Solo Less Dead Than Before

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The Diamond of Kalea is located on Kalea's extreme west coast and called as such because its completely made of a crystalline substance called Skyglass. Home of the Alvina of the Stars, cultural mecca of knowledge seekers, and rife with Ethaefal, this remote city shimmers with its own unique light.

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Less Dead Than Before

Postby Madeira Craven on October 23rd, 2018, 1:19 am

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    "Uh-hu", the girl supplied unhelpfully.

    "Can you tell me about it?"

    The girl paused thoughtfully, and through her semi-transparent form Madeira could see her nervously picking away at the scabs between her fingers.

    "The lady left. The ghost, I mean. I think she moved on. But nobody noticed because everyone was screaming and running away, but the people behind were pushing forward to see what was going on. Then the guard people in the white robes showed up, and that's when you summoned me."

    Madeira licked her dry lips, her eyes firmly on the back of Emma's head. "And the spiritist, Rotsam? What did he do?"

    "He shot the lady, but missed. Then he looked over the edge of the bridge for a bit."

    "Did he look sad? Confused? Angry?"

    The girl's shroud shivered as she shrugged her shoulders, her fingers still anxiously scratching at her ruined skin. She didn't want to talk about the time she thought her Maddy was dead, but Madeira had to know.

    "Did anybody talk to Rotsam?"

    "The people in the white robes were about to, I think. But I never saw."

    "Did he still have my bow?"

    "Yah. He was holding it really tight. His fingers were white like yours get when you're yelling at Jomi."

    They lapsed into silence again, and the background noise of the forest rose up around them. Crows peered at Madeira's bloody side and cawed in annoyance, wondering why she wasn't dead yet. Elk crossed their path, huffing nervously at the scent of blood, and scattered as Madeira waved her flaming bow. All along Madeira's mind was wrapping endlessly around a question, one so consuming that the ache in her feet and the cold in the folds of her ruined flesh became but minor concerns, and the rhythm of their endless decent became a mindless lope. Why didn't Rotsam tell her Amanthea's son was dead?

    He knew her family's names, had said himself she returned periodically. Not all ghosts could be exorcised in one encounter. It wasn't unheard of to have years of rapport before one could understand a spirit or help it finish its unfinished business, much like her own relationship with Emma and Jomi. But if that was the case he would have done his research, talked to her family, investigated her history. He should have known, should have told her. That death changed everything about the situation. She wouldn't have gone to her dressed as her dead child.

    Did he mean to put her at risk? Maybe he wanted her to be knocked around so he could save her. A little retaliatory humiliation before he saved the day alone? Or did he mean to kill her.

    She remembered the grim look on his face, and the open, elated mockery when he fought through her hypnotism. She was a much better spiritist than him, and had arrived in a blaze into his comfortable territory with a combative kelvic and a high position already secured. Then who would want his services when there was a more talented, more affable option available? He had the motive to want to kill her. And what a neat way to do it, she thought darkly. There was an entire crowd watching who could attest to the accident.

    "Maddy?"

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    Less Dead Than Before

    Postby Madeira Craven on October 23rd, 2018, 1:21 am

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      Madeira shook herself out of her tumbling thoughts. They had more things to worry about than rival spiritists right now.

      "What is it, kitten?"

      Buts she already knew what the girl was trying to draw attention to. The ghost had stopped in her tracks, wide eyed and mesmerized as she watched a colorful rainbow that lingers in the forest less than fifty meters away. Color flickered between the dark trunks of the trees, moving liquidly together as it seemed to float off the ground. The two girls squinted at it through the branches, watching its mesmerizing movements.

      "Lets get a closer look", Madeira spoke first, already moving closer to the mysterious color.

      The thing was situated in the middle of a forest clearing, bobbing lazily over a spattering of wildflowers. It didn't seem to react to the wind rolling down the valley or their approach. Even Syna's rays couldn't seem to touch it, as it merely absorbed the light. While at least several meters across, it was none the less hard to calculate its size given the trailing edges of color and the hypnotic movements within.

      What was it? Where did it come from? Was it flora, fauna, or something else? Madeira and Emma couldn't do much but stare into it, transfixed. It looked ethereal, and Madeira wondered if just maybe, her soulmist imbued body that could interact with ghosts could interact with this thing as well.Eyes wide and reflecting the moving color within, Madeira reached out a hand to touch it.

      A bright flash of blue sliced outward from the mysterious form, and her hand disappeared in a visceral spray of blood.

      Madeira stumbled backwards just as a second flash sliced across her chest, and the cut that should of eviscerated her glanced across her chest, slicing through skin, flesh and bone as easily as parting water. Suddenly the still, gently bobbing and harmless-looking color advanced towards them. A blade of color caught the stunned ghost across the belly, stirring up her soulmist harmlessly, but rattling the girl to her senses.

      "Maddy!"

      "Run!" Madeira barked, holding her wound closed with her remaining hand as she backed away, reeling. The creature, for it was a creature, must be a creature, dogged her steps, following her out of the clearing. Great arcs of color flew from it, gutting the any trees and foliage that got too near. Taking her own advice, as she stepped into the shadows of the trees the Spiritist turned on her heel and ran.

      The creature kept pace with the pregnant woman easily. It didn't bend a blade of grass it passed over as it effortlessly floated through the forest, at least none that it didn't cut down itself. If it was angry or reactive or simply enjoying the stalk Madeira couldn't tell. The movement of its hypnotic dance didn't change, and its movment was slow and effortless and steady, and it made no sound. Every time she looked behind her the thing was

      Her lips between her teeth to keep from whimpering in fright, Madeira used her newly grown hand to level herself as she ran as fast as she dared over the uneven ground. She lost sight of Emma as she barreled through the brush, stumbling over the loose soil and aware only of her need to get far far away.

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      Less Dead Than Before

      Postby Madeira Craven on October 23rd, 2018, 1:27 am

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        timestamp
      It was toying with her, she decided, nearly a bell later, as her exhausted feet pounded over the rocky terrain. There was nowhere to hide, as the thing was never more than a couple paces behind her, slicing through trees and plants and unfortunate animals when it considered her pace to be slacking.

      Her attempts to veer off her downward course were head off by the color, which would open another wound for its trouble. It was only as the forest dropped off below her that she found out why.

      A cliff the faced the last of the misty mountains dropped off below her, wind swept pine trees clinging to its lip and the last strip of land to the bay stretching out below. A waterfall fell with a thunderous roar far to her left, and its snaking river was nothing but a wide silver ribbon below. Syna had set behind the mountain to her back, and Leth was awake and witness to her chase. As she reached the edge and looked into the moon gods face she came to a strange realization. The rainbow had herding her there.

      She had to catch onto a bough of a tilting tree to stop her wild downward descent, and a pinecone jostled by the movement went hurtling into space. She didn't even see it hit the bottom before she turned to face the color as it stalked through the forest behind her. It was taking its time, now that she was pinned.

      Crossing her arms protectively over her belly, in some superstitious belief that that would possibly help, she lifted her chin and glared at it with all the fierceness she had left. Prayers to Dira and the fallen star circled through her mind as she stood tall, certain that with their help she wasn't about to leave this mortal world just because a stupid murderous rainbow wanted her to.

      "Do it, you-"

      A bright blade of happy, peony pink whipped from the color beast and she was just aware of a sudden stinging in her neck before the word turned black.

        79th of Fall, 518


      "Oh by the Leth's shiny petching balls. Girl? Girl? Oh lord up high. Girl, can you hear me?"

      When Madeira came too the warmth of daylight was soaking into her eyelids. But a great furry moon was doing its best to eclipse it. She feebly batted it away. Her senses came back one by one, and she was aware she was on her back, bent back over her rucksack. One of her iron nails had stabbed her through the back, she realized with a kind of detached disinterest. Good news, however, was that her head was still firmly attached. Though by the exploration of her fingers around the trench of flesh and sinew around her throat made her think it might be a new acquisition.

      "Yer awake?! Gods, lie still. You're hurt. You're hurt real petching bad."

      Blinking her eyes open, Madeira came face to face with a bear of a man, dressed much more sensibly than herself in head to toe hunting leathers. A composite bow was strung along his back and three fat hares swung from his belt. She had never seen anything as beautiful as him in all her life.

      Clinging to the front of his clothes she pulled herself up to a sitting position and began her now normal rundown of her various injuries while the man gapped like a fish.

      "No, no, I think I'm alright. I've never been so hungry in my life, but I'm alright. Thank Dira, I've never been so happy to see another human being!" She nearly sobbed with relief, holding tight to his leathers with one hand, lest he disappear. "Tell me, have you seen a ghost around? No? How about a really sharp, angry rainbow?... No, I didn't hit my head that hard. I've fallen from worse." She really was crying now. Big salty tears of joy that only fell harder as the baby gave a vigorous kick to prove it had survived, too.

      "Oh petch, oh Hai. Easy girl. The port in a few bells away, we'll get you help. Gods almighty."

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      Less Dead Than Before

      Postby Madeira Craven on October 23rd, 2018, 1:28 am

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        The port, reeking of fish and sweat and the rough candor of seamen, was a welcome sight. Madeira breathed deep and tried not retain what little dignity she had left by not weeping like a child as her new best friend, the hunter Bran, led her into a little bungalow where the mouth watering smell of frying fish was thick in the air. A little old woman backed through a curtain that must have separated the bedroom from the main room with a load of laundry, but when she caught sight of Bran and the bloody, ragged woman all but draped over his shoulder, she let out a great shriek of fright, and the clean linen exploded into the air.

        Her name was Bandi, and she was Bran's mother.

        She got to know the two as she shoveled second and third helpings of stew into her mouth. They told her of their life fishing and hunting in the mountains, and Madeira told them of her adventure in those same mountains. Though in the end she was sure they didn't believe her. They believed she was hurt though, and Bandi did her best to clean her wounds and sew up what was left open. The green dress and red cloak was torn to shreds, its color stained with blood and dirt and what looked suspiciously like brain matter. Bandi helped to cut her out of them, and held it by the tips of her fingers at arms length as she promised to burn all of it at the first opportunity.

        They gave the endlessly grateful spiritist a simple linen shift to wear and a heavy fur cloak to borrow. It was heavy brown thing with a musty smell she was extremely satisfied to know what a bear pelt. They offered her a place to stay for the night to rest, and with anxious mumbling Bran wanted to set out and summon a healer.

        With a strange steely glint in her eyes Madeira refused the offer. There was somewhere she had to be, and someone it was very important that she see. Kissing both her saviors's cheeks she thanked them profusely, and promised a hundred gold for their kindness and hospitality. They didn't believe that any more than they believed she fell from the city and was attacked by a toothy rainbow, but they insisted Bran take her at least as far as the city gates.

        Sniffing back tears again, Madeira thanked them from the bottom of her heart, and together her and Bran left to find the old man to take them up to the Amaranthine Gates.

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        Less Dead Than Before

        Postby Madeira Craven on October 23rd, 2018, 1:29 am

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          Madeira remembered Hachia from her first assent up to the gates. He was a stooped, wizen old man with an air of unhurried patience and unflappability. Even at her grizzly appearance the man only raised a brow and straightened his soft smile.

          "Can you take us to the gate, please?" Madeira stepped forward to ask, holding closed the bearskin around her shoulders to hide the worst of her injuries.

          "Are you sure you can keep a seat on an Okomo? Please, miss, come sit in my hut. I will fashion a stretcher for you. The climb is long, and you are wounded."

          "Thank you for your concern. That's very sweet of you. But I'm in a hurry, and frankly this can't wait. I assure you I can sit an Okomo." He could have asked her to fly and she was sure she would have found some way to manage. After the days she had been through and the crazy shyke she had done, she wasn't sure if anything was impossible anymore.

          "If you're certain..." Hachia's eyes flicked over her head, and she sensed Bran giving a wide shrug of resigned bewilderment. "I will tack us our Okomo. It will just take a chime."

          With gentle and practiced hands the old man had their mounts picked from the herd of pastel creatures that roamed about his house saddled and ready in moments. Bran helped the pregnant woman onto the one Hachia pointed out as the most sure-footed of the three. The beasts ears flattened and its nostrils flared as it caught the metallic, gummy smell of her wounds, but with a word from Hachia settled quickly. And in no time they were on their way.

          This assent was much different than her last, she ruminated as the goats picked their way over the treacherous, winding path. She remembered it clearly, how nervous she was with the swaying of the beasts and the vertical drop off the mountain. Now Madeira was almost comfortable, easily letting the Okomo have its head and letting it pick the surest path for her. And when she saw her first glimpse of the city, her heart sang with joy. Where when she first set eyes on the glittering towers in the distance, she remembered the resigned black anger they inspired. Back then she saw it as her pretty, shiny little prison. Now it was something much more precious.

          The soldiers stood beside their narrow gate, still as stone with their tall spears and polite tones as they asked her for the second time: "Hail, what brings you to Lhavit?"

          Madeira smiled, and she could feel the star pressing into the curve of her back as she answered truthfully: "I'm coming home."


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          Less Dead Than Before

          Postby Madeira Craven on October 23rd, 2018, 1:30 am

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            It had been three days since she had fallen from the bridge, and four since finding the star. And with all the time Madeira had the opportunity to think, interrupted now and then by vicious maulings and death. And with all that time she always seemed to cycle back to that one question: why didn't he tell me her child was dead?

            This thought came back to eat at her as she finally stood on the peak of Satru, watching as people leisured their way through the last bell of the midnight rest period. The streets were busy but quiet as the nightlife bumbled their way from homes and shops, bundled up against the high, thin wind that bit at their scarves and cloaks. Warm in her bearskin and her body sweetly oblivious to the wreck she had made of it, Madeira was ready to go home. She wanted to call Emma back, cuff Jomi's ear, pet her animals and pamper her Architectrix infested house. She wanted a warm bath and a hot meal, to just lie there and marvel that through everything, her child still moved within her. But above all she wanted to drag Allister upstairs by the collar of his coat and make love to him like a soldier home from war.

            Of course, that was what she wanted. But what she needed was very different. She needed the healers of the Catholicon to fix what her precious fallen star could not, and she needed a very important answer.

            Finding the Den of the Lost was easy. Everyone seemed to know where it was. Madeira always remembered to thank kindly the people she asked for directions before she strode away, the fire in her eyes burning hotter and hotter the closer she got to her destination. But when she found the strange Myrian symbol carved into the door that marked the abode of the famed Spiritist, she couldn't find that politeness within herself to knock.

            Turning the handle, she shouldered the door open with a bang that rattled dust from the ceiling beams. She walked in tall, showing no pain or weakness, and sloughed off the bearskin so her every hastily patched injury was on full, gruesome display. Rotsam was not in the crowded first room, with its candles and beads and strange shrine, but she wasn't willing to look for him. In a steady voice that was both calm while promising violence with every syllable, she called for him.

            "Rotsam, it's been a while, won't you come say hello?"

            There was a flurry of movement, of disturbed sheets and a thunder of bare feet, but the Myrian stumbled into his front room with not a trace of sleep in his dark eyes. The gloom of the dusty space, the air thick and bitter with spiced herbs and blood, made them both narrow their eyes as they looked at each other.

            "Princess?..." she could feel the weight of his eyes travelling from her throat to her shoulder to the thigh the stuck from beneath the short shift. "What happened to you?

            Madeira's smile was terrible to behold. It was wide and curved and somehow unsettling, perhaps because it didn't touch the icy blue eyes that burned into Rotsam.

            "I fell of the bridge, that's what happened. Surely you noticed", she bit back, vibrating under the strain to not launch at the man. She wanted to pin him down and tear the answers out with her teeth, but that's not how she did things. There were dozens of people who would back him if he claimed it was all and accident, and truly she couldn't even prove to herself that it wasn't. She had to be smarter than that. As much as she wanted to exact revenge, it would be more prudent to ensure he never went near her to warrant revenge again.

            "Actually, I'm here for my bow", she purred. "Surely you've kept it for me?"

            It took the Myrian a chime to process, but he eventually he nodded his head and retrieved the weapon from behind his crowded desk.

            "There must have been a ledge, yah? Something you couldn't see from the ledge..." he justified, his eyes sliding to Madeira and away as he waited for her to confirm his speculation. "I'll admit I thought you dead. The Shinya will need to be notified."

            "Dead? Really? Do you not know?" it took all her acting ability to look shocked, twisting her contour of her words and widening her eyes as if in disbelief.

            "Know what?" Rotsam eyed her suspiciously as he surfaced with her bow, laying it on the table between them. It had been oiled recently. The pale wood gleamed in the low light. She watched it as she gathered herself. She would have to tread very carefully here. This was the biggest lie she would ever tell, and the one that would be easiest to disbelieve. The facts would matter less than the feeling. She had to make sure that no matter what evidence was laid in front of him, some niggling doubt would lay waste to his reason. She had to make his soul believe it, even if his mind didn't.

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            Less Dead Than Before

            Postby Madeira Craven on October 23rd, 2018, 1:32 am

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              Dijed pooled slowly in the hollow behind her eyes and sat as a swirl of potential in the space between her lips. She pushed it out with everything she had, weaseled it into the hard headed spiritist, let it make a home in the spaces between his thoughts and the feelings that itched in his heart. Fear, it whispered. Force of will twisted in uncomfortable shapes as she put all her mental strength behind it.

              He had brushed it aside last time, possibly knowing she was a hypnotist. But with luck he wont get that chance again. Picking the bow and the arrows, she notched it with practiced ease as he looked on, hand already flying to the dagger tucked into his waist.

              "Oh, don't bother with that", she smiled like a madwoman, pink tongue wiping languidly over her teeth. "It's not for you, it's for me."

              Turning the bow around she shot herself through the heart. Blood rocketed out of the wound with the force of the point blank range. The fletched end disappeared entirely, while several centimeters of bloody arrowhead stuck from her back. She reached behind herself, groping for and drawing out the bolt with a flinch. Thankfully she didn't hit any bones, but her heart was mulch and struggling to hold on. When she was sure it was healing, and she wasn't going to pass out, she raised her head to look him in the eye with that same toothy smile.

              "You see? Why did you think I was dead when I can't be killed." She couldn't read what was winging across the Myrian's dark face, but she observed the whiteness of his lips and the tension of the arm holding the handle of the blade behind his back, and knew he was feeling something. She put the bolt, red with congealing blood, back onto the table. "Why didn't you tell me her child was dead?"

              "You're a liar, Princess." sweat was beading on his upper lip. "Get out of my house."

              "Answer me first." she leaned towards him, and felt her dijed burn away as she forced it top extend itself. "Why didn't you tell me her child was dead?"

              "Hypnotism, illusions", he spat at her feet. "Never come back, you pathetic little cretin."

              Madeira laughed, sucking her tongue back so the sound came out thin and high, head back so he could see the wound that ringed her throat. Everything she did she did to try and scare the tough, experienced ghost hunter.

              "Illusion? Is that bolt you polished to a shine not real? Am I not real? A figment of your imagination? Oh, there is so much you don't know, boy." She lifted her other hand, sighting down her wrist across her bracer crossbow. Suddenly, with a great whoosh of shivering air, her body caught fire. Sickly green flames surrounded a black, skeletal arm that reached for his throat. Finally drawing his blade, the spiritist made a wild slash for her arm. The aim was true, and the sharpened blade lodged itself in the bone of her forearm.

              The star kept her from feeling the bite of the blade or from loosing too much of the precious blood that streamed from the wound. Though she inwardly cursed knowing it added another wound she would have to recover from and possibly scar she would wear forever. Outwardly she only laughed as he pulled out the blade, sticky with blood. Stepping back, she dropped her wrist and her arm returned, white and whole, and sporting a new half-healed slash.

              "Stay away from me and my family. You have no idea what you're dealing with", she snarled as her hypnotism finally fizzled out and a headache bloomed behind her eyes. Rotsam was breathing heavy, his stance low and defensive, with a line of white showing around his blown pupils. He seemed to be struggling to say something from behind his ragged breath, but Madeira didn't give him the chance. Gathering her bolts and bow, and the bear cloak off the floor, she turned and left before he could see the beads of blood working from behind her overtaxed eyes.

              Only when the shop door closed behind her did she let herself feel the pain in her head and examine the wound in her torso and wrist. She still didn't know if that had been worth it, but at the very least he would think twice before getting rid of his competition the easy way. Pausing for a moment, she dug around inside her pack and retrieved the rough, round, impossibly light stone that had saved her life over and over again. She ran her hands over its surface, leaving a smear of blood on its perfect face that she wiped away with the edge of her shift.

              "Never leave me. You were a gift from Dira, I'm sure of it. She knew I would need you."

              Squinting against the brightness of the moon and weighted with equal parts relief and anxiety, she dragged herself to the Catholicon cradling the precious stone in her arms. She could only pray that her lucky star would stick around, and the lie wouldn't be as big as it seemed.

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              Madeira Craven
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              Less Dead Than Before

              Postby Madeira Craven on October 28th, 2018, 7:55 pm

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              Madeira Craven

              Skills
              • Architectrix: 1xp
              • Hypnotism: 5xp
              • Investigation: 4xp
              • Logic: 2xp
              • Cosmology: 1xp
              • Planning: 2xp
              • Negotiation: 1xp
              • Persuasion: 1xp
              • Endurance: 2xp
              • Land Navigation: 2xp
              • Wilderness Survival: 3xp
              • Leadership: 3xp
              • Stealth: 1xp
              • Unarmed Combat: 1xp
              • Running: 2xp
              • Riding- Okomo: 1xp
              • Intimidation: 2xp
              • Acting: 1xp
              • Subterfuge: 1xp

              Lores

              • Architectrix: negotiating with a house
              • Lore of Leth's shooting star
              • Investigation: using curiosity and caution
              • Lore of the Suicide Ghost
              • Negotiation: ultimatum
              • Rothsam: knows Madeira is a hypnotist
              • Rothsam: not a bowman
              • Persuasion: the use of a Lie
              • Location: the Misty Peaks
              • Land Navigation: orientating oneself by the sea
              • Wilderness Survival: making camp
              • Wilderness Survival: making a fire
              • Stealth: snaking away from a bear
              • Wilderness Survival: playing dead in the event of a bear attack
              • Investigation: interrogating a witness
              • Relic Monster: Rozacapotl
              • Rozacapotl: slices its victims
              • Rozacapotl: intelligent creature
              • Lhavit: Madeira's new home
              • Location: the Den of the Lost

              Awards & Retribution
              +Severed Arm
              -Green Dress, Linin
              -Red Cloak, starter package
              +Injuries: opens wounds across the right side of the body and around the throat and wrist. Non life threatening, but will take three weeks to heal fully with proper care. Mild scaring.

              Notes
              Notes here.
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              Madeira Craven
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