Quest [Closed, Flashback] What Lies Beneath

[Crypt]

Maras panicked as the slime-covered body of the Balnag briefly made contact with his left flank, almost as if it was carressing him. The Strider bolted, electing to flee, but instead crashed into Crypt, sending the duo tumbling towards where Wrenmae was sprinting towards. Rolling across the rough surface of the cavern floor, Crypt flung his longsword, having drawn it as the Balnag appeared, at the rear end of the monstrous creature, but failed to even dent the skin of said foe. PETCH! Bah, that was a stupid idea. Throwing away my weapon? My uncle would have my head for that if he were here. The Drykas lay on the floor for a few seconds, unable to move himself in any way. A falling rock fragment that left a slight cut on his right cheek soon reminded him of the dire situation the group was in, and Crypt leapt to his feet, dashing towards and grasping firmly with his left hand his recently discarded longsword. Motioning frantically to Maras to move towards a nearby rock projection that appeared to be secure, not to mention providing some protection from the assortment of rocks that were currently under the influence of gravity, Crypt then conducted a hasty survey of his surroundings, noting that the rate of falling rocks appeared to be decreasing slightly, and that Eridanus and Wrenmae, the former dodging the hazards with unnatural grace, the latter still holding on to the staff as if it was his lifeline (which was quite true), were both sprinting towards Kirvan. And Kirvan was about to be eaten alive, judging from the gaping maw that was approaching the Svefra at high speed. Ahh... Falling rocks, thou art a heartless lady. And what large teeth you have, Balnag! The better to eat Kirvan with - Hold on, what the petch is going on over there? Deflecting another falling rock with a swipe of his longsword, Crypt attempted to dash towards the bleeding man, though his progress was severely hampered; without much skill in the Flux or agility, the best he could do was to maintain a brisk sprint towards certain death while protecting himself from a painful death. Pure relief flowed through the many pathways of his mind as he witnessed Wrenmae brandishing the Controlling staff at the Balnag, forcing to retreat from Kirvan. Eridanus was already there, using his weapons to distract the Balnag from its prey. Taking a brief glance back, confirming that Maras was still safe, albeit mostly covered in dust and a few minor cuts, Crypt took one last stride and stood by Wrenmae and the Ethaefal, holding his longsword (although it had been proven ineffective against the armor-like epidermis of the large creature), concentrating on enhancing his left arm with what meagre amount of Djed he could will to concentrate in the above-mentioned limb. And now... what?

[Cascade]

Others entered its line of sight. Something struck its stony scales, angering it further. Crypt’s attack was futile against the monster. The creature snapped its head to the side and gave a powerful snarl which vibrated through stone. The walls continued to shake, and the Balnag stared at the newcomers. Their arrival distracted it and took its attention from Kirvan, however, it was not scared of blades. It would have continued to its prey if Wrenmae had not stood before it as well. The Balnag gave a distraught roar and it reeled back, away from the men. It had been cut off from the Svefra, its prey. Albeit it was only a speck of its size, the monstrous creature was frightened by the staff. It recognized the silver staff, remembered what its previous wielder had done with it. To its shock, the images that its current wielder was showing it were new. Visions that the Balnag didn’t even know he yearned for until now. There was the ocean and he had the power to roam it. In that moment, the Balnag suddenly had the intense desire to break free from the treacherous walls of the caverns. The staff’s wielder wanted to save the island from breaking apart, and in part, he was endangering the rest of the sea. The monster, rage still in its eyes, started to back away. It went slowly at first, its stare fixated on those before it. And then it happened – it rushed forward, seemingly towards the men, but it turned at the last minute. It slammed its head against the cavern walls, causing more rocks to fall. Repeatedly, it slammed, and Maras gave a pained sound as a rock fell on his foot. Dents started to appear on the wall as stone and dirt fell around its head, and the men witnessed it carved out its tunnels. It caused even more powerful and frightful tremors, but it was determined to heed Wrenmae’s orders as it made its way to shape an exit to the vast sea. It knew that it was close to the sea, knew that there was a reason that the current spot they were in had a body of water in its center. The men would soon realize its intentions. The Balnag was going to escape, and it was bringing down the cavern walls with him. Water started to seep in through the walls it was slamming against, and the group would know that they either had to halt it or run. Once the sea came rushing in, they would be done for.

[Wrenmae]

The scholar's swords skittered off its scales like water striders on a pond's face. Even at his best, they had no way to truly defeat it. Leave it in the island? Also impossible. None among them would stay here for eternity to keep the beast company. Smashing against the cave walls, shuddering rocks and stones roiling as the Balnag worked, Wrenmae backed away with the staff.

"Carry him," he ordered Crypt and Eridanus, staying between them and the rampaging beast, "We do not have the weapons to stop it."

To his auristic sense, the Balnag was a raging crescendo of movement and wrath. Its aura filled the cavern, roiling around them, sublty coiling in their minds with the magnitude of its intention.

Leveling the staff at the beast, Wrenmae continued pushing images into the creature's mind. Swimming deep beneath the sea, the wide open emptieness around it...freedom. He showed it ships, sails, people swimming, and to each he gave the staff. If it attacked, it would have to deal with this enemy, this weapon...hopefully it would encourage the beast to seek larger prey deeper rather than nearer to the surface.

The cave shook, rocked on its very foundations. The island shuddered and Wrenmae continued backing up.

"We need to leave," he said, his voice rising sharply over the falling stones, "Now! I don't know what it's doing!"

He was lying, of course. And turning, he dashed up the way they'd came, hoping the others had the good sense to follow. The staff in his hand throbbed with the Balnag's thoughts.

Would he have to face the creature again someday...out here in the sea?

Maybe.

For now, the only answer was to escape this collapsing tomb in the riddled catacombs of the island. The creature would be freed, and perhaps there was solace in that.

As someone trapped by his own cursed mark and dogged by disease, Wrenmae felt imprisoned as well...the world put the bars around him and anyone close to him paid the price.

At the very least he could give this creature something he did not have.

Choice.

[Crypt]

Even as the walls around them shuddered with the astounding roar of the Balnag, Crypt, who was already prepared to face the Balnag (even though the futility of such an action was rather obvious), was utterly dumbfounded as the Balnag began a seemingly idiotic series of movements directed at bashing its brains out on a suitably-located cavern wall. Or not. Gods above; Ionu! Are my eyes deceiving me? Have the illusions of Alvadas finally spilled over into the entire world? What the petch is that incredulous fool doing - Oh. It's carving a way out. It must want to escape. I don't know why, but it might just have something to do with Wren over there. Bah, who cares? Time to flee! Crypt suddenly felt cold sweat on his forehead. Wiping it away with a shaking hand, the cold, harsh realization struck his mind with a force equivalent to a sledgehammer. If it reaches the Suvan Sea, all the water will rush out. Given that we're deep underground, the water will reach us at an extremely high speed - the pressure alone will kill us. If not, then we'll all drown. The thrashing aura of the Balnag, brushing against his own relatively meagre aura subtly, but menacingly, was enough to spur his fight-or-flight reaction into action. Shutting down his sixth sense (i.e. aura vision/detection) immediately, Crypt slapped Maras on his flank as the two prepared to depart post-haste. And it was then Wrenmae called for him to carry Kirvan back. The Drykas considered the possible ramifications of leaving Kirvan behind to save his own skin, then turned on the spot towards Kirvan. Best not to anger two men skilled in magic. Grasping the Svefra firmly around his waist, Crypt heaved him on top of Maras, groaning as his muscles protested, even as Maras' knees buckled slightly as he felt the full weight of Kirvan. His eyes darting from side to side, Crypt spotted the entrance to the tunnel that led back to the surface. "Onwards, you merry band! Onwards to the surface, and woe be it to any man left behind!"

[Eridanus]

"Ah for the love of-" Eridanus swore, understanding the futility of the situation. He simply did not have enough power. His strength was not strong enough to split mountains, and his blade was not powerful enough to destroy archaic foes of magic. While he was a god amongst men, he was simply an ant to the larger forces at bay.

Shaking his head bitterly, he nonetheless recognized the situation for what it is. Wrenmae was doing some mojo with the staff, judging from his frowned expression, and the ethaefal silently shoved the slumped Kirvan onto Crypt.

"I'll take the rear, get your ass in gear, poet!" He yelled at Crypt, pushing the man forward as he stationed himself behind the retreating group. In an escape the last person was always at the largest risk, and it only made sense to put the most dangerous person in a party at that position. He only hoped that luck shone on them.

Then, local silence in the midst of far off crashing. The pattering of feet as the four men tried to escape the caverns. Was Wrenmae successful? No one really cared at the moment, as their safety was the first thing on their minds as they continued running.

[Kirvan Deepseeker]

The sound of Wrenmae's shout prompted Kirvan top open his eyes, and through uncertain vision he saw the others rush to his defense. The great Balnag roared as it withdrew from the approahing group, bearing their staff and swords. Why? Though he was fond of them, they had not known each other for very long nor had they really taken the time to get to know each other very well before being thrown down here. If their positions were reversed, he could not guarantee he would do the same thing. Yet here they were anyway, putting themselves at risk to save a stranger. He moved to get up, but groaned an fell back aganst the cavern wall. His head was swimming, and it hurt to breathe because of his broken ribs. There was nothing wrong with Kirvan's legs though besides the aching pain from the impact however, so he shut his eyes and tried again, willing himself to endure the pain that he might be able to get up and survive another day. Beside him, the young sorceror Wrenmae held the staff like someone beyond his years, looking as if he were focusing hard on something, thouhg what it could be Kirvan had no idea. The other two, Eridanus and Crypt, had their swords drawn despite knowing of their futility, blades positioned between the Balnag and themselves. "Thank you," the svefra wheezed, then leaned back against the wall as a sudden wave of nausea and pain rushed through him. Once he could bear to open his eyes again, he saw the Balnag recoiling away from the silver staff in Wrenmae's hands, which according to K'mavia served as the creature's magical leash. The young sorceror looked to be in control, and the other two were still prepared were it needed. Everyone was performing their roles well, and what had he done? He'd been rendered completely useless, broken and weak against the stone wall. When the Balnag was about to kill him, Kirvan had been prepared for meeting Lhex and admitting his failures, yet these men wouldn't let him. In short, he owed them. A lot. Then the Balnag rushed forward, bashing its head into the wall with fervor to the point where Kirvan had wondered whether it had gone suicidal. As he watched though, he realized that this was how the creature carved its tunnels, the impression in the rock growing deeper and deeper and dirt and rocks falling from the ceiling. It was clearly headed somewhere urgently, and Kirvan had a pretty good idea what the creature wanted. One didn't need to be a genius to remember the water seeping through the ceiling of the cavern they'd come from. The ocean couldn't have been far, ans Kirvan was ready to bet his boat that's where the Balnag wanted to be. "It's bringing down the wall," Kirvan said, stating the obvious but hoping that saying it would kick them all into action. "The Balnag's headed for the sea, we need to leave!" He lurched forward, cluthcing his ribs and ignoring the blood still trailing down his face. The svefra's legs were weak from exhaustion and pain, but he somehow managed to remain upright. There was no way he could run to the exit though, not like this, and certainly not in time. Fortunately for him, Crypt moved to help, hoisting him onto his horse so that he could at least hold on if not ride. Not that Kirvan knew how to ride anyway. As the four of them made their escape, boots and hooves slamming against the ground as the tunnels around them shook and rained rocks, Kirvan looked back to the tunnel where he had seen the Balnag last, which was fast receding from sight as they hurried to the surface. The child of the sea had nearly killed him, he was going to do so, and that sinking feeling in his stomach became stronger. Yet despite that Kirvan was glad that the beast would be free at least. He knew what it was like to belong in the sea and could not imagine being cut off from it like the Balnag had been. Regardless of who or what, the sea was the one true home to beings like the svefra and the creatures that roamed it, of whom the Balnag should be. The deep blue would be the Balnag's, free of this rocky prison. It made Kirvan feel a bit better.

[Cascade]

The Balnag continued in its reckless actions. The rocky wall crumbled under its massive head, and it completely ignored the men. It did not care for them. There was only one thing it was focused on—to escape from its stony and dark prison. It gave a loud and frustrated howl. The sound resonated through the caverns and its walls. The Balnag was getting impatient; the wall would not break down fast enough. He longed to go deep into the sea, away from this wretched place. The trembling of rock became even more powerful as the monstrous creature pushed his efforts even further. Finally, a strong rush of water flowed through the wall. It was only a handful at first, but the pressure caused the wall to crumble further. The sea flowed in at an alarming rate, filling up the room almost instantly. The Balnag felt the sea water hit his body. The men were already a good distance away from it. They would hear the potent sound of rushing water, and would realize that it was a race to the cavern’s entrance. The noises and tremors were deafening, and so was the loud howling of the serpentine creature. The monster’s sounds were soon washed away by the water and the distance. As soon as the opening was large enough, it swiftly pushed its way through and into the seemingly infinite expanse of water. The four were fortunate with their escape. Even as the water seemed to be rushing towards them, it never caught up with them. They finally exited the cavern walls, and it took a while more for the sea to reach them. The sound of the sea echoed through the darkness. K’mavia, the Konti priestess, was waiting for them right outside the entrance. She looked across them and saw that Kirvan was the only injured one. The priestess was pale and speechless. She had seen it all happen; her divination gift had allowed her to do so. Finally, she spoke up, her voice high-pitched. “How could you have set it free!?” she exclaimed. “A monstrous creature set free in the sea that many call their home… you fools! You should have killed it, or you should have left it to its prison and sent back word to me. There was a reason it was imprisoned here!” Her calmness had been broken by the turn of events. She buried her hands in her hands and breathed deeply. Minutes seemed to pass, and the priestess did not speak. Unknown to the men, another one had always been watching. The Sea Father had seen it all and he silently raged at their lack of caution. “Bring him to the temple and I will tend to him,” the priestess finally spoke up, pointing a finger at the wounded Deepseeker. “You should all rest up as well.” They walked back to the temple in silence. The priestess was seething, but she said nothing about it. All they saw of her was her back as they made their way to the small temple atop the hill. However, she suddenly made an abrupt stop near the top of the stairs. Aghast, she stared at a figure that was standing in front of the temple’s entrance. It was an old, bearded man. There was something different about him, and there was also something familiar about him. If they had paid attention to the statues in the temple earlier, they would recognize the sea father. The old man walked past K’mavia. He went down a few steps and towards the four men. They had come to the priestess’s call, but unfortunately, that was not enough. The priestess kept her eyes on the ground as he passed. Instead, the man walked straight to Wrenmae. As he did, his eyes bore straight into everyone else as well—at the man and his horse, at the Ethaefal, and at the blue-eyed pirate. The man’s face was straight and unmoving, his lips a thin line of disappointment. These were the men who had recklessly endangered his domain, but he knew the sole person most responsible, the one who held the staff in his hand. “Give me your hand, boy,” he said to Wrenmae.

[Crypt]

"We could do nothing. The beast was too powerful to be harmed by any of our weapons, and I know not what Wrenmae was doing with the controlling staff." Crypt bowed his head; the disappointment was palpable. He motioned for Maras to follow K'mavia back to the temple, still carrying the wounded Kirvan. The Drykas reflected on the series of events. I could not do anything, short of wrestling the staff from Wrenmae and attempting to control it myself. But could I? Wrenmae has shown that he has hidden talents; certainly his command of magic is much better than mine, judging from his little display of Morphing before all this. My mind would be overwhelmed. Kirvan? I have no knowledge of his full abilities, but could he control the Balnag? He is a Svefra - they say his race have control over sea creatures. Eridanus? Surely the most mysterious of all. He is powerful. He feels wise - much more than myself, anyway. But he is a master of the Flux; how else could he dart across the cavern in a few seconds? Aye, perhaps he could have done something. But the Balnag... Crypt halted when the priestess stopped abruptly. Dashing up the last few steps to the temple, he observed an old, bearded man - with seaweed for hair and beard. Stunned by such a sight, he spoke nothing as the figure walked past him, sparing him only a brief glance. But even that was enough to make him shudder. Maras whined, and nervously shook his mane. Gods... He is power. Not even the Balnag's aura was this powerful - I would be blinded permanently if I exerted my Auristics sense fully. He would kill me with nary a thought. How? Who is he? He is no normal man - Petch. If releasing the Balnag angered him, as it did to K'mavia, how the shyke are we going to survive this? Silenced by that simple look, Crypt watched on as he approached Wrenmae.

[Kirvan Deepseeker]

Kirvan felt like he was being crushed from the inside, a sick realization of dread finally permeating his thick and now injured head. In his glow that the Balnag was now free, he failed to think ahead to what would happen after. If the creature ever strayed to the surface, the result for whoever was around at the time would be catastrophic, deadly, and above all incredibly dangerous. Even if he hadn't personally prompted its escape, he failed in trying to do anything to stop it, and now Laviku's domain was in danger. He should have done something when the Balnag was about to kill him - he wasn't recognized as one of Laviku's marked. The Balnag didn't recognize the Sea Father, he was truly severed from his home. And now Kirvan had let it escape. Of course, he wasn't solely responsible, but that wasn't important. While Maras carried him towards the temple, the svefra couldn't stop thinking about what could have been done. Could he have asked Wrenmae to call it back, just to send it deeper into the tunnels? Failing that, could he have done it himself? He doubted it, Kirvan's knowledge of magic was only names and purpose, the rest was embedded in superstition. In his state the cutlass by his side would have been useless, even more so against the Balnag if his companions' swords were anything to go by. Shyke, shyke, shyke, shyke! he kept thinking to himself, unable to let it go. He looked up at K'mavia's back, which was all she showed them. He was not a smart man, but even he could feel the anger dripping from her towards them. Back at the cave entrance, he'd wanted to say something, apologize or otherwise try to explain himself somehow, but it'd all dried up the moment he tried to speak. There was no adequate explanation, he knew that, and she knew that. Which was why it was all the more crushing. As they began to ascend the steps to the temple, Kirvan was faintly glad that he didn't have to walk them himself. It was little consolation. The horse's steps clacked against the stone steps, nearly eclipsing those of the others, when suddenly they all stopped to make way for a sudden silence. They were nearly at the temple now but something had made them stop, so Kirvan looked up to see what it was. He gasped. He's here? he thought frantically. But why, why would he, why is... His thoughts were a jumbled mess, all caused by the sudden appearance of the one he honored so greatly. Even if his companions didn't recognize him, Kirvan did with stunning and fearful clarity. He didn't need to remember the statues, he looked just like in the stories: an old bearded yet upright and proud man, hair as billowing as a loose sail and eyes bluer than the deepest depths. Even to his untrained and unenhanced senses, he could feel the power simply radiating towards them all, the feeling of the open sea. His mouth was stretched and thin, a small frown shaping his face. Horror mixed with admiration, and the svefra was unsure of whether to gaze in adoration or cower in despair. If the priestess' anger was righteous and reflected within Laviku himself, then the most Kirvan could hope for was even a slim chance for forgiveness. Upon seeing him, the svefra struggled off the horse, lowering himself to the grouns painfully slowly. His arms and legs were working, but his ribs nearly cracked in protest, and blood was still seeping from his head. Regardless, he managed to get down to his feet, then lower himself further as he kneeled. "Sea Father," he spoke reverently, his eyes wide and unblinking. Everything else sort of shorted out. When Laviku grew nearer, Kirvan's head bowed immensely, nearly touching the stone steps in front of him. "I beg of you Sea Father, I did not know of the Balnag's severing from your domain, though I should have noticed. Please, give me a chance to redeem myself, I swear to you that I will do whatever you see fit to earn your forgiveness, please let me atone for this mistake." A small drop of blood splatted the stone steps where Kirvan was bowing. His words weren't spoken out forcefully and powerfully like a prided zealot, though were breathed out almost like a whisper, nearly a prayer in itself. He had no pride, he'd failed Laviku, and there was no way he could ever erase that memory. Then he directed himself towards Wrenmae and asked for the boy's hand. The svefra knew better than to look up, though he wondered why he'd chosen Wrenmae in particular. He'd been holding the staff and was likely the most equipped to deal with it, true, but his only crime was inaction like all the others. Or was it?

[Wrenmae]

It was not with joy that they were met at the entrance to the cave, but horror...revile. Blinking, he almost let the staff slip from his hand, but the thrum of power...easily something greater than simply a control rod, thrummed through his palm and into his being. He gripped it tighter.

Quick! Zan prompted him, Retreat into your shell!

I'm not a turtle.

Then unfurl your wings and glide across the sea! Quickly now! With haste!

I'm not a gull.

Then dig into the ground and pull the earth over you!

I'm not a mole.

Turn into harmless looking water and slink away!

I'm not you.

Then what are you good for...exactly?

Logic?

Oh. Wonderful. Logic will save us. Quick, hearken to the calls of logic for only it can save the day. Can it hide? NO! Can it fight? NO! Can it apologize? PROBABLY! But it's really boring. I mean...really boring. Way to be a fatface, fatface.

I didn't do anything wrong.

Then why is she mad at us?

A misunderstanding?

You could ask her...or, alternatively, stare off into space talking to me.

Oh. Err. Right.

And they call ME the familiar.


"Wait a second," Wrenmae argued, pausing at the entrance. "That 'monster' was not in our capability to kill...and why would we? Do you know how long it's been imprisoned? I'd be mad too if someone kept me locked up all my life in the caves beneath an island. It was gonna shake the whole place apart, now the island is safe...and the sea...the sea is huge and there are bigger things than the Balnag out there." Behind him, the roar of water filling the underground catacombs was a distant murmur. Wrenmae frowned at the priestess, obviously not of the same mind as her. Somewhere out there, the Balnag could stretch and feel its entire body. The last of its mind, its presence faded from his own, the fleeting glimpse of simple, primal joy at being in some place so open, so free.

Then it was gone, as fast as it could be from the range of the staff.

"If sleep was all it took to keep it docile, than it would have slumbered forever...but a keeper needed to be there to maintain it, and I doubt anyone here wanted to consign their lives to a lonely cavern and an end as a moldering corpse. The sea is large and there are many lives within it. The Balnag will find its place in that system." He pushed past the priestess irritably, shouldering the staff and heading back up toward the temple, "The thought of keeping a being capable of thought, albeit simple thought, caged for its entire life in solitude is horrifying...what kind of a God would want that?"


He had his answer.

Even if he had not known the old man from the statues, even if he could not sense the majesty of power in his confident stance, the depths of his eyes, Kirvan forced the worsening of his injury to take a knee and address him as the Sea Father.

That was enough to ascertain his identity.


Not since he was a child in the mountains had Wrenmae seen a god. Laviku was so radically different from Vayt it was almost ludicrous. Rather than cold superiority, there was a gentle fury in this one. Rather than layered in finery and wealth, the Sea god stood fairly unadorned, simple in his presentation.

He asked Wrenmae's hand.

The boy swallowed hard, looking down at the hand he was to offer. Had he really made a mistake here? The Balnag was a creature like any other, and did it not deserve freedom?

It had been designed to be a weapon, but that didn't make it evil.

Vayt had marked him to be a weapon...but that didn't make him a puppet, a pawn, a monster.

"No..." he held his hand away, suddenly defensive. "I was not wrong. You're wrong!" He stepped back into Eridanus, paused, tried to wheel, found himself cornered only by the close regiment the group had kept walking from the cave.

"The Balnag deserves a chance at freedom. It deserves a chance to live! Shutting it away in the darkness for so long was wrong. That was wrong. Can you imagine its anger? I was told it was brought and made by wizards, but it breathes, doesn't it? It lives. Doesn't that mean it can have a place in this world that isn't shut inside an island?"

The god only looked at him, the weight of his gaze prompting the frightened storyteller to gingerly extend his hand.

"Please..." he said quietly, "Why can't a weapon learn to be free?"