[Wind Reach Quest - Closed] Storms Unknown

[Gossamer]

Timestamp: 20th of Summer, 510 AV Location: The Shrine of Those That Have Passed Time: Late Evening Status: Opened to the first three or four people It was a place of ghosts - both haunted by those living and those who have died. People came and went to the shrine, sometimes to talk to the dead, sometimes to find a way to muddle through life and keep living. The Shrine had denizens all its own. It had lightkeepers and statue polishers, and then it had ghosts that talked to ghosts - especially those with unfinished business. Sometimes, within Wind Reach, there was a lot of unfinished business. People carefully guarded themselves and their secrets, and often took them to the grave inadvertently. The shrine itself was decorated with some of the greatest treasures and indeed magical items the Inarta produced. Clocks and timepieces - made of gathered watchstones - decorated the walls. There were mirrors forged from glassworks that no one remembered how the magic was infused within them. They had twins elsewhere in Wind Reach that allowed communication between them. There were weapons and jewelry and even kneeling benches for prayer that said to open direct portals to the Ears of the Gods and Goddesses. Basically, whenever a master died, something of himself was placed here by the other artisans to honor his name. And if that item was still functional, then it was here it was used - also in honor. One of the most important artifacts was the Weather Stormvial. A Stormvial was a barometer of sorts, that gauged Zulrav's moods and relayed the information accurately to the readers. The idea was to note the location on the neck of the flute where the fluid filled the closed vessel. Then, according to where it was on the neck (higher or lower) than the actual fluid in the vessel itself, that's what the weather would be. Traditionally the Stormvials were filled during good weather. It consists of a glass container with a sealed body, half filled with a secret liquid. The Stormvial consisted of a narrow open spout connected to an oblong body which was closed to the atmosphere and made all of special glass. When the air pressure is lower than it was at the time the body was sealed, the water level in the spout will rise above the water level in the body; when the air pressure is higher, the water level in the spout will drop below the water level in the body. High pressure = good weather. Low pressure = storms coming. There were levels in between, denoting all sorts of weather accurately etched on the glass. It was special. It was vital to Wind Reach to forewarn of storms coming. Eagles were lost in storms. Riders lost their seats in high winds and plunged to their deaths. Worst still, valuable food was lost. When food was lost, people starved. It was as simple as that. And... on the advent of the dawn when the dek first filtered into the Shrine to start their daily cleaning and the burning of incense... they discovered it was missing. No one accused the dek of taking it, of course, for you couldn't eat it and thus it had no value to them. You couldn't sell it either, because it was too distinctive. Everyone knew what it was and what it looked like. That left a mystery behind, a mystery that needed solving. In groups of two, four, even one large party of ten, people set off to try and find the Stormvial. Bringing it back would get someone important's attention, certainly extra food, and might just win someone an apprenticeship in a group that had somehow overlooked their attention. Some people went for selfish reasons. Some people went for selfless reasons - the stormvial needed to be returned. It was vital. Why? Because it was the last of its kind. The artisan who had created it, Demetri Vakinav, had taken the secret of its creation to his grave... something the rest of the glassworks artists had spoken about forever. Many people had looked for Demetri's workshop and his notes. No one had ever found them. The loss of his Stormvial would be a blow to Wind Reach that would seriously endanger all of them - especially when the surprise fall storms came and people were still out gathering food.

[Cyrill]

Cyrill hadn’t visited the shrine in a while. She told herself it was because she was just too busy, but deep down, she knew that she was avoiding seeing her mother’s ghost. She had never properly seen her or spoken to her, but she knew that Elira was still there. And that unsettled her more than she would ever like to admit. She had stopped by the shrine a few times, always staying for no more than a few chimes. But now was to be different. Now, she had to come to the shrine to do something important – to fulfill a duty, almost. Elira and her eagle had both died in a violent storm – their crushed bodies found days later with there never being any hope of survival for either of them. If the Stormival was to go missing forever, this kind of thing would happen much more frequently. Cyrill shook her head, curls bouncing around her face. She didn’t want another child to lose a parent that way. But ultimately, it weren’t the circumstances of her mother’s death that brought her here. When she had heard that the Stormival had gone missing she was as shocked as the other glassblowers. In her opinion, the Stormival was the most valuable glass piece in all of Wind Reach. It was a piece of history, a piece of unmatched workmanship, and above all – a piece of art. Cyrill couldn’t just go on with her life while something as beautiful and valuable as the Stormival was missing. She wanted to see it, to touch it, and she wanted to be the one to find it. She didn’t think she had much to gain from it, of course. She already had an established position among the glassblowers. She was in no immediate need of money or goods. But she wanted terribly to find the Stormival and to know, in her own heart, that she was the one who found it. And so, Cyrill had arrived at the shrine, reasoning that if she were to fall in with a search party, the whole process would be much more efficient. Even her desire for being the one to ultimately uncover the Stormival couldn’t surpass her inclination toward logical thinking. And logic told her that she would be much more useful in a group rather than alone. Her eyes scanned the groups of people milling about, trying to decide which one had the best chance of success.

[Lyra]

Lyra wasn’t sure why she kept visiting that mysterious place that was called Shrine of Those That Have Passed. Like so much she did these days, this action was born out of an impulse of which the reason was buried deep in her subconscious. If one asked, however, she would claim that she had just entered the living world again and that the presence of what she had once been calmed her. Perhaps it was true. It was equally likely though that she kept coming back because she waited for a chance to help the ghosts roaming the shrine. They were lost and stuck in the mortal world, just like she was, and she felt pity for those poor souls. Another reason might be that she felt like she owed the Inarta something – after all, they had welcomed her into their city and let her live and eat with them. One day she found what a part of her had been waiting for: The strangely shaped glass vial filled with water had disappeared. Nobody had explained its function and the mechanics behind it to her, but still she immediately realized that its disappearance was likely to cause a great deal of inconveniences. When entering the shrine that day, she literally smelled the tension in the air. Something was utterly and completely wrong. And the glass vial was missing. Lyra wasn’t sure what to do though. For a while she just stood there and stared at the empty place where it had been situated, her mind still working slowly and trying to comprehend what that meant for Wind Reach and, more importantly, for her own mental wellbeing. Would she get in trouble if she started searching for it, stuck her nose into things that didn’t really concern her? The Inarta were friendly and open, but also stern and direct when it came to rules and caste regulations. As far as she had understood their society, she was currently considered a Chiet and part of that caste. However, she had never bothered with the question of what that meant for her and what she was not able to do as a Chiet. Perhaps she should have asked … but she had been blind, swallowed by her own misery. Now, she realized that she wanted to help. Still, there was no point of beginning, no information she could connect the missing vial with. The lowest caste, the Dek, was an option possibly leading to the solution. But weren’t they only stealing for survival reasons? Why would one of them steal a valuable, yet practically useless object? Lyra supposed that they weren’t able to get out of the city effortlessly. So the Ethaefal stood there, thinking about where to start. Featuring a rather extraordinary appearance, she didn’t quite fit in with the crowd. Her shimmering white horns gave her away as some otherworldly being immediately, and the skin and dark hair radiating a warm golden glow further augmented that impression. One of Syna, the Radiant Lady – but definitely not mortal.

[Shayth]

Word of the Stormvial had reached the young rider as she drank her frustrations away. It was gone, lost, stolen. How could it be stolen? Who would steal such an important and sacred item? Immediately, her anger flared, and without another word to her fellow patrons - Shayth left the building. Calling for Turiska, she scanned the sky for the glossy bird.

It didn't take long for her to appear, feathers fluffed up in irritation and golden eyes angry.

"The Stormvial is gone?! What fool would take something like that?! I'll tear them to pieces and throw their body into the deepest abyss." Turiska fumed as she landed, snapping her beak in anger. Blue eyes flashing, Shayth stepped up onto her back and settled into the black feathers.

"I know, I know! Come, we're going to the Shrine, and we're going to find the stupid thief. And I will laugh as you dispose of them." Gripping Turiska's feathers as the huge bird flapped her wings, the inarta ignored her bright red hair as it whipped at her face. A murderous expression crossed her features as they took flight, and she scanned the area with her mind as Turiska scanned it with her eyes. Where ever the Stormvial had gone, it was not this way. Keening in frustration, the eagle tilted her wings, gliding over the ground and climbing to the Shrine. Strong talons gripping the rocky mountainside, she let Shayth off, before rising to the sky again. Anything Shayth learned inside, she would soon know.

Striding into the Shrine Of Those Who Have Passed, the rider looked around. There were people here, and ghosts. All mingled between the beautiful artifacts that adorned the home of the dead. Moving past the others, she noticed someone. A woman with shining white horns. Not an inarta. Her blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she slowed. Looking over at other inarta, a woman with bright red curls, she lifted her chin at the scene.

"What happened here?" The blunt woman asked, hands resting on hips.

[Gossamer]

There was a dek passing by, his arms loaded down with cleaning supplies. Normally, the dek didn't talk to strangers, but when the rider placed her hands on her hips and looked about to loose her temper, he took note. Pausing, he bowed to her and identified himself immediately then answered her question.

"I's Scratch. Rider, no one knows what happened. Last night, things were fine when the last visitor we could find reported things normal. Then, this morning, the crew came in to dust and clean and it was gone. The Stormvial is gone! No clue where it went... no idea how it got moved. All we saw was some of the fluid that was in it when it was taken off the wall was spilled. On the floor, over there where it should go. No one saw anything... no one's heard anything... just droplets of whatever the water was leading away and even then that trail disappears." He said, eyes wide, and obviously afraid of the rider. Generally they had good cause.

He took a step back, glanced around at the other two women that were near, and then pointed a finger at Lyra. "Ain't never seen her here before. Maybe you should ask her. Don't seem right - people don't have horns."

Then, if she didn't ask him more, Scratch would wander off - quickly. There were other people in the cavern - but none of them seemed to be doing anything but questioning each other or looking over the rest of the artifacts sitting on ledges or lining the walls. But, as to where someone could start searching to find the Stormvial was anyone's guess. With the sheer lack of any blatant evidence, note, ransom, or even any accounting of any disgruntlement, anything in the world could have taken it - even the ghosts here themselves.

[Cyrill]

Cyrill watch with mild amusement as a dek explained the situation to a new arrival. The woman looked positively furious, which didn’t surprise Cyrill all that much. It was common to see an Inarta on the verge of a screaming fit. It was not, however, common to see a woman with horns on her head. She was obviously a foreigner, which made Cyrill wonder why she would come here to presumably look for the Stormival. It was an artifact that was of practical, historical, and artistic importance to one and all Inartas in here. The woman’s motivation puzzled Cyrill and she didn’t like to stay puzzled for long. Besides, the woman might even have a better clue at where to look for the Stormival than the Inartas. Coming from another land, surely she would have some outside information that could be useful. Cyrill made her way over to her, all the while wondering what exactly the woman was. She vaguely remembered hearing about something that resembled the woman’s appearance, but she wasn’t sure whether she heard as a myth or a legitimate traveler’s tale. Regardless, Cyrill stopped before the woman, inclining her head a fraction of an inch in greeting. “Good evening. I am Cyrill. I wonder, are you here to search for the Stormival as well?” she asked in her most polite tone.

[Shayth]

Shayth listened to the dek, narowing her eyes as he mentioned the horned woman. Even the cleaner had suspicions. Nodding as Scratch shuffled on, the Rider walked back to the horned woman, catching the last of Cyrils words. It almost made her laugh.

"Why would a foreigner be searching for the vial, unless to swipe it away?" Looking the strange creature over, Shayth crossed her arms.

"Is there a good reason your here? What are you? Where did you come from?" The questions were direct, blunt and held none of Cyril's polite tone. Shayth was a Endal, and a keeper of the peace. Otherworldly creatures didn't always keep the peace.

[Lyra]

Lyra stood and watched as another red-haired woman entered the shrine. This one, however, didn’t resemble the other one in the slightest. Her attitude was self-confident, almost overly so, to the point of being bossy and demanding. Lyra immediately wished to leave the room after this one had entered it, but, being there to figure out why the glass thing wasn’t where it should be, she merely took a few steps away from her.

Fortunately a boy paused to answer her question, most likely one of the Dek caste. They were the ones in charge of cleaning and other works the higher castes didn’t want to concern themselves with. Lyra wondered why the Dek always did what the higher-ranked Inarta said, but she also understood that if she wanted to live in Wind Reach, she would have to obey the social rules. So she said nothing. Her eyes wandered back to where the missing object had been situated. No idea how it got moved … and spilled water obviously were the only clues to work with.

However, before Lyra’s mind could start processing the information, a slender, worn finger pointed at her. Eyes widened, she heard the boy’s accusations. She? Of all people inhabiting Wind Reach at the moment … she? It was the most ridiculous idea she had ever heard. Of course, the two present Inarta were likely to have a different opinion on that topic.

The first one approached her with a friendly, but cautious attitude. Lyra was about to answer her question, opened her mouth – when the other Inarta interrupted. Lyra inwardly cringed at the slightly threatening tone of her voice. Obviously the Inarta blamed her. Lyra could even understand her, foreigners always were the first ones to be discriminated against. She knew that.

She had even experienced similar reactions before, although she couldn’t clearly remember where and when.

But she knew that she wouldn’t let others blame herself without any proof to back their claims up. After all, Lyra was the one offering her help to a city she was only visiting! Treating her like that wasn’t right. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for defending her pride against the two other women. “Good evening”, she nodded towards the one with the pretty curls in her hair. “I‘m called Lyra.” Then she shot a quick glance towards the other one. “My kind has been titled the Ethaefal. I have arrived at Thunder Bay at the beginning of this season, and one of your riders has been kind enough to pick me up and take me to your Valintar. I … have no knowledge about the function of the … Stormvial, you call it? But I understand that it’s important to your city, so I’d like to help searching for a clue of its whereabouts.”

Circling the room with her gaze, Lyra wondered who could know more about the case. Perhaps the creator of the thing? Or the night watch, if there was something like that? Casting a timid glance at the Inarta with the loud voice again, she suggested: “Does this city have a night watch? Someone could ask the patrol of the previous night if they’ve seen or heard anything.”

Waiting for any reaction, but focusing on the bossy Inarta first and foremost, Lyra hoped she had said the right thing. She wasn’t as good with words as she had used to be before … Everything she knew was that she had to be careful around this one. She appeared dangerous, with a temper like a volcano.

[Cyrill]

Cyrill’s nose wrinkled slightly at the other Inarta’s crude tone. She had moments of temper herself, but never when first meeting someone. Unless, of course, that someone happened to disturb her while she was working… But that was beside the point. She would put her own personal distastes away for the moment and she hoped the short-tempered woman would do the same. It was all about finding the Stormival now.

She was surprised to hear the woman call herself an Ethaefal. She was sure she had heard the name before. A passing merchant must have mentioned it last summer when they were bargaining over a glass vase she had made. He had told a very elaborate story about a strange,mysterious race. But Cyrill had been wary of his telling from the start, sure that he was only trying to distract her from the matter at hand. Now, only a few pieces of the trader’s story made sense in her head. Unfortunately, none of them could be useful to her at the moment.

“No night watch that I know of. There is no need for it, really. Nobody had ever tried to steal the Stormival. The dek take care of this place,” she said, waving her hand around vaguely. “But all they can say is that everything was fine the night before and this morning, the Stormival was gone.”

“There’s always the chance that someone was passing through here during the night. Someone wanting to talk to a ghost or have a moment to themselves. They would’ve seen something…” Cyrill trailed off thoughtfully, but then dismissed her own idea. “But if someone really did see anything suspicious, they would have surely reported it. All of Wind Reach knows about the Stormival’s disappearance by now.”

[Gossamer]

The Dek scrambled out of the bad-tempered riders way and was off halfway across the room before he was captured by the Youthmaster and detained. Duvin stopped the older boy with a quick grab at the back of his neck, gently turned him and smiled. "Not so fast, Scratch. Who had cleaning duty here last night?" He asked thoughtfully. Then waited without speaking holding the boy firm as if to outlast him. Scratch was silent for a long time, then blurted out a quick explanation. "Kida did. But that rider, Barsi, likes her a lot. So he took her up to clean his aerie and to see his eagle, only you know they weren't cleaning and visiting no bird. I don't think she wanted to go either. Last time Barsi took her up there, we didnt' see her for a week and then she had that baby nine months later. That rider is going to put another babe in her belly and all her duties will fall to me when shes too fat to walk." He said with an almost whine to his voice. "So while she was up there, I had to be down here and do her work. I cleaned this place, but nothing was amiss... I swear it." He said. Duvin looked him up and down once more than then seemed to soften. "It's good of you to see that her tasks did not go unattended. I'll see to it that she takes over your tasks the next couple of nights and that Barsi is busy elsewhere." He added, giving the young man a gentle thump of respect on the shoulder. "It's really too bad you didn't see anything though. Generally trouble happens in the middle of the night. Was anyone sleeping in the warrens outside or anything?" He asked Scratch. The boy shook his head and the Youthmaster nodded. He smiled and let the boy go as soon as he answered. Scratch wasn't his jurisdiction, but he did love children equally. "Not that I know, sir." He added then tried to scamper off. He succeeded too, only to run straight back into Cyrill. The boy staggered back, muttered an apology, and glared up at her before swallowing. There was something in his eyes that Cyrill could tell he was lying or afraid. Fear was more likely. He'd obviously seen something and wasn't talking. On Lyra's part, her sharp eyes picked up another detail as she watched the scene unfold. The boy had some sort of oil on his battered shoes - the tops of them - that glistened in the same color that the stormvials' fluid contained as was evident by the spilled fluid on the floor. But it seemed odd it was on the top of his shoes and not indeed on the tread. It gleamed aquamarine like the bay Lyra had fallen into. But she had other things to worry about for the moment, like the angry rider grilling her with questions.