Quest [Closed, Flashback] What Lies Beneath

[Eridanus]

A man sprinted past the vantha, entering the temple before he could. He could only shrug, assuming that he was probably one of those enthusiastic treasure-seekers. He could not look down on them, for he was one himself. A thrill-seeking adventurer, out not just for the literal treasures and reward, but for the treasures of the mind - that of memories, that of experience, that of knowledge.

Entering the temple last, he immediately identified the konti at the middle as the one that was in charge. Though she looked peaceful, her presence radiated command, though he could tell that she was trying to hide a growing worry. That was the problem why he was summoned here after all. Taking into consideration what she said, he listened closely to the introductions of the first two members, remembering the details of their introductions closely.

The Eridanus in this time was more of a free-spirited wanderer, and one could even say less mature than his present self who was tempered by the guidance of the gods. No, this Eridanus was different, and that was evident in the wry half-smile that he gave now in response to the poet's speech.

Smiling a bit at the poet, the adventurer cleared his throat and stood up, giving a devilish wink to the group before he began.

"Now that Crypt, and Insatem, spoke this way
I must worry if his sanity holds sway
It's just folly, it's truth I say
To trust easily, aye or nay?

But I jest, to lighten the mood
Though I stress, with questions I shoot-
Even if we less the question of loot
Has the rest arrived for this session in this quest?

Though with zest I say no fear
This test of a monster, from what I hear:
Can be destroyed, and its end draw near
For we're here, with sheer courage and cheer.

Now without ado, I present myself
As a man without rules, yet with honor and health
I get the job done no matter what
You could say that perseverance is my wealth

Eridanus that's how I should be addressed
Overzealous in my speech, I shall soon take my rest
I'll hurry say thus: this is not how I usually speak
For it tires my mind, a stick in the mess.

Okay now I'm being nonsensical
Irrational to rhyme and to make sense at all
So I'll end it here and not be terrible
Pleased to make your acquaintances, let's get along for sure."

[Crypt]

Crypt roared with laughter, startling Maras rather severely, who trotted up to Crypt and gave him a rather painful kick before moving to feed again. The poet wiped a tear from his eye, mirth still remaining within him, and burst into song. “Splendid, O River, splendid! Alas, if only we had met In better times of song and wine; yet Why not now to know each other? A river you are, fine poet too; A warrior experienced perhaps, With flawless blade. I feel Magic flow through your veins; A mage more than I, mighty and bold. You question my sanity? I am more sane than you are. In many ways my mind is marred But never do I claim to be insane. Hold, Insatem! Forgotten you your manners? I beg pardon, fair priestess Your pardons, good sirs. No laughing matter it is; A monster that frighten bird and fish That danger to many provides Cannot be allowed to exist. Let us make our introductions with haste, That we might slay the beast And bring back calm and peace.”

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae had squatted before Insatem had begun his introduction. Through it, the storyteller had been in rapt attention, grinning and nodding as verse led to verse to verse. When the Svefra began, he had already taken an impromptu seat on the temple floor. The sea-fellow did not speak with the same flare as Corpus, but there was an earnestness to his words, the kind of light hearted honest he had come to expect in the sun haired seafolk. The last to speak was the man he’d bumped into on the stairs. Eridanus, he called himself, speaking in verse form in tribute to Corpus. Wrenmae grinned, unabashed and unable to contain his mirth. What splendid fellows these were! Why, he’d have not blinked had he seen them on a street corner in Alvadas, espousing their poetic form even as they danced amid the illusions.

He uttered a squeak, the beginning of an introduction cut off sharply by Insatem’s answer to Eridanus. Covering his mouth with both hands, the boy grinned with his eyes, shrugging off the awkward false start.

Smooth, Zan said in his head dryly, Two poets, a Svefra, and a mouse. Our party is made.

Cut me a break, Wrenmae thought back, almost muttering it aloud, I didn’t know we’d be in the company of bards.

What’s a bard?

Oh. Right. Um. A bard is a storyteller, a poet, a performer, someone who usually earns their keep through entertainment.

You fleshbags PAY for this kind of stuff?

Well, yeah. That’s how I earn coin…with stories.

I just assumed they pitied you. You always look on the verge of starvation.

What? No! I…I’m just lithe!

You’re confusing lithe with gaunt.

“Shut up, Zan. Just. Just shut up.”

Sure, but you might want to explain why you’re talking to yourself.

Wrenmae blinked, glancing up at the rest of them. They stared back, his unexpected verbal outburst unwarranted and, as it appeared, undirected.

“Er. Sorry, sorry.” He apologized, rubbing a hand through his hair, “My mind was…in another place.” Standing swiftly, he’d forgotten completely about Kirvan’s question to the priestess. “Now, now, two performances for introductions…certainly setting the bar.”

Stepping away from them, Wrenmae’s hands danced briefly together and then slid on either side of his waist. Taking a deep breath, he cast his eyes on each and every member of the chamber before closing them again.

“They say in the city of Illusions, no man can know who his neighbors are.” Opening them and stepping forward, he stalked among the other guests in the room, slipping around them, spinning on a heel, smiling tersely. “Your blood and flesh are sure enough, no doubt. But who can say if the man you meet is vibrant or a shadow, human or illusion?” Settling back where he stood, his voice dropped, almost a conspiratorial whisper echoing and clinging among the corners and niches of the temple room. “From such chaos, can truth be distilled? They whisper from the alleys called River, for their habit of twisting like their namesake, a boy was born from mystery who clung like any guttersnipe to his skill of sleight and larceny.”

Another grin, wider, “He called himself Wrenmae, a name he’d fashioned for himself. Illusions were his balm, his grace, beginnings for a story meeting end too soon.” Out came his long dagger, the one at his hip, spun on his open palm, grasped and slid back into his sheathe, “He wielded a blade of iron, cold, and he claimed to take lives…but reputation is a weighty thing between criminals and everyone says they are what they aren’t. The boy was talented, yes, his passion for tales and trickery, his hand quick and knife sure. Turning, he reached into his pack, pulling out his cape and draping it over his head, hiding his face and body beneath the dark material.

“But moreso they called him phantom, he moved and vanished with such speed, such eerie grace, he was called illusion. Had they but been more observant, they might have seen him for what he truly was.”

There was a silence, seconds passing. Beneath the cape, Wrenmae pushed Djed into his face, lengthening his hair, turning it white, the color of his eyes to a bright amber. He pushed and prodded his own face, high cheekbones, a pointed chin and nose, wrinkles beneath his eyes and around his face where skin had once drawn taught, young and healthy. In a flourish, he tugged the cape from his body, looking at them with an older man’s face, wild white hair, and amber eyes.

“He who swallowed Alavads and warmed it in his skin. I am the illusion of shape and form, though my talents are perhaps…meager.” A grin split his face, skin shifting, tightening, and his hair shrinking back into his scalp. In the space of a few more moments, the young man was chuckling, leaving the old face he’d worn before as a quiet memory.

“Now,” he said, “How’s that for an introduction?”

[Kirvan Deepseeker]

When Eridanus started speaking in verse, Kirvan wanted to break out laughing. As it was, he managed to restrain the energy and keep it within his eyes, his light blue irises dancing like the sea. Crypt had no such restraint, his laughter reverberating throughout the temple. The adventurer's voice did not carry the same singsong quality that Crypt's had, but the structure was solid and the rhyme scheme was on par with any of the 'professional' poets Kirvan had come across. It was more... sensical, sort of. As Eridanus resumed sitting, Crypt finally quieted down before replying. Though Kirvan began to question the necessity of the response being poetic as well, he nonetheless enjoyed watching the two react to each other. It hadn't escaped his notice that the lanky boy sitting on the floor had tried to speak, but any thoughts of him withdrew while Kirvan watched the two poets exchange words. While the Svefra didn't have as much appreciation for these kinds of arts as some might, he found such jovial and musical tones a refreshing change from the near silence that he'd experienced for the last season. Well, silence plus Ster. Suddenly, a command from the young man seated on the floor drew Kirvan's attention, his eyes darting towards the as of yet quietest of the four. The man's words didn't seem to be directed to anyone in particular, though he had clearly been talking to someone. It was a curious mystery, though it wasn't too pressing in Kirvan's mind, and as the thin man began his introduction the interesting choice of narrative for the telling of his past peaked the Svefra's interest. Looking intently at the man, Wrenmae, Kirvan watched as he drew the cape over himself and proceeded to... do something underneath. The anticipation was drawing the Svefra in, but when the cape was drawn back it was someone else sitting in Wrenmae's place, an aged man with long hair and a prominent bony face. Kirvan jumped up, drawing his cutlass with a clean deadly shing and holding it steadily before him at the stranger. What kind of trickery was this, what kind of deception? In an instant, his eyes had changed from the light dancing blue of a gentle sea to the flashing and dangerous eyes of a raging storm, the rolling turmoil in them overwhelming. Then suddenly the man burst out laughing, and soon it was Wrenmae's face that was looking at them all again. Kirvan realized with a start that it had always been Wrenmae, the lad shifting his face by some means. Magic most likely. The thought gave Kirvan cause to shudder. "That is some talent you have there," Kirvan granted warily, sheathing his cutlass and slowly easing himself back onto the bench. "Though pray do not use it too much while we're here. There is no need to disguise or shift while here among fellows." Kirvan wanted to say more, but at risk of alienating Wrenmae or driving a wedge between the lad and himself the Svefra stopped there. Magic, the manipulation of existence itself. On some level, it just seemed wrong, as if people were tampering with nature itself and disrupting what was normal. That said, there was no doubt it could be incredibly useful in many different ways, many which would make Kirvan's life easier. He still did not trust such practices though, not wanting to tamper with the very being of the world. Also, a few of the magicians he came across in the past weren't very... talkative, to use a kinder word.

[Crypt]

Crypt's mirth slowly faded, his facial expression turning more severe, more serious as he mastered himself. He placed his mask on his face; only his left eye, covered with total darkness, could be seen. “Introductions are over, friends; let us get down to business. Pray we do not tarry overmuch, lest the beast wreak more havoc. It is my good luck to meet all of you here, to accompany you all on this quest. Kirvan, my blade will be most pleased to drink foe-blood with yours. Eridanus, I know you are wise, a mage far beyond me. I feel it around you. I am honoured to stand with you. Wrenmae, you are trickster, cunning and daring. I would be afraid to go against you; I can almost see you flitting from shadow to shadow, using your dagger to silence foes innumerable without a hint of your presence. Companions, I am young, younger than most of you, if not all. Yet my ordeal in the Sea of Grass has changed me drastically. What small skill I have compared to all of you, I am willing to share and help you with. And now,” Crypt turned to the Vanti priestess. “Pray tell us everything about this monster, and what we are to do.”

[Cascade]

The Konti nodded to each introduction. “It is an immediate threat, Kirvan Deepseeker,” she said in response to the Svefra’s inquiry about sending an Avikki bird back to his pod. Grimly, she continued, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but if your Lia had deemed this threat important, she would be here with us. It is unfortunate, but there is nothing we may do. The Balnag has to be dealt with right at this moment.” That was the first time she had mentioned its name. Balnag. She kept an amused face as Crypt and Eridanus exchanged words in such a poetic manner. Perhaps they did not yet realize the threat of what was ahead, but this was alright with the Priestess. There was no reason not to be light-hearted even when faced with dire issues—and perhaps building up rapport between the strange group of individuals might do it good. A horseman, Laviku’s child, a son of Leth… and a man who spoke to himself. Strange, indeed. With narrowed eyes, the Konti looked at Wrenmae and allowed the man to introduce himself in his own unique way. A morpher. She was aware of the second being within him, but she spoke no word of it. The seer knew more about these four than they thought. “Splendid, Wrenmae,” she said when he was done. K’mavia nodded as Crypt spoke in a more manner. She agreed with him, and once they all settled down, she began to speak once more. “As I said, it was meant to be a weapon, but its makers could not control it and they found it best to hide it beneath the island,” she said. There was bitterness in her voice, and the anger couldn’t be masked by her features. “I have yet to confirm, but I do believe it has skin that can shield against many attacks. It can only be controlled by one thing… and that is a staff, a staff that is somewhere in the tunnels as well. Before the creature reaches you, you have to find the staff. I know that three of you are mages, and it would be best to use your abilities to help in this search.” Her eyes narrowed again as she continued to speak. “There had been a mage who was kept to control the monster, and the staff was his… and I watched the Balnag through his eyes. I can no longer do this. He may be dead. If he is not, please do return him to me.” She gestured towards the door. Without waiting for the group to follow her, she walked towards the flight of stairs, passing by the strider whom she paid no heed to. The Konti walked down the stairs in quick strides, the folds of her dress flowing before her. It was a long walk, but she seemed accustomed to it. Unperturbed, they soon found their way at the foot of the steps. The Konti continued to walk. She turned and went deep into the forest, clearly knowing her way through it. They circled around large trees and walked across tall grass. They walked for roughly half a bell before she finally came to a halt. Knowledgeable, she pushed aside some plants which led to a path—and at the end of that path was their destination. Grimly, she waved her hand towards the narrow opening of a cave. “This cave leads downwards towards a series of tunnels. Find the staff and you will find the Balnag as well. May the Gods be with you.”

[Kirvan Deepseeker]

Balnag? The name didn't ring any bells, but the weight with which K'Mavia said the name gave Kirvan an uneasy feeling. "My purpose here was to find out whether the threat was important," he explained to the priestess quickly. "Lia Deepseeker is a little more credible than mobilizing an entire pod at the behest of a single handwritten note. But I am here, and I will do what I can." When Crypt had finished his little speech, the Drykas' manner changing to a completely different tone than before, Kirvan returned his gaze to the priestess and eased back on the bench. As she explained the weapon, the Balnag, he sensed a strong sense of irritation, perhaps even contained rage, within the Konti towards the creature, possibly its creators. The Svefra could understand the displeasure, someone creating something too powerful for them to control and instead of taking care of it dumped it somewhere so they wouldn't have to deal with the responsibility. There was probably more to it than that, but that's how Kirvan saw it, and guessing from K'Mavia's intonations and expressions that was probably how she saw it too. Once she had finished explaining what was wrong and what they should do, the Konti suddenly stood up and started walking for the stairs, not even asking them to follow. She'd been rather stingy with details, no name of the mage nor history of the beast nor description of what the tunnels - not even a description of the beast - which only piqued Kirvan's curiosity to an even greater degree. Without pause or hesitation, the Svefra lad stood up and followed quickly, glaring unkindly at the stairs, and quickly descended the steps. Hopefully it would be easier going down. *** It was. Without pause, the Konti priestess made her way through the forest, her dress not seeming to impede her in the slightest. She's obviously had some experience with it before, as even though it flowed and dragged behind her she moved forward with ease, pushing through the underbrush and plants. As she led the group, with Kirvan close behind, he looked around at the vegetation and took in as much as he could, the trees and the vines and the flowers and the bushes. However, no matter where he looked, he found not a single animal. No birds in the trees, no small mammals skittering across the ground, not even any bugs buzzing about the growth. It made for an eerie silence that settled over the area, with their crashing footsteps being the only signs of any movement or life at all. When K'Mavia stopped at an unseen entrance, Kirvan very nearly stumbled right into her, following too close and unable to see the cave opening until it was revealed by the priestess. Peering in, the Svefra could see rough rocky walls and uneven ground, meaning the cave was naturally formed. "Before we go," Kirvan interjected, not one to be easily deterred from his curious nature, "I have a few questions. I'll save the boring history ones for later, for now we need to know a few things before going in there, we need to know what to expect. Just what does this creature look like, what does it do, and if we come across it how are we supposed to stop it?"

[Wrenmae]

Balnag.

That’s what she said.

Sounds like a disease.

I mean, it could be considered a sort of disease.

Really? REALLY? Do you even know what a disease is?

How can you even ask me that question?

With my language!

Of course I know what a disease is. A disease devastates.

And the Balnag is a giant monster. How many giant monsters live in people and make them sick.

Well I could argue-

HOW many?

…none.

Shyke. And YOU’RE the one at the reigns. Gods help us.

Relax a little, Zan, we’ll be fine.

Says the guy who can’t even classify a disease

Shut up…

Wrenmae, absorbed in his internal dialogue, did run into Kirvan, directly behind him, bounced off his back and tumbled to the ground. He looked up with an embarrassed smile, quiet as the Svefra asked his questions. Holding up a hand as he got to his feet, Wrenmae added in his perspective.

“Well, the answer is obvious to how we deal with it, right? I mean, the monster sleeps under an island. Not in a cave, not near a cove, UNDER an island. I think it’s safe to say that unless any of us have experience slaying island sized monsters, our priority should be the staff. Control the monster and ‘bam’, put it back to sleep.” He looked between them all with a small smile, “I mean, we’re not really considering stabbing the thing to death, right?” He tapped the hilt of his long dagger, “Because if so, I should have brought a bigger knife.”

[Crypt]

“I was a quick, wet boy... diving too deep for coins...” Crypt's voice rang out in the eerie silence of Vanti's forests, even though he sang softly; the simple melody weaved through the branches and leaves of the forests, yet no life, disturbed by his song, emerged to reveal themselves. It was a simple tune; Crypt had not the skill to craft a masterpiece. It had been one of the tunes he had learnt from his father in his childhood, and he sang it long and slow; the sorrow had not diminished much. And yet he sang it still, uncaring of the immense threat beneath the island, unrestrained by anything, not even the presence of his companions. Crypt strode through the dense undergrowth, singing now of the beauty of nature, his rough, untrained voice somehow managing to display his sense of nostalgia. It danced in the winds that shook the leaves, that caressed the old tree trunks; the music ran thru' his veins, and he delighted in it. “Say now the tale of flower and fruit; That brought much cheer to many...” *** Crypt's song faded slowly into the air as he beheld the entrance of the cave; dark and foreboding danger it was. He listened to the priestess' explanation, Kirvan's questions and Wrenmae's answer with a broad smile on his countenance as he idly scratched Maras behind his left ear; the said stallion closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation. Once the trio had spoken, Crypt chuckled before forcing himself to return from a languid, dream-like state, speaking out loud in a casual manner. “Inflicting a stabby death would be rather hard, though if one were to hit the right spot... Sink your blade deep inside the beast... One may very well have a chance of... ah... injuring it. Still, we don't know any of its features, though I daresay we'll know when we see it. That staff sounds interesting... Might warrant a closer look at it after we deal with this... Balnag. Sounds horrible, his creators must have been drunk. Anyway...” Crypt walked up to the left side of the cave's entrance, and assumed the role of a maître d'hôtel, speaking with a mellifluous and rich voice in a refined manner. “Welcome, gentlemen and lady,” he gave a bow to the priestess. “...To the only premier fine dining establishment found on Island Vanti, the Balnag's Lair. Sadly, our head chef, Mister Balnag himself, is indisposed, but fear not, for our other chefs will serve you a dish that will brighten up your day. Tonight's special, Wizard's Staff garnished with slices of Potential Danger and infused with our exclusive 'Where art thou' sauce! Right this way, gentlemen, and watch your step!”

[Kirvan Deepseeker]

"Of course I know how we are to deal with the monster, but that's not what I asked, is it?" Kirvan replied to Wrenmae, grinning at the lad. Extending a hand, he pulled the boy back up to his feet and gave him a clap on the back. "I know as well as you what a monster of that size is capable of - I'm a Svefra, remember? The staff is our greatest chance, but who knows what's down there? Tunnels, caves, what? Are we safe from the Balnag, or is it capable of attacking us while we're exploring? These are the things I want to know, because knowledge is sometimes the key to success." That was a lesson drilled into his memory from years of fights and hunts: whatever gave you the upper hand you used, and knowledge was the most common. Many times in the past the Deepseeker pod emerged victorious in a scrap because they held knowledge of the seas and tactics that gave them an advantage, and often when their enemy had this knowledge as well it made for a more intense battle. Quick thinking could save lives in a battle, but going in blind was a sure way to guarantee difficulties and struggles. He listened to Crypt's somewhat roundabout explanation, then watched as the Drykas stepped up to the cave and gestured as if welcoming them to a great location. Tsking and shaking his head, Kirvan looked at the madman with some apprehension. "Always so hurried to get to the point, Insatem. Perhaps we would like to know what we're getting into before diving in head first? You may be happy to just rush in without thinking, but others have ideas too." Indeed, during the journey Kirvan could pick up hints of a song from the horseman, and were it a loud and jovially given tune then it would not register. The half-hushed melody was worrying however, and the Svefra began to think that maybe Crypt's enthusiasm might be a tad much. "Since the others seem to be eager to start, I'll specify the questions," Kirvan said, turning back to K'Mavia. "What exactly does the Balnag look like and what can it do? Also, is this passage a single tunnel or a network, and are we safe from the Balnag while we travel?"