[Quest] The White Obelisk: Act II of Darkling Tides

by **Siarak** on May 5th, 2012, 5:59 am

OOCHere edited and revamp thread. Still thinking about a Moby Dick movie

“What the petch” Siarak yelled as he watch the Charoda was lifted up from beneath it in to jaws of some kind of creature and soon was devoured in a shower of blood, quickly stepping out of the way taking care not to get splash by any of it. He turn to watch the beast sink back into the water Siarak was more so amaze and horrified by the site of it over the death Charoda, who was foolish enough not to know such a creature lived in her own domain and get eaten by it.

Disregarding the call to arms by Captain Pool Siarak step closer to the side of the boat, getting close enough to look into the blue water, but not as close for whatever that was can jump up and get a bit out of him.

Being a massive creature with transparent skin and large razor sharp teeth and also obviously deadly it is quite an impressive beast indeed. And no doubt still hungry.

Spinning on his heel step heading to the chest containing the weapons. Knowing that any reimancy he would use would do more harm than good. Even if he did feel defenseless without the use of any of his magic, but Siarak would be damned if was going to die by being eaten by some kind of sea monster. Opening chest to pull out one of the spears Siarak over heard the others talking about use ones bloody shirt as bait. That seems to be a good idea he thought just as long it doesn’t get them killed. Seeing that there wasn’t any spears left he grab a short sword out Siarak went to join the others, taking note of the now shirtless brown hair man. Weighing the sword in hand and Siarak eyes turning steel gray determine to survive

by **Anselm** on May 5th, 2012, 2:36 pm

The old man watched the human chaos unfold in front of him as everyone jumped up and began moving around in the small boat. In a few moments they were all standing, some armed with spears, scanning the now calm water. Everyone except Anselm. He remained where he had been since they had left the dock. This seemed to him to be as good a strategy as any, especially now that the boat was rocking back and forth wildly as everyone moved about. At this rate, he thought. The monster won't have to attack us at all. People will just fall overboard and he can eat them at his leisure. Anselm took advantage of a small space of relative silence to offer his observation.

“It has always seemed to me that standing up in a small boat is unwise,” he said slowly with surprising volume for someone who looked as frail as he. “Especially if you have reason to believe the boat may be struck at any moment by a rather large sea creature.”

Anselm was not particularly concerned about his own life. He thought it unlikely the creature would find an ichor-filled corpse palatable. Were they to capsize, Anselm would simply sink to the bottom of the bay. That would most likely result in considerable pain due to the depth this far from shore. And he would be left with a long walk back. But it was likely that he would survive. His companions would not be so fortunate. The old Nuit found this prospect disappointing because it would mean the end of the expedition to investigate the while obelisk. And Anselm really did want to see the obelisk up close. Ah well, he thought. It will be whatever it will be. He turned his gray eyes to the obelisk.

by **Echelon** on May 6th, 2012, 7:16 pm

The boat exploded in a surprising set of shifts and kicks as limbs and flesh went flying around Anselm, the calm nexus of power. It was Poole who realized their threat before everybody else, and as the near entirety of the ship dove for the front he dove for the rear, shoving firmly past Anselm as he did so. The boat tipped forward dangerously, then back, entering a threatening series of rises and fall which was enough to make the sailor himself nervous.

Feira and Leigo broke into a mirror unison as the dubbed the chest of meager and short ranged weapons, good for nothing but mutiny, entirely unsuitable for the situation. And, with this conclusion, began unarming the side of the boat, eying the shaking water below them dubiously as the hurried to loose the spears. Surprisingly light, but doubly as unwieldy as one would expect they drew the spears up, doing their best not to drop their comrades over the bucking sides of the ship with their new awkward weapons.

Then, the second command came forth from the mouth of the steadfast young man, wielding his right to power, one of the only two worthy weapons aboard. And such command was followed, dictating the lose of clothing. Half nude Tallis took the spear from his commander and tied the shirt firmly to it as instructed. But then, much to Leigo's horror it became clear the panic of the situation had taken hold of Tallis' mind. He was going to throw the spear itself, loosing Leigo's only bait into the ocean, with no certainty that Tallis had any clue how to throw the unwieldy weapon, demanding extreme balance.

Balance Tallis had not accounted for. Like he had practiced so many times before, he planted his feet firmly to the ground, and focused severely on the musculature of his own arms. The familiar internal rush of energy flowed through him, pleasure more so than the pump of blood. A sensitivity filled the limb, and with it an alertness. His arm was ready, just as the boat bucked for a final time, before it would descend into quieter shifts and churns, creaking ever so slightly. Tallis' firm footing did not hold, as the ground itself turned. His feet left clumsy from the general redirection of his djed, they found themselves unable to respond quickly enough to stop himself from tipping. Awkwardly Tallis spilled to the side, bumping clumsily into Leigo beside him, the bloody rag, as it was now to be, flinging haphazardly over the side of the ship. Perhaps it would be bait after all, undoubtedly at the worse moment.

It was Feira who found herself immune from the discord, her eyes searching outward from herself, ignoring what turmoil boiled within her. Her eyes came upon the fin again, too far. A flash of the Charoda's end hit her mind hard and unexpectedly, spurring a quickened beating of her heart. Her body knew to be afraid, to run. Her mind knew there was not running from this. It tempted her though, skirting for what seemed would be a full circle around the boat, mostly unseen except for ripples which would sporadically disappear and reappear in the splashing of the boat's own waves. It seemed to turn it's side to her at one point, presently a clear shot, but still with splashed concealed it, and the range was questionable. How awkward the gripless spear felt in her hand, no direction as to where she should hold it.

Poole eyes the spear in the women's hand. He knew he should take it, thought he was no more trained in it than her. But, it was the strong and controlled voice of wisdom that kept him crouched in the boat, meaty hands firmly upon the rip of the ship to keep steady. Yes, Anselm was right, standing would have them all swimming in a matter of minutes, sea creature or not. Tallis was already falling to his land legs, stubborn and unwilling to conform. If anything Fiera was displaying the most balance, almost unnaturally so. He decided to stay put, and let out orders.

"Calm down, find that thing, and kill it. Stop jumping around! And crouch for petchs sake! And you! Boy! If you don't stop swinging that weapon about like a madmen I'm using you as bait!" The thought of perhaps giving some positive encouragement had not occurred to him. Though he certainly had no judgement for Anselm. He was perhaps responding exactly how he should.

Once he felt he had performed his exemplary duties of yelling at people he took to the chest himself, slower than he might need to, trying not to rock the boat too much. He pulled forth a saber, straight and simple, then slipped a dagger into his belt. If he ended up getting eaten that day we was going to make petching sure he could repay the favor, and take that creature with him.

Anselm in his calmness realized they had only a few precious moments to organize themselves before this creature, who so beckoned his own djed upward from within him, reached the boat and did whatever such a deranged and warped monster might think fit for a small boat full of innocents. One thing was for sure, it was no normal shark, and did not thing like one.

by **Fiera** on May 8th, 2012, 12:24 pm

It was difficult to maintain her centre of balance in the small boat, especially once everybody rose to claim their weapons or shout some orders. She remained standing, content with observing the water while the humans sorted out their plan of attack; or rather of defence. Closing her eyes to maintain the focus she had found, Fiera reached for her inner pool of djed. Upon contact, as usual, a small shock passed through her. Taking care to only lift a very thin strand of the djed within her, so as to not exhaust herself, Fiera cast it downward, beneath the boat.

She searched for the creature but found her string too short. About to lengthen it with another djed strand, her concentration was broken as Poole dove to the back of the boat. He seemed fond of jumping around a lot. Hissing, Fiera lost her footing as the boat tipped dangerously backward, but steadied herself with a hand and sat down. She became more aware of the spear in her hand; it seemed cumbersome and ungainly in her hands. The head of it, she kept pointed outward the boat.

There, again the creature reappeared, the light veins in its dorsal fin patterning it like a stained glass window. She seemed to be the only one who had noticed this re-entrance. Following the occasional ripples with her eyes, she established it wasn’t about to attack just yet; its movements were far too slow for any attack. Anything this size needed momentum. The back of the monster came into range, but Fiera remained seated with her hand gripping the shaft. She wasn’t about to risk losing one of the two long ranged weapons they had.

Again, she replayed the way the water woman had been crushed by the monster in her mind. It frightened Fiera, to say the least that such an end could easily come to her, too. She had so much unfinished, this was no time to die. She mentally chided herself on breaking her decision in letting death cross her mind. There was absolutely no point contemplating it when she could be attempting to prevent it.

Mind empty of any brilliant ideas, she turned to the rest of the crew just in time to see the shirtless man stumble and fall, the bloody spear in his hand swinging dangerously low over the water. Fiera now saw their plan. The blood soaked shirt would act as bait. There were so many flaws in the plan, but Fiera didn’t list them. Instead she offered her hand to the fallen man, to help him stand. They were a team, they should act like one.

by **Anselm** on May 17th, 2012, 7:31 pm

At last Anselm decided to act. He didn't have much choice really. With the possible exception of Fiera and Poole, his companions seemed to be incapable of doing anything constructive. Not that he had any skill with weapons himself. Nor did he have much by way of destructive magic. But neither was he entirely defenseless. First rule of war, he thought. Know your enemy.

He drew his attention inward, trying to ignore the shouting and rocking and knocking about. He focused his mind, centering himself, drawing himself into a tight ball of consciousness, shutting everything else out. He could feel the rough wood where his hand rested on the boat's gunnel. He could smell the salt in the air. He could hear the distant cry of seagulls and the nearby lapping of water against the hull of the boat. Time seemed to slow down. Then he thrust his consciousness outward in all directions, like concentric circles of water moving away from from the point at which a stone has been tossed into a quiet pond. He found the creature almost immediately. It's aura stood out like a bonfire on a dark night. He sighted it visually and it coalesced into a vague shadowy thing, but clear enough for him to track.

“I am able to see the beast.” he announced quietly. “I will point it out for you.” He stretched out his arm and pointed a gloved finger toward the nearly invisible creature, following it as it circled their little boat. “I will mark it when it is close enough to attack.” But for now it seemed content to circle, like vultures circling a dying animal, waiting for its inevitable demise.

He felt the Djed welling up from within. More strongly than he was used to, struggling to break free of his control. His awareness surged forward in a mighty rush and touched the creature and it became known to him at the same time he became know to it. He felt like he was being pulled into it, as though he and it were becoming one. Alarm bells were going off in his head as he realized he was losing himself. “Help me,” he whispered. Or perhaps he just thought he did. He couldn't tell anymore.

by **Tallis** on May 18th, 2012, 5:41 am

“Any person who bravely captains a ship must pride himself as a sailor. And any proud sailor always has rope handy and knows how to use it. If you really are our captain, you’ll get your rope, turn this spear into a harpoon, and prepare for attack.”

“If you can slow the Leviathan down just a bit, I will wrap it in Res and transmute the Res into rock. I need capable warriors or capable mages to help me. Djed created the Leviathan and djed will destroy it.”

by **Echelon** on May 20th, 2012, 8:15 pm

kudosawww, I'm so proud of you guys. Aside from some important omissions from two players this round was beautifully done. Kudos. Now lets get to the fun part ^-^

The sinking feeling grabbed hold of Anselm, slow at first as if inevitable sinking sand. There was nothing any member of the boat could do, outside of perhaps Feira, who if more skilled would have found herself just as captured as Anselm had. Ancient as he was, having witnessed the unthinkable more times than an average man could boast seeing the mundane, still Anselm had never in all his years of Auristics stumbled upon such a sensation. It gripped at his soul, with the despair of loss. A feeling Anselm had shed long before, if indeed he had ever felt it at all. A feeling so frigid like the water's depths that it seemed akin to death. Not from the side Anselm knew, the ethereal bodiless side, but instead a very attached mortal grieving. Had Anselm been one to cry, it very might have well happened.

For, the slow sensation began to accelerate alarmingly, before long he felt as if there were a rock tired to his throat, ripping him downward into the depths of the ocean. Pressure built around him, increasingly painful, though no more than he had felt before. And then, in the haze of overwhelming stimuli which possessed itself somewhere beyond him there came that familiar bonfire. Intense waves of conflicting, and primarily aggressive energy came at him with a sudden force. And there was instantly no seduction in the power, but instead an unstoppable threat. The light collided with Anselm, his mind, and ripped painfully through him.

So hold and icy was the seering hunger Anselm suddenly felt. As if an animal ripped apart, and delivered back into the wild with no food. As if, perhaps, Anselm himself needed food. And how bazaar the sensation was, to need such an archaic sustenance, that his body crumpled over painfully onto the base of the boat. Had he more control Anselm would find himself in a frenzy, but instead pitiful and painful whimpers fell from him, as he had done to him what could not be stopped. The beast shot painfully to his core, then passed, with an eery release.

For a moment it seemed finished, concluded. However, when Anselm attempted to break his connection to the djed connection he found himself in another place. Opening his eyes, he was surrounded by water, and bazaar corals. They were alive and flushed with color. Some glowed to give a florescent appearance to the surfaces of the domed constructs around him. He found himself in come natural room, carved of coral. He could feel the life pulsing around him, spread about the coral with nothing less than a true, and unbridled love. One that again struck Anselm harshly to the core.

As the feeling rushed relentlessly through him the water before him began to condense. First the specter before him appeared much as the shark has, almost transparent, with pulsing veins, but then a thicker layer of skin covered the humanoid shape, and finally large dark eyes came forth from within it. The amorphous specter quickly shaped itself into another waterfolk. At first seeming like the one that had been devoured by the monster, it quickly revealed itself to be another. Anselm could feel the charoda, her blood, and how it coursed the same through hers than it did through the devoured charoda. They were sisters. This semi-tranparent figure before him was the sister of the one that was devoured.

She reached out to Anselm, a pleading and pained expression in her eyes. One much a mirror of the emotions forced upon Anselm in that moment. How cruel a state of being it was. Pained and desperate, mourning. And then, guilt. A deep red liquid, blood, began seeping from the charoda's mouth into the water within the lively coral home. As the blood touched upon the walls and ceiling the coral died, growing grey and fragile. Massive amount of blood lefts the petite charoda, and then through the parted mouth came teeth protruding, then further deformation. The charoda warped and grimaced as the audible effects of popping cartilage came, and her mouth turned to ferocious jaws, familiar enough to Anselm who had witnessed the sister's death first hand.

More and more that Charoda flexed and altered between this monstrous seeming, and the humane. And, the conflict of djed made perfect sense to Anselm. The creature was not of one soul, or body, but two. The way in which two forms could be combined lay beyond Anselm's understanding, however, in some way two living essences had bound, warped and forced into a single being. One captured between overwhelming hunger, and an intense reluctance to feed upon the living. They conspired to destroy one another, and ultimately destroy themselves.

The rest of the crew found Anselm, huddling in pathetic shivers and cries. His hood fell loose in a particular thrash outward at nothing, rocking the boat dangerously, and from his ear could be seen life liquid of the nuit seeping out. He was in pain, and hurt, as if put under intense pressure. Whatever magic worked upon him was beyond the metaphysical, lapsing to the physical. Still in some bazaar state of deliberance his arm forcefully continues reaching out toward the beast. No longer pointing, but sprawled almost desperately, and fearfully, toward it. As if beckoned.

Still the beast circled slowly, allowing the crew to prepare. Poole, without question, tied easily accessible rope to the spear, knotting in an expert fashion. He gave an almost respecting look to Tallis as he gathered his sword back up, and moved back to his post. His compassion for Anselm was little, and he made a silent vow to be the first to shove a sword through him if he got violent. Mages.

Poole had no practice with the spear, and so it got neglected upon it's original conqueror, Leigo. It seemed the plan was following together as intended. The blood soaked the waters around the ship, but no other beasts seemed to wish to approach, and their beast still circled patiently. The blood would not trigger it's rage. There was something else.

Tallis' djed clung easily to the thick blood surrounding the boat, more so than the salty water. But still, it reached out, draining him slowly. He would have one decent shot at this, and even then would risk his own restrain in the process. With luck the djed would save them, however without luck it could claim them utterly. Tallis knew this well, that if unchecked he could destroy them all in madness. Perhaps only himself, but likely them all. One shot...

Feira felt an itching at her skin after pulling Tallis back up. There was a unity in the boat, finally after the foolish selfish hustle at first threat the crew had found there footing, and with it their wits. All except Anselm who had found himself crippled under the weight of something that seemed somehow familiar to Feira. In a way she couldn't explain, in a way that almost seemed clairvoyant in nature. Something odd was pulsing out of him, something that tickled at the natural strands of auristics that hung from her without focus, it pulled on her, but not as hard as it had the more experienced aurist. Instead a soft whisper seemed to run across the wind around her. At first it fell drown behind the clatter of and shifting of her crew, and the lapping of bloody water on the wood, but then became louder and louder. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to. I fought it. Yandra, I couldn't. Please, save me. Please, stop me. Please, stop me. Please," the sound grew strong and strong in Feira's ears, pounding unforgiving like her heart. How much the voice sounded like the Charoda which had been devoured before them all.

Just as the mantra met it's peak a sudden change came forth, one the whole crew could perceive. Anselm arched his backed, rising his decrepit face upward to the sky and yelled forth, "End me!"

The outburst pulled the Nuit forth, a sudden disorienting crack of Djed, forcing him back into his body. And he knew, it was time. The Charoda spirit could hold the wild beast at bay no longer. It was time, the beast was coming. The tragic prisoner was coming...

He had enough time to state what he would to the crew before the waves explodes in a piercing , transparent fin slicing threateningly through the water toward them. In moments it would meet with them. within spear distance first, and then it would be upon them. None knew how it would strike, weather it would try the small ship with it or not, but all knew it had forsaken self preservation. He wanted death. Both of them, and itself.

oocOk guys, ANY questions on this one feel free to PM me some questions. I know it was... um. A lot XD Hopefully it was mostly clear. And enjoyable. Yes all you mages are guna have a hell of a headache after this one. :nod:

The idea on this one is you outline exactly what your character plans to do when the fishy gets close enough. Then in my next post ill let you all know how successful it was.

I'm going to bump Anselm to the top of the list on this one, since he is our little clairvoyant star. So posting order is.

Anselm
Fiera
Tallis
Siarak
Leigo

hope i didnt forget one1 that time :paranoid:

by **Anselm** on May 20th, 2012, 9:14 pm

No doubt the physical appearance of the exposed head of a Nuit would be almost as much of a shock to the rest of the crew as would be the sight of the fast-approaching monster. Angry red scabs were visible all over the top of Anselm's head, showing through his long, thin, white stringy hair. Purple bruising surrounded his eyes as though someone had given him a couple of huge shiners. A large boil located on the right side of his nose had begun leaking something yellow-green and putrid. The skin on his face hung loosely from his cheek bones looking as though it was melting and about to fall off the bottom of his face. A thick white substance was leaking out of one of his ears. And, perhaps most alarming of all, two empty, gray, lifeless eyes abruptly snapped open and stared unseeing at them. But Anselm was not concerned about any of this. He was concerned about trying to retain a tenuous hold on his sanity.

He was lost in a sea of violent and conflicting emotions, some of which he had never in his four hundred years experienced. It might seem that a Nuit would be pretty much immune to such things. And in general this is true. But not in this case. In this case, Anselm's soul had been opened wide and made defenseless against the pain and suffering and hopelessness and hunger and hatred and murderous intent, of the twisted and conflicted creature now rushing toward them, bringing with it its own doom as well as theirs. Anselm centered his thoughts and focused on what had to be done.

“There are worse things than death,” he said. “Kill it now. Whatever the cost to us, it needs to die.”

by **Fiera** on May 21st, 2012, 7:44 am

The whole day had been going in a completely wrong direction. Instead of them peacefully taking measurements of the obelisk, the team had found themselves battling a transparent shark of epic proportions and dealing with unheard of magic. All Fiera wanted to do was get back safely to land and plant all four paws on solid ground. She didn’t, of course, show this in fear of being seen as weak. Red lines of agitated skin showed on her inner palm from her scratching of it after helping Tallis to his feet.

Now she crouched next to the old body of the Nuit she now recalled clearly in her memory; years earlier they had met on an equally as frightening an occasion. In front of her, seizures rocked the body, the state of which she seemed conversant of, in a strange, frightening way. Something touched her being, pulling on it slightly, even, and from it she heard a voice. First, so soft that she lost it under the growl of the ocean and the shouts of her peers, later, loud enough to not miss.

The audacity of the call had her clench her fists over her ears in a vain attempt to block it out and the feelings it brought; the revolution and hopelessness of the situation. The frantic plea that reminded her so much of the now dead Charoda gave Fiera the feeling that it was this beast that sought forgiveness. She shrugged away the disturbing thought and found herself surprised by the silence this brought.

Then, this fragile moment was broken and the turmoil began anew. A shout brought her attention to the fin, once again slicing through the surface of water, directly at them and moving at a frightening speed. This was it, their last chance.

At first, the thought of jumping out of the boat seemed ridiculous and stupid, but now, this was all she wanted to do. Surely the great maw of this shark could easily sink the boat, and the chance of being dragged down with it was fairly high, too. It might even be easier to kill it once in the water, to plunge a dagger into its side. She was a coward, though.

Poole had tied a rope to the spear Tallis now held it proudly as a harpoon. His idea made Fiera smile. At least someone hadn’t given up hope. She was confused at first about the nickname, then realised who their greatest foe was, “… if you can just slow the leviathan…”

She could, perhaps. If she did the unthinkable – for her at least – and experimented with magic. If he could solidify res into a rock, perhaps Fiera, too, could build a wall strong enough to slow the monster down. Expelling her djed in the form of a flat surface exhausted her and solidifying it brought along more unconquerable problems, so she pulled back on her power and instead redirected it.

She didn’t know if it was possible, but she tried to add her own djed to Tallis’ in hope of making his magic stronger, more detrimental to the beast, the leviathan.

by **Leigo** on May 29th, 2012, 11:06 pm

While Tallis and Fiera seemed a lot more organized than before, Anselm seemed to be the one losing it. The boy couldn’t tell what bothered the old man, but his world wouldn’t fall apart over it. When he preached them to stay crouched a while back, Leigo wanted to smack him. Balance this, bad idea that – did the old man not understand they were quite likely to capsize one way or another?

The blond was quite confident he should say something when a scream coming from Anselm shook him to the core. End him? What the petch was wrong with that old creep? No! He couldn’t waste time wondering about the geezer, there were bigger things to do. Things like… for gods’ sake, he didn’t have a plan! Shyke! How the hell was he going to pull out of this one without a plan?

He would’ve kept on panicking were it not for his clenched fingers finally sensing something between them. Getting up, he could feel strength reaching his mind, but leaving his feet. His land dwelling legs were less than useful out at sea and with each passing moment this expedition seemed to be a worse idea. Looking down the spear, the boy wondered just what was he to do with it. Sure, he knew where the pointy end was and how it worked, but that was it as far as his experience with spears went.

Tallis’ idea to slow the beast down sounded like something a reimancer like him could help with, but Leigo was both too frightened and weak in the legs to consider offering assistance at such a time. Hurdling closer behind the two, he was confident he could stick the beast. With his luck though, it would likely only make the thing angry. Spear at the ready, Leigo was going to stick the beast just before it reached the boat. Waiting any longer than that seemed stupid, especially since all of them had balance problems from water alone.

His gaze fell back to Poole once more to make sure he was still able. And he was. Yet it was the weapon in his hand that worried Leigo, luckily he hadn’t revealed his dealings with magic quite as openly as the rest of them. All things considered, regular folk were just as likely to gut a mage as they were to gut the shark. Blowing off some steam in short breaths, Leigo prepared for what was to come – for what was to come fast!