A Storm to Remember (Closed)

[Ink]

OOC : Ok folks this is how this Quest will go down. I will be posting for certain every Saturday (excluding a few days from now). I may occasionally hop in for small snippits in the middle of the week but only if I notice something that needs quick replies. Otherwise, you will all have all that time to post. Be warned, do not leave your PC in a dangerous situation if you do not intend to post every week. This first round is relatively safe; things will start to get interesting in my next post. Please signify where you character is in Sunberth and if they’re with any other PCs. Please keep all appendages inside the thread for the duration of the ride and thank you for choosing Ink’d Storytelling Co.! Side note: Thus far the Temple is still unsealed and all damages are yet undone. And lo! on the wing of the heavy gales, Through the boundless arch of heaven he sails; Silent and slow, and terribly strong, The mighty shadow is borne along, Like the dark eternity to come; While the world below, dismayed and dumb, Through the calm of the thick hot atmosphere Looks up at its gloomy folds with fear. William Cullen Bryant (1854) The First of Spring, 512. 5 chimes before the 15th bell The Surface The rats lived and died in the catacombs, tunnels, and old mining shafts riddling the city’s underground. As the skittering critters fled to safety with whatever forewarning their instincts provided, those humans crawling upon the slimy underbelly of society quickly took notice and followed. The three syndicates were generally considered above rat-watching, but the first members to notice the rodent migration were the Night’s Eyes. Certainly the most acquainted with their own secretive tunnel system, the Night’s Eyes spread the word to their brothers and took shelter. They were also diligent to put up guards around their most valuable underground assets. It was the bunkering down of a usual mob of beggars that caught Jaren ‘Joan’ Joandar ‘s eye. As the main Dragoon in charge of the gates during daylight hours, he had the power to lock down the quarter. Beggars on their own shouldn’t have been enough to cause the arrogant guard to call a halt, but what disappearing paupers implied could be significant. Holding up a hand to signal his underlings to stop their usual harassment of travelers and wait for further orders. The avenue grew quiet, eerily so. Before the crowd could balk the gauntleted hand slammed down against his shield, sending a ringing message out among the guards. A voice, clear and trained to be authorative shouted the command, “Seal the gates! Archers to the walls!” Joan’s command was repeated throughout the city until every Dragoon had both heard it and yelled it themselves. To him, the clearing of beggars made him suspect an imminent Night’s eyes offensive. He could never have guessed the truth… Those to the south received this edge, while those on the northern end of the city continued about their business as usual. One exception being the kennels where the animals were jerking against their kennels and stables, as though a thunder storm was approaching. For any outside the kennels, the only true warning they received was a darkening horizon that might just have been any Spring storm.

[Kit]

Something bad was coming. The rats knew it, and so did a young skunk kelvic. As tempted as he was to follow them immediately, there were a few things he needed to do first. As a skunk, possessions meant little to him, but his mother had taught him the ways of humans, and he knew she would want him to keep his things safe, so the first thing he did was bury all of his Mizas under a building that he trusted himself to find later.

When that was done, he shifted and donned his sackcloth shirt and trousers, both of which were becoming far too small for him. His human form had grown ridiculously fast; he wasn't even a year old yet, but he already appeared as a young man in his late teens or early twenties. One advantage to getting bigger was that his legs were longer, and he appreciated this fact as it sped him more quickly to the Pig's Foot tavern. His animal instincts screamed at him to take cover, but his kelvic instincts were stronger... he couldn't let his human suffer whatever was coming.

Kit was only slightly out of breath when he slammed the door to the tavern open. For the most part, he ignored the other patrons, unless there were a few he recognized. His focus was upon following his humans scent so he could get him to safety as quickly as possible.

[Lusa]

Lusa could feel that something wasn't right. It was very similar to the feeling she got when a thunderstorm was nearing, making her hairs stand on end. As she picked through a rubbish pile for scraps, she watched rat after rat scurry by. Her instincts were urging her to run, move downwards, hide!

She gathered her meager possessions, and wiped dirty hands on her shift. She longed to take her doe form, but then how would she carry her things? No, human form was best for the moment. Rising to follow the rodents, her shaggy hair was ruffled by a young man in ill fitting sack clothing speeding by in the opposite direction, towards the tavern. Shaking her head, she shut off human thought and let instinct guide her to safety..

[Saber]

...It was dark.
...Why was it so dark?
Something was on Saber, who was waking up from being unconscious, but to her it was more like waking up from a dream. Her blurry eyesight could make out that the thing was a rat. As soon as she moved, the rat scurried away.
...
"...Wait, a rat...?
What's a rat doing here? And where... No--"
Saber's heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
"--No... Who... am I...?"
A wave of nausea washed over her.
And then...
...Everything went dark once more.

[Tawk]

Tawk felt that Sunberth was unusually empty. Spring was usually a time where the city was thriving with life. Sure, there were still people up and about but, the city was... bereft of its charm. Tawk hurried to the direction of the Pig's Foot Tavern. Slumped up against a large, run-down house, an old vagrant mumbled to himself. The man was old, late 50's maybe, with wrinkly and damaged skin. His face was covered with scars and his left eye's pupil was very dilated, implying some sort of facial injury the man had sustained.

Tawk paid no attention to the man as he walked with great strides across the narrow street. Suddenly, an old and gravelly voice broke the silence, -"... The rats. Where are the rats?". Tawk stopped in his tracks. He turned around and looked down at the man. -"What was that, sir?", Tawk asked politely. -"You know. The rats. The rats are gone. Why are they gone?", the man mumbled to himself, Tawk barely catching all of it.

Tawk again turned in the direction of the Pig's Foot. He pondered what the man had said - he had a point. He pushed open the door and glanced around the room before sitting down.

Time for an afternoon of relaxing.

[Mok]

Nine AM

The day started like any typical day for Mok. It was already mid morning and the myrian was now ready to work. The myrian didn't have a job or nothing. He earned his life with true grit and a heart of darkness. He wasn't sure what the plan was, but it would involve gambling, fighting, and probably some sort of robbery. Relieving himself at the shit trench, the myrian looked at the sky and took note of the weather.

The temperature was mild, but the sky was overcast. Almost none of the sun's beams pierced through the clouds. Mok figured it would rain eventually. Not only would rain help him do his dirty work, it would also be a pain in the ass to wade trough the trash. Work had to be done though and Mok never complained. Fastening his sword belt and chain mail, Mok made his way back to the front of the tavern where Lessira was waiting

Lessira was his new blood sister. Several weeks ago, Mok had encountered the celestial creature on the shores of a hidden beach just down the coast. Now, they were walking the streets of Sunberth. The experience that night on the docks was something that had made them mortal allies. Mok had ultimately failed in protecting the innocent woman, but it that didn't matter; they had spilt blood for each other. They had the unspoken bond of blood that tied them together. Each passing day the bond increased ever so slightly. He did feel physical attraction to her as well, but he put that aside for now. He wanted to show her how to live first; Mok longed for her join the Crimson. He would not force it on her though. The myrian wanted her to join only if it was her whole-hearted intention.

Returning to Lessira's side, the myrian accompanied her into the Pig's Foot. The scene was fresh, bright, and full of life. A variety of peoples where walking in and out of the tavern for lunch. The scene was clattering and mixed with tipsy eaters talking and gossiping. In the corners of the room, the occasional cheer or laughter was heard. Busy servants wearing revealing clothing were a sight on sore eyes. It was dirty and but the familiar haze of smoke was not present. It was a time of relative peace in the tavern.

Taking his seat at one of the tables near the middle of the room, Mok quickly ordered two pints of the house ale and two bowls of the house stew, which consisted of vegetables grown plentifully in the area.

"This food will make you full and fat," Mok started, "This food is good and it will give you energy. Eat and be merry! Look a bard, if we are lucky he will sing of Taloba."

Leaning back, the myrian received his bowl of food and ale alongside Lessira, "Eat and drink woman," he said with a grin, "The ale will make you feel great! Don't drink it too fast though."

A thin human called for everyone's attention. He was a tall, lean man with wild curly hair and a scraggily beard. In his hand was a guitar. without speaking a word, he began to play. Mok remained quiet and ate his food slowly, taking long draughts from his mug of ale. His goal right now was just to sit back, relax, and watch the bard play. His mind had little else on it.

The song started off with an upbeat tune, but it was sad...no melancholic was the right word. He played the same riff over and over again for a whole minute. It almost got Mok into a trance. Suddenly, he began to speak. His voice was strong and rough. He didn't sing though, but used spoken word. His voice was full of passion, almost as if he was wailing or crying.

"Hangman, hangman, hold it a little while,
It ain't my time, I got a life worth dying.
Is there not anything to keep me from gallows pole?
I can get you no gold? I can get you no silver?
You know I'm do damn poor to keep from gallows pole!
Hangman, hangman, hold it a little while,
Is that not Leth coming, is he not crying?
Leth, help me out, steal me away.
I have no gold, I have no silver,
no way to escape..."

The man continued with his song about death. It really intrigued Mok that the man would play such a downer on such a pleasant day. No matter though, the song was still very good tune and the myrian enjoyed the song for what it was. When the bard was done, mostly everyone cheered for him. The myrian cheered as well.

Eyeing Lessira, Mok wanted to hear her opinion, "What did you think of the song?"

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Zandelia]

Zandelia’s journey had been a long one, longer than she had expected it to become and far more draining than she had wished it to end as. Mura had been a city of beauty, filled with wonders and enchantments that she could not bring herself to ever forget. However, even the city of wonders had been able to do anything for her, returning to Sunberth to once more stalk the dirty streets as a scarred menace. Her single eye still remained her solitary means of vision, the healers unable to be persuaded to take care of a runaway murderer with naught to her name but misery and damnation. No, she remained Zandelia the ugly, the twisted and now – the bitter. Bitterness was no stranger to her, had never been so over the years but now he was as close a companion as any and armor enough to fight the whole world with. She passed back into the dangerous warren that was Sunberth stronger than before, if that could be deemed possible, but with a new flaw few would wish to exploit – it would mean the death of them.

Still as vile and perverse as ever I see she thought to herself as she passed the half-rotten body of a small child that had clearly been killed for naught but personal enjoyment.

It would have enraged her at one time, filled her with loathing and hate, given her the drive to hunt someone down and pay them back in kind. Now she merely shrugged and walked away, her dark robes whisking around her and her cloak pulled fractionally tighter. She fought her own cause now, her dreams merely ashen remains. She had not been able to pick up the trail of her father, she had not been able to find answers. The intelligence officer she had hoped to be had turned into a mer3e thug, crass and primitive. She had learned the error of false pride and vowed to become grander, something no one had ever seen before in the wretched city. She would tremble the foundations far more insidiously, weaving a web that would entrap numerous little flies. But all that would have to come later, for she had more pressing matters on her mind – drinking.

“Much later Zandelia, much later indeed” she whispered to herself through partially cracked lips, wiping another grubby smudge of dirt further across her cheek.

The Pig’s Foot Tavern had been her old watering hole and she had decided that it would become hers once more as she trudged towards its inviting doors, the noise echoing down the street and audible from quite some distance. It seemed fitting that she would claim as her new home the trotter of such a filthy animal, somewhat mirroring her own failures and putting her sense of ego into perfect place. It would not be a permanent home in any sense, but something that drove her ambitions. Waking up 3each and every morning to the refuse of humanity would be a definitive reason to transcend their petty boundaries indeed. As she pushed the door open it slammed into someone but she cared not for their squawking, passing them by and meandering lazily to the bar to fetch herself a drink and to order the first piece of solidly warm food she would have had in days. Turning it was all too easy to see an old acquaintance, a friend of sorts whom had weathered as much hardship as she had. She made her way towards him, mug in hand and face the picture of stone, and noted how he held female companionship already. She merely shrugged at his choice of bedfellow and placed her mug on the table in front of him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t appreciate the irony of the song being sung here of all places Mok, death is a sport in this town” she stated by way of greeting as she almost slumped into the chair, fully aware she was not the same woman he had last met but not finding enough willpower to act out the charade this day.

“How have you been Mok? A new lady friend I presume?” she nodded to the other woman and sipped her drink a little. “Name's Zandelia, me and Mok go way back” she finished, which was only a part truth but truth enough.

[Neshassadassamo]

The rats were scared. Interesting. Of course, the rats were always afraid of Dassamo when he was in his snake form, but this time, they were scared of something else, even going so far as to run over his tail. Normally this would be ridiculous, unheard of. They always did their best to avoid him, as he had a habit of munching on them whenever he got hungry. Because of this he was intrigued by the rat's exodus and followed them down their hidey holes, sliding into the sewers with them. His belongings were hidden in an alley, stashed underneath a collapsed section of masonry. They wouldn't be found, so he wasn't worried about deserting them for a time.

Following the rats, Dassamo realized they weren't the only ones fleeing. There were a multitude of humans as well, disgusting creatures that lived, loved and died in the sewers and underground tunnels of the city. Dassamo made it a point to avoid eating them, as they tasted of feces and mud. They were running too, slipping through tiny gaps in gates and walls to follow the rats. Either they were hungry as well, or they thought the rat's egression was important. Seeing as they lived with them cheek to cheek for years, Dassamo was inclined to trust their decision as well. Something bad was coming, then, if these creature felt the need to shelter. Dassamo found a long, rectangular chamber with two exits, one at either side of the hall. He coiled up in the middle of the room and settled down to wait for whatever it was that was coming.

[Roka]

The smell of moisture was in the air, and the very molecules clung to Roka's nostrils. He took a few quick sniffs of the air waving his head up to the sky. His ears quickly caught the patter of little rodents scurring long the broken paths beneath his feet.

He looked down his eyes darting after several little rat bodies, almost unable to control his instinct to pounce. If it weren't for the growing pit in his stomache, scratching up to his throat. It felt like rain, but obviously he knew as the rats did, that it was no mere drizzle. Something ominous clung to the very surface of the land and threatened anyone who didn't head it's warning.

He looked around examining the humans, some becomeing alert, some seeing absolutely nothing. It baffled him at times, how any being could be so oblivious to something as simple as the very atmosphere surrounding them.

He huffed and pulled his cloak up over his head. Shelter wouldn't be as easy and quick as he liked, mainly because he had almost no knowlede of the geography of the city besides the holes within the rats reside.

"Sometimes I really miss open fields" he mubbled beneath his breath. Roka headed towards the center of the city, perhaps some rat way would lead him to an under ground rescue. How ironic it would be that his favorite food would keep him not just satisfied but safe.

[Lessira]

Syna stood high over her domain, casting her glowing visage upon the world in what the mortals called "day". It was something that Lessira had only known long ago when she, too, was of mortals wholly, but now having felt the touch of Leth the girl found the glow of the sun rather... depressing. When Leth did not watch over her steps, Lessira took upon her other form, the visage of a Konti girl with shining white hair that fell the same length no matter if it were day or night. Whenever she was made to wear this mortal flesh Lessira always felt so... Distant... Cut off from where she truly belonged and separated from her God. It was during the day that Lessira felt the fullness of her exile, the weight of the hand she had been dealt. Were it not for one thing, one single connection with her god that existed even during the day, the girl may have given into grief long ago. Lessira's hand absently wandered to a spot on her chest that was exposed through by the open neck of her tunic. There, in the center of her chest, just beneath her collar bones was a simple mark depicting a waning moon encircled by a silver ring. This was a habit that the girl had begun to fall into during the day light hours of Syna's reign. Through the mark the girl felt a certain connection to her God, and it was this connection that aided her in moving forward in her life. Well, that and someone else of course... Lessira greeted Mok with a small smile, something that she reserved almost exclusively for him. This man who had been with her since the very beginning, who had aided her and kept her mind from being lost in the darkness, was one whom the girl admired greatly. His words she respected and admired beyond all other mortals, and it was to Mok that she owed her greatest allegiance. She followed Mok to the table in the center of the room, sitting in the chair nearest his own and scooting closer ever so slightly. Her hands rested lightly on her lap, her legs folded neatly to the side in a very lady like fashion. Lessira could not say why she chose to sit with such posture, as if she were trained in some courtly fashion, but ever since her rebirth certain tendencies had begun to awaken within her. Sometimes it was the odd movements of her hand as she spoke, the way she would walk lightly on her toes instead of relaxed on and on her heals, and even once she had found herself humming a strange tune while doing a few minor chores for her new found family. All of these things had begun to puzzle the girl, but none so much as a certain itch she felt at the back of her mind. It was true, every time the sun rose and Leth's celestial form fell from Lessira's shoulders, the girl felt something odd overcome her. I strange feeling of need, as if there were something she must. Like there was a purpose that Lessira must accomplish, but despite all of her best efforts she could never figure out what it was that she felt called her. Even now, as she sat close to Mok and allowed his words to fill her ears, Lessira could still hear the voice of something in the very back of her mind... However, she was determined not to allow this to interrupt her time with this man, and when the food arrived Lessira smiled warmly at Mok, "I do not think my being fat would be overly pleasing to some, but perhaps I might enjoy it just the same. I could do with a bit of energy when I am away from the moons glow." With one hand she raised a spoon full of the stew to her lips, sampling its taste and fullness as she enjoyed the company of the man. Her hand then found the mug of ale, and she raised it curiously to her lips. After her first sip Lessira coughed and scrunched up her nose, "I do not know how much I care for ale..." She started, but she turned to see Mok enjoying his own mug and made a shrug, "But if it is as good as you say I shall drink it all the same." Pincing her nose, Lessira took one long swig, filling her mouth and throwing back her head, gulping the liquid down in one mostion before gasping and setting the mug back down. A shiver ran through her body as she felt a the warmth of the drink spread from her stomach and begin to spread out to the very tips of her fingers. Then, with a laugh that sounded like the tinkling of bells Lessira spoke to Mok, "My, it is very good! It tastes of muddy water but lights a fire in my very core." Taking another full swing Lessira giggled once more, her cheeks already looking a bit redder. Lessira's mind was occupied by the taste of food and the warmth within her, and so she did not notice the bard until he had already taken his position and had begun his tune. It was a simple string of notes, repetitive and hypnotic in a way that Lessira had never heard before, but still she paid it little mind until she heard the name of her God mentioned upon mortal lips. Her head turned to take in the man who spoke of Leth, and the girl's chest tightened. Lessira's eyes watched the bard's lips move, took in his every word and felt her hand move upward to touch the mark upon her chest. It was a minute gesture, and one that may have escaped notice if her fingers had not begun to make simple gestures, tracing the lines of the crescent moon as her eyes became slightly misty. Then the bard came to one final line, spoken in a mere whisper that may have been missed by those who were not paying attention. When he spoke them, the bard turned his gaze upward and closed his own eyes... "Cast it off, these chains of fate and from the gallows shall I go. The noose that was tied about my neck, may it be changed to ebony and gold... All these things I would ask, lest my form decay to bone." The man bowed his head, setting his instrument accross his lap and sighing a deep and tired sigh. He seemed drained, forlorn almost... Lessira blinked twice, a bit surprised when she felt a warm wetness trickle down her cheek. Shaking her head she leaned further over her bowl, wiping away the tears quickly in hopes that Mok would not notice. When she raised her from she gave Mok a small smile, brushing a strand of white hair behind one ear as she answered him, "I-It was... A very nice song, though Leth does not take to silver and gold." Before she could say more the words of another interrupted her thoughts, and Lessira was greeted by the image of a woman taking the seat across from her own. The woman's words, her familiarity with Mok as well as her presence all made something stir within Lessira, and almost by instinct she shifted closer to Mok still. Zandelia was her name it seemed... Lessira nodded slowly, her eyes glancing over the other woman's strange appearance and missing eye just briefly before she looked back down into her own drink. When she spoke it was in soft words that barely got over a whisper, which was quite unlike her when she was around Mok, "Um... H-hello." Lessira's eyes flickered over Zandelia once more, taking in her expression and demeanor. For some reason when the girl mentioned her relations to Mok, Lessira felt a stirring deep within her chest...