Warriors Of The Coast

[Autumn]

"Jina Silversun, what in the name of the Flame are you doing here?" She asks.

Jina gives Khalia a look of pure exhaustion. Any sense of adventure she had felt has vanished now, killed off by the harrowing journey through the night. If she had had any doubts before that she was right to stick with her brother then that night had killed them off. He isn't in his right mind, that much is all too clear.

The hustle through the darkness has done nothing to help the ankle that she hurt, and she walks with a suppressed but visible limp as it throbs angrily at her. Her hair is a tangled mess. Her face and hands are dirty and covered in scratches, and it's obvious from the smears on her face that she's been crying recently.

Sniffing, she rubs a hand brusquely across her eyes and stands up straighter, obviously making an effort to pull herself together and look like she's coping.

She looks back at Khalia, her gaze weighing and measuring. It's not as if she and Khalia were ever close. She'd always got the impression of a somewhat strict and cold woman, and nothing in Khalia's current manner is causing her to modify that view.

She would like to plunge straight off into the trees and after Jango, but she knows that she stands no chance of catching him that way now. Failing that she'd like to launch into a barrage of questions that might help her understand where her brother could be going and whether she'll be able to catch him up... but she bites her tongue, knowing that that too would be counterproductive. Little as she may like it, the situation calls for patience. So for the right now she is dependent on the Crusade's goodwill. On a practical level, that probably means Khalia's goodwill.

"...It's my brother," she says slowly, making an effort to keep her voice as calm as she can. "I'm worried about him. I didn't want to let him travel alone." She stops awkwardly, the shadow of her failure hanging heavy over her words. "But I guess that's beside the point," she says hurriedly, her eyes dropping away from Khalia's. Her tone is businesslike now, though the telltale quaver of her anxiety has only got stronger. "You don't want to hear about our family dramas, right? You just need to know whether I'm going to make a nuisance of myself. Well... I promise I'll do my best not to." She makes an attempt at a smile, though the result is half-hearted at best. It's very obvious that she's distracted. All the vibrancy and energy that she normally exudes is gone. Or rather - it's there, but dispersed and shadowed, caught up in worry and anxiety instead of directed outwards at the world around her.

 

[drothgery]

She looks back at Khalia, her gaze weighing and measuring. It's not as if she and Khalia were ever close. She'd always got the impression of a somewhat strict and cold woman, and nothing in Khalia's current manner is causing her to modify that view.

OOC: It's kind of hard to indicate tone with text, but Khalia really sould have come across more as confused and concerned than scolding...

[sblock=Jina]

Khalia on the other PCs (note that this was written mostly before the original game started) ...

Jina Silversun, Elf Swashbuckler

Khalia met Jina and her twin brother shortly after arriving in Seawell, and has seen a lot of them since, mostly because she has been living in their mother's inn. Jina reminds her of a friend of her father's -- a human swashbuckler, though she learned the thinblade from an elven master -- though Hariel didn't have a twin brother.

Khalia has become quite friendly with the twins, especially Jina, for all their disparate personalties; when Khalia's looking for "one of the girls" to spend time with, in Seawell, it has been Jina.

[/sblock]

"...It's my brother," she says slowly, making an effort to keep her voice as calm as she can. "I'm worried about him. I didn't want to let him travel alone." She stops awkwardly, the shadow of her failure hanging heavy over her words. "But I guess that's beside the point," she says hurriedly, her eyes dropping away from Khalia's. Her tone is businesslike now, though the telltale quaver of her anxiety has only got stronger. "You don't want to hear about our family dramas, right? You just need to know whether I'm going to make a nuisance of myself. Well... I promise I'll do my best not to." She makes an attempt at a smile, though the result is half-hearted at best. It's very obvious that she's distracted. All the vibrancy and energy that she normally exudes is gone. Or rather - it's there, but dispersed and shadowed, caught up in worry and anxiety instead of directed outwards at the world around her.

Worry visibly stabbed through the Archivist at Jina's words. She'd been worried about Jango since he wandered too close to that Daelkyr statue, and twice over since he tried to dissuade Master Silversun when she warned the watchman of the danger. That Jango had run off -- clearly without his parents permission -- was a bad sign, by her reckoning.

"You can talk to me, Jina. You know that." Khalia said, trying to be reassuring. At least, she hoped the elf knew that. A year seemed quite a long time to know someone to a woman of Khalia's nineteen years; elves might reckon things differently.

 

[Autumn]

[sblock=OOC]Aha, I knew that there were those little chunks written up of how each character views the others... but it was late when I was writing that post and after a little bit of searching I just gave up and decided to use my judgment instead. And I just assumed that given Jina's habitual mischief-making, she and Khalia would never have been all that friendly. But, oh well, Jina's in a weird place right now anyway so I think this all makes sense in any case. Just maybe apply a pinch of salt to some of the OOC text in that last post, and we're good.[/sblock]


Jina's eyes flicker up and hold Khalia's for a moment. The kindness in her tone had got through, and Jina realizes that maybe she was making a mistake in pushing her away. Her concern over Jango was clouding her judgment, her inner turmoil blinding her to the outside world. If Khalia isn't quite the intimate friend or family that she needs right now, she is at least a friend. To have found a friendly face in a place like this and at a time like this is almost a miracle.

"I'm sorry," Jina murmurs after a moment, smiling more genuinely this time and taking a step towards Khalia. "You're right... I'm being silly."

She takes a long pause, gathering her thoughts. "Jango..." she starts eventually, "I don't know what's happened to him. I'm scared. I... I think he might be losing his mind. And there's something else... it's as if he's changed somehow. Not just his mind... what he can do, as well. We were running through the jungle all night - I don't know where he was trying to get to, but he was obviously in a big hurry. Well... look at me. I look like I've been dragged through a hedge lengthways, right? Trees whipping into me in the dark, roots snagging my feet. That's what happens if you try to run through a jungle in the dark. But Jango? Did you see him? Hardly a scratch. Either he could see in the dark, or else it was a path he knew really well. I never saw him cast any spells, and he's never been here before. How did he do that?!"

From her quiet and hesitant start, Jina becomes more and more animated throughout the speech until by the end she's worked up and almost frantic. She looks away from Khalia, her gaze flickering about, not settling. One hand comes up to sweep through her hair, attacking some of the worst tangles. If she was at home right now her father would take her in his arms and hold her there, keep her steady and safe until she had calmed down.

Away from home, away from parental comfort, she doesn't know what to do with herself. This, it seems, is the first test of how deep her adventurous spirit goes.

 

[drothgery]

She takes a long pause, gathering her thoughts. "Jango..." she starts eventually, "I don't know what's happened to him. I'm scared. I... I think he might be losing his mind. And there's something else... it's as if he's changed somehow. Not just his mind... what he can do, as well. We were running through the jungle all night - I don't know where he was trying to get to, but he was obviously in a big hurry. Well... look at me. I look like I've been dragged through a hedge lengthways, right? Trees whipping into me in the dark, roots snagging my feet. That's what happens if you try to run through a jungle in the dark. But Jango? Did you see him? Hardly a scratch. Either he could see in the dark, or else it was a path he knew really well. I never saw him cast any spells, and he's never been here before. How did he do that?!"

"He must have had... help. I've been ... concerned... about him since we returned from the caverns that cultist was making her home. I hoped it was nothing. Just a boy's curiousity untempered by an Archivist's knowledge of what lies in Khyber." She said. She ought to be more reassuring, but her own fears were pushing to the forefront. An unpleasant subject, so she changed it.

"Sometimes I wish Father had broken down and let me bring a maid with me when I left the manor. In the main, he was right, I think, but there are times it would be useful. Like now. I have some things you could borrow, but I'm afraid I'm rather hopeless with a needle, so the fit will be less than perfect." She said.

 

[jkason]

Horatio Donovan, human cleric

Donovan was taciturn after the meeting. He has little doubt that Nevillom is misreading the situation, but clearly something has happened to the scouts. And now ... disheveled elves stumbling through the forest?

That Khalia seems to know one of them is reassuring, at least. For a short time, Donovan keeps his distance, checking with his men to make sure everyone is ready for the march that seems inevitable, and for the battle he hopes isn't.

When the female elf seems to settle down some, the cleric comes up to the pair.

"I've already communed with the Flame this morning, and I'm afraid I didn't ask for a blessing to make things whole. I can do nothing for your clothing, but let me at least tend to that ankle," he says. He kneels before Jina, glaring at the closest Flamist. "Although I should have to do nothing of the sort, if our acolytes knew proper hospitality." he says in a cold condemnation of the poor man who happened to fall into his field of vision. "Go! Find something clean for this poor girl to wear, you lazy sod!"

As the man skitters off, Donovan's expression softens, and he tentatively reaches out for the ankle. "Don't worry," he says. "Sure, I can give out a fine beating when the need arises, but The Silver Flame's taught me far gentler skills, as well." If she lets him, Donovan begins to wrap the ankle and tend to the other minor scratches Jina's sustained over the night.

 

[DEFCON 1]

"Then... let me go. I can go back to the camp, help diffuse the situation. It'd probably go smoother..."

Zendarrill looks at the monster hunter with a critical eye, and for some reason... his eyes are drawn to the monster hunter's gloved left hand. The Valendar stares at it for a few seconds, and Ari can feel his aberrant mark begin to itch.

Suddenly, Zendarrill looks directly up and into the eyes of Ari Osten. "Come with me. I have need of you." He immediately nods to Skarghash to untie him from his bonds, and very quickly he spins on his heels and strides back through the camp. Ari stands up a bit confused, but his curiosity gets the best of him.

Before the Valenar exits the firelight in it's entirety, he speaks back over his shoulder to the Daggerspell Guardians standing around camp. "In the morning, go back to the Flamists that Master Osten arrived with. Show them we mean them no harm, and invite them back to camp as our guests. We do not want things to get out of hand when the bulk of the force arrives."

He then turns back and continues forward into the darkness... leading Ari away from camp. The everburning torches light a way through the trees, and Ari's eyes can see an overgrown large mound up ahead. As they approach, Lorren signals to a pair of Guardians that flank a dark opening in the vines, kudzu, and bushes, and one of them grabs one of the torches from a stanchion and leads the two of you into the opening... which is immediately seen as a rock staircase heading down below ground. You both begin to descend in a circular path and at the bottom probably fifty or sixty feet beneath the surface of the earth, the staircase opens into a smooth rock chamber about twenty feet across with a single rock door closed on the far side.

And across all four walls of this chamber, as well as on the ceiling and across the floor... is perhaps the biggest dragonmark that Ari Osten has ever seen.

 

[DEFCON 1]

Early Wednesday morning, "Aerndel Barrne" receives in his mind a *ping*... and when the disguised changeling's eyes spring open, he immediately knows that Elder Nevillom is contacting him with a Sending spell... one of Nevillom's favorites. For some reason, a morning doesn't seem worth starting for the man unless he contacts Aern to get a full rundown of what happened in the previous day. And like every other, the changeling passes on the fact that one of the mercs disappeared in the night after seeing some animals circling their camp. With only twenty-five words to use in his reply, he is succinct and to the point.

Aern thinks nothing of it when he gets up for the morning and begins helping to break down the camp. Cerril Maise... the Exorcist that he nominally reports to... seems somewhat concerned by last night's happenings. Aern's always known that the shifter never believed that they were dealing with lycanthropes... thinking that it was probably mistaken identities or somesuch. Aern really didn't care. He was paid to gather information for both Elder Nevillom and the Church... and value judgements on the information he discovered were never made.

"Once we are ready, we are continuing to head east. Jacoby, Graybonnet... go out there and find me a trail to follow. Osten didn't just disappear into thin air... he's out there somewhere... and he might have the answers to this whole thing." Cerril Maise says, tightening a strap on her platemail. The two Flamist scouts sprint through the trees, and the shifter buckles her greatsword across her back. Aern doesn't know what might have happened to Ari Osten... and truth be told, doesn't really care. He's not a Flamist... doesn't believe in the Flame... and thus isn't important to the Elder... the man who pays him his money.

After about ten minutes, the two scouts return and say they've picked up the trail... which consists of several animals tracks as well as a few humanoid once all walking together. Maise nods at this and ushers the scouting party out. The journey east begins.

However, the group only marches forth for about twenty minutes or so when the sounds of others can be heard ahead. It couldn't be the rest of Nevillom's forces, could it? No, that would be impossible, Aern thinks. The answer of course is revealed, when through the trees at least a dozen or so men and women come into view... all of them wearing or wielding (or in one man's case, actually tattooed on his scalp) a symbol of a pair of daggers emblazoned on an orange sun. The man with the tattoo comes forward with both hands raised... and the others all can be seen with their hands off their weapons as well. "Hold! My name is Jakk Corren! These are my compatriots in the Daggerspell Guardians! We came across your man Ari Osten last night... he is perfectly safe and back at our camp! Our leader, Zendarrill Lorren, wants to welcome you all, and invite you back to camp for breakfast." Aern immediately recognizes the name... he wouldn't be the kind of investigator he is if he didn't. Zendarrill Lorren... Valendar elf... trainer.. traveller... some might say cult leader, but from what Aern knows of the Guardians... they are more just a brotherhood of do-gooders than a cult. The changeling looks at Maise to get her reaction (of which there is little)... and then looks back at the Guardians. Things are getting interesting.

Rogan stands to the side of his group, and keeps his eyes peeled on each and every one of the Templars. He and Skarghash had been talking all night about what's been happening, and the halfork assured him that Osten is on the up and up. So when the call went out to get volunteers to come out here and find the templars... he jumped at the chance. Finally! A chance to do something interesting instead of just standing guard! And it is now that he uses some of his trained skills to size up the Templars... wondering what exactly the results of this tete-a-tete are going to be. Interesting.

 

[Autumn]

Jina's first glance at Donovan is full of suspicion and uncertainty. She's still full of nervous tension, and his arrival on the scene is unexpected. Once he starts speaking, though, her expression quickly turns to gratitude, and she gives him an embarrassed smile. The great fuss he kicks up makes her a little shy, and that awkwardness goes a long way to diffusing the panic she had been working herself into. "I... ummm... thanks," she murmurs, sitting down on the ground and extending her leg to let the priest tend her ankle.

She looks up at Khalia as he is working, looking back and forth between them and addressing them both. "So... what are you all doing out here, anyway?"

 

[drothgery]

She looks up at Khalia as he is working, looking back and forth between them and addressing them both. "So... what are you all doing out here, anyway?"

"Chasing shadows, most likely." Khalia said. "Elder Nevillom believes there are signs of a new incursion of Lyncanthropes, and has gathered the Templars to destroy them. And if one has a suitably liberal interpretation of lines of authority, one can argue that since the Archivists Order is part of the Templars, his call would include an Archivist who happens to be in Q'Barra on extended assignment, no matter whose daughter she is. That there is something unusual nearby, I have no doubt -- I have seen the reports -- but I doubt very much that we will find what the Elder expects. This is a task better suited to five or ten than an army, I think."

 

[DEFCON 1]

(OOC: This post is representative of Ari Osten's gaining of the Child of Khyber prestige class.)

**********

"May I see it, please?"

Zendarrill Lorren is looking straight into Ari Osten's eyes, and the monster hunter stares back. He gives no indication of what it is the Valenar might be speaking of, but the hexer definitely knows. He can feel it. Both in his heart and on his hand... as his dragonmark begins to itch even more. The itching become more intense... almost feeling as though it is heating up... growing. Ari always knew that his aberrant mark had power... but here, in this place, in a chamber that looks to be one huge dragonmark... he feels that power growing. And as much as he tries to ignore it, the piercing eyes of Zendarrill Lorren make it so very difficult. And as the itching and heat grows on his hand... the entire room's markings begin to glow with a soft blue light.

"You're one on them, aren't you? You're one of the Children. A Child of the Progenitors."

He smiles... the look on his face showing absolute delight... as though he's found a special item that he thought he had lost years earlier. And still, the dragonmark on Ari's hand burns. And grows. He reflexively clenches his left fist, but stops himself from looking down. However, the move is not lost on Lorren, whose eyes drop to the hand and whose mouth grows even wider in a smile.

"I've been looking for you all for many, many years. I knew you all were out there. The Children. The Prophecy hinted at it. Told me that Khyber's heirs were beginning to grow. To become plentiful. I've been studying you all for so long, I never thought I'd find you. But now... here you are. Arrived at my doorstep. The Chamber will be pleased."

"Chamber"? What chamber? The room they both are in? The room is pleased? As the glowing of the room grows at the same rate as the itching and heat in his hand... perhaps this chamber and his dragonmark are connected in some way? What is happening to him? And what of this Prophecy that Lorren speaks of? What of that?

But before he can ask any questions, the elf steps forward to him still smiling. "You are not one of my Guardians... you were not selected to help me in my quest... but now that you are here, you must lead them. Aridarastrixsauriv must be found. This I ask of you, Ari Osten, Child of Khyber. This duty... Sur'Kil requests of you." And Ari sees the eyes of Zendarrill Lorren morph... away from their elvish coloring... into something a little more...

...draconic.