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In Which We Discover the Joys of a Sinkhole [P]

Postby Feint » 03/14/2013 2:06 PM

1
Image

The sun was shining, the grass was green, the birds were singing, and the breeze was unhealthily warm. It was not a particularly happy day for Dhaifu, former servant of the Lord of Cold, paritcularly for that very reason. It was also partially because the singing birds were hungry carnivores and the green grass only grew in sparse little clumps, being in the desert as he was, but he found those details much less important.

His inner machinations whined, unused to being forced to work under the stress of extreme heat, but his roots called back to a warmer setting than the eternal blizzards he was used to, deep within the dark cathedral, so he merely ignored them and expected them to endure. Well... To a point.

He would have glared at the sun if he had the nerve to raise his head from his own shadow, heaving and barely able to walk at a decent pace. Embarrassing as it was to walk in such a way, he justified his position by the fact that he could still see a great distance from his low vantage point, from which he kept his eyes on the horizon for shade, a nice person with oil, and something he could hunt for food, in that order.

My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm. They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate. When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me. I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it.
I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.

My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presence that they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on, never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.

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[1]

Postby Indigo » 03/14/2013 2:38 PM

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The problem was the heat. She could deal with the lack of water--a good number of full bottles was her friend there--she could deal with dangerous creatures, she could even deal with the lack of interesting scenery. She wasn't here to look at trees, after all. But the absolutely and definitely worst thing was the heat. The broad-brimmed hat and slightly chilled water made no difference. There wasn't even any shade.

But Scarlett had wanted an excuse to explore the desert, and here it was. No use complaining about it. And if she stood around grumbling under her breath, as she'd been doing for a few minutes now, then she'd never get anywhere much.

She walked as slowly as she could manage while still making decent progress; no use warming herself up further, and the backpack was ill-fitting and bounced painfully against her shoulders if she moved too fast. Besides, she didn't want to miss anything. The slightest blurred form on the horizon could be a clue to the right direction. In fact...there was someone now, a ways off. Maybe...

Granted, whatever or whoever it was could also try to kill her if she got too close. But she wasn't worried. She had a few tricks up her sleeve.



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Re: In Which We Discover the Joys of a Sinkhole [P]

Postby Feint » 03/14/2013 4:45 PM

2

Dhaifu had nearly peed himself with excitement when he saw what he thought was a form of taller, shade-bearing plant life. He was forced to sharply brake, stare in confusion, and resign himself to continued misery when he discovered it was, in fact, a form of body heat, for which and from which he had absolutely no use or want of, and quickly hurried away as though it might animate and come for him.

'But that's ridiculous! He needs something from them,' you might say. 'Water!' Indeed, water it carried--entire bottles of it--but he needed oil. Water sliced like metal across his throat, burned his insides, and stole the life from his wires. It was too pure for his organic half, and too organic for his robotic half. Water was death in his eyes, and the sole reason why he so feared and loathed the blizzard lord he had once served (ironically, that same reason was why the cold king so loved having him around).

Irregardless, away he went, but not nearly at as great a speed as he thought he was moving, for the heat did tire him terribly. His agony was visible, in fact--heat waves rose from his thick fur, summoned forth by his slaving internal gears.

My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm. They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate. When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me. I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it.
I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.

My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presence that they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on, never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.

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[2]

Postby Indigo » 03/15/2013 9:04 PM

Running away? Well! Not many reasons she could think of for that--she figured no one would willingly move beyond walking pace in a place like this without a damned good incentive, and there weren't many of those here either. So either Scarlett herself represented some terrible threat she wasn't aware of, or this...whoever or whatever it was...had something to hide. And perhaps it was what she was looking for, or could lead her to it.

Very little was really certain about all this, of course, but some of the later mentions described some kind of guardian. Maybe more than one--some of the text was damaged. The guardian was described very vaguely when it was described at all, but she thought it would be inclined to avoid most contact. That'd make its job a lot easier, for a start. And maybe it would be able to see her...thing, whatever you'd call it; she didn't like to say power. She'd seen it once or twice out of the corner of her eye, but the things she saw never seemed to be visible in mirrors.

But enough of this speculation. She had work to be getting on with! And while her fur, like any, kept her uncomfortably warm, it wasn't too terribly thick and she was fast and wouldn't have to be moving for too long to catch up, she thought. She gave chase.



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Re: In Which We Discover the Joys of a Sinkhole [P]

Postby Feint » 03/15/2013 9:35 PM

3

Although panting grossly, baking in the heat, and loudly shuffling along, Dhaifu still managed to hear the second pair of footsteps, well out of pace with his. His insides writhed in resentment, resisting, but he knew the battle was over before it had even begun. If he truly wanted to be away from the kuhna, he would have to sprint, and with the stress his gears were already under... It would be a delightfully gory outcome.

And so, with a healthy dose of dismay, Dhaifu turned and stopped, belly to the ground, a clear sign of surrender. He was not afraid of the kuhna, no, but he wanted to be clear that he was done trying to outrun it.

"EEeeheeEEeee... What do you want? Leave me alone!" he whined, much too hot and bothered to be polite.

My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm. They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate. When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me. I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it.
I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.

My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presence that they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on, never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.

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[3]

Postby Indigo » 03/15/2013 11:38 PM

Scarlett hadn't expected a Mekkayena, not out here; he couldn't be too pleased about the weather, and she wondered what had possessed him to walk so far from shade. He probably wasn't the guardian, though, since she couldn't imagine he'd be quite as effective as would be necessary. She cocked an ear as if she might be able to hear the answer.

No reason for her to stand here in silence, though. She made a practice of being polite to anyone she encountered who wasn't immediately dangerous. "I thought you might be someone I was looking for, but it seems that I was mistaken. Didn't mean to cause you any trouble." And that was, nearly, that.

There was something odd, though. He didn't look quite...ordinary, though she couldn't at this moment pin down what made her think that. And maybe it wasn't her...sight thing, maybe he looked slightly off to everyone else too. But she had doubts. She was still sure he wasn't any sort of guardian, but maybe... "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know of any strange-looking gems or rocks around here, would you?" No sense being indirect.



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Re: In Which We Discover the Joys of a Sinkhole [P]

Postby Feint » 03/16/2013 2:08 AM

4

Dhaifu stared blankly from his crouch. Clearly this kuhna was mad with the heat. After pursuing a complete stranger at a run in this insane weather, she then asks him if he's seen a rock. A rock. In the middle of the bloody desert.

"...No," he answered eventually, unsure of what else to say. His expression had gone from that of a mental shutdown to that of someone deeply concerned about the local asylum's security, and the lean in his crouch intensified slightly. His eyes flicked to the kuhna's water, and he half opened his mouth to suggest she drink some, for she clearly needed it--but decided it best to avoid offending her at any cost, and awkwardly closed it again. Instead, faced welled up in confusion, he posed what he felt was a more innocent question: "How are you planning on finding a certain rock in the middle of Wilt'no...?"

My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm. They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate. When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me. I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it.
I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.

My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presence that they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on, never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.

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[4]

Postby Indigo » 03/16/2013 4:12 PM

"Well, I'm not expecting it to be easy," she said. It probably did sound a little strange--okay, more than a little strange--but she'd said a lot of strange things in her life and been looked at similarly in reply, and honestly she was pretty desensitized to it by now. "I have an idea of the way I should be going, and I'm hoping to see something that'll help me be sure. But it would be helpful to find someone who knows what I'm looking for. Since you don't, I won't take up any more of your time."

She walked past him and on in a direction slightly off from the way she'd been going before. It was easy to get lost this way, of course, but she could always contact the people who'd brought her here if she needed a way out. In theory, anyway.



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Re: In Which We Discover the Joys of a Sinkhole [P]

Postby Feint » 03/16/2013 6:04 PM

5

So, the rock had a following. Now Dhaifu was extremely concerned... and curious.

He'd had very little to interest him since his sudden retirement, and while he'd like to pretend that the desert had attracted him because of its alien beauty, the only real reason he had left the comfort of cold air was because he had done it all. He had seen every musical. He had been to every amusement park. He had climbed every mountain. The empty, scorching wasteland seemed like all that was left, and it was utterly miserable there--while he was alone and distractionless, at least. Besides, such a mysterious object... it seemed so useless, a rock in the desert, but she had also mentioned that it might have been a gem. And it was known to more than one, whom she was aware of but had never met. It took his aching mind longer than it ever would have had he not been in desperate need of oil and shade, but Dhaifu decided that this little kuhna sounded more and more as though she were a part of some sort of cult.

Clearly she was very new, for she had revealed much more than she ever should have, but Dhaifu was extremely experienced with culthood and as such he forgave her, knowing full well how difficult a secret life was to adjust to. He padded after her, standing in full now.

"Hold on there, miss... Forgive my rudeness. It is so terribly hot, you must understand," he said, dramatically wiping his brow with a paw--ignoring, of course, the fact that he didn't sweat. "I would like to make it up to you. Perhaps I could lend my nose to the job? Or my eyes, I have very sharp eyes. What is it, exactly, that you are looking for?" he asked sweetly, head at a tilt and the tips of his sharp, thick teeth sticking out from under his upper lip as he smiled.

My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm. They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate. When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me. I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it.
I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.

My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presence that they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on, never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.

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[5]

Postby Indigo » 03/16/2013 6:28 PM

She gave him a dubious look--no need to be so melodramatic. And he seemed very...eager to help all of a sudden. She looked him over again, trying to figure out what it was that felt wrong, what she was seeing that she shouldn't have been able to see. It was nice to be able to tell a supernatural threat when she encountered one, but often she wished her sight was more straightforward. Hard to determine what wasn't right when everything looked equally real. It had led to a few social blunders, too.

But when asked what she was looking for Scarlett couldn't help but grin. If there was one thing she liked to talk about, it was her work. She spoke almost too fast to follow, eager to get as much information out as possible. "There's this magic stone, you see--well, we think it's a stone. Some of the older texts refer to it with an ambiguous word which sometimes means a gem, depending on the context, and all of that really old stuff is pretty damaged and hard to read. But it's definitely of a stone-like nature." She snorted. Academics could be so unhelpful. "Uh, but it's enchanted, and has been for some time--nobody seems to know exactly when it happened. It gives the holder influence over anyone they talk to. We're not sure the extent of its power, but we do know that someone hid it somewhere in Wilt'no, and that it's protected somehow. That's what I'm looking for."



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Re: In Which We Discover the Joys of a Sinkhole [P]

Postby Feint » 03/17/2013 4:23 PM

6

Dhaifu retracted his initial claim almost immediately. No cultist would speak so freely of their task, which made this little kuhna all the more interesting. Cultists followed lies, which would have entertained Dhaifu but been of very little other use. Scholars, however.. they followed truths.

The mekkayena's mane tingled with suspense. An enchanted stone, eh? Perhaps from a civilization long lost, a stone of ancient arcane power buried in the sandy ruins of its creators' forgotten home. It seemed to have a degree of psychic power already, but in the hands of someone who could manipulate magic, or fused to an object of slightly different power, the door to endless possibilities was thrown wide. Who knows what purposes he could put it to? His deceased former master came to mind. It would certainly be nice to be the one whose favor needed to be repaid, for a change... It seemed like such a trivial thing to do with such an ancient power, though.

Dhaifu made a slight face as he considered, wanting very much to steal the rock but very unwilling to waste it, especially on someone who would just take it away from him. In the end, he decided to see if the rock was even malleable magic-wise before making up his mind, and gave the kuhna a satisfied smile as though he'd spent all that time decided whether or not he could help her.

"It's protected, you say? That should be fairly trivial for me... I'll find it with you, and take down its defenses. Mm?" he asked, awkwardly smiling, struggling to remember how one offers their help to someone of equal status.

My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm. They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate. When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me. I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it.
I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.

My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presence that they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on, never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.

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[6]

Postby Indigo » 03/17/2013 9:35 PM

The Mekkayena appeared to be thinking, so Scarlett took the opportunity to study his appearance; if she couldn't figure out what was bothering her it would drive her mad. It was a frustratingly subtle thing, whatever it was--usually the things she saw were obvious, wings or spines or fangs or odd-colored eyes, though she still rarely realized they weren't visible to everyone until she pointed them out and got weird looks from her friends. She could never be totally sure right away that something shouldn't be there, with all the crazy body modifications people got and everything, but at least once she knew it was straightforward.

This...wasn't. This was just a vague sense of discomfort. Something about the stance, the way the fur looked, perhaps an odd sheen to the metal components like they'd been in contact with something...something rotting. Yes! There it was!

Not that he appeared to be rotting. That would be...um...unfortunate, not to mention she'd have noticed it right away. Her power didn't do smells, but decomposition was not easily missed. But while this guy had a few aspects that looked less than vital, he wasn't actually one of those living-dead types, that is, his body itself didn't seem to be a corpse. More that he'd just been dead at some point in the past. Maybe more than once. That was what she was seeing.

Scarlett was so preoccupied with this that she barely noticed when he spoke, but she thought she covered her surprise pretty well. "Oh--sure, why not? It'd be good to have some help, and some company." Mostly the latter, since she could take care of herself quite well if she had to, but she wasn't sure what this guy's intentions were and it wouldn't do to tell him everything about herself just yet.



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Re: In Which We Discover the Joys of a Sinkhole [P]

Postby Feint » 03/18/2013 11:51 PM

6

Dhaifu was positive he would be fairly sour company, having not had any real social interaction on a friend-to-friend level since before he'd even met the ice lord, some odd number of decades ago. He rather anxiously hoped that her desire for his aid would keep her from wanting him gone. He wanted that gem.

"Wonderful!" he said cheerily, resisting the urge not to make on odd face at the sheer strangeness of the word. "So, ah... T-tell me about yourself," he said, desperately scouring his mind for conversation skills.

...Oh no, that sounded creepy. "Nevermind. Tell me about the um, magic rock? The enchanted rock. It was um... how old was it again? Did you say?" he asked, wincing back the start of a headache. All he could think about was the basic list of what he needed to know in order to determine how able the artifact was to be manipulated, and he was feeling a severe lack of confidence in its social value.

My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm. They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate. When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me. I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it.
I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.

My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presence that they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on, never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.

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[7]

Postby Indigo » 03/19/2013 10:39 PM

She almost laughed at his attempt to make conversation, but it seemed like it would be a mean-spirited thing to do, and she had no idea whether he'd talked to anyone else recently. For all she knew he might have been resurrected, or...whatever, yesterday, and before that not even seen another person or creature for a very long time. Though that was improbable considering that they were in the middle of the desert, but never mind.

"Well, shouldn't we at least know each other's names, if we're traveling together? Mine's Scarlett." With that out of the way--since she had been wondering who he might be, and names at least gave a little background on a person--she felt free to answer the other question. "And the rock is a few thousand years old, at least. Nobody really knows for sure. One of those shrouded-in-mystery things. References to it crop up in some really ancient texts, and sometimes they're pretty vague but you can usually tell what they're talking about. You stop seeing mentions of it about, oh, maybe eight thousand years ago or so? But there's never anything about its creation, just one century it isn't there and the next it is. It might even be older and was forgotten until somebody stumbled across it." She glanced at him. "I bet that's not much help. Sorry."

[Reasonable time scales, what are those?]



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Re: In Which We Discover the Joys of a Sinkhole [P]

Postby Feint » 03/20/2013 9:06 PM

7

He felt an uncontrollable urge to file papers when she gave her name, an instinctive impulse he had never quite managed to kill, formed way back when he had served. It was his duty to keep track of the ice lord's affairs, and the ritualistic filing of all new soldiers' names as they joined, died, or deserted was something he did like breathing. He had liked the task, filing names, particularly because he, on occasion, ran into some... interesting ones.

"Askari," he said, purely on impulse. He was not proud of his name, Dhaifu, given to him by a particularly hateful female in his early youth. It meant "weak." Dhaifu resented that greatly. He was not a god, but he was quite unworthy of such a degrading name, in his eyes. Askari, on the other hand, meant "soldier." Much more fitting. Ridiculously so, in fact.

"That is helpful, actually," he said in his normal gruff, grumpily tired of his stupid facade. He'd have lasted if it weren't for the heat. "If it's as enchanted as you think, an enchanter must have placed it, possibly on their deathbed, to keep their powers to themselves (though why they didn't just destroy it, in that case, is beyond me). They likely placed it in a different time period to erase its existence from their present time, where it may have been fairly contested over, then moved it to a different time period after someone managed to find it. If that was the case, they were old enough to feel that they didn't have the time in their life left to do the tedious work of erasing knowledge of its existence from all times, which is why we now have the appearance of it being here and then not for no reason," he explained, feeling the holes in his theory and wondering how they might be properly filled as he did so.

Of course, the major flaw in his thought was that he, being one himself, assumed that the selfish, evil character in question had used the stone for himself and, when unable to use it any longer, left it hidden and guarded so that no one could have it but him. A more logical assumption for his theory would be that a do-gooder, able to bend time to a degree but unable to destroy the stone, took with them magic guardians into the past to shelter the stone from those that would use its powers for evil, and hid it again and again when it was found and used with ill intentions.

Dhaifu found that idea silly, of course.

My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm. They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate. When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me. I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it.
I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.

My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presence that they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on, never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.

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