Open Chronicles Falling into Warmer Climates

[Irman Harefoot]

(OOC: this is a sequel to the thread “Sudden Arrivals, Strange Portants”. Feel free to read that thread for the full context but here is a TLDR if you do not wish to. Irman completed his journey with Sigrun Flintfeet and Ispir Sione to deliver an ancient cursed mummy to the Noct Yaegir sanctuary of Crobhear keep. Much was learned about the mummy and the Noct Yaegir are now aware of a long forgotten threat, but Irman feels that his path leads elsewhere.)

It was after midnight, and the mountain winds howled around the old and honored keep. The merriment that filled Crobhear’s halls since sunset had died down, and the only lights still on were those of the night watch, stationed at the keep’s main gate. Having taken quite a bit of care to remain unseen since the discussion of the artifact, Irman Harefoot was prepared to exit by alternative means.

Before the sun was set, the short Rabbit-man had found a path he could jump down from the outer walls into the mountainside forests that spanned below Crobhear. It was a series of hops he felt comfortable he could do even with just the night sky to illuminate his surroundings.

Irman vaulted the stone battlements and fell to the trees below. As he descended he broke his momentum on cliffside rocks and sturdy branches, reaching the forest floor with nary a scratch. From there he headed northward, parallel the road which lead into Crobhear keep. He avoided getting on to the road itself or activating his alchemical lamp however, as he first wanted to put some distance between himself and the Keep’s guards.

Why all the secrecy? Well, Irman had been introduced into the keep as a fully fledge Noct Yaegir, However, he was not one. The colorfully dressed mercenary had only been given the insignia of a Noct Yaegir by an old orc who had attacked him in a sewer several months back. Now Irman didn’t know if the Noct Yaegir had punishments for impersonation, but he didn’t want to find out. So he figured that disappearing into the night was the best course of action. Though before that he also stole food and supplies to help him survive the road. Irman would have preferred to have taken less, but he had abandoned a lot of his traveling supplies on the trip to Crobhear after a kobold ambush left a young bard critically wounded.

Of course there was one thing that he took for convenience rather than necessity. A portal key, carved into a stone and, usable on the portal stone that lay in the wilderness north along Crobhear’s mountain range. Irman, was starting to feel restless with The Spine, and a portal stone would let him avoid all the trouble of walking down the massive mountain range (or being caught by the Noct Yaegir, if things were as dicey as he feared)

The journey to the Portal stone was uneventful, outside of the sun emerging into the sky and giving Irman a much wanted sense of warmth. The Stone itself was found in a clearing of old ruins. They were of dwarven make like most things in this stretch of the world. Unlike most ruins though these seemed well taken care of, likely thanks to the Noct Yaegir.

Irman approached the portal stone and examined it. There was always an air about these things. Older than written history and all around the world, with no two looking the same. The stones were able to move people from one to the other in an instant, provided you had magical talent, or a portal key. Only problem was Irman had never used a portal key before. He’d traveled via portal stone of course but was never the person to actually activate it.

“Well it can’t be that tricky can it?” Irman asked himself as he looked over the portal key in his hands and smoked his pipe.

 

[Irman Harefoot]

Even being held at a distance, the portal key began to react. The runes let off a slight glow and the stone was feeling warmer in Irman’s hand. He shrugged and placed the key against the portal stone, trying to visualize the portal stone just outside of Dornoch on the Western end of the Taagi Baara Steppes.

Finding Mercenary work in Dornoch was some of the easiest, especially for jobs that let Irman avoid staying in one place for too long. It would be a welcome change from the untamed wilderness he’d been spending the last month or so in. So many trees and monsters and long forgotten ruins. It all had its appeal sure but Irman really wanted to get somewhere warmer.

The key crumbled in Irman’s hand as the air around the portal stone began to contort. Light drained from the clearing and Irman felt extreme vertigo followed by suddenly being somewhere completely different.

He was, in the air? Above a densely packed tree-line that stretched as far as he could see. The view was nice but short lived as the portal stone’s lingering magic faded and Irman plummeted down towards the trees.

“Waaaaaaaa-oof, ugh, gah, buh”

Large leaves and thick branches broke Irman’s fall as he passed through the canopy and landed on the jungle floor. He lay there for a moment feeling disoriented before jolting back when he heard his billhook clattering down after him. The polearm embedded itself into ground right where Irman’s head had been, and the disoriented Rabbit tried not avoid thinking about the absurd and pathetic end which had almost befallen him.

“I really must have been a real piece of work to deserve luck like this, huh? Now, where even am is this?”

Where Irman had ended up certainly wasn’t the wide open plains of Taagi Baara, in fact it was quite the opposite. A humid forest bursting with so much plant life it seemed absurd. Irman’s ears were filled with the chittering of insects and the chirping of birds.

“A place this humid, and this green… Has gotta a jungle”

Irman muttered to himself as he plucked out his billhook and found his pipe.


“And unless that stone sent me somewhere I’ve never heard about, that means I’m either on an island south of Liadain, or east of the Spine in the Ixchel Wilds. And I didn’t see any coast line and can’t smell any seawater so… I’m probably in Ixchel!”

The colorfully dressed rabbit-man stood proud, impressed by his own deduction skills. Then that pride subsided into frustration, as he realized that there was a second pressing question that he didn’t even know where to start with.

“WHY THE SAM-HILL DID THAT STONE SEND ME TO IXCHEL?!”

 

[Evangeline Westryn]

It was a strange thing, to be so far from home and yet for things to feel so familiar. The cut of the blade through flesh, for instance, was something universal and it was a sensation Evangeline knew all too well. Whether Seriak or man, monster or mortal, Evangeline reveled in combat wherever it was to be found. That included here, so far from home, in the only place the portal stones had taken her that seemed to promise a proper hunt.

And a proper hunt they had given.

A strangled cry would alight through the wilds to Irman Harefoot and his sensitive ears. A cry that had tore it's way from the throat of Evangeline's quarry. An odd creature, with near-red skin and thin proportions, near-to-human and possessing wings like a bird, and an ego to match the most ostentatious peacock. The Fae's glowering eyes would sneer down at Evangeline, not from a position of power, or authority, but from an elevated grip to it's throat that left it's long legs dangling off the ground. Kicking uselessly as Evangeline's metallic eyes stared into the suffering of this creature.

The scene Irman would come upon was an odd one. A small group of humans, about a half-dozen in total, sat huddled and cowering while a woman in odd clothing, a VERY TALL woman mind, currently grasped what could only be a Sidhe by the throat with her right hand, while her left held a blade currently pierced through the Sidhe's right forearm. The Sidhe's arm raised as if to strike her with the blade still in his right hand, though the arm and hand both quaked from the injury. The Sidhe, shaking in pain and rage, would seethe at Evangeline, spitting blood and venomous words both, splattering the tall, beautiful woman's cheek who did not even flinch as the Fae fumed.

"Wretch! Cretin!"

Irman would notice several other dead Fae cut down nearby, their wings bifurcated from their backs, their arms lopped off, and judging by their armament they were some sort of guards escort for the Sidhe in her grasp.

"You dare to wound a Sidhe of the Summer Court, feckless mortal!? You dare dishonor our duel with such brutality?"

The woman, tilting her head slowly, would seem to inhale just as slowly, as deeply, reveling in the scent of blood as she twisted her blade in the Sidhe's forearm and spoke calmly, clearly, though her voice bubbled with emotion.

"I hunt MONSTERS, beast. You abused these 'mongrel halfbreeds' as your property, yet consider yourself worthy of a duel.....?"

Twisting the blade impaled in the Sidhe's forearm he would cry out in pain and drop his blade and the tall woman didn't seem the least bit tired or bothered by lifting the Sidhe's entire body weight with one arm despite his flailing.

"That seems plenty monstrous to I....."

Catching a glimpse of Irman over her shoulder, and for a brief moment considering him another of the Sidhe's bodyguards, his livery did not speak of such and so, throwing the flailing Fae by his throat toward Irman, her blade slicing and tearing his arm off in the process as the Sidhe's body tumbled and flopped at Irman's feet she would study her blade as the Sidhe's blood seemed to be... drank... by the steel. Slowly vanishing into the blade as the woman met Irman's gaze from a towering height, all of 7 feet with her thick, heeled leather boots, and she would nod to the Sidhe who was twitching his way to his knees. His wings flapping haphazardly as he tried to balance himself and the woman spoke.

"A local..... or close enough. What do you make of these... Sidhe... creatures?"​

 

[Irman Harefoot]

The mysterious woman had a look of nobility about her, though her eyes were anything but. A savage with the face of an angel and dressed in fine cloth; the kind that might strike even if her perceived opponent took just a defensive stance.

“I’m no local of these parts.” Irman said firmly. He held his bill in a resting position but kept a solid grip.

“And I’m not a friend of any fairies either. Specially the kind that abuse magic to get their way, those I got no-.”

“You Bitch!” Yelled the one-armed Sidhe as he wobbled himself up to his knees.

“Caelin of the Summer Court will not be made a fool by some cloth covered Gorilla! I don’t care if the Harbinger himself appears, I’m going to show you just what The Art can do! Until you are begging for mercy y-!”

The bladed edge of Irman’s billhook cleaved into the Sidhe’s head in a gruesome fashion. The magic that was forming in the Fae’s hand dissipated, as his body then dissolved into flower petals that were scattered by the breeze.

“Like I was going to say. Those I got no love for, even slightly.”

Irman jabbed the head of his polearm into let go of it with his hands held to show the woman his palms.

“Now how about we try and act like the civilized folk we choose to dress like. The name’s Irman Harefoot: I’m a beastman who does mercenary work in central Epressa, mostly as a guard for merchant caravans or with jobs from the adventurers guild.”

“Ended up here by some problem using a Portal Stone. So I got plenty of questions if you could humor me with answers.”

 

[Evangeline Westryn]

Evangeline gave a shadow of a nod as Irman denied being a local, watched him cleave down the Sidhe with ruthless efficiency, and enjoyed the bloody spectacle for a long moment before her posture... changed. That intense, predatory look in her silver eyes dulled to an off-grey and her tensed, combat-ready muscles slouched easily. She now looked bored, incredibly so, as there was no more bloodshed to revel in. Mulling his name over in a voice that was now soft, lilting in an unfamiliar accent.

"Irman...."

The seven-foot tall woman would stride closer to the beast man, each step as fluid and measured as a ballerina despite her ensemble. Her heeled boots crushing the Sidhe's corpse into the ground as she walked across it without a second look until she stood before him, staring down at Irman for a solid few seconds before giving a nod.

"Evangeline. Ask what you will, little knight, I quite enjoyed your handywork."

Her blades would slide into their scabbards like hissing serpents before she crossed her arms, turned to the cowering folk, and instructed them.

"Make for the portal stone, and we will see what freedom can be given to you."

Still fearful but otherwise coherent enough to obey they did so and Evangeline platinum blonde hair would be tucked behind an ear as she turned her gaze back to Irman. Waiting without further word for his questions.

Irman Harefoot​

 

[Irman Harefoot]

Irman asked his questions and was met with honest but painfully brief answers. He had definitely arrived in Ixchel, a decent ways from The portal stone. This Evangeline character had arrived by portal stone herself, and had come to the wilds to test her skills. Although, soon after she arrived she stumbled upon a party of fae transporting kidnapped humans. A sight which Evangeline could not abide.

“And so now with your expedition just starting, you have to turn around and lead a group of would be slaves back to the portal stone? Must be quite something spending a whole day going in a circle.”

The attempt at levity seemed to fall on deaf ears, both with Evangeline, who gave a brief and direct acknowledgement that Irman had spoken, and with the humans, who were disturbingly in-articulate. It took Irman but a brief glance to understand why; a curse had been placed upon their minds, limiting their thoughts and intelligence to stop them from resisting their fae captors. They still seemed to have some thought though, but that made it all the worse.

Shaking his head to try and not think of things too deeply, Irman returned to his bill and yanked it from the ground. The crimson flower petals that were once the Sidhe had almost all scattered to the wind. How odd though that fae would act like conventional slave drivers, Irman thought- and then his eye was caught by a wooden talisman inlaid with finely cut gemstones.

Irman shrugged and pocketed the item, before noticing that the humans were already heading off to the portal stone.

“Woah, wait for me!” He shouted, dashing to catch up.

Meanwhile. Elsewhere in the Wilds inside a colorful and extravagant tent. A lightly dressed man with peach colored skin, long red hair, and otherworldly beauty stands behind a gold adorned Naga witch. The two of them gaze into the Witch’s crystal orb.

“The missstsss are clearing, old one. We will sssee your ssservant’sss killersss sssoon.”

“Still you insist on calling me old one.” The peach skinned man mused, running his fingers across the naga’s scales. “Have I not told you, Ni’fa, that the name Kolleth deserves to be spoken clearly, not hidden cruelly.”

Ni’fa hissed defiantly as she flicked the Duannan with the tip of her tail.

“You had alssso told me that your sssservantsss would faccce no challengesss in their gathering of ssslavess and sssacrificess for my tribe! Yet now you tell me that a band of your fae are have been ssslain, and you need me to ssshow you their killersss! If we are to be equalsss like you have alssso ssaid, then earn back your name OLD ONE!”

“There is no need for such harsh words my dear.” Kolleth said, embracing the naga from behind with the gentle warmth of summer. He leaned close and whispered. “Caelin had far more loyalties to the court than to my parlour, his death would have come by our hand when the time had come to play it. I am simply curious as to who saved us the trouble.”

The naga which shuttered as her eyes shot open a bright white, and the mists around the crystal ball cleared. It showed Irman and Evangeline, and the humans traveling through the jungle.
“The beassstman hasss a mindssstone of sssummer’ss make in hisss pocket.”

Kolleth gazed deeply into the image with shimmering eyes.
“Hmm, that could be a problem. To think Caelin had a mindstone with him, I hate to imagine what that blather mouth might have left recorded. Perhaps this does need some ‘dealing with’”

The duannan reached forward and touched the crystal orb. He could feel the laylines through his hand and plucked at them with his mind.

“Here me O’ great and ancient jungle. hinder these travelers in a maze like no other. Send word to the great beasts that dwell about you and let them know that these same travelers are prey, worth any effort to hunt and consume. So speaks a vibrant lord of summer.”

 

[Evangeline Westryn]

Evangeline kept her arms crossed, her body language closed, and gave Irman Harefoot a critical gaze at his misunderstanding. Her voice as cutting as the edge of her blade as she corrected the little rabbit.

"I bade them to make their own way to the portal stone. I said nothing about escorting them."

She was, after all, not here to play rescuer. She had sought challenges for her blades and found them, at least for now, but in the aftermath of battle the emotional high was dying down to boredom once again. Like a bar of heated steel slowly cooling in frigid air back to the frigid tang of untended metal.

As Irman ran off to play the part of rescuer Evangeline remained in the clearing, staring at where the body of the Sidhe scattered to the winds, and sneered a derisive glance at the thought the wholly lacking creature may return. Though the derisive twitch of her lip was a small, subtle thing. Barely on her countenance for more than a moment.

Deciding to rearm herself for battle Evangeline drew some flint, some steel, and used some of the wayward branches and the rope bindings of the slaves to start a fire. She would stoke the flames to a roar with Duty before plunging the blade deep into the blazing coals. The enchanted metal of the blade then drank deeply of the fire as it continued to roar. Slowly, over several minutes, would it take all the fire had to offer and only once the flames were utterly spent did Evangeline withdraw Duty and sigh.

By now she was utterly bored and contemplating leaving or perhaps challenging the rabbit to a duel to pass the time. With steady steps would she use Sacrifice to gather what Fae blood remained upon the corpses and ground, at least the memory of their slaying keeping her senses attentive, and luckily so.

The briefest of whistles through the air was all the warning Evangeline got before Duty slashes a dart from the air. With eyes the hue of oxidized copper flashing odd creatures bearing masks as large as their bodies would move amongst the canopy like monkeys, spitting darts down at her which she swatted aside with relative ease for now. They did not seem keen to come within reach of her blade and they were quick, dexterous things. Able to leap from branch to branch even as three of their number leapt after Irman and the slaves.

With Irman they kept to the same strategy. Peppering down at him with poisoned darts, using the height of the trees to stay well out of reach of his billhook. Though they had not done so just yet they also did have bags of javelins on their backs to launch with more power and precision if they needed more direct punching power.

Evangeline would give a hiss of displeasure at the cowardice of the creatures and, lulling them into believing her helpless at range, the creatures, not sensing themselves to be in any danger of reprisal, would pick their greatest vantage points and cease their jumping to focus on shooting darts as fast as they could. Evangeline would continue swatting the darts aside even as it grew more difficult then, when they ceased their movement, would stab with Sacrifice toward the closest one and spear through it's masked visage with a lance of hardened blood. It's body spasming and falling to the forest floor while the others let out an odd series of whoops and resumed weaving among the branches. Giving Evangeline a small reprieve as their rate of fire slowed with their evasive maneuvers resuming.​

 

[Irman Harefoot]

Irman’s ears perked as he heard the sounds of javelins clacking and branches rustling.

“Get down!” He shouted, as he narrowly dodged a sudden barrage of feathered darts. The recently freed slaves were not so lucky. Some cried out in pain, while others were still so locked into the daze that it wasn’t even possible to tell if they could feel the darts pierce their skin. Regardless, the venom acted fast and the effects were both apparent and gruesome.

The barrage, all the while, continued down on Irman, who worked to unhook his arms out from under his heavy pack.

“I can hardly keep up with these freaks with this thing weighing me down, how many of those darts do they even have?”

By all accounts, very many. As Irman tried to ease his right arm out the jungle floor was slowly becoming equal parts feathers and leaves. Then, there was a break in the sounds of darts flying. Had they stopped? Run ou—

Suddenly, a coordinated volley came down. Aimed to trap Irman, go beyond what he could dodge. The rabbit-man smirked, he had been waiting for something like this.

The heavy pack was aimed up, shielding Irman’s back from the descending darts. It would be a hassle to clean off later but a worthwhile gambit, as it gave Irman the time needed to free himself from his traveling supplies.

“Finally.”

“And how interesting, this colorfully dressed Beast-man.”

Kolleth watched as through the crystal ball, as the now unburdened Irman displayed a terrifying degree of speed and precision. Between him and the enigmatic swordswoman, a pack of venom sprites would be little more than fodder.

“It ssseemsss like you prod a dragon’sss den Old One. That human fightsss like an immortal Tigressssss, and that fuzzy beassst-man can dodge both dartsss and javelinsss while looking at the ground!”

“Yes, it’s no wonder Caelin fell so swiftly. And the way that rabbit, er ‘Beast-man’, displays an affinity with sound and the wind. It has quite a fae quality to it. A truly terrifying implication since he was the one to pluck Caelin’s minestone.”

“Are we to be afraid?” Asked Ni’fa

“You can be so if you wish, my scaly sweet. But I choose to be enthralled by the thrill of it all. Especially in wondering how these two ‘dragons’ will deal with the other thing which answered my call.”

The masked dart-spitters were easy targets once Irman was able to take to the canopy himself. In but a few minutes he had already slain six, with the seventh quickly following and the eighth likely to be not long after. Irman was unfamiliar with what these things were exactly but he suspected that they may be fae of some kind. Perhaps come to avenge their recently slaughtered kin?

Not far away, Irman could see Evangeline: holding her own just as well, if not better than he was. A comforting sight, even if he had hardly known the woman for little more than passing moments.

Just then, Irman heard something strange from up above. He broke from chasing down his Eighth masked target and sprung his way onto a sturdy branch at the top of the jungle canopy. Then, looking up at the sky he saw a bird amongst the clouds. A very very very big bird.

Even from such a distance he could tell its size was immense, likely big enough to perch on an entire city block at the same time. Its outstretched wings cut through the clouds around it and as it flapped the howling of wind could be heard. Then Irman saw the bird bare its talons, and seemingly focus in right on Irman.

“Six above…” The Rabbit-man muttered. He dove back down below the canopy and noticed that Evangeline was not far away.

“Miss Evangeline, get away from there! A massive Roc is coming from the sky!”