Fate - First Reply The Eventide

[Erën]

FALWOOD

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Light flickered softly against cold grey stone, laced with ribbons of green, blue, and pink. Smoke rolled slowly out from a narrow mouth in the rock, which strove high into the air above. Within, a dark and musty tunnel. But he did not delve deeper than for shelter. Dark would soon be upon him, and these lands could prove perilous in the open. Wyverns were rumoured to hunt these woods at night, and he had little desire to struggle with their like for now.

There he sat on his knees with his arms rested on his lap and his hands joined - left clasped over right. He had removed and hung his gear, leaving naught but a loincloth to clothe him. His eyes were trained upon the small flame before him, lost in its glow.

Just away from him rested his cherished companion. The white mare had been with him for many years. She had proven strong, but without his magic to strengthen her she could never do all she did. No horse could. She'd been to The Spine and back and then some. Of course, portal stones played big roles in those journeys, but it was still an amazing feat. She had earned a nights peace comfortably within shelter, such as it was.

As he admired the flame's hypnotic dance, he mused where life had brought him.

In the quiet of the encroaching night he found a restrained contentment. But though he was at relative peace, he could feel a stirring through the Shoraes. It felt like a fluttering; a distant tremor felt only in his heart. It was a disruptive sensation, and even through the day's toil had it persisted, just there in the rear of his awareness.

It concerned him. Though it was unlike the fracturing he had experienced in the days of the Eventide, it did agitate those memories. He prayed to never again see the things he had seen in those times, to do the things he had done.


As night took the land, he added fuel to the flame and its glow and its warmth grew to shield him from the creeping chill. Its light leaked out into the forest as a narrow beam stretching out into the dark.

 

[Velaeri]

In the waning twilight hours a dark figure appeared in the far distance over the ridges of forested mountains. A black blob that morphed like a cloud, pinching and pulling, twisting and writhing, and it became apparent as it drew near that something was amiss. The great wings of the behemoth beast sprawled across a darkening sky, folding and pulsing against a cloud of ... something. A distant screech echoed out, and another growing louder as the creature flew closer.

Then with a heady gust of wind that was cold unlike the evening air, the behemoth flew overhead with the chaotic fury of a darkstorm, chased and savaged by what appeared to be a flock of crows. Their eyes were red and glowing and their bodies turned to smoke as they fell prey to beak and talon alike - but there were so many. Countless, enough to cast a shadow over the dale, and they swarmed the beast relentlessly.

She banked across the valley and turned south, great wings beating against its attackers as it made way for a nearby lake and threw itself into it with an explosive wave of water.

 

[Erën]

His thoughts traveled far as he rested there in the fire's embrace. It had been a quiet evening, much to his enjoyment. With nothing but the chirping and scurrying of night life, the crackling wood and -

His eyes shot to the cave's mouth. He grabbed up his sword, shedding its sheath. Bare feet slapped against stone, and then squished against soft ground. With haste he moved to where he could see...

A distant screech echoed out, and another growing louder as the creature flew closer.

He was not familiar with all creatures in Arethil - but he could certainly detect distress. Quicker now, he strove for higher ground, leaping and bounding over gnarled roots and obstructive foliage. The trees began to part and the canopy made open, and before him lay a lake. He held up his sword and cast a light across the sky, and he beheld the great beast plunging into the deep.

A cloud of darkness whirled over the waters, with red pins reflecting from his conjured light.

The sword sparked.

And with a mighty swing he loosed a great strike upon the swarming harbingers of death.

 

[Velaeri]

Whether it was a result of his conjuration of magic or the source energies that created the cloud of birds, the stench that filtered out from the resonating blast was horrid enough to make a troll's stomach turn. Electrocuted crows fell to the water's churning surface, their smoking and charred bodies turning to a sludgy oil. As the waves began to subside the tension broke once more; water gave way to the emerging figure of the mighty beast, black grime coating gilded feathers already marred by blood.

She was as big as a four-tusked bull alophant of the western savannah plains with a beak broad and sharp enough to swallow an armored man whole. As she made her way up the shore of the lake, it became much more apparent the extensive damage left by her attackers. Small cuts and gashes littered a hide that normally would have shown a brilliant wheaten gleam beneath the moonlight. The shadow of leopard-like rosettes on the felinid portion of her body was lost beneath the ruddy stains. The white feathers covering a refined and regal skull had been plucked and torn - blue eyes winced beneath fresh wounds.

Tail and wings hanging limply, weighted by water, fatigue, and pain, the gryphon collapsed into the shallows of the water with a wilted screech.

 

[Erën]

His magic tore through the wretched crows and left them in pools of strange substance atop the water. The smell left from their demise stung his nostrils, and he snarled at their putrid nature. Foul things, whatever they were.

He watched and waited, and soon once again the goal of the felled crows emerged, sullied by blood and strange oil as she was. She pulled herself ashore, and then lay heaped there by the waterside.

...the gryphon collapsed into the shallows of the water with a wilted screech.

He dashed toward her - not yet knowing her likeness - eager to understand what had just transpired. As he came near he slowed, and her image became clear to him. So too did her condition... as well as her stature. He subdued his awe, stuck the sword in the earth just there and approached, cautiously.

"I mean you know harm," he announced as he drew near.

 

[Velaeri]

A threatening hiss issued from the gryphon's beak as he approached. The great beast was in no state to practice civility, though the man's plea to help had not fallen on deaf ears. She may have been temporarily blinded by her assailants, but the feathered pinnae atop her head swiveled to listen. The gaped beak, presently dripping with a thick coating of what appeared to be dark spirit ichor, swung in his direction and issued a rattled warning.

Giving the man a level moment of consideration, the gryphon's sides heaved in an effort to catch her breath. Her sense of smell was saturated by the odor of the arcane, but she did catch a faint hint of the elf. After a moment she relented to his offer by rather suddenly sneezing the black liquid all over him. Without further ado, she turned her head away from him and let it settle upon the ground.

 

[Erën]

As he came closer, he began to see the extent of her many injuries. She must have been plagued by those infernal creatures for quite some time. Despite initial protesting, she seemed to begrudingly invite his aid.

Not before coating him in a thick layer of the viscous, black ichor.

He wiped it from his face, a thick glob of it smacking against the ground. He did what he could to removed what had coated him as he drew near to first gain a complete perspective of her current status. Hesitantly he touched her, brushing away ichor and blood and gently parting feathers and fur to inspect what he could without being too intrusive.

After a few pain-staking moments just near the enormous gryphon, easily within reach to meet an abrupt end, he moved neared to her face to see what he could do for her sight.

"You are riddled with wounds. I have the means to help them mend... but not just here. If you can walk, I will lead you there..."

If not, then he would perhaps hazard returning to the camp with all haste, but he feared the return of the dark crows.

 

[Velaeri]

To the creature's credit, she did well to deal with what pain resulted from his attention. A mixture of exhaustion and the fire from the various cuts and wounds peppering her figure dulled much of what she felt. If nothing else, the sensation of the lake water still lapping at her sides in the shallows offered some relief.

The eyes that looked at the elf were caked in blood and blinded by ichor. Broad wings splayed listlessly at her side, shifting slightly at his words. After a moment of stillness, another grunt resonated from deep within her chest as she slowly moved to push herself back up onto all fours.

It was a arduous task, judging by the tenuous nature of her massive bulk as it rose, dripping sand and drying blood and ichor, onto unsteady limbs. Whether or not the elf moved away to give her space, she made no effort to topple him but also made no effort to avoid him entirely. The gryphon sluggishly turned along the shoreline, one drooping wing high enough to pass over his head at a stand entirely.

She made way for the grassy knoll overlooking the banks, leaving behind dragging prints of talons and paws, and collapsed into the tall reeds of green. The land trembled beneath her bulk, pollen spilled from flowers into the air, nearby birds startled into flight. The gryphon would not, or could not, go any further.

 

[Erën]

Erën avoided the gryphon as the rose to her feet. Even in this beleagured state, he noted the magnificence of the creature before him. He was honored to be of some assistance to one such as she. He followed her for as far as she went, and was dismayed that she would go no further. He contemplated his course...

Very well.

He went, and retrieved the nearby sword. In silence if thought, he charged the sword and cast an attack spell upon it. He lodged it once more into the ground Velaeri, where it quietly hummed and cast a dim blue light just around it. Should the crows return, it would provide a temporary defense. Then with as much speed as he could muster he bound back toward his camp.

Some time later, the sound of hooves beating hard against the ground began to draw near again as Erën rode hard to return to the gryphon. With him, his horse was fitted with her saddlebags and his gear hung from her. Within many of the bags were various herbs, and other articles he could use to help tend her wounds.

His magic in this regard was limited, but he would try all he could to clean, dress, or outright heal all he could.

He also possessed a few different elixirs that he was unsure whether to be effective or not. But first he hoped to return before any further harm could come to the gryphon.

 

[Velaeri]

A weary, bleary blue eye cracked open at the elf as he moved to follow her. From where her head rested on the ground, flattened reeds and grasses sprawled about her, the gryphon released a deep sigh and made a half-hearted effort to fold her wings at her side where she lay. The cracked eye folded shut.

Nothing but the winds to answer his curiosities. Dawnbringer didn't seem keen on conversation, judging by the slow and steady rhythm of her breathing. While the elf made to leave and gather his things, she slipped from consciousness. It was a short slip - the sound of hooves approaching shaking her back to wakefulness with a sense of urgency. Talons raked through soft soil as she lifted her head from the ground, ears pinning and a low, grating hiss sounding through the silent riverbanks. Those massive wings flung outwards in an effort to intimidate whatever was approaching, catching the sword in the ground and flinging it several meters up and through the air.

 

[Erën]

As he approached, he never thought of the possibility of the gryphon drifting into sleep to be startled by his coming. In her distraught awakening she'd struck the warded blade and it flung away from her with great speed. It was in fact hurled toward him, and he had little time to react. He ducked from atop his horse, impacting the ground without a hint of mercy from it.

He was flung into a frenzied roll, across dust, dirt, root and rock and came to an abrupt and surely painful stop at the base of a large tree. As the dust around him still settled, he layed for a moment.

Then, he rose to his feet. He was scraped and bruised, but it was all superficial. His shoulder did throb awfully though, where he had initially struck the ground. He rolled it a few times, and then shot a glare out toward the gryphon before the same stare searched for his steed. She'd cantered away several meters but not too far without him. She seemed unscathed.

Of course, he could not very well hold her all too responsible for that. He himself would probably have had a similar reaction. Still, that had been very close.

He breathed a calming sigh, and then beckoned his horse toward him with but the flick of his wrist to her. She came with a huff, and he approached the gryphon. He unpacked some items, and with various cloths and even some he tore from his own cloak he went to the lake and soaked them. Returning, he would begin to clean the gryphons wounds.

"Can you speak?" he spoke with clarity, but there was in fact a softness there that he himself had not expected, for he was usually far more commanding even in the face of devils and dragons.

Perhaps he was still somewhat apprehensive, uncertain of the task he had taken upon himself - undoubtedly putting himself in tremendous danger the likes of which he was unaccustomed, never mind the crows. So close to her, the great gryphon could likely crush him with but an inkling of a desire to should he be caught unaware.

 

[Velaeri]

Sides flaring with startled huffs, wings poised in a threatening display, the gryphon coiled her massive skull upwards into the breeze, pulling lungfulls of air to get the scent of the one she could not presently see. The smell of the elf seemed to calm her nerves. She settled, warily and tensely, aching wings folding gingerly at her sides.

Silence befell the area again save the sounds of the beast's breathing. For a time she seemed to follow him by sense of feel and sound alone, feathers and fur prickling and flinching anxiously at his touch. The apprehension was equally shared, but after a time it seemed the creature's exhaustion was getting the better of it. The alert arch of her head drifted to a tired hang, holding just barely above the ground.

A sharp clicking of its beak sounded in response to his question. A sentient response, if nothing more.

 

[Erën]

A sharp clicking of its beak sounded in response to his question. A sentient response, if nothing more.

He'd heard of gryphons who could speak, he heard of some who could not. Either way it was clear to him that she, as he presumed them all to be, was much more than some wild beast.

Erën worked diligently and carefully to tend the gryphon's wounds. There was a delicacy to his touch. While he was a hardened warrior for centuries gone by, the nature of his being did not escape him. He spoke calming elvish words which rolled from his tongue effortlessly, almost whimsically. It was a similar dialect, but more embellished than the more traditional in Fal'Addas.

He focused first on her more grievous wounds, and over them he held his hand. From it, a warmth, perhaps even hot bordering on uncomfortable, and then cooling. This tired him greatly, as the skill was newly acquired and difficult to preform as a novitiate. It would accelerate the mending immediately, but not completely. The rest would have to do naturally. He did of course apply some salves, but was forced to use them very sparingly. He only had so much.

After the worst had be dealt with, he made haste to tending her face. A gentle cloth was washed over her eyes and ears, and cleansed dirt from white feather and open wound.

It was an extensive task, one which required him to traverse back and forth from the lake to rinse his cloth. On one such trip, upon his return he fetched his blue cloak, and unfurled it upon the ground beneath her head. If she were so tired to lay her head, at least it was not on such dirty soil.

 

[Velaeri]

Having little energy to do more and finding no sense of threat for the elf, the gryphon lowered her head onto his cloak and slipped back into a dreamless sleep.

 

[Erën]

He continued about his work for as long as he was able, managing to clean all of what he could reach of the gryphon's wounds. They were malicious creatures, whatever they were. And for one such as she, likely frustratingly difficult to tolerate. She'd likely be burdened by the small but numerous abrasions for some time.

He made camp, and went about properly cleaning himself of the ichor in the lake. By the time all was said and done it was nearly morning. He'd have no rest it seemed, but he could do without for now. He went about fitting himself properly, and then took to finding some food. He'd best get an early start if he were going to find enough food fit for a gryphon.

 

[Velaeri]

And when the elf returned from his hunt the great gryphon would not be there to greet him. Little more than the black ichor still stuck to the grasses flattened where she rested remained as hints of her presence.