its trunk. Hanuman twirled his massive spear as he marched forward, each of his mighty footfalls shod with fire. He felt the bones and bodies of the dead crunch under his stride but paid it no mind. They were just meat, after all, and would soon be nothing but dust and ashes and would mix with the dirt of this forest, and that dirt would be shit on by rabbits and deer and wolves.

Hanuman ignored the toxic cloud as it was lifted away. The wind that carried the poison away whipped at his hair and robes, but he ignored that too. He was set to kill the ranger Varys, his ranger friends, and their friends too, and he would not stop until he made the dead outnumber the living.

A human ranger stepped forth and thrust the point of his skinny sword at Hanuman, but the blade bent and bounced off of his mantle. He seized the ranger's head with one of his four mighty arms and cleaved the man in half with the crescent blade of his spear. With dreadful strength, Hanuman threw the ranger's upper half onto the grass in front of Varys and set his baleful gaze on the wounded elf.

 

[Fain]

Three things of consequence transpired.

First, the she-elf’s wind magic blew away the encroaching chlorine gas, creating a circle of safety more than 50 yards across. Thus She of Storms blessed them.

Second, the strange figure in black who called himself a Messenger saved the warg trapped in the pit, infusing the beast with some strange magic that caused his eyes to glow. Thus the Antlered One smiled upon them.

Khurash cast his gaze from the warg to the man and with a slow nod acknowledged the aid. Should this strange figure require a boon in answer, he would have it.

Third, and last, the great four armed warrior Hanuman advanced upon the Rangers and with callous indifference he smote low a Ranger who opposed him as one might crush a bug beneath the heel. Thus did the aspect of war, whose drum beats in all hearts, awaken within that of Khurash, the Exile.

Once had he offered mercy to the she-elf. The offer would not come again.

The cloud of fumes obscured all vision beyond their immediate area, whilst the fires of the pyromancer continued on unabated, stoked by the wind into a hungry inferno that spat wads of exploding sap into the air with cracks. Embers drifted all around them and the smoke began to roil.

Khurash’s wargs tore into some Rangers who stood their ground within this circle, but he had only eyes for the age-elf.

“You,” he roared at her over the screams of the dying, the snarls of the wargs, and the crackling flames. “You should have run. Now, you will be my prize.”

Then he charged for her, swinging with his axe and thrusting with his knife in a flurry of blows meant to overwhelm her defenses, while Hanuman took on her companion.

 

[Visha Sofka]

Visha, with a snapping greediness of clutching hands, took hold of the staff offered by Kiros and squeezed herself to it as if she were dangling off of a cliff and this was the cord of rope which separated her from a good day and an awful, splattering-on-the-rocks-below kind of day. Hey, that was a great analogy. It was basically that. Except without a cliff and with nasty, sucking dirt.

Nasty, sucking dirt that was all over her clothes once she was pulled out--GOD DAMN IT. This was disgusting. Whoever did this to her was disgusting. She hated doing laundry. How many more devious, twisted things could she think of before she caught the trap-laying culprit. Well maybe they choked on the gas and died! AH HA! Ah shit the gas is gone. Fuck.

Alright. Alright. No problem. The rangers looked to be getting a whupping something awful, a straight boot up the ass you might even say, so that trap-layer was going to get his one way or another.

Meanwhile. Great news! She didn't even owe this guy a favor. Who turned down a favor? Psst, lookin' right at him.

Visha grinned. Bent and grabbed her own staff from the edge of the Pitfall trap. Said to Kiros, "I'm a hundred and ten percent wits! I've got surplus wits. I could sell 'em and make a profit! These traps ought to mind ME, ah haha! There's no hiding for them now!"

Then her wandering eyes saw it. The hunchback (whose moniker was "The Pilgrim") had done a little doodlely-do with his finger and a little hot sauce came out and went down into a pit and that wasn't very impressive but then all of a sudden what came out of the pit was--

"AHHHH!" Visha clamped her free hand onto Kiros's sleeve and shook his arm and pointed with her staff toward the Pilgrim and looked up to Kiros and said, "Did you see that?? I saw that but did you SEE THAT??" Her eyebrows erupted into gouts of flame upon shouting see that the second time, a byproduct of her intense excitement. After a couple of seconds, the gouts of flame dissipated as if they'd not been there.

"We need that guy. That one! The one with the bad back and the malnutrition and the robe that could really use some laundering!" Well, after the Pitfall trap, guess that made two of them. "We're winning, I don't know where the hell he came from, but we could use him to take these bastards down! Tell me I'm right or I'll slap the white outta your hair! Just kidding! Let's go!"

Visha (still under the impression that Kiros was on her side) went sprinting off and waved for Kiros to follow and she jumped over the fallen and the wounded here and weaved around a tree there and luckily eluded catching an arrow to the leg by dint of her long stride and she slid to a stop next to the toppled Pilgrim.

There were a lot of things she could have said. A whole lot.

What she did say: "Hi."

Eyes wide as could be, tiny little pinpricks of pupils, brows arched to the sky.

Kiros Rahnel The Pilgrim Geladryx Khurash Keeley Varys San'Seya Hanuman

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Kiros deftly pulled Visha up with the heels of his boots digging into the dirt beneath, and once she had taken hold of Heirahit, the staff would feel strange in her grasp. It was weak and hard to discern, but clearly something. It seemed apparent that the quarterstaff that aided her freedom held some sort of enchantment, but of unknown nature.

Kiros listened on as she made her rebuttal. She blurted her words at a rapid pace; clearly quite proud, but at least she understood his warning. Filled with vigour, this one; and in awfully high morale considering the dire state of the ongoing battle. Odd as it was, it was better than bad morale, he reasoned.

"Did you see that??"

“What?” he asked in response, in tone more quizzical than concerned. The remark had been bid forth as much by her question as it was the flames spurting from her brow. After a brief stunned moment, his attention turned over to whatever had taken hers. Kiros could not be sure what exactly The Pilgrim was, but the being’s appearance implied it's undeath. Something he as a priest could aid with; in his continued mistaken belief that she was an ally, it seemed certain that such was the reason she had pointed the entity out. At once, his grip on his quarterstaff tightened and choked up in preparation for battle – be it arcane or physical.

He had prepared an incantation of insight to gleam further knowledge, but was interrupted before casting by her next words. A complete surprise; she spoke not of killing or fighting, but that she need to do something with this unholy hunchback. He knew not what to do with it himself, but the flames spurting from her eyebrows yet again implied that she might; he still had no clue what to make of that, either. Nonetheless they were already fighting against hordes led by a dragon (at least, he was), and they would surely require all the help obtainable.

And as she continued on, so would the surprises. Kiros would be hard pressed to consider the current situation ‘winning’, but before he could ask about that, she was already beckoning him onward. Curious, and with far more questions than answers, he rushed forth and followed along towards the object of her present attention. She hardly seemed threatened or worried herself, but reaching this robed thing was of great importance to her. Just like getting out of the pit had been; perhaps a pattern forming.

“Of what need have you for that one?” Kiros finally inquired in his search for such answers, to no avail from his position behind her. He had wondered what she meant to do with him, and hearing what she had to speak bid only further confusion. Hi? His staff had discerned the presence of something magical upon his arrival, though he knew not the nature nor the source.

Was she weaving a spell to enable her dominance over this thing? Was she simply eccentric enough to believe they were winning? Kiros had no idea, but merely watched on; prepared to invoke an incantation of immute in support, to dispel any magic gone awry.

 

[Borel]

Varys San'Seya Hanuman

In days long past Borel thought he knew of war, clawing and bearing his fangs at other packs, but since becoming an elf he found that wolves knew nothing at all of bloodshed. He had fought greenskin before and lost, but today he had his pack to think of, the Allirian Rangers. They had taken many losses to the greenskins, in no small part because of the great dragon above them. A better elf might have pondered taking the beast, but Borel was far more grounded.

Spotting the giant spear of the four-armed monstrocity Hanuman pierce one of his allies, Borel let out a growl. Knocking a arrow he fired a shot at Hanuman, followed by another, a third, a fourth as he rushed the beast. Perhaps Hanuman would shatter the arrows in his fists, but at the least Borel would provide a distraction, an obstacle between the monstrocity and the downed mage Varys San-Seya. The ex-wolf knew little of how the world worked, but he did know that a skilled mage could accomplish far more than he.

 

[Geladryx]

All around them the battle waged. The Gas had forced many Rangers from their hiding spots in the trees before descending onto the battlefield only to be dispersed by summoned winds. On the ground the Orcs could meet the Rangers on their terms though and the Horde outnumbered the defenders by a high margin.

The Dragon was focused on Monty. It seemed Geladryx appreciated how she moved, nimbler than he had expected. As she rose to her feet he read her body language, the way she set her feet and rolled up the sleeves on her jacket while he loomed over her...

"Quaint."

...like many creatures his failings may have come in the form of overconfidence. Forelimbs and hind legs widened, his center of gravity lowered as though he were preparing to stalk her down. As his head leveled itself with her, his nostrils flaring and he exhaled sending a wafting putrescent breeze in her direction...

"You'll know when I reach Alliria. If you live that long."

...even after lowering his center of gravity Geladryx would stand nominally ten feet at the shoulder, half that of when he was standing on all fours normally. His tail stretching out behind him wove around the evergreens of the forest, slowly raising as though it was preparing to strike before dipping again. Raising his left forelimb Geladryx swiped his claws at her, left to right before drawing his limb backwards; the talons on his limbs capable of rending flesh from bone.

It didn't appear as though the Dragon was actually that invested in chasing her down.

As he swiped at her though the Dragon's eyes began to shift, the irises transformed until the resembled the same color as sand running in an hourglass and he howled loudly while his right forelimb tensed over the earth...

"LOEX KAEGRO!"

...Monty and others who might hear the voice calling out and echoing through the forest wouldn't understand what Geladryx had said unless they spoke some form of draconic or a similar dialect however the effects were noticeable shortly thereafter. A Mist, unnatural and unaffected by wind would slowly start to rise from the earth.

The Mist rose, thickening at ankle height as it enveloped the landscape until beginning to congregate around the dead. Whereas the living were unaffected the mist slither into the orifices of the dead, their mouths, nose, ears, eyes and fill them. Dark Energy was palpable to those who could sense it. It took moments but the dead started to twitch, shaking as though they were convulsing and frothing at the mouth as their organs fought against their natural expiration. Eventually the eyes of the dead would snap wide again, awash with a glassy light as they rose to do the bidding of their master.

The Rangers and their allies would soon be assailed by more than Orcs. The Dead rose.

Kiros Rahnel The Pilgrim Khurash Keeley Varys San'Seya Hanuman Borel Visha Sofka Monty​

 

[Keeley]

Borel Varys San'Seya Khurash

"Just showing respect to a superior ranking ranger, KeeKee. Don't get your undergarments twisted just yet."

"Puhlease Var. You already know they...," she quipped back even as the wind shifted and tugged around them. Then it stopped, the energy she'd stolen from the tree used up. Just as Varys turned to her and gave her instructions on the arrow as well as the boon itself. Wonder briefly flashed across her eyes. A flash of pride on her sharp features. A small moment offered in the midst of the screams of dying and fighting around them. Agony in the mists that bordered the area she'd cleared.

She knew he'd been working on his magic lately. As she put it in the quiver at her back she turned, suddenly feeling his weight against hers'. The focus of that four-armed creature on her friend. Her arm instantly wrapped around her fellow elf's waist.

"Varys. Hang on, I've got you."

So many things at once. The four-armed one charging. The yelling orc with his malevolent attention on her. And an unexpected ally. Arrows whizzed toward the four-armed one who was crushing skulls and ripping bodies apart with sickening squelching on the battlefield.

"Did he just say I'd be his prize?" Keeley nearly choked as she repeated it to her friend. Wondering if that gas had gotten into her and muddled with her brain or her excellent hearing. But also putting herself between Varys and the incoming orc.

Years of training came in handy.

She was lighter and faster than the brute. As the orc charged, his axe went just above her head. His knife skidded along the light armor around her ribs. Bruising but not piercing. She'd go for swooping around his side with a nimble jump as she attempted to wrap her bow string around his neck and tug from behind. Her knees and feet would perhaps find purchase on his back and shoulders.

And as she fought, she noticed the unnatural mist rising from the ground. And then the parts of the ranger the four-armed one had just killed. Necromancy.

 

[Varys]

Varys wasn't in any mortal danger, "but the wound on his side was dizzying and weakened him a good deal. Had Keeley not had the foresight to hold him close to her he would likely have toppled over himself in short order. His vision blurred in and out in a similar manner to his balance for a moment as he collected himself. He wasn't on the floor? Who'd caught him? Oh, it must have been... "My thanks, Kee. Shook me up a little there..."

Still, they were in trouble. The battle was only increasing in ferocity and the now constant sound of death and war filled his pointed ears. "This is getting out of hand..." He mumbles back to her incredulous repeating of the threat that had been thrown at her. "And if he wants you, I can think of somebody he's gonna need to get through..." His hand squeezed at his side, wincing as he tried to stand on his own. He was useless if Keeley had to drag him around. No, worse than useless, a burden.

They had not a moment to rest though. both the four-armed beast and the large orc were fast approaching with gazes of murderous intent. A swear left Varys' lips; Keeley was strong, but these two were not a pair she could face alone. He had to at least make some attempt to help her... He had to try.

As the orc charged, however, Varys was pushed out of harm's way, falling to his hands and knees on the grass as Keeley engaged in combat with their attacker. Instinctively, he turned to look at the second aggressor, the one who'd wounded him. To his shock, that beast was occupied with somebody else who'd seemingly jumped in the way. He'd never seen the stranger before, but it almost appeared from the way he was moving as though he were trying to draw the four-armed one away from Varys.

Volunteering as a distraction? Very bold indeed. He would have to trust him.

Raising up to his knees, he turned his attention back Keeley and the Orc she battled. He had to help, and while he was wounded, he still had his tongue. Those two fought amongst the trees, large and many. It was that which Varys would use to his advantage. Crawling his way to the nearest one he could reach, he presses his body tightly to it, whispering words into the bark of its trunk at a hurried and frantic pace. There was no guarantee that the tree would do as he wished; not everything he spoke too was so willing and able to help. With the sound of cracking wood, however, he knew he'd achieved his goal. The tree began to tilt, and then fall towards Keeley and her attacker. The blow would be massive, even to a massive Orc.

"Kee! Get clear of him NOW!"

 

[The Pilgrim]

It was a great storm of chaos, and the Pilgrim’s poor, weak ears were ringing with it. It was difficult to rise with the weight strapped firmly to his back, but he rolled over and managed to push himself to his feet. It appeared to take a great deal of effort.

”Hi.”

A dark maw arched slowly up to meet the insane gaze of Visha Sofka, and he sudden appearance, fiery aura, and taciturn greeting did something very rare. It confused him for a moment.

”Hello, young one,” rasped out a response. As he did so, he felt a heavy handed nudge against his spirit. It burned him more that usual, and the invisible voice rattled in his head: This one holds promise, and power.

Quite contrary to the tones of disdain the Pilgrim himself was met with (he did not fault his master, for he was wretched), his ethereal commander carried feelings of acceptance and, dare he say it, excitement at the new woman.

”You carry a gift of fire. Tell me, do you seek power?”

 

[Hanuman]

Hanuman spat as disgusting magics rose the slain. A stream of arrows struck and shattered against Hanuman's torso. The arrows broke his ashen skin, drawing an inconsequential amount of blood. It amounted to little more than an annoyance, like buzzing mosquitos amidst summer humidity.

He turned his monstrous gaze towards Borel, whose efforts bore fruit as the Kha'atari now directed his wrath towards the oncoming Were-elf.

"This one's conviction is commendable," Hanuman taunted and raised his spear overhead, "fools that charge toward slaughter should be praised."

And he brought the crescent blade of his spear down with enough force to cleanly split Borel from crown to nave.

 

[Fain]

Oh dwellers of the great lake, tribes of the God's Spine. Have you heard of your son, Khurash?

He whom you exiled.

He stands not of a height with giants, but with a common man, though his thews are thick and broad as tree trunks. With axe and knife he carves the skin of your enemies. See how many scalps adorn his belt? See how many ears hang from his neck?

The ancestors will honor his strength, where you will not.

* * *

A bow string wrapped around Khurash's neck and drew taut. He grunted as it yanked him backward, slicing into his neck. He struggled to breathe. He struggled to think.

Then he reached up with his long knife and with a single motion sliced through the bowstring. It snapped and he could draw in air once more.

The crack of shattering wood exploded above the fray and a tree tilted toward Khurash with groan as it fell. Eyes wide, Khurash sought to dive out of the way, but he was not swift enough. The tree fell with a mighty thud upon the forest floor, pinning one of his legs beneath it.

 

[Visha Sofka]

There was a battle going on around them, yeah.

There was big damn fire in the trees, some of it put out by the wind spells and some of it surviving in patchwork blazes, yeah (anditwasbeautiful).

There were even dead guys rising up, yeah. Go Geladryxie!

But she and Kiros were about to recruit the hunchback, skinny hood guy to their side. He didn't look like the rest of the Rangers, and she didn't remember seeing him around the war camp (she didn't remember seeing Kiros around there either, but, you know, oops), so wherever he came from he was going to be on their side. Unless he was already on their side. In which case, GREAT!

Of what need have you for that one?, said Kiros.

Visha glanced over her shoulder, "Just you wait, just you--!"

Hello, young one, said The Pilgrim.

"Hi!" Visha said again, even quicker and most excited than the last time, making the word sound more like a squeak than anything.

You carry a gift of fire. Tell me, do you seek power?

Visha gasped, pressing her free hand to her cheek. Oh ho ho ho, what if, what if, what if, she could be like GREAT MAHO! Oh no no no, she could never match his power, but what if she was just a little, just a little bit, just a little teenie tiny bit closer, just a smidge, a pinch, a dab of extra power closer to him. He was still the Greatest Pyromancer Who Ever Lived but she, Visha Sofka, could take the silver in his name! And while destroying the College of Elbion was beneath him, maybe, maybe, she could FINISH IT!

Visha again snagged Kiros's sleeve and wrenched his arm back and forth, absolutely giddy and unable to contain herself, grinning widely at him and giggling, and still doing this as she looked back to The Pilgrim, saying, "YES! I seek power! And he seeks power too! Isn't that right--oh I'm sorry I didn't catch your name, ha ha, whoops, nevermind, don't worry about it, hey what's that behind you? Wait, disregard that last one. Anyway. YES! I want power!"

And to Kiros, wide-eyed and dimpled cheeks, "We can do this! We can crush our enemies! You and me! Right here, right now!"

Kiros Rahnel The Pilgrim Khurash Keeley Geladryx Hanuman Varys San'Seya Borel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

"Just you wait, just you--!"

A statement that revealed nothing, but implied great importance behind it. He remained unaware of the transaction unfolding before him, and waited with worry as the two conversed. All around, slain rangers rose to their feet in unlife, turning blade and bow against their former allies and plunging the battle into state even more dire. While tempted to resort to his incantation of insight he decided against it, lest he offend this being. Whatever Visha was attempting, Kiros held mistaken hope that the delay would be worthwhile. Clarity of purpose would come when The Pilgrim spoke of power, causing Visha to react with exuberant glee. Given the state of battle, the rangers desperately needed it; given belief that she was an ally, he was clueless that such aid would inevitably be turned against them.

"And he seeks power too! Isn't that right-"

Kiros was taken aback at the unexpected inclusion in her bid for bestowed power. Not that he was at all willing to place trust in to the aberration that was The Pilgrim. Visha certainly did, but it was clear that she was the impulsive sort; he well doubted the wisdom in doing so. But even mere inquiry had caused offence in the young pyromancer, to express doubt would surely incur even greater ire. Besides, if she was so determined to take the risk here, best it be left upon another.

"-oh I'm sorry I didn't catch your name, ha ha, whoops"

By this point, ignorance of his name was expected, but strange that she didn’t so much as hazard a guess. The others had all known him as Itra’s prophet and high priest – or rather, they learned of that when he unwittingly confirmed it. Already mistaken in his assumption that Visha was ally to him and the rangers, he drew further mistaken conclusion that she must be aware that he was already patron to Her. He couldn’t be patron to two; divine magic did not work that way. In these laws was an alibi that could prove useful; it seemed the most tactful way of rejecting the offer.

“Kiros. And, ehh... Generous, but you know I already possess the boon of another. I cannot hold both; best not to risk the wrath of one as merciless as She.” Kiros replied, finding little need to make much further reference to the tale of divine wrath he mistakenly believed her already privy to. It was possible The Pilgrim might be dissuaded as well, knowing that Kiros’ service would need to be pilfered from another. Such action was often cause for conflict between greater powers, were he averse to it.

Though this was the exact type of conflict he was hoping to draw Her into, Visha’s implied vouching caused him to believe The Pilgrim carried potential for the rangers. They sorely needed it. As foul and unholy as the entity appeared, desperation for victory was a great weight that bent morality enough to allow the benefit of doubt to slip though.

“Be quick now; time is but a dwindling resource.” He implored, looking to The Pilgrim with curiosity and concern. With the undead assailing them alongside the orcs, the need to return to the fray was growing with each passing moment. In his ignorance, he could only hope that the aid of this thing would make the delay worthwhile.

 

[The Pilgrim]

The bent-over figure could not held but be pushed back a step by Visha's enthusiasm. Her voice was loud against his degraded ears, hidden as they were within layers of cloth, and the light that danced around her was painful to behold. But pain was his lot in life, the great price. He would be rewarded, he knew, for his loyalty.

“Kiros. And, ehh... Generous, but you know I already possess the boon of another. I cannot hold both; best not to risk the wrath of one as merciless as She.”

The Pilgrim peered at Kiros, twisting his head at an unnatural angle to look up at the pious one. "Devotion is to be commended." He rasped. "But does She reward your devotion? Think on this..."

Slowly, he dipped back to Visha. "Take my hand." He extended a very thin, very dry, and very gray hand towards her. It trembled in the open air, held upon an arm of little more than bone and desiccated flesh.

"LOEX KAEGRO!"

The Pilgrim's burden almost shook at the dragon's words, as though the ancient language had roused a reaction from whatever was carried within. He did not move, but understanding was granted to him. "Quickly."

 

[Visha Sofka]

...best not to risk the wrath of one as merciless as She.

Visha, completely misinterpreting that, whipped around and flexed an arm at The Pilgrim and proudly declared, "He's right! I AM merciless! Ha! You wait and see!" (And a little aside back to Kiros, "Oh and it's Visha, by the waaaaaaay, heh. Hm. Yeah.")

You know what? You know what Kiros and Visha were going to do? Trash these rangers. She was giddy just thinking about it! Oh woah, woah, woah, it wasn't like she and him couldn't have destroyed the rangers without The Pilgrim's help. Hey, she seen how good Kiros was before, she saw him kill twenty rangers in one swiggity-swoop of his hands and his magic, so don't go doubting him! And Visha?

Well. She was here to make Great Maho proud.

Visha grinned. Arced back her free hand. Said, "How's this for quick?"

And slapped her hand into The Pilgrim's, grasping it, clutching it tightly, as the whole of the chaotic ambush went on around them.

Kiros Rahnel The Pilgrim

 

[The Pilgrim]

Pain snapped up the Pilgrim's arm at Visha's violent grasp, but he did not let go. He could not let go. His hand, arm, and body had been seized by another power, of which a tiny fracture trickled down his arm. It burned as it did so, and a frail, barely audible moan escaped his chest. The invisible fires reached his fingertips, lingered a moment, and then greedily plunged for Visha's skin.

It would hurt a normal human, but the Pilgrim did not know if those wild eyes of Visha's could comprehend pain. Whatever the case, the burning should subside once the mark had finished searing into the back of her hand. So fresh, it glowed like embers.

​

You toy with flames, but you do not command. A voice that did not come from the Pilgrim, a voice that only Visha could hear. Use my voice, and the inferno will bend to your will.

Visha, should she heed the voice, would see her control of fire improved, as though the flames themselves listened more closely.

"A small gift, to demonstrate our master's favor."

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

"But does She reward your devotion? Think on this..."

He was the second one here to speak of Her, and unlike the elderly stranger from before, The Pilgrim spoke as if true knowledge of Her was held. The remark sent Kiros into stunned silent reflection; at first for what was implied rather than stated. Given Her true nature, the question asked was deliberate, and pointed as if this entity knew truly what he dealt with. And if such was known it was surely known that the answer to his own given question was a simple matter.

No, She did not. Sixteen years as Her prophet had made that abundantly clear. Though he had obligingly done all that She asked, and remained ready to undertake whatever quest She'd force upon him next; reward was hardly part of the equation. Most priests would consider acting in direct servitude to a divine to be reward in and of itself; for none had ever met Her. They likely also held comfort in securely knowing they had a place waiting for them in the afterlife, where Kiros did not. The Astral Valley remained shuttered to him; all She would do was prevent his damnation to the pit.

While reward was scant, punishment was copious; such was the case upon completion of his last given quest. Speaking to Xzaar had been the last thing remembered; he awoke two days afterwards with a migraine of such severity that he remained bedridden for four further days. He still held not the slightest clue why and assumed She had simply smote him on a whim. When he had made inquiry Her during prayer some time after, he received only another migraine through intentional smiting.

If he wanted his reward of once-promised salvation, he’d long known he’d need to seek it out for himself. Her mandated quests however, had become far more dangerous and frequent. Begrudging devotion would place himself under further increased risk of death, only to be denied entrance to the Valley he so desired. He now had to wonder what purpose attempting to twist Her into acting upon a noble cause such as this even had. He yearned for some means of control, but truly – he needed escape.

The musings were ample enough distraction as Visha smacked her hand against that of The Pilgrim. By the time he looked up again, the entity appeared to be magically etching some sort of symbol on her skin. The sight was strange and uncomfortable, and as it unfolded before him he could only continue to question if this transaction was wise. It was certainly a horrid way of gaining bestowed power.

Though there were worse ways of going about it.