Open Chronicles Sorrow in Sincorino

[Erën]

It hadn't been long after his time at Atlia Keep that Erën found himself taking on contracts as a Noct Yaegir. Their creed worked well in tandem with his own, so there was really no reason why he shouldn't work alongside them. Doing so, had led him here.

Sincorino was east of Belgrath, on the western-most side of the delta, where the waters met the roots of the Spine. There were homes dotting a hilly landscape that rolled down toward the river, and there the landscape flattened out for a span and was where most of the town was built and encompassed in a somewhat decrepit stone wall.

It was evening when he crested the hill, whereupon he paused, the hooves of his steed scraping against the dusty road. A breeze carried fallen leaves across his path, and as he looked down to the lights of the town below, he spied them, twinkling through the spindly black of leafless branches. For a moment he contemplated this place, and then gently urged his horse forward again, leisurely making their way down the now winding road.

He soon came near to a small home set near the road, little more than a crooked shanty. Just outside, an older man lingered, working away at some peculiarly timed chores. As Erën approached, the old man took notice, and departed from his task to regard him with an inviting wave.

"Did the Keep send you?" the old man asked, a hint of desperation in his tone.

"They did," he replied, and held up a pendant that only a Yaegir would possess as he came near, looming over, "but only the presence of monsters and urgency was ever conveyed."

The man confessed that it was he who had sent the letter, and he had done so with relative haste. He explained that for months now, their town had fallen prey to what he believed was some kind of monster. At first, a few people down at the boats went missing one evening, and everyone assumed there had been some kind of accident. It became a little more suspicious when it happened again, and strange sounds could be heard by the docks at night. But it wasn't until the old man's own wife fell victim to this misfortune that he knew for certain that something terrible was happening. She often enjoyed taking walks by the water in the evening, but never so near.

He said he didn't know truly what was at work, but could think of no one else to call for help than the Noct Yaegir.

After giving his condolences, thanks, and encouragement that he would do what he could, Erën carried on into the town. He passed through a vine-covered gatehouse, whose wooden doors hung open on rusted hinges. Dirt road turned to cobblestone, and the click-clack of his horses hooves echoed down the street of stone houses. He ventured down the empty street and on into the town square, where he found a tavern, a blacksmith, several homes, and an open end leading over toward the riverside street. He also encountered a few of the townsfolk, who greeted him somewhat warily.

He greeted them in return and he declared himself.

"Go to the Sincorino Tavern, you're most likely to find someone more alike in there."

And so, with night beginning to fall, he did.

 

[Njáll]

The Sincornio Tavern, or the Painted Pony as it was known by locals, did indeed already have someone more alike. Or at least, someone who was here for more alike purpose.

A loud thunk rang out through the Tavern, followed by half a dozen cheers and one Inn-Keeper shouting. "YOU'LL BE PAYIN FOR THAT!"

Though his words were lost in the din of the crowd as the Nordwiir let out a roar of triumph. Hands shooting up in the air as he parted the crowd and moved to retreat his hatchet from the mug now sticking to the wall. It hung there caught by the handle and still dripping half the ale it held within.

One smooth motion saw it withdrawn from the wall as Njall claimed back his drink, tipping the mug and downing the rest of it's contents before he let out a satisfied sigh. "Three for three."

The hatchet flipped in his hand as he shrugged, more than a few claps landing on his back as he returned to the table.

"Told ya, lad." When he'd entered the Painted Pony, things had looked more than a little grim. The people had been quiet, morose, and lost in their cups as they tried to swallow the melancholia of monstrosity hanging over their fair town.

Njall, as he often did, had parted the sorrow in his boisterous way. Often finding that it was best to inject some mirth back into the places he hunted in.

"Now, I believe..." He smiled as he sat back down. "You have something to tell me?"

The boy seemed to frown, but he had seen the beasts, and their wager had been a simple one. A laugh for a tale. Njall only hoped it was a good one.

 

[Erën]

Though there was now a little levity in the air, and the boy Turas had indeed promised to tell his tale, he was still reluctant to recall what he had seen. Speaking of evil things had for a long time been taboo in their little town, and some said that it was the rumblings of distant things of late that had brought them here.

He didn't really believe that stuff...

His face fell some, and he started, "it was dark, so I couldn't make everything out... but I saw... something, it was tall and it looked like it had tentacles all over its body. I can't be sure. I saw it, holding its arm up, and it had someone. They weren't resisting at all, they were just... following it, down into the water," he shuddered, and took a healthy swig from his mug, "I think it was Narri, old man Hran's wife.."

While Turas had told his tale, the door had opened for a cloaked traveler to enter in. Long and blond, an elf by no mistake, he'd gone to the counter and spoken to the bartender. It was as Turas finished his tale when Erën approached, regarding the pair with a nod but looking primarily to Njáll.

He knew his sort, and threw more fanciful pleasantries away. Instead, he presented his pendant, saying simply, "I'm here for the hunt."

---

Njáll ​

 

[Njáll]

The mirth fell away as Njall leaned in to the boys words. Listening to every scrap of detail that he could find and trying his best to piece it all together.

It had not taken him long to discover that Monsters here in the Summerlands were different to those of his home. Some held similar traits, but it seemed the Dark Gods will carried strongly only in the Isles. Still, he had spent a year now with the Yaegir, and knowledge came quickly to him.

He nodded along was Turas spoke, eyes flickering only briefly towards the figure that was walking over towards them as the lad finished.

"Ah! You've come the right way then." Mirth rejoined his tone as he glanced to the man's medallion. The Northman's own hanging loosely outside his tunic. "Grab a chair."

Njall said, more than glad for the company as he kicked out one of the stools besides him. "Turas here was just telling me about the local trouble makers."

He flashed the lad a smile, though did not make him repeat his tale. Instead doing it for him, providing every detail he'd provided to near perfection. Even as he waved for the waitress to bring another round of drinks.

 

[Erën]

Though Erën was typically a more reserved individual, that did not mean he did not appreciate the outwardness of others. A grin found his features, and he did indeed pull up a chair and sit with them, draping his sword-belt over its back.

The details, however scarce they may be, were troubling to say the least. But from the sounds of things it was nothing that he, and surely this other Yaegir, couldn't handle.

"So, it does indeed dwell in the water. That is a bit of trouble," he mused, taking his mug which was delivered to their table in hand, "we'll have to wait until it resurfaces again. Where did you see it?"

"I saw it on the western side of town."

With the docks on the eastern side, that meant it didn't really seem to have a preferred place to be. More trouble.

"What do you think?" Erën asked of Njáll before taking a drink.

 

[Njáll]

Njáll grunted. "Back home, the oceans between the Isles are haunted by the Hafgufa."

"This reminds me of them." The beasts were creatures of sea and water. Though they had no one form, the tales told of them whispered of reaching tendrils and maws three times the size of men. This was not them. The Hafgufa did not lure those it sought into the waters.

They simply took them.

"But this is something else." He said with a shake of his head. "This demon hunts like men fish."

Njáll let his fingers drum against the table. "It would be easiest to catch with bait."

It was logical, if not exactly...ideal.

 

[Erën]

He hummed an affirming hum, nodding his head and then sipping from his drink. He had not heard of the Hafgufa before, but it was well with him that his Yaegir companion was familiar with fighting such beasts. Erën himself had quarreled with more than few dark creatures of the water, each success far more difficult than he would care to admit.

"Given what we know, this probably would be the best way," he set his cup down. A look to Turas and a wry smile, "what say you?"

There came the hesitance and fear, and a look to each of the Yaegirs. You're serious.

"Between the pair of us," he gestured between himself a Njáll, "you are in capable hands."

An assumption on his part, not evening knowing the Nord by name. But be it by kin or creed, any who held a Yaegir pendant was at the very least resourceful. He was confident in the assumption.

"You can call me Erën," he said to them.

---

Njáll ​

 

[Njáll]

"Njáll." The Northman countered quickly, but it was not him who had the objections.

"You're insane." The boy did not mean it as an insult, that much became almost instantly clear. The fear in his eyes spoke simply of the fact that this was not something he wanted to do. Though not a complete believer in the myths, Turas also wasn't a fool.

"That thing has killed half a dozen people!" He insisted quickly. "I ca-"

Before he could argue any more, Njall pushed himself into Turas' side. A hand clapping down on the boys back just as the waitress arrived with another round of drinks. The Northman grabbing one and practically shoving it into the boy's hands. "Think of the glory."

He began, echoed for only a brief second by Turas.

"You'll be the talk of the town, the hero who took down the beast." Something sparked within the boys eye.

"The envy of every lad, the want of every woman." Njall spoke almost as though the words were fact. "Your name will be sung in the songs of Sincorino for decades to come!"

 

[Erën]

"For over six hundred years I've walked this world, young Turas. What Njáll says is true."

Somewhat uncharacteristically he also slid closer to Turas' side. This was a little outside his province, but he was all too familiar with the gambit. His own hand slapped down on Turas' shoulder and he inclined his head to the waitress who was just now swaying away.

"That sideways glance she offered just now would be squarely on you, my friend. Turas:" Erën lifted his mug, "he who slew the monster of the deep."

He drank.

"I..." Turas hesitated, taking his own mug in his hand and looking at it intently for a moment.

"But, perhaps more importantly..." Erën's demeanour took a somewhat dour turn. He'd have cast Njáll a wink if he could have, "we need your help. We cannot do this alone."

"Alright!" he declared, and promptly took a healthy swig from the mug in his hand, then slammed it down on the table, "I'll do it!"

---

Njáll ​

 

[Njáll]

Njall grinned Erën.

It was nice working with a professional. Not that the other Yaegir's weren't, but he found that quite a few were far too stoic for their own good. "Good lad."

The Northman said with another clap of the shoulder.

There were worse things in the universe than being bait, and truthfully Njall did have every intention on making sure the boy made it out of this alive. Whatever this beastie taking people was, he doubted it was any tougher than the Thagefren or the Kurkost.

He'd killed plenty of those.

Standing, the Nordwiir grabbed his ale from the table. The hatchets on his belt swung slightly as he motioned towards the door. "Shall we?"

"Wh-what?" The boy stammered, the ale not yet having given him the liquid courage he required. "N-now?"

He asked, and Njall only grinned. "No time like the present."

 

[Erën]

Erën stood as the Northman did, declaring in kind that they shall. Looking to Turas he continued, "indeed. The more time we wait, the more time we give for another to fall prey.

Let us end this. Drink up, my friend."

Wide eyed, he looked down at his mug and did drink. And drink. And then, wiping his arm across his mouth he stood, shaky legged and all, but with a final gulp he stepped out from his seat and followed the two Yaegirs on out the door.

There, it had become even more still than before. The small gathering that had pointed him here had departed, and there was else to hear other than the din of the noise inside and the water washing against the shore. Stepping down into the square, Erën looked one way and then looked the other. Far off there was a wagon slowly creaking along down the street, but no one else.

Spooked as the townsfolk likely were, he could not blame them for retreating indoors in the night, despite how young the evening was. Nevertheless, this would likely aid them all the more.

"Well, what do you say," he looked to Njáll, "why don't we head to the docks..."

---

Njáll ​

 

[Rignid]

Rignid had been travelling for a few days. He had intended to go to Belgrath, as he was intrigued by the history, but had overshot by quite a way, and ended up coming across this town that he discovered was called "Sincorino". It was darling during the day, a real rugged hill-town with very few stuffy savants like at his home at Elbion. While he loved the academics that brought him up, he always cherished towns where conversation rarely descended into brain-aching philosophy. Not to say that the people in Sincorino were unintelligent, though, Rignid thought. They were very skilled, efficiently conducting business as these towns often did.

However, the sun was sinking below the horizon soon after Rignid had stumbled upon the place, and the people that had been all smiles upon his arrival were becoming suddenly very standoffish, not stopping to indulge Rignid's questions about the place. He had quickly given up, presuming it wasn't as welcoming as he had thought; not that this was the first time he would find himself in a town like this. He wasn't ignorant of his over-optimism when seeing new things for the first time, which often clouded his judgement of them until he was more familiar with them (he remembered, at this point, the time when he had walked into a town that forbade magic- at least the people of Sincorino weren't literally chasing him with pitchforks, he supposed!).

Shrugging, he gave up trying to catch somebody's attention. It was now almost completely dark, and he resigned himself to use the last winks of sunlight to find a decent bush to sleep in (he had- of course- spent all of his money in the last city that he was in, and hadn't found a quick quest to replenish his purse). He made his way to the docks, where he might find a patch of bushes or even a well-shaped rock for some privacy. While he wasn't as experienced at travelling smartly, he was certainly very experienced with sleeping outside.

He reached the docks, and soon found a nice outcropping of rocks that formed a vague semi-circle, interspersed with the odd bare bush and sensibly far from the town proper to avoid being noticed by nighttime bandits, while still feeling like he was enveloped in the safety that civilisation provided from nature. He was also not too far from the beach, and liked the hypnotic rolling of the waves and the muddy-wet smell of water that was on the brink of fresh and coastal. He still felt a sort of unsettling presence, and thought I hope there aren't any crocodiles lurking in that water- at least, I think crocodiles live in this kind of water? Do they? Would they come out at this time of night? Oh goodness, I've never wanted to drown to death...or be eaten...

Rignid shuddered, scolding himself for allowing himself to think such things right before sleep. He settled down to rest, but was interrupted by what he thought was movement coming towards the docks- perhaps townspeople with pitchforks? No, there weren't many figures- less than five. Perhaps guards? He shook off any tiredness and focused in on the frays, allowing the arcane glow of any lingering ones to come into view. There weren't many at this time of night- there wasn't enough light to create and sustain them. Rignid always felt odd using Fraymancy in the dark, as the frays that weren't quite physically real didn't actually cast light anywhere- they were only visible to Rignid's eyes so far, leading him to deduce that they existed at some point between magical force and physical reality; he was trying to find out how to get others to see the frays, but for know this explained why they didn't actually cast light anywhere. But this wasn't what he needed to focus on at this exact moment, he reminded himself. If these were just ordinary town guardsmen then there were enough frays coming off of the stone that Rignid trusted he could bring the rocks down upon them- hopefully without causing anybody too much physical harm. He readied himself for the approaching figures.

 

[Njáll]

Down towards the docks the three of them went.

Turas still wasn't entirely sure, but Njall fetched another ale for them as they were heading out the door and by the time the scent of water filled their noses the boy was all bravado. "We are SO gonna KILL that freaking thing!"

He practically bellowed as they wandered, Njall holding his shoulder.

The hunter offered a quick look towards his companion. One that might have been interpreted as; "We definitely can't let this kid die, his story will be too funny."

When out of the corner of his eye he noticed something down towards the piers. A frown touched his lips for just a brief moment, and he nodded his head at Eren. Eyes flickering back through the darkness towards the silhoutte standing by the water. "Ho there!"

The Northman called, using the same greeting he'd been offered when first arriving in the Summerlands.

"You may want to back away from the water, my friend." The slight tinge of ale clung to his voice. Though Njall was nowhere near as drunk as Turas, the Nordwiir had been imbibing for most of the night.

 

[Rignid]

As the figures approached, Rignid noticed that they weren't guards. They clearly didn't provide an imminant threat, so he lowered his hands. He kept on guard a little, though, knowing that anyone can be dangerous when you don't know them.

He slowly approached to meet them.

"Back away from the water," he asked, "why?"

Despite his query, he did move towards the three. Perhaps he was right about crocodiles.

The men didn't seem hostile towards him- the boy in between them seemed almost completely intoxicated- so he approached even closer. The Elf and the Norwiir both seemed skilled and battle-experienced (by their stances and the way they seemed aware of their surroundings) but not in a way that scared Rignid much.

He looked towards the inky black waters. Every lap of a wave against the shore could be the step of some great beast, every swoosh of wind against the water a stealthing predator- Rignid shivered, stepping even closer to the group instinctively. "Is there a problem, sirs?"

 

[Erën]

"Not between the likes of us," Erën said with raised hands, and then a gesture to the other two whom he traveled there with, "we are here to deal with the troubles that are said to reside in these waters, surely..."

Erën's voice trailed off, and his attention was clearly drawn elsewhere as he turned to look in a direction further down the shoreline. To the others it would perhaps seem as though his elven ears, known for their sharpness, may have perceived something they had not. But this was not the case. More startlingly so, it was his gifts of telepathy that had been infringed upon, and not by any will of his own. It was akin to feeling the presence of another despite them being anywhere near, like the feeling of being watched.

Instinctively his hand was drawn to the hilt of the sword on his left hip, but he refrained from drawing it.

An almost cruelly chilled breeze brushed by them, and the waters seemed to become angry as the moments past, rushing heavily upon the shore.

He drew in a breath.

"Come along Turas," Erën said, hoping Njáll would guess what he perceived.

---

Njáll | Rignid ​

 

[Njáll]

The moment Eren's hand drew to the hilt of his sword something seemed to change about the Nordwiir.

Despite the slight stupor he was still clearly in, a seriousness washed over him. Though he was far louder and more boisterous than most of his kind. the people of the Lost Isles were ones of violence. They knew the signs, could tell the tension that filled the air before it was about to erupt.

One hand slipped down to a hatchet hanging within a loop of leather on his belt. The heavy steel slipping free as he drew it into his palm. Head jerking towards the man they had encountered on the banks of the shore. "You may not want to stick around."

He advised as the chill rolled over them. The cold air more refreshing to him than something to fear.

"Unless you're a man of violence." Yellow haggard teeth barred in a grin at the other man. The Nordwiir gently pushing Turas towards the quivering waters ahead of them. The boy almost seeming to bounce now.

"Hell yeah!" He said, boxing a hand forward. "Going to kill this thing, going to tell everyone, Liza is going to be so impressed. It'll be awesome."[/color]

The boy declared happily, stumbling.

 

[Rignid]

Rignid was immediately aware of the slight change in the demeanour of the two men. He couldn't tell what exactly was out there, but he figured it probably wasn't crocodiles. The boy that the men had dragged along with them was uncomfortably close to the water, and whatever plan they had, Rignid was sure he was about to have a rough time.

He decided to happily take the Nordwiir's advice. He turned to go back to his things, hoping that he would have enough time to gather them all before all hell broke loose. Rignid supposed he would have to sleep in an alleyway tonight.

Just as he was making his way back to the rocks, he thought he heard a splash in the water. It could easily have been another ripple, but given the current atmosphere, he was sure it was louder- more out of place- than the undulating bay. Immediately, instinctively, Rignid refocused on the frays. There still weren't many, but there should be enough to defend himself. With the presence of people, there were some more tentative strands that were coming off of each figure. Rignid wished it was daytime- or at least that he'd had the time to build a campfire. He looked between his things and the people nearby and the water, waiting for something to happen.

 

[Erën]

There was a certain dread to it all, far too obvious he began to feel. It drew him further down the shore, but the brief hesitation allowed for this stranger to gather his things proved to be advantageous. Were they to depart in that moment as Erën had urged, then what drew up from the waters now would have been nicely at their flank.

The heightened sound in the water was certainly out of place.

Yet as Erën's head snapped to the side, whatever it was that had peeked out from under the water was just as swift in hiding itself once again. And even as honed as he was, he wondered if there wasn't something more to all this, playing tricks on him.

"Hey!" Turas shouted, pointing atop the rocks that loomed nearby, towering over near where Rignid gathered his things.