Private Tales Lucid Moments Stolen Darkly

[Rane Mauntell]

Implements of the dreamscape within black leather firm clasped bag, holding all manner of things of redirecting the waves and ripples of thought manifest behind eyes that wake and slumber. A stick of time to burn and cleanse, scents of lilacs and nostalgia, crystals that with attunement and infusion did yield the road of mind matter transversal. Much was possible without such advantages. But the people they would visit, Mauntell did think, deserved every advantage. He took the bag in hand, the other upon his channelling sceptre, and set about to meet his sworn comrade with eyes that did sting from restlessness, with familiarity to such pains, yet still firm set frowning for such familiar sensation.

The task before them, delivered by missive. Some mention of pollen or perhaps spores that instead of irritating throat and lung did instead cause abrasion to the mind. As if muddled by the clouds that did give rise when the wind did raise, suppressing the thinking of a small hamlet named Pellwell. The writer of said note described himself as unaffected, for he lived beyond such winds, and did not breathe air as others might. A well meaning dweller of the riverlands that fed the small farms of Pellwell it seemed, an animalkin by the name of Jadd, toadlike and much of fresh waters and submersion.

Somewhere a thing decayed did collect many things, of thoughts and feelings, of memories not it's own, and very much of what was before this existence did fuel much in the wind that blew this very day across that hamlet.

Mauntell stood at the exit of the monastery, the day in fullness with sun in highness, Mauntell's tired eyes did seek his comrade's arrival to travel direct to Pellwell.

He hoped that his implements would be enough, an anxiety frequently felt before the duty to act be upon him. And that his comrade to be had good sensitivities to the mindful matters to attend.

 

[Syr Luther Peredhel]

It was characteristic of Luther to arrive at dawn. He didn't get much sleep. A self inflicted choice, and not one made by unforeseen maladies. He found solace and peace of mind in the early mornings that marked the day of an assignment. For each one bestowed upon him could be his last. Assuming his counterpart wouldn't be up as early, he fetched a few stable hands to help him set up a small camping zone. Informed them of his title, reason for intruding, and asked them to fetch a man named Rane Mauntell when they see him and no earlier. He learned from his previous impositions on prior dealings with others. Everyone has a system.

Tending to his white spotted appaloosa while indulging in more cups of coffee than any normal man could handle, he went over his missive for the umpteenth time. Spores, infection, muddled minds, toxic air. Hmm. He palmed some oats for Samson. "Well ol boy, it looks like you'll take me as far as this mystery man, but no further. Can't risk you being infected." Samson ignored his mate and began pawing for more treats. He gently pushed the eager horses face away from his pockets, turned on his camping stool, rest his back against the stable wall and snuck in a dubious nap neath the divinity of the rising sun.

Rest easy, wearied one. For the souls you've condemned can never....

Rane Mauntell

 

[Arbok]

Arbok's long shadow made its way across the courtyard and to the stables.
She wasn't briefed much on the details, only that there would be danger and her job was to "Watch the others and keep them safe!"
She did not blame anyone for leaving her out of the wider loop. She had no gift at all for the applied magics of the order and after all, a squire she remained.
She retrieved the horse.
It was The Horse. The only one fit for her really. A thunderous thing named Ash and with the grey colouring to match the name.
"Hey boy. You ready to go?"
She made sure he was brushed and calm before she fitted her saddle. It was during this that she noticed Syr Luther.
"Ah, oh, um... sorry. Eh... were you sleeping?"

 

[Rane Mauntell]

A creeping of uncomfortable sensation about the temples, a hint of future sensation. Not the fierce constriction of migraine, but there was a shifting of synapse that reorganised and thrummed, readying mesh to some imagined terrain to tread upon.

Two companions his eyes did see, and Mauntell fastened his senses as a broach to keep himself clinging to his will.

He paced foward. As he did so, he made sweeping motion as if dragging oar single handed through waters from narrow row boat with his sceptre, a faint trail of eerie whisps tracking the air as he made his testing pass. He looked at it and nodded, a baseline of familiar ground's temperament revealed in the trails.

"The hamlet is suffering," Mauntell said, voice dry. He took a sip of water from flask, his eyes to the sun that did seem to stare him down. He averted his challenge in staring, back to the two.

"I'll do all I can to figure out solutions. I'm glad you two decided it worth the time. And perhaps, risk. This hamlet is small. I've been there some years ago to rouse someone who had been afflicted by a ring of slumber. Placed on digit by a jilted lover, I discovered. Never did find the one that planted it, they made scarce once she woke again. The lady was fine in the end, no doubt more wary of unknown bands."

Syr Luther Peredhel Arbok

 

[Syr Luther Peredhel]

Brow raised as one eye opened to the sounds of an apologetic... Squire? From the order by the looks of it. Macabre memories flooded Luther in an instant at the sight of the massive figure before him. He hadn't been appointed a new member since he last lost his own. Surely she was Rane's helping hand. He grimaced, meaning to smile, "Hardly a nap when the mind is restless." Before he could get a name and purpose out of the tower of a woman that blotched out the sun, a rather grisly and exhausted looking figure approached them. The likeness they shared in the face was uncanny. This work, the planes beyond the material, will inevitably sap a man of his vitality if he can't stymie the voices from beyond the pale. He stood as Rane talked at them. "It was less about deciding it was worth the time and more coincidental on my part, I'm afraid. But I am content." He gave a weary smirk. "I've been on pilgrimage. Lending aid to less gifted occultists. This high risk task will only lend aid to my cause." He looked back to the the woman who could reach the top of the stables with ease. "The name is Luther."

Arbok Rane Mauntell

 

[Arbok]

She smiled at the knight's dourness.
"Arbok! I know I'm only a squire but I'm capable."
Her whole body moved as she spoke her own name then turned to address the other man.
"You must be Mr Mauntell!"
His name was in the missive she got. He seemed like the all business type.
"Wow, two magic users. I guess I'm here for the muscle!"
Her hand went to the back of her head, she turned to gesture into an act of scratching her neck.

 

[Rane Mauntell]

Mauntell didn't quite follow the consequences that helping the hamlet would provide for Syr Luther's cause, but he welcomed the assistance the investigation to come none-the-less. Even if he found such calculations off putting, he was not alone in his faculties over the dreamscape.

A further irksome moment as Arbok gave address, a mistaken title from those unknowing and unfamiliar was acceptable, but from squire it was a sign of disrespect if wittingly made. Mauntell shelved the irritation for now, rubbing his eyes with the points of his fingers in slow motion as he did bid himself to forget the matter.

Still, it should be addressed in some form, he did think as he made to speak.

"We two Syrs and single Squire shall assist these peoples. Let us hope your brawn is not required, but a myriad of possibilities await. From brigands on the road, to something cerebral that commands the muscles of others. Such things are not as rare as I'd like," Mauntell said, sighing.

He breathed in of the air he knew to be unfettered by influence and took a moment to mark the memory and sensation.

He continued.

"You'll have to tell me of these manners of aiding, Syr Peredhel. I wasn't guided proper and academic until my own induction to the Order. Nothing more than hints and the odd stolen lesson that is. I'd done a great deal of 'adaption' before knightly academic instruction gave further understanding," Mauntell said, some hint of shame perhaps lurking in his words, but quickly turning to optimistic cheer, "but if you can offer those who venture into the weirding ways safeguard and edification to what they might peer upon, giving them hope to be more in control and more of faculty than they were alone without, I do think that a goodly and worthy thing."

He hefted his bag gingerly, not a sound rustling within despite it's wealth of contents amassed.

"Squire Arbok, Syr Peredhel. I am glad you be with me in this. Be you readied to the task? If so, let us be about it, shall we?"

Syr Luther Peredhel Arbok

 

[Syr Luther Peredhel]

Solitary travel did not prepare him for such anomalies in personalities. It didn't help that he had recently been unsolicited in the ways of his own social awkwardness. Noticing Rane's dissatisfaction with Arbork and seeking to practice more conversation, he nodded at the pair and gruffly contributed further, "A goodly thing, yes. I'm afraid it isn't that interesting. Akin to aiding a farmer with a sword. It keeps our order happy and those desiring aid hopeful." He furrowed his brow in frustration as he spoke ill of his purpose. "Cynicism aside. It does help. I'd be more than happy to divulge what I know. Gives us something to chat about on the road ahead. He turned to address Samson and spoke over his shoulder, "No horses for you lot?"

Rane Mauntell Arbok

 

[Arbok]

"Oh shoot, I'm sorry Syr Mauntell, I didn't know, Forgive me."
Arbok made a low bow in reverence to this new information and scolded herself for the impudence. Another demerit, her first task since recovery was going terribly already.
"Hmm? Oh yes, horse, well... eh!"
Her great size denied all but the mightiest of beasts her carriage.
"I'll walk. I'm Nordenfir so... I got it covered."
She smiled, hoping that the trip would not be so tense as the last few seconds was. Most everyone knew about the reputation of her people to become bears... she hoped they would not ask her to demonstrate. That kind of attention always made her feel self conscious even now that she did not have to disrobe to do it.
"Are we heading off now?"

Syr Luther Peredhel
Rane Mauntell

 

[Rane Mauntell]

"No injury endured, worry not Squire Arbok. Indeed, we set out. But first, a steed, you're quite right," Mauntell did say, passing his sceptre between his hands as if deliberating which to demand serve this purpose.

Within left was it hoisted up into the air, the effort to do so as if it were anchored by cable to remain at his side. Set to small circling motion as it did command the ether of magics to obey him. Mauntell did so wordlessly, his mind giving shape to his designs. Spectral and subtle was the energy that did weave about, thatching and giving the threads of equine form that did rise from hoof to saddle before him. A ghostly mount which did gain solid form, a phantom thing of pale blues and some translucent nature. A final hushed word as the spectral creation gained confidence in the material realm to accept rider.

No wits behind the pale eyes of this creature created, no true life that did exist. It made imitations of life, and was to be bid on by reigns of Mauntell's mind.

Mauntell looked to others, tired eyes showing some flash of powersraised before such potencies did fade into the background of his soul spark.

"Most horses can't abide me you understand. They spook for some reason. So, this be my transport."

He mounted, foot into stirrup which did accept his boot as well as anything of true physicality. He settled, placing in bag close to chest, and did silently bid his horse to circle as he ensured all was true formed in the magic of this creation. Hooves ghostly made no imprint on the ground, silently it did move, leaving wisps of fog where it did linger.

"Onward then. I'd be glad to hear more on the road, Syr Perendel."

Mauntell made no grand gesture of gallop, instead inviting a steady ride, aware that Arbok might need some time to manifest her own method of covering the distance through beast form, and perhaps some eyes averted during such a transformation.

They made trek. Across public road that signposted the hamlet as afterthought they did travel, some talk between them as they did venture. The winds carried freshness with it, a light rain avoided that did dance distant to their travels upon long grasses that did sway lazy.

The path forked, revealed sharp divergance from common trade route to the sleepy place of Pellwell. The hamlet seemed tentatively guarded by weeping willows that carried much heavy fingers that did conceal the way upon such path, the head rendered low from horseback to make such journey.

"Seems isolated," Mauntell did say, making slow trot as he did sense the air for tinges of magic even at this distance. He made gesture with his sceptre through the air, yet felt no disturbance at the crossroad.

"Seeking this animalkin might be a good idea, toadlike in appearance, Jadd by name. He was the one who sent word for our help," Mauntell said, a slight bit more hushed as if he might incur wrathful lashings of the willows that did hang about them.

Pellwell itself was but five minutes journey away, the willows dense in their guarding of the path. The air seemed to gain a sweetness as honeyed, which came in faint whispers of wind that did filter through the willows.

As the willows came to an end, the hamlet revealed itself, the place dipping low into the ground as if it had been a marsh drained. The houses well thatched, small gardens wild and abundant with flowers, yet the streets empty, no bustling of peoples was it host to. Mauntell looked on, rubbing his eyes as he did form what thoughts did come from such a sight. Tall grasses were availing around the hamlet did make small sounds of crickets that did live there.

The air carried further sweetness in each moment, a cloying heaviness now apparent.

A whistle, distant to the right, barely perceptible, shrill almost to be the point of being lost to regular frequencies. A shift of the long grasses that did obscure a pool of water, and a hunched figure of those same greens of reed did make stride forward, as if cautious of everything. Those of sharp sight might see a silver whistle that had given such shrill note about this animalkin's neck.

Jadd made approach, looking to the hamlet and back again as if it might spot him. A frightened being that was slick from water living, toad like and squat as a dwarf, mouth wide that did tremble in small panics as he did urge in hushed tone to those of Anathaeum arriving.

"Dismount and keep low! Things have gotten worse, much worse! The people, oh, the people, they've turned strange and wandering, they screech at me from open mouths, dismount and keep low! 'for they spot you!"

Mauntell did as instructed, dismounting from spectral steed, crouching as if someone might peer their presence. The tall grasses that were almost pallisade like to the hamlet proper did much to conceal them. He did look through such grasses to the empty streets in the dipping bowl of this land, frowning. No-one seemed to about the streets. Barely a sound beyond the odd bird that did call, as if desperate for any response, lonely and stark in the silence here.

Jadd, this toad animalkin, did provide worried council.

"I've been waiting in the low pond for you, you would have been set upon by them had I not stopped you! Seems they hide for now, but they will be about in mass! I've seen a traveller swept up in their business, horrible, simply horrible. Their minds are lost, lost to whatever it is! They move as one, they think as one. What are you going to do? Whatever can be done?" Jadd said to the three, clasping his hands together and to his head as if beset by great pummellings of worry, becoming more entangled in his panic and silent in want of reassurances, his eyes large and wide and fraught with concerns.

Mauntell stammered, drew silent. Looked to his sceptre for a moment, drawing what further senses to the fore as he left some negotiations to his comrades as he gained what omens were telling from the sickly sweet air. He went to his bag, opened it, and began to rummage as if the reassurances Jadd sought might be there.

Arbok Syr Luther Peredhel

 

[Syr Luther Peredhel]

What an unusual fellow, Rane. He'd never seen someone so liberal with their magics. Not that it was in any way flaunting, just that it was potentially unneeded attention. He shifted his great mace and longsword into a position on Simon that would be better suited for a quick witted dismount in preparation for the brigands Mauntell warned of.

Along their trip he shared his pilgrimage with Rane. The studies and tools he imparted onto those with little to no practice in the ways of the occult. The few exorcisms he had performed in recent weeks as well as putting to rest specters that haunted widowed farmers. It was the most he had ever divulged in one sitting. Partly due to the experience that Rane shared in his reality. They were kindred spirits in their duty. It was a pleasant change.

As they neared the brook the conversation stifled. The land before them ushered a creeping doom into their purview. The creaks and crackle of the willows brought with them a soothing song accompanied by a more proud fellow, a sweetness, fresh honey. It clung to the air with a thickness he had not encountered before. Peculiar. The roads emptied, nature untouched, air sweet. Hmm. We be the flies to this Venus.

His concentration immediately broken by the stirring commotion of one humanoid toad. Jadd croaked of ill omen, followed by strategic demand. Luther followed Rane's lead, dismounted and hid Simon behind a rather large willow adjacent to them.

Luther questioned Jadd as Rane rummaged. "En mass you say. Is this a timed occurrence? What do they usually do when they roam, and how do they assimilate those not infected? He had hoped for a more strategic approach than this. Dealing with unseen threats from a dismount was not ideal and incredibly dangerous. He looked to Arbork, "You've the senses of beast." He gestured to the scene.

Rane Mauntell
Arbok

 

[Arbok]

"Hmm? Beasts?"
It took her a moment before she realised what Syr Luther meant. She had not spoken during the trip having assumed her bear form. It was her habit since none but the greatest horses could hold her for long.

"Oh, yes, I mean, Yes Syr Luther!"
She transformed again. A moment and she was a brown bear.
Admittedly she was somewhat unsure of what she was supposed to be smelling for.
There were people smells and earthen smells and water and plant. It all seemed pretty normal.

Changing back she addressed Syr Luther.
"What am I looking for Syr?"
She smiled oddly in embarassment. Really feeling her lack of experience at that instant.

Rane Mauntell
Syr Luther Peredhel