[center] [i] [h2] [color=Skyblue]Kaezira of the North[/color], [b]Lumao[/b], [color=teal]Daewyn[/color], and [color=crimson]Sybil[/color] [/h2] By: [@Jeyma], [@SanaChan], and [@Soragoku] Addressing: [@Lawful Newtral] [/i][/center] [hr] No! On the way to Kaezira, Lumao noticed Mr. Bal was already there, waiting by the gates expectantly for his artistic supplier and the "most illustrious mount of magic and stone" (Bal's words, of course). [i]Wait![/i], Lumao thought-commanded to his most illustrious mount of magic and stone, [i]We can't just leave him: I promised we would meet here today.[/i] And there was that amphibian "I'm not impressed" look again. To the contrary, Shell seemed to only be encouraged. It raised it's upper claws into the air like a rearing horse, then charged forward with half the momentum of one. It was moving nearly the speed of a sprinting human, which Lumao figured had to be some sort of world record either for turtles or for rocks. The speeding turtle-rock rider felt bad seeing Mr. Bel try to flag him down like a carriage-for-hire. He wished he could shout out an answer to his confused friend- the mount just kept moving forward. Lumao gave a big, apologetic shrug of "sorry!" while his turtle chugged on to Kaezira. He could have sworn he saw it stick a stone tongue out at the fat salesman as they passed him. This was strange. His golem had never disobeyed any order so directly. Normally it would obey, even if that meant complaining all the while. [i]Thank the Gods,[/i] Lumao thought, [i]that I made my golems for sale so much less independant.[/i] Was that sound coming from Shell's throat a laugh? [color=red]"Oh look,"[/color] Windleaf sighed sardonically, [color=red]"a giant turtle made of rubies. Why am I not surprised?"[/color] There it was, only a few yards away now. It's skin was stone of endless black, it's back was octagonal-plated rubies redder than flame, it's eyes were blazing emeralds... and it was a damn turtle. Not only a damn turtle, but a damn turtle being ridden by a stunningly surprised Corvi. The woodland warrior had been in the "capital" for less than an hour, and already she had seen three- [i]three![/i]- mages, two Nephilim, one abominable [b]thing[/b], and one da... one stone turtle. She silently wondered if the whole of centaur kind should just scratch Wellborough off their maps and write [i]"Here be monsters."[/i] The feeling of the Revenant presence Kaezira could sense, faded with Carlilse's leave. He has the suspicions that it's following him, but he's not worried for Crow. He has much confidence that the white warrior will be able to deal with it himself. If need be, Corvus can call out to Kaezira. As he mounted his horse and looked back to his traveling partners, he saw that their focus wasn't on leaving but rather on something in the distance that must have been very odd, judging by the looks on their faces. Kaezira looked towards the direction they were. Somewhat surprised to see the sight, but honestly so many irregular things have happened and been seen already, its hard to be surprised by anything at this point. A corvi, named Lumao, riding his stone mount, which was vigorously charging towards Kaezira, at which probably felt like break-neck speed to the mounted turtle. Kaezira closed his eyes and pressed his palm against his forehead to releave of an oncoming headache. No doubt once the bird learns of the destination of their travels he would want to tag along. His Nephilim siblings will be confused when they see Kaezira escorting two elves, a woman-horse and a man-bird into their sacred library. The situation was seeming to be pulled straight from the script of a play. [color=skyblue]"Well, if it isn't the greatest artist the sky has yet to see, Lumao Suulaliva. Tell me, what brings you to the somewhat peaceful town of Wellborough?"[/color] Kaezira wasn't expecting a response much short of absurdity. Daewyn wasn't paying much attention behind them, figuring some other oddity was causing some sort of scene behind them, but hearing both what Windleaf had to say and seeing Kaezira's reaction lead the elf to look back and see what his younger companion was already staring at. His brows drew down to a point and he found himself wondering how they were able to just blow this off with their rather obviously exapserated comments. This was a sentient, moving, giant gemstone turtle mounted by, of all things, a Corvi. He found himself smirking at Kaezira's comment of the city being somewhat peaceful- maybe it was but certainly not today it seemed. [color=teal]"I'd thought I'd seen everything in my time, but I do believe [i]this[/i] is a first,"[/color] he said as he crossed his arms, watching the jeweled beast move. Sybil found her voice rather logdged in her throat, too confused at how the thing was moving, much less as quickly as it was, to voice her confusion and barrage the rider with all the questions that came to the forefront of their mind. She did, however, spot the young elemental stepping out of the way of the beast with a defeated look on his face. He seemed as if he hadn't wanted to approach the group, but decided that it was too large and the Nephilim too bothered to dare approach and make matters worse. She glanced at Daewyn but he didn't seem to care if he did notice, no his attention was now on the giant walking turtle gem. She wondered if the elemental would do what he had said before and just tail along. Surely now if this thing was coming it would be much easier to figure out how to get to the place. Everyone seemed so surprised when the turtle rode up. Surprisingly enough, Lumao found himself equally surprised at their surprise. You would think Kaezira would be found in a crowd of magicians, who should well already know of golems. They all were so full of questions; the elf girl looked positively bursting with unspoken wonder. Desperately, the Mystic Artist tried gesturing to his waxy-scarred throat. Shell even "helpfully" projected a little beam of green light from her eye to his neck, as if saying "SEE!" Lumao's eyebrows shot up with an idea. He held out his index finger for "wait" so he could rummage through one of his packs for a few seconds. The corvi felt clumbsy and nervous, knowing so many were expecting an explanation. That centaur was already staring him down like an archer with their target in sight. When his hands finally emerged, they were wrapped around a scroll of parchment, a fine quill, and a well-used bottle of ink. Even tensed with nerves, his writing was eloquent and practiced, yet his sentences were concise for time. Lumao realized long, long ago that speakers had no patience for writers. He didn't blame them. [b]"Kaezira!"[/b] he wrote, [b]"Did not expect you. Came to trade magic art for supplies. Golem saw you, would not stop when told to wait."[/b] He paused in consideration for a moment, then added [b]"He just fed on my excitement. Never disobeyed before."[/b] He held the parchment outward to be read. Then he stopped and smiled at the youthful elvish woman. With a brief pause of consideration, he stroked quickly across another part of the parchment, tore it off, folded it closed, and handed it over to her. Wyn still had his hand to his chin, tilting his head. He had seen golems before, but never one so.... shiny. He noticed what the Corvi pointed out to Sybil, and his brows drew down in confusion. Now how did that happen? The look of perplexion didn't leave his face as Sybil took the paper from the Corvi after he had written(?) to Kaezira. The paper said "You can ask all your questions when I'm done with Kaezira." She almost jumped at the opportunity to ask questions and learn something new- especially something unrelated to herself, fighting, magic, or elves. She couldn't remember if she knew what this walking gem was, or if she'd ever met a Corvi, so she started coming up with questions, hoping she wouldn't forget the important ones, for after he finished his more important discussion with the Nephilim. Wyn leaned over to look at the parchment and she closed it, [color=crimson]"Mind your own business,"[/color] it wasn't like it was actually a secret, but she loved holding things like that over his head- she had a secret and that made Wyn want to know it. Lumao smirked slyly. Shell almost smiled at the girl, an odd sight on an amphibian- it liked her already. Wyn crossed his arms and turned to face her a little more directly, [color=teal]"Really?"[/color] She just stood a little straighter and tucked the parchment into the pouch she kept on her side. He shook his head and looked towards Kaezira again, wondering what his next course of action would be, biting back the comments of he could just simply show them how to get there on a map and they would leave him to his business as he figured no one would actually appreciate his typical commentary right about now. Impulsively, the golem-rider tore, wrote, and folded another paper message, but this one he gave to Wyn. He could see the confusion riddled across his elven face, and besides, he didn't want to let the man feel left out. This note was a bit longer, explaining that the corvi's neck wound came from untreatable dark magic. Wyn looked at the note once it was handed to him and put a hand on top of Sybil's head, holding her at arm's length to repay her secrecy with him. She growled, but she realized she should have seen that coming. That was fine, she would just ask him what he wrote on the paper, he said she could, so she would. Wyn nodded, intrigued by that, though it was also worrisome that such magic existed. Not that he should be totally surprised, he'd read of similar ideas. He thanked Lumao for the information and tucked it into his sleeve, furthering Sybil's glare at him for hiding the information. He just patted her on the head, making her swat at his hands and take a step away, crossing her arms with a huff. Lumao nodded politely at Wyn in response, and grinned reassuringly at the girl. Were all elves this playful? Shell, on the other hand, was gradually becoming inactive: its knees were bending into a sit, and its lit-up eyes were dimming. Its creator should have expected this. While a golem can walk or run forever, they grow tired quickly when they are forced to handle complex thoughts or make their own decisions- like choosing to chase after a mage its owner once knew, or developing an opinion on an elf it just met. It could still walk as a mount, but some time must pass before it can think again. During times like this, Lumao wonders if he was irresponsible when he gifted Shell a mind of its own. This group looked to be preparing for a journey. If it was the Institute they were after, Lumao couldn't help but hope Kaezira would let him tag along. Rune magic was still a mystery. Do the Nephilim even let outsiders study their sacred power? He wrote, [b]"Where are you all going?"[/b] Nobody answered. Before Lumao could even lift up the scroll, every waiting face was struck with deep doubt, including his. Without warning, the artist was apprehensive and anxious at the very idea of traveling with a Nephilim- even if this was the one who rescued him from certain death. [i]Am I doing the right thing?[/i] he was asking himself. [i]Maybe I should turn back the way I came.[/i] He wanted to push his concerns aside, but suddenly Lumao could not allow himself to forget that the Nephilim were killers. They slaughter those they decide are dark, but who made them judges? They enforce an iron law, but it stifles those beneath them. They keep the world calm, but that calm is only under their boot. What is peace, if it was made through violence? And what is love forged in hate? Going to the Nephilim, learning their ways, it would be the same as consenting to what they do. Approving of it. The next worse thing to becoming one himself. He looked to Kaezira for support, as if the wizard would freeze his worries. And for just a sweet moment, Lumao almost [b]could[/b] swallow them down. Then they just came gurgling back. [i]Am I doing the right thing?[/i] He guessed that part of him always knew this would happen, when it came time to actually visit the Institute. Morality was strong. He should have known that he was wrong in believing his conscience would let him enter the fortress. [i]"Are you doing the right thing?"[/i] No. Wait! That last voice wasn't him. It was speaking [b]to[/b] Lumao, not as Lumao. It was a foreign force, he realized with a shutter slithering down his spine. An invader in his mind. The mage focused in all of his magical energies, every last drop, into deciphering or ceasing this abomination. [i]I'm not the most powerful mage,[/i] he tried to turn his mental voice intimidating- this thought was truly his own- [i]but now I [b]know you're here[/b].[/i] It must have heard him. Suddenly one whisper of doubt spread into hundreds. [i]"Listen, listen..."[/i] one voice urged him in a way that said this was of vital, life-staking importance. [i]"...you're not ready yet..."[/i] the next wisely observed. [i]"They'll try to make you one of them... they'll try to make you kill for naught..."[/i] [i]"...evil angels, evil revenant..."[/i] A fierce headache stabbed through his skull. [i]"...should not go with him..." "Stop this..." "...cease..."[/i] The source still hid itself from him, dodging and twisting and ducking like a serpent weaving inside him, but it's attacks were growing simpler. Dying out. Then another blow to the brain; his fingers twitched with nerves. [i]"...evil angels..." "cease..."[/i] Almost. His head threatened to crack open under the weight; his hands tried to quiver themselves to the bone. [i]"...[b][color=558877]No![/color][/b]"[/i] Only an inkling, but a clear inkling. He heard the voice now. The voice was dark, deep, commanding and powerful. The voice was godlike. The pain faded. Now that he knew the origin, he saw it: over to his left, not far from their little group, stood a new arrival. And with her eyes like arrows aiming, every face in her path etched into an expression of fearful worry. It flowed from this specter as a river. She was a shadowy woman standing aloof, as mysterious as the whispers, as dark as their voice: her eyes were an unfathomable ocean of purple, her cloak was midnight's black. She watched. He tried to discern her face. He failed. The figure was... bleared was not the right word, but it is the closest to describing this [b]otherworldly[/b] woman. He could see clearly, yet some part of his mind was dazed at her stare. It was like looking out of reality and into a dream. Lumao desperately waved his arms, gesturing the rest of the group in her direction. Kaezira looked to be the only other mage here- the others might still believe the whispers are their own. Wyn too heard those whispers start to form in his head, but he turned them out nearly as quickly as they came and began to look around for the source of the forced confusion in his mind. He had set on this path long ago and knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted, and it was not in his nature to turn back on something he had set his mind too. Plus, it was far too sudden to be natural doubt, so who was behind this and what could they possibly gain from trying to confuse them? He looked to his companion and realized that she was not so sure in herself and had a look on her face that was a mix of alarm and conufsion. In Sybil's mind, those whispers were loud, and they questioned if she could truly handle the truth of who she was, if that person was even someone that alone would want around. Maybe it was better if she just forgot and left it that way. She could feel her heart racing a little as her thoughts swirled in her head, though there was a voice that wasn't necessarily of doubt that was louder than the others and it was much more malevolent than the others. [i]Oh, sweetie, you don't want to remember me. Go on and play your little games and pretend you're worth having people around you.[/i] The voice was a cruel laugh echoing in her head, and it just seemed to get louder and louder. She put her hands over her ears, trying to shut it out, not seeming aware of Wyn grabbing her shoulder trying to pull her out of her own head. Her head was already a broken mirror the last thing she needed was to be doubting the shape of the pieces as she was trying to put it back together- but did she really want to put it back? Windleaf, unlike Wyn, was drowning in doubt. Doubt of her gods, doubt of her life, doubt of her convictions. Sutagara heard a quiet voice's sinister whisper. [i]There are no gods,[/i] her mind reminded her mindfully. She shook it off. [i]That's... that's what I'm here to find out![/i] she retorted to... herself. But "herself" only fed off the fear in that moment of hesitation. [i]It is a fool's errand! And what will I do after words? Join the Nephilim?[/i] Separate trains of thought chimed in, each hissing affirmations. One spoke in the voice of a wizened old shaman: [i]"A disgrace to your tribe, you'd be! A shame to us all!"[/i] The chorus grew a little louder. Then a centaur's voice, weeping. [i]"We always knew they were only make-believe. We didn't want to admit to it, but we always knew."[/i] The chorus grew a little louder. [color=skyblue][i]"Idiot tribeswoman. Your people tell stories to hide from truth. Raziel is everything."[/i][/color] The arrogant Nephilim-wizard. The chorus approached a crescendo. [color=558877][i]"You,"[/i][/color] the deepest and most frightening of them all, a rumbling bass that sent a chill running along her whole being, [color=558877][i]"are lost."[/i][/color] It spoke this as a plain truth. All the other whispers grew excited behind it, a wave of trumpets chirping [i]"Yes, yes! Lost!"[/i] They were screaming. The mind began to buckle under their oppressive symphony. It was a claw, pushing her into the dirt. It was weight that could never be lifted. Her own voice was gone- taken away in a silent agreement to the terrible music. Sutagara slumped down to her knees. Lumao leapt down from his mount, he tried to wake her, yet her eyes were glued tightly shut. She was listening to those screaching doubts. Her sword clattered uselessly on the ground. The warrior of the tribe of Windleaf was gone.