Quest The City That Can't Forget

[Kara Orin]

Word travelled fast to make camp before the storm arrived.

As Sinnata Wynralei left, Abir told her, “Make sure Caran unpacks the wine he just got! We better make use of it!”

Kyver, Aepha, and Abir began to unpack and make camp. A bit of inconsequential banter among the three filled the air between the gusts of wind. Aepha complained the most about the ban on magic.

Then, Raziel Shirai approached the wagon Kyver had rode on and spoke to Jason and Telemachus.

“You see that thing?” Aepha asked – speaking loudly to speak over the growing storm.

Kyver looked up. Eyes squinted – trying to peer through the sand.

“An Avariel?” Kyver asked, “I’ve never seen one in person before.”

 

[Urberus]

Galen grit his teeth and felt grains of sand crunch between them. He splayed the fingers of his offhand, ready to dive down and seize the hilt of his dagger. Spells could be cast swift enough, but sometimes a dagger came quicker. And if Douglas was right and they weren't supposed to be using magic in the storm, then the dagger would be the best for a job like this.

He had done it a few times before. Killing, that is. He didn't like it, but he would do it if he had to to protect himself.

 

[Raziel Shirai]

Raziel sighed.
“Take what measures you must, if it’s the only way you’ll believe me.”
The angel followed the dark elf away from the caravan.
Telemachus

 

[Telemachus]

The specimen's tone appeared wary, perhaps even recalcitrant, but it ultimately gave way to servility. Perfect. Perhaps they would find some use for it yet. Telemachus certainly intended to. His gaze passed over the rest and settled on Galen. As usual, this would be far too dangerous for him to be present. "Wait here, boy."

With this, Telemachus guided Raziel several meters away from the last carriage in the caravan. They rounded a small corner of the canyon wall, obscuring them from the sight of the rest of the caravaneers. Once Telemachus had appropriately ascertained that they had not been followed, he began to rifle through his satchel, evidently looking for something specific.

"You may start by identifying your species," Telemachus droned. "In fewer words than you have been using already, if possible."

Raziel Shirai​

 

[Raziel Shirai]

“...I was once human. Then one day I saw a strange light...and I became this. What this is, I’m not fully sure.”
The winged man scratched his head.
“The most common term people have used has been ‘Angel,’ but I’m not sure that’s fully accurate. I’ve seen some similarities in lore I’ve uncovered, such as healing and buffing magic, but in most religious texts I’ve seen angels are messengers, who are guided by gods. But I hear no divine voice. All I was told was, ‘Now thou art Raziel Shirai, for thy purpose shall be to uncover the secrets of thy being and sing them unto the world.’ And that was that. No more voice.”
There was no indication that he was lying, but whether or not the question was answered he appeared unsure.
“Is there...anything else I should add to that?”
Telemachus

 

[Telemachus]

"Fascinating," Telemachus replied, having ceased listening somewhere after the third sentence.

Apparently 'fewer' meant something different wherever this creature had crawled from. No matter. Regardless of whether the exact details of the-so-called-angel's story were true, it was clearly an anomalous entity. Maybe not explicitly from the realms outside of this one, but perhaps touched by them. However slightly.

The Dark Elf withdrew a small vial from the satchel and handed it to Raziel.

"You will fill this with your blood. Once you have done so, I will inform my companions you are safe to travel with."

The blood of magical creatures made for a potent ingredient in certain rituals.

Raziel Shirai​

 

[Urberus]

Wait behind?! This was the most interesting thing that had happened yet. Galen ground his teeth as he watched the Dark Elf lead the Birdman away.

No, he was tired of being left behind. Hold this, boy. Stand there, boy. Wait here, boy.

Not this time.

He prowled forward like a street cat, employing all the padfootery he had learned as a thief on the streets of Elbion. The storm helped him slink unnoticed past the last carriage. He crouched at the canyon wall and strained to listen, peeking just one eye around the corner.

 

[Raziel Shirai]

“What an odd request.”
He muttered, taking the vial and cutting his finger with his sword. He filled the vial and handed it back to the dark elf.
“Are we set, then?”
He said as he stopped the bleeding with a handkerchief.
Telemachus

 

[Telemachus]

It took longer to fill the vial from a finger-prick than Telemachus would have liked, but what was a few extra moments of watching a aberration bleed for such a valuable ingredient? Perhaps he could finally draw a Barbazu out and subdue it. Yes, to bind such a devil to his will... He could potentially make use of the Merregons that immediately answered to it as well.

Oh, but he was getting ahead of himself. Telemachus examined the vial, ensured it was corked properly, and returned it safely to his satchel.

"I suspect you will be a constant impediment and an insufferable conversationalist," he replied. "Stay away from my apprentice and I for the remainder of this journey."

Telemachus turned sharply and made his way back to the caravan proper, blithely unaware of Galen's observance.

Raziel Shirai​

 

[Jason]

"...Jason," he said warily, eyeing the winged creature before him.

He contemplated the Raziel's arrival as he began setting up his tent.

Raziel Shirai

 

[Alona Hawse]

Alona simply chuckled at the weak reply Dante di Inverno gave.

"Oh no, I promise I have a big penis..." She glanced at him once, then slid from the back of the wagon, slipping her sword onto her belt. "You're a common man, with paltry powers. Or else why would you be here among all us peasants?" She raised her eyebrows, then walked around and grabbed her equipment from below the wagon, setting it aside to then grab equipment to make camp.

Over the next few minutes, Alona worked alongside Kyver and Sinnata Wynralei to get camp set as the storm approached. Raziel Shirai walked up, but Alona paid the winged human little heed until the tents were up and battened against the storm.

 

[Tezio Gomst]

A series of rather unfortunate events unfolded rather quickly. First was the appearance of a winged... thing, then came the pulsing storm of sand and grit. Wet cloths were distributed quickly, acting as makeshift masks against this granular tempest. Upon the halting order sounding out, Tezio dutifully began to aid the rest of the students within his own caravan. Meek as they were, they caught on quickly.

"Tie it down like this," he half-orc grunted against the tension, nimble fingers finding purchase against the cart. "Don't make the tarps too taut or else more of the sand will get inside - just enough slack for it to billow some."

Thankfully, most of the folks here had heeded the warning of shifting to the other side of the dune. Caravans were arranged in a circular fashion, offering just a smidgen of protection against the dusty gales. Between them, tarps were being fastened to create something akin to tent-like entrances. Visibility was lost, sure, but the storm assured that anyways. A perimeter was better than nothing.

Walls made the masses feel safe, even if they were but only cloth.

 

[Urberus]

Like a detaching shadow, Galen slipped away from the canyon wall and padded in his master’s footsteps. Softly, so softly, then with quickened steps as they neared the caravan.

Suddenly, it seemed as though Galen’s foot caught in the sand and he stumbled forward, bumping full into Telemachus’ back. Fumbling, Galen’s book slipped from his fingers. But the left knew not the right.

“Ah. Sorreh Master Telemachus, I did nah know where you wen’ wit’ the birdman and- ah, sorreh.”

 

[Douglas Haley]

West of Vel Anir, among the ruins of Valen...
Cirqa 369

Dungeon Master Post - Dante di Inverno │ Galen │ Telemachus │ Jason │ Kyver │ Sinnata Wynralei │ Alona Hawse │@Tezio Gomst │ Acillio Nazzaro │ Raziel Shirai
____________________________

The caravan had found its pacing, with some dedicated to unloading the carriages while others piled the food and camping supplies aside for the last sections to prop them up despite the storm bearing down upon them. A few stragglers sauntered through the dust cloud with their own goals in mind, though most seemed to have found their purpose somewhere between their superiors yelling and the general roar of the wind. It was a shame their efforts seemed to be for naught.

It’d come slow, the storms transition from agitated to aggressive, and the mages amongst them would begin to notice it first. The air seeming to become electrified, the ever so slight pain in the stomach one feels before being sick; all of carrying a growing intensity that threatened to upheave them, if not outright harm them then and there. Despite this, the less magically inclined would be able to ignore it, if not for the time being, before the angered storm had begun to drag daggers across skin, forcing everyone to attention.

A sellsword near the edge of camp, nearest the storm’s containment walls, seemed to be walking the edge with his horse before he stopped, fear overtaking his voice as he screamed towards the rest of the camp;

“By the gods, its a- !”, cut off as both him and his horse were lifted from the ground and twisted, contorted, maimed in such a way that you lost where the man and his armor started, and the horse began; torn apart by the storm as its endless roar seemed to grow endlessly louder.

“Biamhac!”, Douglas cried out in a sudden flurry of energy, “Get into the ruins!”, he said as him and a few others grabbed what supplies they could and rushed towards the remnants of the nearest building.

Their time was short, as the horses that were tightened to their post began to rear and cry out, only to face the same fate the first sellsword had, while those few who didn’t understand the severity of what had decided to rear its head ran out to grab some unknown valuables from the carriage were quickly swept up and faced with immediate judgement. It was gruesome, the storm itself had begun to rip and tear, sending bits of gore and mangled body parts flying into the others as they ran, knocking a shocked scholar to the ground only to twist him into an unrecognizable memory of what he once was.

Unnatural contortions was the memory, but the caravan was the victims.

Summary -

• The storm has turned ugly, and the once magical oddity of the dust storm has become something far worse. In the blink of an eye, almost a dozen members of the thirty man caravan had been lifted and torn asunder, ripped and torn to being completely unrecognizable. Between the screams of the dying and the roar of the storm, it is hard to hear the camp leader telling everyone to retreat to the local ruins.
• The winds seem to only harm the living, taking up horses but leaving behind the water they drank and the supplies others touched.
• Within the ruins, there is a fundamental aesthetic that gives an idea of a theme. Large scriptures on the wall, faded golden accents, and a single altar at the far end of the room. It is dark, but these ruins were once a temple.

 

[Kara Orin]

The sellsword’s scream as the biamhac consumed him grabbed Kyver’s attention. He looked up to watch the storm tear the sellsword and horse asunder.

“Run!” Kyver said as he quickly grabbed Aepha to get her attention.

Once both Abir and Aepha saw the carnage of the storm as well, Abir immediately yelled, “What?! Run where?!”

While the trio could not hear Douglas Haley, Aepha saw some people head in the directions of the ruins. She pointed in that direction and told Kyver and Abir, “The ruins!”

---

Sinnata Wynralei would have found Caran just when the biamhac formed and began to take victims. People began to run toward the ruins.

“Sinnata!” Caran called out to her, “Where’re the rest?”

Caran almost immediately got the answer. Sinnata and Caran were in the path that Kyver, Aepha, and Abir needed to take to get to the ruins and they were quickly approaching the two. They carried only their personal bags and weapons.

“Grab your stuff and runnnnn!” Kyver screamed.

 

[Alona Hawse]

“By the gods, its a- !”,

Alona looked up from the small plate of food she'd been eating in the main tent. She set the plate down on the camp table nearby and stepped toward the entryway of the tent.

“Biamhac!”, Douglas cried out in a sudden flurry of energy, “Get into the ruins!”

Alona cursed, grabbed her pack from near the entryway and darted for the ruins. She was glad she'd left her faithful mount in Vel Anir, for she was sure the beast would be lost to the Biamhac. Alona reached the ruins after Kyver and Sinnata Wynralei, and stopped near them, turning to look back as more attempted to outpace the magical beast storm to reach the relative safety of the ruins.

"How many have we lost?" She asked to those around her. She secured her pack onto her back, freeing her arms in case she needed to draw her blade.

 

[Telemachus]

Telemachus felt something child-shaped and stupid bump into him. He turned about and glared at his bumbling apprentice. What had he been doing this whole time if their luggage was still packed into the carriage? Lazing about, as usual. Telemachus was beginning to see little point in having an apprentice if he had to constantly stand by just to make sure it was performing the bare minimum of its duties.

"Cease your stumbling and see to the luggage, boy," Telemachus ordered, proceeding to Douglas Haley so that he could give his assessment.

He never got there. Whether that was a net gain for anyone remained to be seen. A sellsword cried out, only for him and his horse to be mangled by some unseen force. Someone screamed Biamhac, but Telemachus had already assumed as much. The malevolent wind spirit proceeded forward, consuming one of a scholar and flinging their body high into the air. The broken corpse landed at Telemachus' feet.

Telemachus had never see a Biamhac in action, but he had heard of them. He prodded the corpse in front of him with his staff. He knew this person. Who was it? Oh. Gonagal. The one with the cats. Pitiable. Telemachus would have to sketch this and the vague appearance of the Biamhac once time allowed it.

A good portion of their supplies would soon be destroyed due to Galen's negligence. Telemachus did not check to see if the apprentice was following him as he retreated to the ruins.

 

[Raziel Shirai]

Though he had noticed the thrumming magic in the area, Raziel had not been able to make heads or tails of it until it was too late. By the time the "Biamhac" scream came from the front of the caravan, Raziel was decently on edge about this storm, but had not pieced together what it was until the screams of the dying had already pierced his eardrums.
Raziel looked around him, noticing the dazed apprentice of the dark elf nearby. Completely disregarding the fact that the elf had told him to stay clear of the apprentice, he took to the air in his direction. He flew swiftly through the air and swooped down with the intent of grabbing the boy by either the hands or the waist. If the boy did not prevent this, he would begin to fly towards the safety of the ruins carrying him.
"It is imprudent to tarry in the face of danger, child."
The angel's advice was as obvious as it was cliche, but it was also very relevant, as this storm was closing in on the caravans and consuming the lives of those inside.
In the angel's arms, Galen would notice a pulsating warmth from him, a soothing presence that was barely noticeable at the moment, and likely only because of the physical contact. Regardless, the protective instinct was clear from the way the boy was being held; the angel's hand was guarding Galen's left chest, and the boy's limbs were secured without feeling restrained.

 

[Urberus]

Galen’s hand patted one of his many pockets and felt a responsive vial-shaped bulge. A small smile flickered across his features in the midst of the storm, then the energy ripped through him like raw rage. He heard screaming and felt blind panic, like a deer sensing wolves.

Something seized him from behind and lifted him into the air. His stomach did a flip and he felt the sand in the air cut at his eyes and cheeks. A strangled cry came from his lips, but was torn away by the wind. He heard the birdman’s voice. Looking down, he saw the ground far below. The arms of the beast held him close.

“Let me go, let me go, let me go.”

Wild eyed, Galen’s fingers fumbled for the hilt of his dagger. He dragged it from its sheath and with a sobbing cry sought to thrust it up and into the birdman’s belly again and again and again, uttering those same words over and over, tears of fright blurring his vision.

 

[Raziel Shirai]

And he did. For the flight took but a few seconds before they had gone a safe distance from the storm, and Raziel determined that the boy would not be in any more danger. Plopping the boy down on his feet before landing himself, he smiled at Galen and said,
"I apologize for the fright...it seemed you were in a daze, and I could not allow myself to stand and watch you become consumed by that storm."
Then he noticed the boy had the dagger in his hand pointed at him.
"I understand your fears. I understand your doubts. And I absolve you of both, for we are safe here..."
Well, at least they were for the moment. The walls of the ruined building would likely form some protection against the windstorm. The angel then sighed and stood with his hands at shoulder height. The boy feared him, and he figured a dagger wound or two would be worth his trust.
"If you are afraid, then do what you must to allay those fears."
He stood peacefully with his eyes closed.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He keenly felt the ripple of fear run through the first guard before he hear the shout. Raigryn blanched at the cry that went out. Wind spirits. Not just any spirits either. He had once witnessed the benevolent spirits worshiped by orc tribes on the steppes. This was a biamhac. His hand had gone to the pommel of his sword, but he took it back and ran for shelter. Steel was useless now.

As the scholar felt the grip of the spirit Raigryn could feel his fear. Empaths grouped emotions into eight aspects. What he thought of as Misery grouped a range of emotions from terror through to despair and unhappiness. Raigryn drew from the Scholar's Misery as he was dragged to his death. In some respects it felt unsavory to draw power from a dying man. On the other hand perhaps losing the edge of fear in the last seconds eased his passing. Regardless, Raigryn was low on reserves and needed every available tool to face the danger ahead.

For an old man Raigryn had quite the turn of pace. He drew just a touch of his Joy to catch up with the leading members of the party. When fleeing from the danger it was often the slowest in your group you needed to worry about out running first. The old man hadn't lived this long by making brave last stands.

 

[Khehe]

Finding Caran wasn't hard, but it also wasn't easy. The growing winds were whipping the sand into her eyes, and everyone had wrapped themselves up similarly to shield their own eyes from harm. She was conveniently useless in unloading wagons and setting up tents in the vicious winds as she searched for her companion.

Eventually, after several failed identifications, she spotted a figure with dark mauve skin and squinting fuchsia eyes.

"Caran!" She waved as she jogged closer, and he looked up from the supplies he was moving.

Behind her, there was a weird shrieking sound distorted by the wind. A cacophony of the broken screams of horses and men whirled past her. Caran looked beyond her, and his eyes widening. She thought she heard the voice of Douglas Haley, but she couldn't quite make out what he'd said. Confused, Sinnata turned to see what had happened.

A scholar was lifted off of his feet and flew through the air before landing near another, his body mangled and unrecognizable. Caught off guard by the sudden chaos, she stumbled backward but was caught by the other elf. Steadied, she tore her eyes away from the creature that was making its way toward them.

“Sinnata!” Caran called out to her, “Where’re the rest?”

"They were over there!" She looked up at Caran with eyes white with fear. People were running by them, in the direction of a ruin at their back, but she was grounded to the spot. They couldn't leave the others behind – they were as good as family to her, and her gut twisted at the thought of them being...

She didn't have to fret long, as a familiar voice came running past them.

“Grab your stuff and runnnnn!” Kyver screamed.

Sinnata didn't need any further encouragement. Caran released her, hoisted up a bag and a small wooden crate from the pile of supplies at his feet, and turned to follow the others. Sinnata kept pace at his side and didn't dare look back again as they ran toward the ruins. The crowd bottlenecked at the building's entrance but the two squeezed in and looked around for their group. Her heart was thundering in her ears and her lungs burned from the dust she'd inhaled, but she could have melted with relief when she saw all three of them standing together to one side.

She jogged over to them and threw down her bag to hug the one closest to her – Aepha as it happened to be.

"How many have we lost?" She asked to those around her.

Sinnata didn't let go or answer, because she didn't know and couldn't bring herself to care as she squeezed Aepha.

Kyver // Alona Hawse // Galen // Telemachus // Dante di Inverno // Tezio Gomst // Douglas Haley // Raziel Shirai // Raigryn Vayd // Jason​

 

[Douglas Haley]

West of Vel Anir, among the ruins of Valen...
Cirqa 369

Interacting with Galen & Raziel Shirai
________________________

As Douglas ran, as the wind overhead cried out in a cacophony of tones and pitches, as the very horses they rode in on were mangled and left for dead with nothing but their neighs of pain and agony to mix with the unadulterated roar of the storm, he felt nothing but terror. Flashbacks of the dead in Alliria during the assault by the Geckans, the instance he nearly killed his own master through emotional miscontrol at a young age, all of it flooded back as he ran for the sanctuary of the temple. His face was splattered in a mixture of blood and sand, his face wrap torn away amidst the chaos of finding safety amongst the ruins. He collapsed as he finally made it there, letting his hands hold him up over cold stone, holding back the urge to gag at the thought of the dead.

It was fear he felt first, but sorrow he felt next. Those men, many he had chosen to come with the assistance of Agron himself. The simple fact was he had as much to do with their death’s as anyone on the caravan, as he had been the guiding hand, the one to warn them of danger; and all the warning signs had been there. The electrifying air, the thrum of magic, but he was insolent, stupid and inexperienced in the grand understanding of the expedition. He was too distracted by the thumping of the heart, now muddled amidst screams and terror, and it had cost so many their lives. He swore quietly at first, the slow outpour of emotion that led to a cry of anger and hatred as he stood;

“Damn the gods!”, he said as he moved to Raziel.

The third emotion Douglas felt was anger, pure and excessive fury that festered in his gut like a stone and brought all his muscles to bear. He was strong, a large specimen for his age, and he had been in a long history of college fist fights and bouts; as customary for the scholars of Elbion who fraternized. He was no different, and as he moved across the hall and past Galen all the anger he held lashed out in a tremendous fist moving to Raziel’s jaw.

“I told you no magic!”, he cried out in a slowly muddling mixture of furious anger and deep sorrow, “But no, you had to prove yourself, didn’t you?”

In his emotions, whether the strike had met its point or not, he moved to sit on a rock with his head buried in his hands, fingers gripping locks of hair as his chest heaved. His eyes watered, and the boy turned man wanted nothing more than to weep, but he held on for the sake of strength; to show he wasn’t completely lost.

So many dead… So much blood on his hands...​

 

[Telemachus]

Telemachus frequently withdrew into his own thoughts. This tended to leave him somewhat unaware of the world around him - he simply wouldn't be paying attention. Many different things could escape his notice during these times. The moronic beast-thing, the alleged angel, sweeping his apprentice past him and flying him around was not one of those things.

This feathered fool had been given such a simple instruction. A single mandate. And it had failed. Almost immediately, in fact. Whatever this creature was, it was clearly not derived from the same realm Telemachus acquired his summons. Even lowly undead constructs would have understood something as simple as avoid.

Telemachus swept into the room sooner rather than later. The survivors were huddled about. Fewer than expected, but Telemachus burned with far too much rage to bother with a proper headcount. His robes were askew; his hair matted courtesy of the storm. The Dark Elf approached Raziel from behind and swung his staff in a sharp, quick motion, intending to crack him over the head while he stood there with his eyes clothes, absolving his apprentice.

The nerve.

"Perhaps you misheard me earlier. Maybe your divine patron should have granted you six ears rather than wings," he snapped. Livid would have been and understatement, but as usual it sounded more like he was disciplining an unruly student rather than an abomination that had tried to fly off with his disciple. "I see now my earlier choice of vocabulary was quite correct."

Douglas Haley was here now as well, devastated beyond measure. Or so Telemachus would assume, given the man was throwing his fists into the angel's face. Telemachus might have interceded on Raziel's behalf, had it not so brazenly disregarded his earlier warning. More's the pity.

Telemachus sneered. "Get out of here, cretin. Leave this expedition and do not return."

Dante di Inverno | Galen | Alona Hawse | Kyver | Jason | Douglas Haley | Sinnata Wynralei | Raziel Shirai​

 

[Raziel Shirai]

The fist at his face was unexpected, but he moved his hand to block it. He then held it in his other hand as he began to explain that he had not used any more magic, when the dark elf came to castigate him for disregarding his instructions.
“I suppose you’d have preferred me to leave him to die in that storm, then? Your lack of concern for your own apprentice is apparent. Regardless of how you perceive me, your protestations will give me no reason to turn a blind eye to those in danger.”
The angel stood his ground. He appeared more resolute than before.
“You care not for your apprentice nor his well being. If you did, it would not have fallen to a ‘cretin’ such as me to ensure his safety. If you wish me to leave you will first apologize to him, since it is clear you have no intent of overcoming your bigoted perceptions of me.”