Fable - Ask Pretense of Spring Within the Sleeping Mountain

[Noa]

[art cred is by Philipp Urlich]

Noa knew it was evening from the serenade of crickets that surrounded her and to speak now would only emit an echoing tune of dissonance within the peaceful chorus of the wood near Astenvale Monastery . Ne nudged Noa’s shoulder, a single snort telling the blind knight that she should step over. She listened to her tiger’s suggestion, stepping to the left before sitting down, slinging her Sanshin over onto her lap. Ne’s large five hundred pound form settled down beside her and Noa could hear the quiet yawn of her closest friend.

She heard other sounds around her, the sound of rustling leaves from a cool breeze, murmured, indistinguishable voices and hushed steps, even the twinkling of the stars could be heard. The faint breeze was a reminder that days were grower warmer with only evenings being a reprieve from those who avoided the heat.

To no one in particular, Noa nodded her head, procuring her hollowed out fang from the depths of her robes, inserting her finger inside. She was ready to start strumming, already knowing what song to play while the breeze blew back the black tendrils of hair from her face and the crickets continued their chirping chorus.

Unseeing, staring a straight ahead, her pick ready to pluck at a silk string she heard Ne change from a relaxed, laying down position to something much more alert, standing up completely before the tiger uttered a low growl. Noa turned her head to Ne.

“That far away? Really?” She asked her friend aloud. Ne’s white tail swished, aggravated before beginning to stalk around Noa, a telltale sign that the knight should stand up. A single hand was placed onto the sturdy back of the albino beast and Noa pulled herself up to her feet, one hand still holding onto her stringed instrument. Moments later, the Dusk knight wrinkled her nose. “You’re right, it reeks.” Her sanshin was rightfully put back around and behind her.

Noa began to walk parallel to the monastery, a hand on Ne’s scruff, heading towards the main road that many used whether they were entering or leaving. Should Noa say she was leaving? Most definitely, and she would inform someone that she was on the trail of something unusual— at least if it proved to be a trail for anything at all. All she knew was that Ne had caught a scent of something he didn’t like, and it was potent enough for even Noa to realize that something was up.

The sound of running horses could be heard, three total, but these steeds were unburdened compared to those that belonged to knights. But they were weary, Noa could feel the exhaustion that radiated from the stultifying creatures. The smell thickened, and Noa paused, the hand once on the tiger’s scruff nearing towards one of the two swords at her hip. Ne snarled but didn’t move to attack, and the three riders approached ever closer.

“Run! Run!” A man shouted. “Head back to the Monastery, they’re not normal foxes, they aren’t afraid of anything.” The horses dashed past Noa and Ne and Noa’s head turned, smelling that heady, moss-like scent continue on with those seeking refuge. But the true transgressors of such dank magic were those foxes that were apparently chasing them.

Ne yowled.

“Only twenty? My friend,” Noa said, the corners of her lips quirking up as she drew a single blade. “You worry too much.” The biggest drawback of being blind was that Noa couldn’t see her enemies, for if she had, she would have seen the strange flower growths that were growing out of the decaying and gaunt bodies of the foxes, a umber and faded red wave that announced it’s presence through the feral yapping and menacing growls.

 

[Syr Galvanhad]

"Who can tell me the difference between an ochre jelly.. and a gelatinous cu-?" He would pause in his lesson, the horde of squires looking on in wonder as they awaited the finale of the question.

Galvanhad could sense the corruption before he could hear the cries of alarm. "Class dismissed.. squires, head to Master Brambleshell and see what she requires of you." With that he would head for the door, grabbing his sword from its perch and slinging it onto his back.

His boots would carry him swiftly towards the gate where Syr Ugluk maintained his usual perch. "My young friend, how do you fare today?"

"Good, Syr Galvanhad.. though there is a stench on the wind." Ugluk huffed, his eyes scanning beyond the bridge. "...There." he would point to three riders approaching at speed. His hand would pull his axe free.

"Stay your hand.. keep the gates open for all who seek safety. But if anything gets past me.. it doesn't get past you." Galvanhad would say as he surged forward.

Reaching the end of the bridge, he would step to the side as the three riders rushed past. He didn't have to look back to see if Ugluk let them through, he knew the other knight would.

The sound of yowling up ahead caught his attention, a purity amidst the corruption: Ne. The old Knight would come to stand beside them, his blade now sliding free of its scabbard. "You don't stand alone against the corruption, young one." Galvanhad announced to Noa.

The Adamantine Protector was needed once more.

Noa

 

[Theolonious Montbank]

Daylight guard duty, to roam the walls and skies with avian eyes that served the Order in the night or day. The clouds kissed wide wings of dense white feather. Yellow eyes looked out at the majesty of this private horizon. How the clouds coalesced and floated in layers. How the winds communicated it's will, how the air formed hills which the figure cruised upon, how the heavens had it own rules to know, obey and defy.

Much like the order.

Below was home, to defend, to patrol. But here? At such height? One could think thoughts beyond what the ground could ever offer. Wings beat silently as the currents changed their course. Minute adjustments were made, an intuition the winged one had to learn from years of experimentation.

If only I could paint, to show the others this scene.

I wonder how far I could go before they realised I wasn't patrolling anymore.

Regular thoughts. Never enacted. But regular thoughts none the less.

The figure in flight snapped his beak loudly as if snapping the thoughts in two. His taloned hands flexed behind his back, tucked away to improve wind resistance. Like so many lessons, it was a piece of education he had to learn by himself. How to fly on high as if he were born to the skies instead of cursed to imitate that which soared and swooped, that heard all from beyond the reaches of human vision. Many years had been spent in education on how to treat this all as second nature, to flatter the creature he was forced to resemble with his own imitation.

Five years to the day Theo. And look how I soar now, instead of clumsily clawing at the ground and sky.

Wings beat to the drum of a knightly heartbeat.

He turned his head in slow motions to hear the ripples of sound that reached the heavens. Curious and attentive, he dipped in height and felt the pulse of adrenaline that awakened his heart to the cause as words became more distinguished and meaningful.

His taloned fingers flexed again and brought themselves around his waist, to the grip of his sword.

Time to operate.

He turned and dipped, coming down in tighter and tighter circles as altitude was lost in favour for winning the day. Clouds dissolved. His eyes widened as his superior vision was used to observe the scene of the ground, and they absorbed the lay of the land with a focus that was far beyond him in his humanity.

I see.

The wings beat silently and with great power as the circling ended and a dive was favoured. Now dipping in speed yet returning to the earth which needed him now, a longsword was drawn, the gleaming steel announcing his presence more than his noiseless descent.

Talons planted themselves on the ground softly behind The Adamantine Protector. A snap of the beak to give sound to the one who relied on sound to fight. A folding of wings. A levying of steel towards the distance.

“Montbank's here,” Syr Montbank said simply and softly as his approach, as if answering a role call, as if his presence had been requested specifically. He tucked his wings behind himself a little tighter and made small rotations of his armoured shoulders in readiness. He blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dimensions of the ground, peering off into the distance for first sight of whatever foe threatened them.

 

[Arkobold]

Foraging. Yes. He liked foraging. Easy work. Quick work. Rutting through the roots with not but cutting tools and simple leathers covering his scales. Ah. A good shoomie. Yes. Good for eating by the color of its cap. Arkobold got low to the earth. Sniffed at it, and made a pleased little scratch of a sound that came from his throat as his eyes crinkled happily, and his teeth showed in pleasure.

A good shroom if he had ever smelled one.

Quick, he took his knife from its belt, and s at the spongy stalk. He didn't wait. He ate the mushroom in one munch. A second snap of his jaws for good measure. His eyes shut with pleasure. What a good little shroom. His tail swished from side to side and when he opened his eyes well, what do you know? Another mushroom. And just a little further down the way, a third, and fourth.

Arko yelped with delight. "Mushroom mushroom!" he jumped about, waving his little knife in the air. Maybe now he would actually be able to bring some back to the Knoll. He set to work, cutting the fungal fruit free from the damp earth, and putting it in his satchel.

Until he heard the roar of a big cat. The thunder of horse hooves. His eyes went wide, and he scurried away, up the nearest tree. Mind palace, mind palace! he reminded himself.

Upon the bough of a tall oak, he could see out across the wilderness, the main road. The dust cloud of horses in full retreat, the white body of a familiar beast, and the flash of steel and the sky, the flutter of white wings.

"The knights, they make ready," he said low and to himself. His eyes scanned the terrain, and finally saw the wave of red, dashing and darting, yowling and yipping. "Foxes," Arko said to himself in confusion. "But foxes are... friends," he assured himself. His eyes narrowed, and his gaze hardened. No. He could not believe this. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath . He pictured the runes and scriptures he had learned. Of all the lessons of Loch, and the shadow that hid beneath the water's surface.

And he was gone. A ripple of water upon the air. Near translucent, the little kobold hurried down, and ran toward the dramatic scene. How. How could the knights turn against the sweet foxes?

He would not let them. He could not!

Noa
Syr Galvanhad
Theolonious Montbank

 

[Margot Triss]

Margot, much like Arkobold, had been out foraging. The young Pursuant was in search of a rare fungi to add to her medicinal supplies. It was not one that could be freely bought. So, instead she wound her way through trees and undergrowth. She had been steadily lifting rotted logs, and digging into the roots of trees to find what she was looking for.

She paused, wiping her brow as she surveyed the quiet of the forest around her. A streak of dirt left behind on her fair skin as she breathed a small frustrated sigh. She raised a waterskin to her lips, taking a few sips of cool sweet water. The sound of hooves pounding the earth not far drew her attention, then the unmistakable bellow of Ne.

Confused, but intrigued, Margot made her way to the direction of the commotion. She broke through the trees to see a few of her fellow knights standing at the ready, and could taste a taint in the air. Margot drew nearer, and drew her blade instantly upon laying eyes on the foxes that descended upon her fellow knights.

"Corruption this close to home? I will not stand for it. I'm with you in this fight." She stood beside her fellow knights, a righteous anger at her home being invaded by the fungal foxes. Their yapping grated their ears, and Margot steadied herself for the wave of foes that drew ever nearer. They would put them down here.

Noa
Syr Galvanhad
Theolonious Montbank
Arkobold

 

[Noa]

Syr Galvanhad. Syr Theo. The Kobold Arkobold. And Knight Pursuant Margot Triss. Well, what a group.

“I never stand alone, I have Ne at my side.” A wry smile was on Noa’s face, a hand pulling out her signature pipe as she spoke to Grampa Gal. A unique nickname she would never tell the knight, unless she wanted to be reminded that he had taught her everything she knew. “Oh. And you guys, too, I suppose.” Noa placed the pipe to her lips, inhaling deeply.

With everyone here, Noa had no reason to be overtly aggressive. Everyone was skilled, even little Ark, and Noa had never mind playing the support role from the back.

She exhaled and a dome of smoke appeared overhead of the group, trapping the knights in with the foxes that had all just made it in range. Through this dome, Noa would be able to “see” or rather sense where everyone and everything was at within the dome. It included the knights and their ravaging foxy foes. Their shapes were perfectly outlined to Noa’s sense of proprioception.

“My domain will dispel when all foxes are dead or I die.” Noa’s voice was a ethereal echo around around inside the dome. “Those are the conditions that must be met.” A fizz of magic could be felt by everyone from Noa’s words, the deal was sealed. Noa step forward, waiting to meet the first fox head on.

A black sludge was dripping from his parted jaws, it’s black nose looking raw and red. It’s eyes were cloudy, bloodshot, and around it’s body appeared to multiple bite marks. It’s wounds were filled with the strange flora growing from the mold and rot of the fox’s flesh.

With her pipe within the confines of her robes, Noa readied her sword. The strike was swift, a blur within a moment that seemed as if Noa had yet to move at all. The first fox’s head went sailing through the air. Then the other nineteen attacked, not swarming around Noa but coming still in that wide wave towards all the other knights.

Syr Galvanhad Theolonious Montbank Arkobold Margot Triss

 

[Syr Galvanhad]

It was truly a pity, these creatures were so far gone, so blighted that they were beyond saving. A part of him wished they could save them all, heal them. But he was a realist.

"Keep two alive for study, slay the rest. Give them the release of peace." Galvanhad would order the group.

There would be no initial reaction to Noa's remark. That could wait. As she exhaled the plume of smoke, Galvanhad would slowly advance, he didn't need to charge. Nor did he need to watch his flanks. The Master-At-Arms had trained most of the Knights present at some point of their lives and they knew their tasks.

A fox charged directly towards him before shifting into a leap. Galvanhad would sidestep, his blade swinging out with both hands. He allowed the creatures own force to kill it. As it's jaw clamped around the blade, there would be a pained shriek as the silvered blade carved seamlessly through the blighted flesh. First through the jaw, then down along the body as top separated from bottom like a heated knife through butter.

As both halves squelched on the ground, he dug his forefoot into the ground and spun, avoiding another attacking fox before cleaving the back legs off.

As he finished his spin, his blade lunged forward, into the chest of the next fox. With a flick of the blade, the corpse would be sent from the blade and he took another step forward.

Noa Theolonious Montbank Arkobold Margot Triss

 

[Theolonious Montbank]

Foxes. The quarry of the hunter that lived in the spirit and identity of Theolonious' former self. Bounding on horseback with bow and eager heart, he had preyed upon them, shooting wildly, with cheer, with confidence. While not the same prey that had caused his current condition as being feathered, the prospect of culling such a foe disquieted the knight Montbank none the less and he arguing within himself for a moment.

This isn't for sport. This is different. The curse can't get any worse.

Can it?

He looked to Syr Galvanhad for a moment and quickly rebuked himself for deferring his gaze from the enemy.

Orders won't change for my misgivings. This is a duty. I've changed since then. This is different.

He resolved his own heart to the deeds he was ordered to commit and extended his wings to their full breadth as the smoke dome cocooned itself around the battlefield. Looking up he saw the method of his blind comrade's ability to see signal his own grounding.

No high altitude manoeuvrers then. Today gets better and better.

Still, there's some space to act.

Theo took flight with a heavy beating of his silent wings which freed his taloned feet from the earth. He hovered in place for a moment and held aloft his sword in both hands as his eyes with powerful focus gave him more information. How the fur was afflicted, how the eyes were crazed, how the fungus robbed these animals of what dignity they had in the natural order of things.

The others acted and swiftly cut through their foe and Theo remained to hover for a moment as he considered how best to approach.

Theo discarded what misgivings he had that delayed his movement and committed his heart to the fight.

He gained what little altitude he could that the dome provided and hovered, and with a salute that he hoped would prevent further affliction in respect to the culling the plagued, he began to fly in rapid cycles around the battlefield, arcing as he performed what aerial manoeuvrers he could in such a cramp and windless condition. He felt sluggish and trapped by the virtue of the battlefield, but he bore no audible complaint. Theo understood that this was the only way his comrade could fight, and would not have her deny her own combat style to embolden his own.

“Currents course, currents pulse,” Theo uttered to himself as he began to pick up speed as he performed a low arc in the space allowed, his magic over the element of air providing him air currents around himself so that his wings might gain further lift and speed.

He brought his sword up in a vicious cut against one as he swooped, and created a deep gash that was surely fatal. A fox leapt up to snap at him, which was intercepted by his own claws which held the fox in place in his taloned feet, and carried him on his own flight.

At least one will be studied because of my actions.

The fox fought against Theo's capture, and the winged knight compelled another pulse of magic, this time a conjunction of the magical focuses he had attained in some small measure. A spark of electricity convulsed the creature, stunning it into submission.

Let the Gods see that I am humane in this at least.

Not that it makes up for the past.

He continued to fly in arcs and dips in the space that was allowed, fox in his possession, his sword striking true at the moments that allowed him to strike at the infected. His powerful frame could support such low flying manoeuvrers for a short time, and already his breath was laboured from performing the magic and beating his own wings to maintain speed in such a cramped environment.

Still, he pressed on. For what was a knight without compliance to orders when an enemy revealed itself?

I will not shirk this obligation, however uncomfortable it is, however it might damn me further in my curse.

Noa Syr Galvanhad Arkobold Margot Triss

 

[Arkobold]

How. How could this be? The foxes. Mouths fizzled and sizzled with sludge. Their eyes red as blood spilled from fresh wounds. One slathering jaw turned and Snapped at Ark, at the edge of the dome, and the little lizard yelped! Leapt back, and smacked the creature's maw away with the butt of his knife's handle.

"No, no!" he tried to console the rabid creature, mangled and tangled with vines and black sap that seemed to ooze out of its wounds and cake is fur. A whimper came from Akrobold's quivering jaw. "I no want to hurt you, foxes, please." but the fox shook the smack away turned, snarled, and lunged at the lightly dressed Ark. A dry rasp of panic burped from his throat, and he leapt back, got stuck against the wall of the smoke dome, whose magick force kept him in.

Clawed feet scrabbled back, as the fox went on snapping its jaws at him in its tittering lunge. Arko squeezed his eyes shut and tears clung to the corner of his eyes as he jut his knife out, just as his uncle had showed him. Stiff armed, pointy end up like a sharp tooth.

Noa Syr Galvanhad Margot Triss Theolonious Montbank

 

[Margot Triss]

As always, Margot was in awe of her knight companions. It was an art form that was never lost on her. The flick of steel, the red of blood splashing against the green of their surroundings. Still, she felt for the fell creatures, it was not their fault they were twisted and marred. Still, the toxic nature of their corruption needed to be quelled.

Margot naturally gravitated towards Arko, he was family after all. She could see he was struggling, his heart hurt at the thought of hurting the foxes. A gnarled fox lunged at him, but Margot was swifter. She sent a kick to it's ribs, kicking it away from Arko so he did not have to go through the trauma of killing it himself.

"Arko, stay with me please. I'll take care of the foxes, you just keep an eye behind us in case they try to sneak up. Okay?" She smiled, and turned on her heel to impale the fox she had kicked away from her cousin. "We'll gwy through this together, I promise." Blonde hair whipped behind her in the wind, determination in her clear blue eyes. This was her family, and she would protect them to her last breath.