[Closed] Freefall

Things finally come to a head, and with the help of Kaelum and Illustrious Peak, Naul and Ath escape Gior, fleeing back to Anaxas. In doing so, they also take Naul's notes and the book that was dragged up from the first expedition. Lomenark will be furious.

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Gior's galdori temple city and also most populated. Home of the ruling Gioran family as well as the center of Gioran education with both the Temple and the University in the same location.

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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Writer: Raksha
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Fri Oct 04, 2019 9:48 am

Hamis 38th, 2719
QRIETH | MIDDAY
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The blonde paced her bedroom, her summer gaze hard and small fists clenched tightly, looking up at the doorway every so often before continuing her pacing.

Imaan save them, what had they done?

On her bed was a satchel, filled with everything she wanted to take with her from home, everything that was important that she wanted to have. Her favorite grimore, Naul’s letters from Anaxas, her important papers and her coin purse, plus as much clothing as she could shove in the bag.

“Where is he?” She hissed, her voice tense and field icy, white blonde hair falling sharply around her shoulders. The young Gioran wore a thick pair of white oiled leather travelling pants, a white cotton long sleeved shirt and a thick kluiw fur coat and fur lined travelling boots. Around her lavish home, things were strewn everywhere in her urgent rush to pack her satchel, and it was clear that there was a rush.

They had to rush. Lomenak had no intentions of letting them go, and within the house she would know what they had done, and in Gior there was no fair trial. There was no pleading their case.

There was just execution.

Stopping mid stride, Athrym ran her hands through her hair, hiding the trembling of her fingers in the thick locks. She looked at her fiance, breathing rapidly as adrenaline raced through her system.

“Nauleth, where is he? What if Lomenak caught him? What if she…by the Child do you think she would hurt her own son? What am I talking about, of course she would. We have to go. We have to go soon, with or without Kaelum.” Her eyes flicked to the red haired man’s own satchel, knowing full well buried in that bag was the very thing that Lomenak would chase them down and kill them for. All of them.

Illustrious Peak had put her own life on the line, for those books, and now Kaleum was putting his own on the line to save his sister.

“Imaan forgive us, the Da Huanes are never going to let us go. We have to—” The sound of footsteps thumping up her staircase stopped the blonde dead in her frantic, fearful speech, her field warping fiercely around her and hands at the ready to cast. As the figure appeared in the doorway, the frightened Gioran exhaled and lowered her hands, beckoning to the young passive that stared at her with wide pink eyes.

“Most Illustrious Peak, you’re okay.” She exhaled, striding across the room to hug the girl tightly. The priest squeezed her eyes shut, tucking herself against the woman’s shoulder, so similar in height yet so far in age. As she drew back, Athrym noticed an angry red welt across her face, stroking her fingers gently over it with a tsk. The passive swallowed hard, her gaze holding the other woman’s firmly.

“My name is Leyenak Huane.” She said in a hard tone that sat so out of place on an eleven year old. Another figure stepped into the room, moving with urgency.

“We must go. Now. The Quartz Guardian’s are on their way as we speak. They know that we have the books, and they are coming for our heads. I have put up a barrier on your doorway but I do not know how long it will last.” Kaelum said as he adjusted his sisters backpack and pulled the hood of her thick travelling cloak over her white hair. Turning her to face him, the older man put a hand gently on her red welted cheek.

“I am sorry, Leyenak. I hope I did not hurt you excessively. I did not know how else to stop it.” The child leaned against his hand, pressing her small palm over the back and offering a smile that spoke of maturity beyond her years.

“You did what was right.” She said quietly, before they moved to hold hands, Kaelum looking at Athrym and Nauleth.

“We are going to go through your balcony Athrym, and over the rail. The climb is not easy, but just below your room is the external pathway that leads up to the summit. It will be snowy and cold, and I have no doubt that we will have Guardians along the way. Once we are at the top, we must make our way to the ayeoph’s. I have harnessed them just past the Ba Brieth dais, hopefully no one has found them.” Giving them a moment to speak, to work through any last questions or words, the Gioran man checked his sisters satchel one last time.


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Nauleth Siordanti
Posts: 189
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
Topics: 22
Race: Galdor
Location: Brunnhold, Anaxas
: Magus in the Making
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Writer: Muse
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Fri Oct 11, 2019 12:04 pm

38th of Hamis, 2719
QRIETH | MIDDAY

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Nauleth had seen enough here in the intellectual and spiritual heart of Gior, in the darkness far beneath the mountains of this rocky Kingdom, for what he was sure could be considered a lifetime of seeing. World-shaking things. Magical things. Mythical beasts. Political ridiculousness. Psychological violence. The young Siordanti had simply had enough, and in the months it had taken for his body to recover, his mind had not. It was with great care and careful trust that the Anaxi had planned this dangerous attempt at flight with the assistance of his unexpected friend—Kaelum, the middle son of the Da Huane's—all while continuing to work under the guise of physicist, researcher, and physical conversationalist.

They'd even returned to the godsforsaken Deep! Foolishly thinking they were once again prepared, the once-professor was once again met with failure in the face of mysteries he simply could not yet entirely unravel.

Once it became clear that their tenuous favor with the ruling clan of Huanes would eventually put their very lives on the line, it was imply time to leave.

To escape.

"He's probably being careful, Athrym." Naul answered her nervousness with as much calm as he could muster, tucking away more of his notes and schematics and stolen research as he could beneath a layer of clothing in his satchel. It was heavy, probably too heavy, but there was so very little intellectual residue he wished to leave for the greedy hands of Lomenak and her favorite scientists. They were too ignorant to understand the magnitude of what was happening in their very own Kingdom, too caught up in wrestling for power instead of recognizing how the balance of power of Vita itself had somehow been disrupted.

"We've all worked clocking hard to find the right window of opportunity, and he knows very well we won't wait for him." The redhead was aware his words were harsh, but his time here had left more than just the physical scars of hatcher teeth marred in his flesh. His heart felt harder, colder, withered without the sun. He did not want to lose himself in the darkness of Gior.

That said, however, he was not without any light at all, and his expression softened as he stepped closer to the petite blond Gioran he cared so much about, moreso than he was sure he had before he even fought so hard to come to Qrieth in the first place to chase after her. He brushed her face with the backs of freckled fingers,

"This is going to happen. We are leaving. I—"

With all the reflexes of the duelist he'd once been, Naul's field sigiled swiftly at the sound of footsteps, ready with Monite on his tongue should he need it. A small-statured flash of white in the doorway was enough to keep him from unleashing something swift and dangerous, the albino passive child a now-familiar face to the Anaxi who'd been raised to distrust and dismiss them. Admittedly, he still wasn't at all sure what to make of galdorkind's magicless offspring, but if some of his viewpoints had indeed shifted after witnessing a culture different from his own, he was unable to properly articulate them while under so much duress.

It was still disquieting to watch how Athrym so readily embraced the young priestess, barely having come of age. Her translucent skin made it easy to spot that she'd been hit, and Nauleth didn't relax his guard so much as shift his footing, immediately assuming the girl had been followed,

"If you—oh." Bristling with unspoken accusation, the once-professor bit his tongue, hard, when the familiar height of Kaelum appeared, the exchange between the siblings explaining just enough to infer the urgency of their need to get moving, "Glad you could catch up."

He meant it, having found the other man's counsel and insight valuable in a place he'd felt more a prisoner than a professor, more alone than welcome. It appeared as though even a few of Lomenak's children no longer agreed with their own family's desperate reign, though the blond had apparently always struggled with his place within the expectations of the ruling clan.

Naul reached to put on another layer of coat and pull up the hood, finally shouldering his satchel, the movement stiff and slower than he wanted, but scar tissue and further nerve damage from hatcher venom had certainly left its mark in the galdor's body despite the expert medical care he was generously given. Some things were simply permanent, and he had learned over the past few months to work around them, gritting his teeth at the tingle of deep tissue pain when he hefted the heavy weight of belongings he wasn't willing to leave behind.

Balcony. Climbing.

Good Lady.

Snow. Guardians.

Clocking hell.

"Fine. Let's go. Now."

The Anaxi groaned, having become far more of a physical adventurer than he'd ever planned on as an academic. He tugged on gloves quickly and roughly, unsure of what the outside would feel like after being sequestered, after being imprisoned for so long.

"I'll help us down, then. Kaelum, cast in chorus with me—you'll catch on. We may be able to pass without being seen if the snow is falling thick enough. Bending that kind of light into an illusion is easy because there's already so much obscurement." The young sorcerer smirked, expression more noticeably lopsided as the left side of his face lagged behind the right, and he turned to help Athrym and Leyenak out the window first, making sure Kaelum went next so he could take up the rear and watch their backs as well as begin his casting.

He could have asked what an ayeoph was. He could have asked just how narrow their path may be. But, really, he didn't want to waste any more time.

Naul moved to climb over the balcony after his fiancée and the Da Huane children, reaching to close the curtains behind him. He gasped at the biting cold, stealing his breath and disrupting his focus as he scrambled and slid his way downward behind the others, immediately beginning to weave spellwork into the wind.

Naul's Spin on a Levitation SpellShow
Result: 1d6 = 4

He drew upon the very forces that would have otherwise threatened them with injury and harm, quickly calling on the mona to wrap around two of the four fugitives—himself and the familiar body of Athrym—in a protective layer of lightness, not lifting them so much as allowing them a peculiarly un-Vitan buoyancy in their descent so that their fall would be slower should they slip and their grips easier because they wouldn't feel so weighed down by their own belongings. Yes, it took concentration, and Naul spoke his Monite with a calm authoritativeness even as he focused on finding his own footing with care lest his casting cause him to be the first to slip right off the cliffside.

Kaelum's ChorusShow
Result: 1d6 = 5

Kaelum only had to hear the opening phrases of the Anaxi's spell, lifting his voice in time with the young Siordanti to add stability and strength to his spellwork, to affect himself and his young sister, and to lessen the burden of effort it took to keep them all in the mona's artificially altered state of gravity.
This isn't Brunnhold anymore, ersehat, and you're not going home.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Writer: Raksha
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Fri Oct 18, 2019 2:16 am

Hamis 38th, 2719
QRIETH | MIDDAY
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"Careful. Of course.” The Gioran said quietly, pacing the room like a caged kluiw, glancing at the doorway on each turn. As Nauleth came to her, the blonde slowed to a stop, looking at him with drawn brows as his fingers brushed her face. He had calm, in the face of her panic, and for a moment Athrym allowed herself to draw on that.

“I know, I’m just so—” She shook her head, running a hand through her hair, feeling the dread run through her field as she uttered her Gods name. The appearance of the Da Huane children was a welcome relief, and the once-Ambassador was not afraid to embrace the younger as she entered. It was so un-Gioran like, but for the first time in her life, Athrym didn’t want to be Gioran. She wanted to burn the cult-like, tribal linage from her body and never set foot in the country again.

At least, not under the rule of Lomenak.

As Kaelum explained their escape route, the young woman pulled her satchel over her shoulders and drew her hood over her hair, glancing at the Anaxi man she called fiance with a frown. The Hatcher attack from their first visit to the Deep had left lingering effects, scar tissue seizing muscles and venom lingering in his nervous system. As though the red head hadn’t suffered enough damage to the delicate strands that commanded sensation and movement, Athrym could never forgive herself for everything that had occurred in Qrieth to him.

“Climbing? You’re…that’s…there has to be another way. That drop is—” Kaelum looked at her, quiet in his acknowledgement of the danger, aware of the challenges his newfound Anaxi friend would face. The petite woman let her summer gaze hold his for a moment, head tilted as she stood under his gaze, before cursing quietly in her native tongue and turning away.

"Fine. Let's go. Now."

Nauleth’s words were their final hold on the wretched place that had birthed the alabaster haired woman, prompting immediate action from the group. They crossed the room to the balcony, and Athrym couldn’t help but lean over to look down. The snow was indeed, falling, gentle flakes drifting from what would be a windy and biting gale near the summit. Below them, the sheer mountain side disappeared into a haze of misty fog, impossible to see the ground below and almost difficult to make out the thin stone walkway that had been carved into the side. It was one she’d walked plenty of times before, but usually she’d taken it from its starting point.

Never from the side of the mountain.

Naul reached to help her over, and for a moment the Gioran paused, taking a second to look over her room. It hit her hard then, the barren truth of what was happening. This might well be the last time she would ever see Qrieth again. She looked at him, taking a shuddering breath that could have been bolstering had her field not been so full of anger and fear, before tugging on her gloves and carefully swinging her leg over the balcony railing and reaching for the rocky surface beside them.

And then, they were there, on the stone with nothing but the chilled Gioran air around them.

As the two men began to cast in chorus, Athrym and Peak—now making herself known as Leyenak—felt the warm support of the mona as it came to their aide. It would not save them from death, but it would help them to move down the sheer side of the mountain towards the narrow walkway below. They moved, bit by bit, using footholds and handholds were they could find them. Even as used to the cold as they were, the three Giorans would feel the biting chill in their fingers through the gloves, and the almost wet touch of the rock through their layers of clothing.

They were nearly there, so close now they could perhaps drop down to the walkway. It was at least three feet wide, with a decorative low fence of sorts. It didn’t make it impossible to fall over the edge into the void, but it at least made it a bit harder.

From above them, voices shouted loudly, and if they risked a glance upward they would see the pale faces of Guardians peering over the balcony. A few disappeared again, making their way through the living quarters within the city to get to the ledge exit. If they could meet the traitors on the walkway, they could end this before it began. The one that remained looked down at them, placing her hand on the rockface beside Athrym’s balcony. Snippets of monite would be heard on the wind, and the shifting of the mona would curl against the group. A deep rumble would sound beneath them, and the stone would begin to shake.

Dice Roll: SoundwaveShow

SidekickBOTToday at 13:49

@Raksha: `1d6` = (3) = 3


The wave of sound that was forced into the rock vibrated it, like the shaking of an earthquake, threatening to shake the group loose from their climb. Leyenak cried out in fear, pressing her cheek against the stone, and Athrym squeezed her eyes shut as her fingers gripped the stone.

Imaan, death was not an option today. Not when so much needed to be exposed to the rest of Vita. The blonde prayed to her God, pleaded for His help as the stone around her trembled with vicious wickedness.

Dice Roll: CounterspellShow

SidekickBOTToday at 13:58

@Raksha: `1d6` = (2) = 2


Reaching with her field, drawing it close, the petite Gioran called out a counterspell in the desperate hope she would stop the Soundwave from shaking them off the rockface. Her concentration was not there however, fear imbuing her cast, but slowly it worked. The trembles became rumbles, till finally they were little more than slight wavers.

“We have to reach the walkway now!” She called out to the others, looking down to find her footing as they moved towards the narrow path.

By some miracle, she found the hard floor with one foot, stepping down with shaking arms and reaching to help the passive and the two men. As they would step onto the surface, the fugitives would hear voices behind them. More Guardians had reached the walkway, and were running along it with spears and shields in hand.

“Run!” Kaelum yelled, pushing them onwards up the walkway, the four of them running as best they could along the path. Athrym grasped Naul’s hand, glancing behind them as they moved. The Guardians were taller, faster, and better skilled for the treacherous journey. The only hope they had of out running them would be to disappear into the snow and wind that had begun to come down heavier on the walkway.

As they climbed upwards on the thin trail, they would feel the soft downy flakes of snow turn into sharp sleet against their faces, and the wind would threaten to pull them off the walkway. Kaelum held Leyenak’s arm as he dragged her behind him, squinting against the sleet and wind in his face.

“We’re nearly at the summit, just a bit further.” He called out, words whipped away with the gale and drifting across the abyss that they couldn’t even see anymore. From behind them, the voices still came, though they had not gained any headway since hitting the storm. They were cold and wet, but they couldn’t stop. Athrym felt her cheeks were burning from the cold, and she was drenched through, as they all would be. She refused to let go of Naul’s hand, gripping it tightly as they fought their way through the gale. It was a funnel as such, forced down from between the ranges that surrounded Qrieth, bringing down the temperature and speeding up the flow of wind. Usually the people of the mountain would take the internal pathways to the summit, safe from the possible maelstrom that could develop here. It was longer, and more winding, carved through natural caverns and such to allow the decent to avoid too much hollowing of the mountain. But the group didn’t have that luxury, forced to take the external walkway.

If they could make it to the top, the blonde knew that the summit would be mild compared to this.

From behind them, the group would feel the surge of a field, and a burst of lighting exploded into the rockface above their heads. The Gioran screamed, pressing herself back against the wall as pieces of shattered stone began to rain down on them, the start of a rock slide that was designed to either force them from the walkway or crush them. From behind them, the caster, a tall Guardian with dark rose eyes and matted white hair appeared from the swirl of snow and sleet, gathering their field again for another explosive Fulmination spell that tore more rocks from the mountain.

The rocks were varied in size, small pebbles mixed with large boulders, bouncing down the side of the mountain and smashing into the walkway around them. Athrym looked for her voice, for a spell to cast, but she was too slow and as a large shard of stone shattered the walkway behind them, her footing slipped and she felt herself drop down. Flinging her other hand forward, she gripped Nauleth with a cry, threatening to pull the man over the edge with her. Leyenak screamed, grabbing for the Anaxi’s coat, whilst at the front of the group Kaelum braced his feet against the ground as they slipped towards the gaping hole in the walkway.

“Naul! Pull her up, or let her go! She’ll pull us over!” The Da Huane roared over the wind, muscles straining as he tugged on his sister to keep her from toppling over. From the other side of the gap, the Guardian was gathering their field for another round as the last of the rocks bounced over the edge into the void.

Athrym clung to her fiance, trying to get purchase on the thin rock beneath her, looking up at him with heart hammering terror. Part of her realized that she was a danger, that if she didn’t let go she risked taking them all over the edge, but she was not a hero. She wasn’t even brave. Instead, she was a coward, hoping desperately he could pull her up. From beneath her, close to the Anaxi’s feet, the rocks were shearing away under the pressure, unstable in their shock destruction.

If they could get past this, the group would have a chance, the gap between them and the Guardians too wide to just jump with the wind and the sleet and the snow.

Rock Slide EventsShow
@Raksha: `1d6` = (1) = 1 - Athrym slipping
@Raksha: `1d6` = (2) = 2 - Grabbing Naul
@Raksha: `1d6` = (5) = 5 - Leyenak’s grasp on Naul
@Raksha: `1d6` = (3) = 3 - Kaelum’s current hold on them all


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Nauleth Siordanti
Posts: 189
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
Topics: 22
Race: Galdor
Location: Brunnhold, Anaxas
: Magus in the Making
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Writer: Muse
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Tue Oct 22, 2019 4:33 pm

38th of Hamis, 2719
QRIETH | MIDDAY


Even with the aid of a bit of magic, the climb was difficult and treacherous. The wind stole Naul's breath and attempted to steal his concentration, and what the frigid cold didn't cause to sting and ache, the stretching and straining of his body caused him to growl in pain. He did not look back up again until he heard the faint sound of voices carried with the roaring mountain gale. Gritting his teeth, the Anaxi professor risked watching above them, noting that they disappeared quickly,

"We've been seen." He hissed, ignoring the objection of his scarred shoulder and moving downward faster, scraping the palms of his gloves and the first layer of his pants against stone while he slid more than climbed, "Hurry."

Nauleth heard the snippets of Monite just barely with the howling wind gnawing at his ears, but he couldn't risk breaking his already tenuous concentration to cast another spell. The side of the mountain they all clung to reverberated with the destructive sound, but Athrym's familiar field sigiled icily in response as she attempted a counterspell, her reaction time slowed by the necessity of careful progress. Still, the mona listened and, more importantly, it acquiesced to her hasty request. The tall redhead, once he could see the narrow walkway below and once he assumed it was a safe enough distance, simply let go and landed with a crunch and a grunt in the snow, immediately dropping his upkeep of the spell and sighing with relief.

Quickly scrambling to his feet again, he reached up with a wince to help Leyenak and Athrym from the cliff, passing the child toward Kaelum once the Gioran was on his feet. Tugging his scarf further over his face as if it would at all help him to breathe in the terrible cold, he squinted through the wet snow that had already begun to cling to his eyelashes, watching the motion of approaching shadows through the frozen mist that clung to the high altitudes they were now at the mercy of, unprotected and exposed to the elements,

"This is poor politics. What is it with your people?" Growled Naul, lacing numb fingers with Athrym's, though his accusation was more meant for the middle Da Huane than for herself.

"Now is not the time for these opinions." Riposted the taller Gioran, gathering his field as he urged them all to run.

It was one thing to run in good conditions, to jog Brunnhold's campus on a fair day, even in the winter. It was another thing to slip and slide and scrape a body upwards in thin air with winds buffeting one's every move and angry guards out for one's blood. Soft, tolerable snow became sharp, painful ice and Naul's lungs burned with the effort to hang onto breath in the wind, with the painful cold that made everything very difficult for the unacclimated Anaxi who'd just spent far too many months imprisoned beneath the very mountain he was madly attempting to escape along the outside of.

He murmured Monite into the wind as they ran, breathless and urgent, thickening the atmosphere around them and gathering the fog at new angles to bend the light and obscure their passage, making the four of them harder to pinpoint even if he was not at all capable at this breakneck pace to make them impossible to see. He held it as long as he could, but the higher they climbed, the harder it was to upkeep, especially once the wind became a monster of it's own, squeezed between the gaps in the mountains and shoved at them with natural brute force.

He struggled to keep his grip on Athrym, too, switching hands, face curled into a sneer of pain. He felt the shift in the monic concentration in the air, familiar enough with the motion of electricity with his own research that as soon as his own galdor-gifted senses picked up on the change, his duel-honed reflexes took over. Naul would have opened his mouth to cast a wall above them, to pull the air around them into a protective covering by increasing the attractive forces between all of the chilled particles, but he didn't have time. A shadow flickered over his vision and the ground behind himself and the petite blonde he loved shattered when a large chunk of rockface smashed into it. Gods, it could have crushed them, but—

Staying Standing, Lifting AthrymShow
Result: 1d6 (4)
Result: 1d6 (5)


His stomach lurched as the grip on his hand was tested, Athrym loosing her footing in the wind and sleet and tumbling over the edge. He stuck his other hand out in time to catch hers, the sudden strain of even her insignificant weight enough to send a hot surge of pain through muscle, sinew, and scar tissue. The Anaxi professor growled in panic and suffering just as Leyenak snatched the back of his coat to keep him from tumbling after his fiancé. He dug in his heels, huffing,

"I'm not a stop-clocking Gioran!" Naul shouted in retort to Kaelum's two very unnecessary options, his voice ringing out against stone as he pushed through the fiery hurt of effort, groaning and cursing louder to lift Athrym with what strength adrenaline and fear seemed to provide, barely managing to not barrel the passive child behind him over once he had the petite blonde back up from the brink of death, tugging her against his chest with some gurgled sob, "And you, Athrym, are the only godsbedamned thing born of this whole godsforsaken Kingdom that I care about."

He did not let go, but he didn't pause either. He began to move: taking steps backward, shaken and staggering, dragging all three of them until Kaelum curled fingers into Naul's coat shoulder and finally decided to assist, looking over his fiancé's hood to level his blue-green glare at the Guardian who was already preparing to cast again. The people of Gior had held him captive over a world-changing magical discovery. They had tried to keep him silent. They had tried to keep knowledge from the rest of the Six Kingdoms. The people of Gior were trying to kill him, a foreign intellectual visitor who had come for peaceful research only to discover terrible truths. They were trying to kill Athrym. They were trying to kill their own ruler's children for assisting in their escape.

Clocking hell.

By Alioe, just no.

No clocking way.

His field flared into brilliant, crackling life, that fount of furious anger that once fueled a broody, Vita-hating redheaded boy kindled to a moment of necessary, self-defensive glory. Tangible despite the cold, everyone could feel the tingling charge of his wrath.

Angry CastingShow
Result: 1d6 (5) Lift and ...
Result: 1d6 (5) Push ... bai now!


The young Siordanti's Montite was quick, clipped, authoritative in his plea for defense, in his plea for survival. He had no choice but to shout it into the wind and even if no one else could hear his casting, the mona listened. Well-practiced, familiar words lightened the gravity around the Guardian, lifting first snow and pebbles, then fallen chunks of rock and finally, eventually the tall, armored Gioran herself. Everyone felt their insides twist as if someone had snatched them by the ankles and held them over the side of the cliff, Nauleth's numb ears ringing and shoulder aching with the effort it took to draw out his command. The Guardian might have said a few choice words in surprise, but as soon as the Anaxi had requested to suspend the rules that had once held her to the ground just enough for her to clear the handrail to the walkway, he shifted the entire direction of force again with a sharp change in tone and a very unorthodox key bridge in his Monite, the weight of altered gravity that had built in his field crushing the snow around his and Athrym’s feet as he held her tightly. The last part of his spell was simple and deadly: he propelled the Gioran soldier like a tossed stone, right over the edge without blinking an eye in regret. There was no time for that now.

Perhaps later, when there was no immanent further threat to their lives, the implications of murdering a galdor—as opposed to any hatchers he'd managed to successfully defend himself from ... twice—would have a chance to sink in beneath his currently half-frozen exterior.

At this moment, however, he couldn't spare the guilt.

Surely, the gods understood. Surely, they knew knowledge and truth were worth more than one life.

The wind was far too loud in his ears to really even hear her scream, but he groaned and slumped a little, releasing Athrym who he'd clung to tightly the whole time, somewhat leaning against Kaelum's side while the taller man dragged him backward. He struggled, dizzy and weak-kneed, barely managing to keep his footing, and yet immediately attempted to gather his field again, the rush of it all far more overpowering than it should have been, ignoring the whispers of exhaustion or the sharp pain that traced along the nerves of his near-numb face,

"Everyone walk closer to the wall." He growled, panting for breath, looking back at the taller Da Huane who shared his Physical focus while he reached for his fiancé again for physical support as they continued their difficult, harrowing climb, "Cast with me while you lead the way."

InvisibilityShow
1d6 (5) = 5 Naul's casting
1d6 (3) = 3 Kaelum's support


Nauleth carefully called upon the mona again, this time while his heart felt like it was burning through the cavity of his chest and his lungs were turning to caverns filled with ice, once again attempting to use the sleet and snow, the wind and fog, to obscure their presence. Perhaps the crumbling walkway would be enough for their pursuers to believe them perished, he thought, and so he used the swirls of visual noise to their advantage, requesting that the mona reflect and bend the particles of light in the air further in order to camouflage their four fleeing bodies.

"Not much further." Kaelum promised, trudging along while supporting Leyenak, aware that the child was struggling at all the effort. Truth be told, the middle Da Huane had never particularly needed to exert himself for much of anything in his life either, but seeing as his own was also now on the line, what choice did he have? The realization that his family no longer placed a priority on preserving his life was also a challenge that, like Nauleth, he would have to deal with another time.

The Anaxi professor was too tired to attempt complete invisibility for himself, let alone for four people, instead widening the request into a spherical sort of area of effect (as if they were mere figures in some Bastian-made snow globe), and even as Kaelum's voice joined in, perhaps a little less breathless, the mona obliged them, creating a flurried sort of wintery static and making their struggling, climbing forms appear as little more than vague shadows.
This isn't Brunnhold anymore, ersehat, and you're not going home.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Thu Oct 31, 2019 4:44 am

Hamis 38th, 2719
QRIETH | MIDDAY
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“Naul—” The blonde choked out, panicked fear dredged through her field like the biting sleet around them, chilled and sharp. Her ears caught Kaelum’s shout, and her heart sank. It was the right thing to do, the Gioran thing to do. But,
​​
​​ “Don’t drop me.” The coward pleaded, tears in her wide summer eyes, fingers grasping firmly at his arm and hand.
​​
​​"I'm not a stop-clocking Gioran!"
​​
​​Athrym felt herself lifted, by some Pantheon miracle the Anaxi managed to tug her up till her knees could catch purchase, both of them stumbling back into the younger girl as he pulled her further up till she was standing in his arms. A sob in return was all the diminutive creature could manage, tucked against Nauleth’s chest even as they staggered back, even as Kaelum finally moved to help them forwards. Athrym didn't have time to process her thoughts, twisting her head around to look at the Guardian on the other side.
​​
​​The woman was once a protector. Once a friend. Now, she was a mindless enemy, serving her Matriarch without question or hesitation. It was horrifying, the ugly truth of her people. Was this the truth that The Lost Ones had been exiled to the Deep for? Had Aminark Giore sent them away for discoveries she couldn’t risk the world knowing?
​​
​​It couldn’t be that way. Imaan would never…the Eternal Child could have never…
​​
​​Nauls field sigiled, cracking with the same electrical power the Guardian had wielded against them, but fueled with a depth of rage that the other lacked. Dragged from somewhere deep and old, somewhere safely locked away lest it hurt someone. Fine strands of platinum hair escaped their wet confines to stand on end as static charge built in the crisp air around them, and Athrym could feel the tiny hairs on her arms tingle as she stood still pressed against her fiancé. His monite was less of a singsong chanting then more of a shouted anthem, authorative but pleading. Pleading for help, from the unbias sentience that flowed in everything within and around them.
​​
​​The small rocks and pebbles between them rattled, snow halting in its punishing fall, suspended between the Guardian and the escapees in an almost surreal sort of beauty. Large pieces of sheared rock, slate and limestone and quartz alike began to rise, hovering in precursor to the target in question.
​​
​​The Guardian faltered, her spell barely a word on her lips as her feet lifted off the ground. Athrym felt it, that horrible twisting in her gut, they all did…and her red rimmed eyes watched in both horror and relief as Nauleth brought the woman up higher, the statuesque being uttering something in Gioran. It was morbidly fascinating.
​​
​​Until it wasn't.
​​
​​Leyenak screamed as the Guardian flew over the handrail like some discarded rag doll, her voice whisked away by the wind and her brothers tugging hand. Athrym didn’t scream, but she stared at the void, the plummeting woman’s thin voice reaching her for what felt like ages and ages. A mere second, and they were moving again, and there was no time to process it all. She stumbled into a run, eyes too wide and dark circles clinging to the underside as she moved with Naul and Kaelum, not sure anymore if the wetness on her face was tears or melting snow. It was too much on him, the exertion both magically and physically, and the Anaxi had to let her go, all but carried by the taller Gioran.
​​
​​But then he was casting again, trying to save them, again.
​​
​​To save her.
​​
​​This time the blonde added her voice to the chorus, her field as cold as the air around them, shivering in spite of her heritage. Leyenak moved against the wall with them, her voice a constant quiet mutter, though it wasn’t monite she spoke. The child priest was speaking to her God, in Gioran, praying for salvation even if she’d abandoned her post. Athrym would catch her if she stumbled, helping her onwards through the sleet and the wind. It eased as the spell work found its ground, holding the storm around them in spherical camouflage.
​​
​​The driving sleet eased up as they ascended, becoming fat flakes as the wind turned to more of a gust then a gale. Their pursuers, driven to the internal pathways by the collapse of the path, hadn't yet caught up, allowing them time to get above the mountain gale. They reached the summit, finally, legs aching and bodies weary, the walkway opening onto a snow covered landscape. Trees and bushes were little more than shapeless mounds, and the Ba Brieth platform just four white stone pillars reaching crystal fingers to the sky.
​​
​​Kaelum, now holding the red haired man around the wait to keep him on unsteady legs, made a sound with his tongue. A whistle, wavering between high and low in a rapid trill. Almost immediately, two deeper and richer trills echoed in reply, though their origin was impossible to locate. Athrym leaned against Nauleth, not for support but to support him, looking around at the landscape.
​​
​​ “Where are they?” She asked in a tone laced with shock and fatigue. Leyenak repeated her brothers trill, and from the downy landscape what had appeared as a hilly ridge exploded in a flurry of snow as two white furred creatures shook themselves off and trilled excitedly in return.
​​
​​They were long creatures, similar in shape to ermings but on a much larger scale. They had wide, rounded faces and small pointed ears on top of somewhat flattened heads. The bigger of the two had chestnut brown eyes and a faded patch of red fur on its forehead, whilst the others were blue with no colorful fur. They trilled and chittered somewhere between their chest and throat, mouths shut and short legs working rapidly as they approached the refugees. The smaller creature sat back on a thick tail, clearly designed as a counterweight, her clawed hands cleaning her face as a pouch on her abdomen revealed a third much smaller, much fluffier head before disappearing back into the safe warmth.
​​
​​ “Ayeoph.” The pale young woman said simply to Nauleth, as if any other explanation would be unnecessary. Kaelum moved to the red-marked larger one, stroking its cheeks and speaking quietly in Gioran, to which the ayeoph chittered as though in reply.
​​
​​ “Siordanti, I need you with me on Dyaydey in front. I cannot imagine Athrym will be able to hold your weight should you slip, and you are in no state to offer her the same.” Moving to the curious high saddle that was fastened between the aeyoph’s shoulder blades, the Da Huane continued to speak as he prepared the reigns and stirrups.
​​
​​ “Illu—I mean Leyenak will ride with Athrym, in front. She might only be a little smaller than you, but Ahmakhath will mind Leyenak better given she has a joey at present.” Whilst the two siblings readied their rides, Athrym grasped her fiancé by the waist, holding him upright should he need it. If they sat down now, Kaleum would most likely have to lift the Anaxi into his seat.
​​
​​ “Nauleth I…I don’t know how to thankyou. You saved my life. You…you put yourself in danger, to save me. And that Guardian I—” She shook her head, not yet ready to say the things they’d just seen and done out loud. Not ready to deal with that trauma yet. Somewhere amid the rockslide, she'd caught shale on her forehead, the graze already congealed over and barely worth a look, but she hadn't noticed. She probably wouldn't notice, not now, not till Anaxas maybe.
​​
​​Anaxas. Imaan save them it felt so, so far away to even believe they could make it there alive.

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Nauleth Siordanti
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: Magus in the Making
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Sat Dec 14, 2019 6:09 pm

38th of Hamis, 2719
QRIETH | MIDDAY


Upkeep in the frigid, thin air was exhausting and tenuous, Naul's face numb and his fingers and toes aching while his lungs felt like they were on fire. The altitude was definitely affecting him, having spent most of his life at sea level and now some of it deep in the stone heart of Gior, but he had no choice but to ignore it all. They climbed and slipped, but he was, for the most part, too angry and too stubborn and too determined and too terrified to allow anyone, let alone the much more capable and well-acclimated Kaelum to give him any more assistance than was absolutely necessary. He didn't waste a moment on regret over that Guardian (not now, but probably not never) while he scraped palms and ground knees against ice and stone—Athrym had become far more important of a person in his rather short life than he'd ever anticipated himself capable of, especially throughout the madness that had been this intellectual, political, and rather psychological imprisonment they were crawling away from.

The Da Huane's outcast children who were risking their lives right now? They had come to matter, too. Begrudgingly at first, had Naul been able to ruminate and be honest about everything that had happened between them. Even the passive child, though the young Siordanti was loath to admit such a thing—freedom and intellectual equality with his magicless lessors was still a mind-boggling concept that had clawed under his freckled skin and settled with nearly as much discomfort as hatcher venom had in his veins—

Stopclocking hatchers.

Godsbedamned Giorans.

Naul struggled and growled, healed but lingering injuries protesting the exertion required to climb. He didn't want to save face. He had nothing left to prove, honestly, except for his dogged will to live, his desperation to take all they'd seen far away from Gior to be understood, to be solved like the puzzle it was. He fell a few times, groaning, gasping for breath, but scrambled to his feet before anyone could reach for him, concentration wavering. He held the spell, however, his Monite whipped away from his chapped lips by the icy bite of the wind before he even heard them.

Rolled to Keep CamouflagedShow
Muse
Result: 1d6 (5)
Total: 5


The taller Da Huane, for all his surface stoicism, could see and feel his friend's difficulties, especially once the Anaxi had called upon the mona, barely audible, to bend light in between the flurries of snow and frozen mist in order to further conceal them. The strain was tangible between the two belike-fielded professors, and Kaelum was aware that he was hardly in a position to drag or carry the redhead should he fall unconscious. Without hesitation, he added his voice to the spellwork, seeking to take the brunt of the concentration required to keep them hidden.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard Athrym's voice, though it was not in accusation or judgment so much as in surprise, unable to articulate his gratitude even as he quickly looked away and shot out an arm to steady Naul as he slipped and staggered over a few slick rocks.

The Gioran was more than willing to continue to share his weight for the rest of their treacherous climb since it seemed necessary to do so, though the Anaxi might have made an attempt or two to shoulder his way back into independence as some token show of resistance. His concern was clearly for his fiancé, but eventually, the young Siordanti simply surrendered to Kaelum's assistance, though it was not without a wary glance toward Athrym.

They continued to ascend without any outward signs of further conflict or any more ambushes awaiting them, much to everyone's relief, though no one was stupid enough to assume anyone had called off the pursuit. Wary and now quite paranoid, riding the high of overcasting and altitude sickness, Nauleth was more wary than relieved. If anything, he figured, the Guard and whoever else was after their blood at this point had the advantage of following them from the safety and ease of inside the mountain tunnels of Qrieth, though he'd not seen any additional entrances or exits ... not that he'd been even looking.

He couldn't think about it all at once. He couldn't worry. There wasn't time and he didn't have the wits to spare.

Once the wind slowed and the frozen mixture lightened, both professors released the spell they shared, and the Anaxi wavered on his feet, groaning his gratitude at a much-needed break from both the freezing mess that now clung to his hood and his scarf and his eyebrows as well as his relief at a break from being weighed down by so much magical connection. His field seemed to relax, to blur at the edges like fog in the wind. Squinting at what light filtered through the clouds above and reflected off the heavy, mostly permanent blanket of snow at this height in the mountains, he panted,

"I'm sure we don't have much time. That clocking climb—" Naul paused, slipping from Kaelum's supportive grip to attempt to find his own equilibrium again, hands on his knees in half a crouch. He straightened as the tall Da Huane made a curious sound, glancing around the barren, snow-covered landscape that was probably unfathomably deep in the hopes of seeing whatever these creatures were that could actually transport them to safety. He couldn't imagine such things, but then, after everything, he could.

Athrym's field pressed against his and he was more than willing to lean into the support of her petite form, arms heavy as they sought to wrap around her shoulders, slumping.

He almost fell over in exhausted fear when creatures exploded from the snow, gasping and muttering a few curses in all the languages he now knew as the large, furry things crawled from their hiding places and approached. Perhaps he'd read about them once or twice as a child, maybe even before Brunnhold, but he'd never seen ayeoph in person. They were strange things, though certainly far safer than most of the creatures he'd encountered here in Gior—thank the Good Lady. They could have been adorable, really, with their pouches and their babies, but he wasn't in any state of mind to admire anything other than the elusive taste of freedom he was still chasing after.

He frowned at Kaelum, watching the other man move to greet their mounts while the Gioran verbalized his decision to divide the four of them in a way the Anaxi found completely unsatisfactory after all they'd been through. Nauleth shook his head, shifting from Athrym's arms to make a show of standing on his own as if he had something to prove, gritting his teeth and choosing to ignore his shivering. He didn't like the thought of ending up separated from his fiancé should something else happen, the petite blond honestly his last thread of sanity after seasons trapped far from the sun,

"No. You take care of what's yours and I'll take care of what's mine—I'm alright. I'm fine to ride. We will be fine—see? I doubt they're like riding a clocking bicycle, but listen, give us a quick lesson—"

Athrym embraced him again and his expression faltered, frosted brows drawing together, left side lagging. "What? Stop. You can't possibly think you need to thank me for anything—we're—I—what else would I have done? Your life is part of mine now, and—"

"Save it." Kaelum growled in Gioran from up in the saddle, too impatient to bother with Estuan, "We've gotten this far. Do you want to take another risk while we still have our lives?"

"Our lives—clocking hell!—you told me to drop her." Hissed the redhead without even skipping a beat, waving a gloved hand while his half-covered face twisted into an angry sneer. Naul reached up and wiped crystalized blood from Athrym's forehead, nodding in the direction of the other ayeoph, "I've gotten this far with you, Kaelum, and you have our gratitude. But this? Godsdamnit, no. If we get separated, I know where I'd rather be and it's not with your tall erse. Let's go. Let's hurry."

He briefly glanced apologetically at Leyenak for his impolite manner of speaking. She wasn't one of his students. He didn't actually owe her anything, and yet he didn't entirely not care in this moment that she'd once been a priestess, that she'd willingly given that up to escape the Kingdom that allowed her some modicum of freedom, or that she'd been praying to the Circle for their safety. It left a bitter taste in his half-frozen mouth, jaw clenched, and so he looked away quickly, back toward the ayeoph. He didn't understand the Gioran thought process, though he'd desperately tried, but he clung to his fiancé as he nudged them both toward the long, strange creature that was to be their transportation, cautiously glancing around the frigid, windswept landscape on the peak of the mountain he'd once been trapped beneath.

Maybe he slipped a little. Maybe he was weak in the knees. Maybe it was so damn hard to breathe up here.

"Will Ahmakhath not obey Athrym or myself? Come on—this can't be any more dangerous than where we've already come from for fuck's sake." He called back to Kaelum, only to get a grunt in response as the disgraced Huane set about readying things for travel. He couldn't help but curl numb fingers into soft fur once they were close enough, giving the strange creature a scratch, sliding his meager belongings off an aching shoulder, he shoved it all into saddlebags, "I'm sorry we don't have time to get to know each other, but surely they're tame enough?"

"I might need a bit of spellwork to keep me going, but only because riding isn't going to be just sitting still." The professor leaned close to murmur above the wind in the thin air to Athrym while reaching to take her things, shoving away his self-doubt and reaching past the fear that simmered in his chest into that hotter, angrier molten core he'd buried years ago to keep himself focused. He made sure to help her up into the saddle first as well so she could get settled in the front given her petite frame compared to his. Also, perhaps selfishly so she could help him up when he was ready to climb up behind her.

The young Siordanti was eager to keep moving, aware that standing around put them at risk of being found as well as slowly wore away at the veil of bravado he wore so thinly.
This isn't Brunnhold anymore, ersehat, and you're not going home.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
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: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Sun Dec 15, 2019 7:43 am

Hamis 38th, 2719
QRIETH | MIDDAY
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Athrym shook her head, looking at the chittering beasts as Naul refused the Da Huane’s aide in their descent. She shook her head, upset by his admonishment of her gratitude, wishing they had a moment to think. A moment to talk. The taller Gioran snapped at them, and unwavering the Anaxi snapped in return.

You told me to drop her!

It had been logical, for them all really. The time the red head had taken to drag her back up had robbed them of time to escape. Had brought that Guardian’s death. Gods, what had they done? Nauleth wiped a thumb across the dried blood on her forehead, and she winced, only now feeling the ache of the injury. Touching it vaguely, she shook her head.

“Naul wait…wait…” The blonde stammered as he half marched-half stumbled towards the female ayeoph, digging her feet in to bring them to a full stop as they reached her. Brow drawing, the petite woman looked over at the Da Huane siblings, Leyenak moving to sit in front of her brother with concern etched on her young face. Athrym swallowed hard and looked back at the man.

“Nauleth you have to listen. Ayeoph travel isn’t like riding a moa, or a horse. It’s…it’s complicated. You can’t just…” Her summer gaze searched his as he leaned close, murmuring about spellwork and such. A sudden flare of frustration surged through her field, and the shorter woman grasped his arms firmly, willing him to take a second to listen to her.

“You must hold on, do you understand? I know a little of how to guide them, but if Kaelum and Leyenak go first, Ahmakhath should follow her mate. But for the love of the Circle, hold the clock on to her as tightly as you can.” Wetting her lips, gathering her field tightly, the pale Gioran called on the Living mona that hummed around her, casting a woven plea for a burst of wakefulness and adrenaline in the man. A polite cry for help to the sentience around them.

It was a success, however it was barely more than a refreshing splash of water or cup of kofi, the blonde to distracted by the events that had unfolded and still continued to do so. She sighed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. That just wouldn’t do, and exhaling hard she tried again. The effect was mildly stronger, but not by much.

“Hang on I—” Voices carried by the wind sounded from below, and fear streaked through her field. Kaelum and Leyenak pulled up beside them as Athrym scrambled onto the saddle and reached to help Naul up behind her.

“We have to go, now. When you take off, lean down, close to each other and out of the wind. Hold her fur tightly, and keep your legs close to her body. Once we’re off the summit, we will head to the river and cross over to Verit Lie. It is a human settlement, but they have transport from Gior, and…no love for my family.” The press of numerous fields started to creep closer, and without waiting for a reply, Kaelum guided his larger mount into a loping run. Athrym barely had to tap her heels against Ahmakhath’s side before the white beast took off after her mate.

They ran, right towards the edge of the summit, the green of Gior far far below them like a verdant quilt.

And then, the creatures jumped.

The group would find themselves in a graceful dive, wind rushing against their skin and tugging at their hair as they fell, and after what felt like forever the ayeoph spread their legs wide. Between the fore and back legs, a thin sheet of skin stretched out taught to catch the air, and suddenly they were gliding instead of falling. They would feel the biting chill of the air stinging their eyes and burning their cheeks, but if they could spare a moment to look, they would see a breath taking view of the world beneath them. Rivers and fields, hills and rocky mountain crags, all bizarrely miniture from this height. It would be a view both Naul and Athrym had seen before, but from the safety of their airships.

This was entirely open, and entirely possible to plummet to their death.

The blonde had only taken brief glides by ayeoph before, hopping between gorges or mountain peaks, a quick heart racing moment in time that was a giddy excitement. This, this was clocking terrifying, and her hands were gripping the thick fur of their mount tightly. Just below and to the right of them, Kaelum and Leyenak turned slightly, Dyaydey catching an updraft and sailing further towards the north east.

By Imaan, the ground seemed like it was coming up fast.

“Nauleth?! Are you still awake back there?!” She yelled over the wind, wanting to look back behind her but too afraid she might throw the beast off track. They continued to glide, sweeping past the foot of the mountains and over the greenery beneath. Beyond them, the river glittered in the distance, though it was clear their descent was faster than their forward speed. They wouldn’t reach the river by air.

“Landing will be rough! Keep close to her, lift yourself slightly off the saddle so you don’t just bounce down hard! Give yourself some movement!” The blonde yelled again, parroting instruction from her youth, not at all confident they were going to stick the landing. The ground was coming closer now, and ahead of them the Da Huanes landed roughly, Kaelum’s arm snaking around his sisters waist just before hand to stop her flying over Dyaydey’s head.

“Okay! Here we go!” Athrym yelled, feet in the stirrups and lifting herself slightly as she leaned almost flat against the chittering creatures neck. Grass and small flowers were visible now, and Ahmakhath arched her feet forward to slow their descent, her eyes focused hard on the space before her and tail adjusting by instinct.

She landed, clawed feet padding along the ground at a run till she slowed to a walk and eventually stopped, chittering excitedly. The petite Gioran ungracefully faceplanted into the fur of her neck, gripping tightly with her legs in a desperate attempted not to roll off the side.

An almost languid wind rippled through the long grass of the plain, little yellow flowers swaying gently and insects chipping out of sight. Above them, the sky was a rich blue, without a cloud in sight. The sun was bright, brighter than it could ever possibly be, hurting the eyes of the Da Huane children who drew strips of cloth from their packs to tie around them. Athrym squinted in the light, blinking against the took bright scene around them, turning in the saddle to look at Mount Giore looming far behind them.

They were off the mountain, by the Gods they were out of Qrieth.

"We have to keep moving if we want to get to the last airship out of Verit-Lie." Kaelum called from Dyaydey, though he gave them a moment to catch their breath.

Dice RollsShow
SidekickBOTToday at 21:23
@Raksha: 1d6 = (2) = 2

SidekickBOTToday at 21:26
@Raksha: 1d6 = (3) = 3


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Nauleth Siordanti
Posts: 189
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
Topics: 22
Race: Galdor
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: Magus in the Making
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Mon Dec 16, 2019 2:40 pm

38th of Hamis, 2719
QRIETH | MIDDAY


All Nauleth had thought he'd wanted in life once he'd stumbled onto some sense of direction and purpose after his backlash as a student was to make a run at becoming a scandalously young Magister—not to stub his Incumbent father or even for any political clout at all so much as just to have some course for his magical ambitions to find their focus on. He'd never imagined himself an adventurer, and while he enjoyed both the thrill of risk-taking and the physical challenge of pushing his limits, none of what had happened in Gior had at all been what the eldest Siordanti had in mind when he agreed to come do some research and guest lecture on electricity and physical conversation.

Now, here they were: freezing their erses off on some godsbedamned mountain cliff high above Gior, pursued by a people who knew nothing of mercy and justice so much as tribal savagery, laden with magical and intellectual contraband, and clocking exhausted on top of it all. At least Nauleth was exhausted—used to quick, simple spells in the relatively safe spaces of the Field of Practical Application or the dueling rooms of the Gyre and used to striding about a classroom instead of the rocky frozen wilds of some other Kingdom (or beneath them in the darkness full of teeth). This had no real comparison.

The redheaded professor hardly had time to compose a list of differences, however, trudging through crusty, thick snow and taking in the massive creatures that were supposedly going to carry them to safety—

Athrym tugged on his numb hands and positioned her small self in front of him as a personal barrier. He looked at her, hearing her words and nodding with a hint of impatience—of course these ayeoph weren't anything like a moa or a horse, but it wasn't as though he'd ridden either of those things but once or twice in his life, either. Her fingers curled into his coat and he hissed, the heat of his breath seeping through white teeth,

"I'll be fine. It's just overcasting. I'm not injured—" He stopped himself, biting his tongue from going back to all of that blood still smeared in his memory, pausing while she acquiesced to his request for a bit of magical reassurance. Even the mona was doubtful of its usefulness, however, for the Anaxi was already quite full of adrenaline and drugged into false alertness by that sharp edge of fear. He felt the resistance in the way his heart picked up tempo beneath all his thick warm layers, though the ache in his body dulled by some monic mercy.

It would just have to do, and he tensed, about to pull away when he felt the ripple of intention in Athrym's field, etheric and poised as it was to cast again. She repeated her spell, shifting a few phrases and softening her words despite the wind. Warmth crawled through his insides, reaching all the way to his extremities, and while he was still stretched thinly after such aggressive spellwork, he felt a surge of energy like a fur blanket over his sore shoulders.

He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to say something that might have been important, the spike of alertness that had filled him allowing Naul the opportunity to catch snippets of voices. Cursing, he reached to haul himself up into the ayeoph's saddle with Athrym's assistance, settling himself behind her.

"Take off? What do you mean by off—oh, gods, hang on, I don't think this is a—Go—"

While the young Siordanti agreed with the urgency, their pursuers on their heels, he was confused by the wording of Kaelum's advice. Too intelligent for his own good, Naul shifted himself in the saddle and tucked as tightly as possible just a sharp, cold breath before the large beast leapt into motion. His stomach churned with the realization that these long creatures weren't simply going to climb and run down the mountain, the horrible understanding dawning on him as the pair of ayeoph charged straight for the edge of the summit as if it was the most logical of things to do!

And then, the creatures jumped.

"—ooood Lady!"

The Anaxi professor yelped in terror, a string of curses following any recognizable words, sounds spilling from his lips in elongated, breathless syllables while his heart and stomach fought each other for space in his throat. He quickly gripped for sheer survival both the saddle and his petite fiancé in front of him, curling so close to her that he might as well have crawled into her coat.

For a brief moment, he was certain Kaelum Da Huane had tricked them all, leading them on what should have been an escape only to plunge them all to their doom off the mountains where Qrieth and the Deep were so carefully buried. For a brief moment, Naul was quite sure he saw fragments of his life like snowflakes melt in his vision—testing day, dueling on the Lawn, his siblings, those poor children's skulls, Athrym's pale skin—but it was perhaps just a fistful of heartbeats that were so consumed with such burning, fiery horror.

Then, well, then! his true self finally slipped into control, crawling from that molten magma of his innermost existence, hotter and brighter ... and thrilled.

The sensation of free fall sparked life into the redheaded physicist who'd spent too long in the dark, lingering on his near-death: it was as if he'd ramped his bicycle off of some fabulous hill deep in the Stacks, only magnified exponentially. His mind swiftly attempted to calculate just how exponentially, gold-rimmed eyes wide as the frigid air whipped tears of frightened delight from the edges of his eyes and froze trails delicately across the side of his freckled face as his hood fell back in the rush of swift air. He shifted behind the petite blonde in front of him, one arm still curled tightly around her waist while the other shot out recklessly, letting the wind pass through gloved fingers while his every muscle in his already tired, exhausted legs burned with the effort to hold tight to the ayeoph's saddle.

He squinted in the sun and cold, waggling his fingers, and resisted the urge to whoop inappropriately excited noises.

"Of course I'm clocking awake!" The young Siordanti howled instead.

It was just for a heartbeat or two (heartbeats Naul swore he felt against his sinuses) that he held his hand out so willingly into nothing but sky, and then he returned to holding fast to the woman in front of him, leaning close while his too busy mind riffled through equations and he tilted his head from behind his scarf to look downward at the valleys that stretched out below them. Breathing rough excited breaths of thin air, fear should have gripped him, he simply felt deliriously high as if he'd been victorious after some challenging series of duels or as if he was beyond guttered after a long pub crawl after graduation in Vortas.

Ahmakhath shifted her long body and all of Nauleth's organs were tossed back into their proper places much harder than he'd like, the ayeoph slowing their descent by giving slack to the flaps of skin she used to glide. Loosening his grip on Athrym instead of leaning with her, the Anaxi treated the idea of landing much like he treated a bike crash, concerned for protecting what he considered vital organs, close as some of them were to the saddle he sat in. He elevated himself as if standing on pedals, curling fingers into whatever he could find purchase around, thick gloves and numb extremities making the maneuver difficult.

It wasn't too rough of a landing, the momentum causing his wildly intoxicated, totally worn thin self him to grunt and to wobble and slide to one side, but Naul caught himself and melted back into a seated position, slumping against his fiancé in front of him before she could entirely sit up and hiding his face for a moment in her coat to rub tears and ice crystals.

He felt strange to be so disturbed by the sun, but it was brighter than he remembered. He'd been in the dark too long.

"I don't see what we have to stop for. I'm afraid if we stop, I won't want to keep going." The redheaded professor spoke with unveiled honesty to Kaelum without looking at the other man despite his curiosity about their immediate sensitivity to direct sunlight (logical though it was). Pulling back up his hood, he made sure to tilt his head in Athrym's way when she looked back as if to admonish her for doing so, gold-rimmed gaze meeting hers,

"Would Verit-Lie be alerted to our escape already or do we have an advantage of surprise? We seem to have left our pursuit far behind us—" He realized he had no idea how long they'd glided for. It felt like a long time but it also felt as though it hadn't been long enough. He was too full of fear to feel how exhausted he was, but he trembled involuntarily, unaware of just how much his body objected to the extremes it was being subjected to,

"—you said it's a ... human settlement? As in, there are no galdori there at all? Won't we be ill-received?"
This isn't Brunnhold anymore, ersehat, and you're not going home.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Tue Dec 24, 2019 6:38 am

Hamis 38th, 2719
VERIT-LIE| AFTERNOON
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Athrym probably could have been excited too, soaring through the sky in a situation that any other circumstance would deem amazing. Incredible. Once in a lifetime. But she couldn’t bring herself to see the awe in the moment, even at the sound of Naul’s yell above the wind. She focused on the landing, afraid of flying off the white creature and breaking an arm or a leg, not really seeing the beauty of the landscape around them.

She panted, Naul pressed against her back, squinting at the sunlight around them before turning to look at Mount Giore.

Her home.

But not anymore.

Kaelum spoke, and gave them a brief reprieve, though the Anaxi admonished the moment with true words. If they stopped, there was a good chance they wouldn’t get going again. His freckled, flushed, weary face tilted into her view of the mountain behind them and the green eyed Gioran blinked, focusing on him for a moment.

“Correct. Verit-Lie is full of them, animals cluster together in herds. There are no galdori there, not even one of our kinsmen, so we should not be at risk of being known already.” Kaelum said matter of factly, adjusting his grip on the ayeoph so he could ride more comfortably at a walk, not looking in the other man’s direction given the cover over his eyes. Leyenak frowned, tilting her head.

“Why would we not be received well? Human’s are stupid beasts. Galdori are just passing by, beings beyond their understanding. They would no sooner care about our presence than a sheep would.” It was said without malice, a childs innocent view of the world as she knew it. Athrym’s brow drew together, and she turned away from the summit behind them, nudging Ahmakhath into a walk.

“Even sheep would scatter, Illus—Leyenak. Humanity are more intelligent than we realize. Anaxas employ them, use them to do the work that their galdori don’t do themselves.” Both Giorans made a sound of disgust, the oldest shaking his head.

“Impossible. Do they also pay cattle to run their markets, or hingles to build their homes?” The group moved forwards, their mounts shifting into a canter on short legs, bodies undulating in a gentle rhythm. The ex-Ambassador shook her head.

“We have seen the world through our ancestors eyes, Kaelum. We believe what our mothers and grandmothers and their grandmothers have told us, but we’ve never seen it for ourselves. Verit-Lie produce wine and grow crops and trade goods with other countries, because our people won’t take their stock. Humanity are more than animals, but that doesn’t make them galdori. It makes them…something else.” Scanning the horizon before them, the blonde followed the Huane children, musing in silence for a moment before speaking again.

“I imagine our appearance will scare, or even anger them. We should be prepared to demand access to their airship. To commandeer it for passage into Anaxas. By force, if necessary.” She flexed her field wearily, the frosty edges slightly melted by weariness and shock, reaching for Nauleth’s own like a desperate anchor. Subtly, she leaned back against him, sighing heavily and shoulders sagging slightly.

“They may not take as unkindly to an Anaxi as they would a Gioran.” The pale creature said quietly, wishing for a moment she could close her eyes, instead inhaling deeply and sitting upright.

Kaelum led them to the river, pulling the aeyoph’s to a halt by a simple bridge, and sliding off the saddle.

“We will walk from here. Dyadye and Ahmakhath can not come with us into Verit-Lie. They will return home.” He said plainly, taking his and Leyenak’s packs from the creature and moving to speak quietly to the large male. It chittered at him, leaning into his hand and looking between the galdori. Athrym slipped off the female, offering support to Naul as he came down, and helping with their own packs. Her verdant gaze looked over his face.

“Once we are on that airship, you need to rest.” The blonde said firmly, brushing ruddy locks under his hood and resting a hand on his shoulder, before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. It wasn’t passionate, or lingering, but more of a chaste act. A touch of comfort, an acknowledgement of his exhertion. Drawing back, she would wait till they were all ready, and then set off on foot following the Huane and his sister. The two large beasts watched them, till they were beyond the bridge, then with excited chirrups, they bounded into the long-grass and disappeared.

Their appearance in the human township was met with fear, on the most part. People working the large farm on the outskirts of the town ran for the main homestead, calling out in language that was similar to Gioran but not quite the same, morphed by district and racial differences. It was close enough to be understood however.

Hide! Run! Galdori come!

Making their way past the spread of livestock and crops, the galdori would soon find themselves in the township square, a market place of sorts. The people gathered there either dissipated, their children tucked under their arms in fear, or stared at the galdori with growing distain. Athrym curled her hand tightly in Nauleth’s, leaning close.

“They do not look impressed.” She said quietly, her field spread widely and hanging with chilled threat, summer gaze sweeping over the humans that glared in return. Kaelum and Leyenak stayed close, their own faces showing hints of concern, his arm around his sisters waist.

“What do you want here galdori? We have not crossed beyond our territory.” A tall man with dusky blonde hair and sunleathered skin called out deeply, his blue eyes casting over them carefully as he stepped forward into the square. He carried a long hoe in his hands, held in a protective way across his body, as though waiting for them to strike. His eyes fell on the red haired galdor, and he gestured with his chin.

“Why are you here?” He asked with a tone that proclaimed his confusion.

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Nauleth Siordanti
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Race: Galdor
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: Magus in the Making
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Tue Jan 07, 2020 2:23 pm

38th of Hamis, 2719
QRIETH | MIDDAY


He'd not ridden any animal in quite sometime, and once the ayeoph had landed and he was forced to adjust to their strange, elongated gait, the lower half of his body immediately objected. Nauleth grunted at Kaelum's chilled defacto description of the human residents of Verit-Lie, glancing over to study the tall, pale Gioran's serious and unforgiving facial expression even if he couldn't meet his gaze. The once Da Huane was not speaking with a tone of judgment or disdain so much as comfortable, confident, undeniable belief—was it really any different from an Anaxi perspective?

Perhaps the eldest Siordanti didn't entirely disagree, and yet, there was something about the declaration of humans as animals too unsavory for even galdorkind to be in their every day midst that sounded hollow in the trembling chamber of his winded chest,

"Humans aren't stupid, even if they are limited creatures." He murmured, the honesty of such an otherwise culturally unacceptable statement for one of his race and station tasting strange on his chilled tongue and numb lips, the professor shifting in the saddle to accommodate his anatomy more comfortably—an impossible task at this point—and shook his head, "Research has yet to prove that it is the intellectual capacity of humankind that is at all comparable to their lack of magical ability. It would be a mistake to assume they are simply useless animals just like it was a terrible mistake to assume that mythical beasts were anything but harmless bedtime stories. I know for a fact both are untrue."

Which probably meant that one day, humanity would rise out of the mist and sink their collective teeth into galdorkind's own flesh as well.

He didn't want to dwell on what that would look like.

Chewing the inside of a windburned, tingling cheek at Athrym's additional explanation, the redhead scowled as both Kaelum and Leyenak scoffed in disbelief. Gior didn't have the sprawling industrial center of the Soot District, and while galdori manufacturing in this godsforsaken kingdom did, in fact, exist on a limited scale, it was obvious where the Giorans were lagging behind some of the other Six Kingdoms technologically, though he understood now through personal experience it was more thanks to internal squabbles of a shallow, tribal mindset than because of any particular lack of intelligence among the mountain-dwelling galdori. They were, instead, kept oblivious in the dark.

"It is our divine right."

Naul huffed, flexing his crackling, frayed field in emphasis of his gods-empowered existence, though there was an edge to his haggard, baritone voice, a waver of self-doubt over the fundamental truths to the Anaxi galdori mantra's he was repeating, mantras he'd been practically taught to believe from birth in the Siordanti household: "We have conquered those the gods chose not to favor and instead given them a place in the world, given them the privilege of benefitting from our blessing by allowing them to work and live alongside us."

At least that was what he was told.

Now? Right now?

Clocking hell, he wasn't even sure he believed it all anymore. Not one bit of anything.

His hands settled with warm familiarity on his fiancé's hips while she at least attempted to explain things in terms that perhaps the two other Giorans might somehow understand. He could tell by Kaelum's face that his peer either didn't catch on or refused to see things from such a culturally opposite perspective. Either way, as the trio of them sought safe passage toward the Kingdom of Anaxas, both Huanes would be forced to come to grips with the Anaxi perspective on the lower races soon enough, whether they wanted to or not—

Then again, had he not visited Gior, would he see passives any differently? His sea glass-colored gaze shifted toward the young, veiled face of the once-priestess, the barely of age albino and youngest daughter of Lomenak Da Huane. She would have been gated upon failing her test at Brunnhold, not declared a Child Priestess of Imaan—a god of the very Circle Anaxi people believed cursed galdori children by removing their magic in the first place.

Why was this all so complicated?

Nauleth struggled to come back into focus, but Athrym was speaking to him, mingling her field with his, though he struggled to muster much comfort from the overextended forces of his Physical-laden aura, "I cannot imagine we would need to use force against a bunch of isolated humans, but I'm hardly in any condition to take down too large of a gathering should they choose to oppose us." The petite blonde leaned back, subtly, lightly, and he sighed, arms sliding around her small body a little tighter, resisting the urge to bury his face once again into her coat and just disappear from this stopclocking convoluted conversation.

"Are you asking me to play at diplomacy? Gods, I'm just not the man for that, but alright." The eldest Siordanti whispered with a hint of humor in his voice, though no one could see his tired smirk, hidden as it was behind his fiancé's hood. He squinted past the fur that lined the young woman's coat and attempted to take in the beautiful scenery he'd probably never see again, studying the human-occupied town in the distance and finally letting his attention drift toward the river. Soon the sound of water rushing beneath ice filled his senses and Kaelum was announcing they'd walk the rest of the way.

The redheaded professor groaned, not at all thrilled with the idea of forcing himself to propel his own body into ambulatory motion anywhere at the moment by his own volition, considering how all of it now ached from overcasting, adrenaline a distant memory whipped away by the wind at their descent. Not that he had a choice. He did his best not to rely too much on Athrym as she offered to help him down, as she helped him better distribute the weight of their meager belongings and important contraband research.

"Once we're all safe, I will rest. Whenever that may be." He corrected, frowning just before she pressed her cold lips to his chapped ones, Nauleth not entirely in the state of mind for physical expressions of their emotions for each other. His smile was brief, sincere, but tempered with the kind of determination that had risen from the ashes of his once angry youth.

The air was thicker here, heavier than he'd inhaled for months. He felt dizzy, attempting desperately not to stagger or stumble, gathering all of what he could manage of himself to walk with proper posture, still feeling small in the shadow of Kaelum who stood at least a full head taller than himself, pale hair catching sunlight and cheeks already burnished by exposure.

The eldest Siordanti fumbled to tug off his gloves, shoving them into his coat and digging for his spectacles at the same time, breathing on them before positioning them on his face to warm them against the still cold air this far below the heights they'd once been traveling on. He watched with wariness the surprise and panic that seemed to spread through the human township from the outskirts inward once they crossed the bridge, the gravity of his field swirling and coalescing into a stalwart presence but not a threatening one.

On any given street in the Stacks or Uptown Vienda, no lower race would dare stare so openly at a galdor with the kind of expressions these feral Giorans were glaring at him with, and, like nearly his entire time in the Kingdom, this was just another shock to his sensibilities, another knife slipped just so into the chinks in his cultural armor. They were afraid—as they should be considering the power he wielded, the power they all wielded in comparison—but it wasn't respectful fear, it wasn't a recognition of superiority or even begrudging acquiescence to authority. It was the kind of fear one might expect when surprising a Bastian tigress—she knew she could consume you, but that didn't mean she wanted to, that didn't mean she should.

The sheer number of tall, threatening humans that filled Verit-Lie could easily overtake three galdori, weary as they were. Even if they'd been fully rested—

Athrym tangled her fingers with his and he inhaled sharply, having been lost in calculating just how many bodies he would have left to be buried before he was, himself, made a magical corpse through some kind of farm-implement blunt force trauma. A ripple of focus crackled through his field and he gave her hand a squeeze, noting the approach of one of the humans toward them instead of away from them.

He looked as though he was some sort of authority figure, perhaps, or at least he was the man with the sharpest clocking hoe.

"Let me do the talking." He hissed quickly, resisting the urge to address Kaelum directly but quite sure the taller man would catch onto the implied specificity in his tone. He meant it for Athrym, too, and for Leyenak, though he worried less about the passive child than his galdori companions when it came to the potential for interruption of his plan.

Professor Nauleth Siordanti squared his shoulders, wet chapped lips, cleared his throat, and attempted to channel all the things he hated about his father, Hadrian. Reaching out to brush fingers of his free hand across Kaelum's bicep, insisting in his stillness, he released Athrym's hand and immediately positioned himself between the three Giorans—two galdori, one passive—making bold, gold-rimmed eye contact with the much taller, broad-shouldered human but not offering him a smile. Instead, he made a theatrical show of fumbling through his coat, pulling out his identification papers, his travel visa, and all of his other important documents, waving them in the direction of the man he was quite sure couldn't read them, speaking in his crisp, Anaxi Estuan. He raised a hand in friendliness and peace, hoping to disarm the man with the open-palmed gesture,

"Yes. Hello. Good day. Please, do not worry—I am here with the Kingdom of Anaxas' Committee on International Trade Relations, and I am not at all concerned with the borders of your territory. We are not here to cause trouble or harm. On the contrary—" Showing off his paperwork as if it mattered, he quickly tucked it away again before shoving his spectacles back up his freckled nose, chin high, pulse ringing in his ears,

"—we seem to have, uh, gotten separated from our escorts up on the mountainside during the snowstorm, and we have been wandering lost for so long we thought it safer to descend and seek help. It's a long story, really, and we are very sorry to intrude upon your peaceful habitation here. We require travel arrangements to be on the next airship, which my companions here were under the impression departed from your, um, quaint agricultural community of Verit-Lie. We are more than willing to pay for passage if that would be a benefit to your township, if it would put a bit of ease between your populace and myself, between all of you and us. The Kingdom of Anaxas—"

Naul chose to emphasize his neighboring homeland over the Kingdom they stood in, aware of the lack of relations between Gioran galdori and humanity as well as aware of how many Gioran human border towns instead chose to sell their goods to Anaxi tribal wicks and some enterprising Anaxi galdori entrepreneurs. He pat his coat as if implying he had coins to pay with, should they desire some financial exchange,

"—would be particularly grateful to see the safe return of myself and my companions."

With the briefest of smiles, the eldest of Siordanti children attempted to hold himself together in some semblance of flustered authority despite the exhaustion that threatened to drag him down, unconcerned about his lack of truth so much as hoping to express the desperation and sincerity of a handful of galdori eagerly escaping murder without presenting it in such a light to a group of people who surely wouldn't have had regrets killing them anyway.

He didn't have much to bargain with, so empty promises and whatever concords lived in his wallet would just have to do.
This isn't Brunnhold anymore, ersehat, and you're not going home.
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