SilverPaw

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Jandar Varan

A stairway, Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille

Jandar stayed still and silent in the patch of darkness at the entrance, listening to the confrontation as he got a handle on his panic. Well, here he is, the fool who let himself be stolen from, threatening others for his own carelessness, of course he is. Hell’s fires, if this thing is so important– he cut off the exasperated thought, sighing silently. At least there’d been no signs of what he’d had suspected would be happening…yet. Nonetheless, he’d have to handle this delicately while keeping up his act, playing the self-serving peasant hunter. Outnumbered as he was, revealing he already had the documents would be a death-sentence or worse, however, so he had to come up with a better alternative. His ears perked at Lord Erkyn’s suggestion that the witch do her best to get the stolen pouch back – he could use this! – though his mood soured immediately as Travin suggested mind-breaking. That would not do.

Vague idea of a plan formed, Jandar stored the leather pouch the Shalador Warlord had 'lost' into the Void and undid his invisibility while under the shield of the doorway’s shadow, squared his shoulders, and confidently proceeded toward the stair landing the group was crowded at. “Fellas, fellas,” he rumbled, shaking his head slightly as he approached casually, though momentarily rose his hands in the universal sign of peace, I’m unarmed. “Any louder an'de whole inn woulda’ been listenin’ in,” he grinned irreverently. “Now, ‘fore you go turnin’ the pre'y wi'ch to a mindless pet…” now that he was relatively close to the Green-jeweled Warlord and the Opal witch, he blatantly scented the air around the witch, half-closing his eyes and smiling as if he enjoyed what he discovered.

“Mmm, jus’ fear, no guil’, Lord. Say, if your papers are so impor’an’ as all ‘at, I’ll find ‘em for you,” he practically radiated self-assurance, the kind the other Walord may not be able to pass upon in his desperation. “The wi'chlin’ can show me every hidden nook an’ cranny,” he leered at her at this, “an’ I’ll sniff out the prey, ge'cha stuff back ‘fore the storm’s end,” Jandar stated to the Shaladorian with an arrogant tilt of his head. “Then you gimme a proper paymen’, the girl keeps ‘er darlin’ li’l mind whole,” he cast a dismissive glance her way accompanied by a somewhat condescending and patronizing smile, then turned back to the green-eyed Warlord with all the professionalism of a working-class hunter.

“You can even ‘ave one of your guards,” his tone turned derisive as he rose a mocking eyebrow directly at Travin, “go along wif us. If you fink it’ll ‘elp,” he shrugged at Erkyn in a what-can-you-do manner, though the smile playing about Jandar’s lips conveyed the confidence he had that he could handle the matter on his own – or rather, with just his own skills as long as an inn’s employee showed him around, as he’d mentioned. “’Course, I’ll need ‘a know wha’ we’re lookin’ for. Scrolls? Le’ers? A bag?” he drawled, rolling a shoulder slowly, showing that he cared only to the extent that knowing would help in his search, and get him the gold he desired. “Oh, a scen’ of yours migh’ ‘elp ‘swell. Ey, no strange looks, Lord, ain't no one as good as me at findin' trails, not even a pricey huntin' 'ound. I’d bet my life on it,” the last was said with more seriousness than any of his previous words had been, and the heavy but serene gaze he set on Erkyn just dared the male to accept the challenge – because he was willing to accept and prove it.

The Quilted Flag - Act I

7

Jasilkal

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Jasilkal's sod house was a rather decent one by Occ standards. A room or two smaller than Master Makumu’s, of course, and more sparsely equipped, but the laboratory in the main room (which also served as the kitchen, dining room, and sometimes bedroom), the inside part of her garden in a side room (for the more delicate of herbs which required bi-weekly enhancements by Makumu to grow in these parts), and the study-cum-storeroom (also a napping location) were serviceable enough. The outside porch and garden (for the local foliage) were where she usually conducted her business, i.e. listened to requests and handed out the requested concoctions. The hill where she and Makumu resided being almost two miles out of their home village (Asen) meant that she occasionally ferried bulk orders there and back – and, yes, it did make it seem as if she’d never graduated from the fetch-girl duty, but this setup had its advantages as well.

Part of her day routine involved waking up before dawn, collecting several vials of morning dew to store for later use (in purification-potions and experiments on inducing youthfulness), gathering any of the common plants and animal-parts she needed to replenish her stock, meditating at dawn to greet the coming-of-a-new day, tending to her gardens, finishing off certain yesterday’s potions and putting to simmer the bases of others she’d complete later today. The rays of sunrise were an ingredient of sorts she could expose certain potions to (those for encouraging bone health, chasing off nightmares, and boosting energy, for example), and though she enjoyed the early morning, she knew the heat would later on would be likely near unbearable.

For now, however, it was pleasant, and the pre-dawn chores completed, she shouldered, saddled, and otherwise tied the various crates and satchels of supplies onto herself, adjusted her clothing by buttoning it to the side, tucked her legs alongside her tail, and slithered the two whole miles to Asen. It was convenient at such times to be an Occ; they could both walk straight on their legs or snake their way on their bellies and tails akin to the way their serpentine ancestors did. It was a shame they could not run on all fours as their Gegherun cousins could, but having a pair of dextrous hands with their opposable thumbs capable of the most delicate and meticulous of works more than made up for it. Jasilkal took the collection of vials, jars, flasks, tins, pots, and all the rest to the inn her mother was in charge of. Kaarmuken’s inn was a convenient location, not only because it was where she usually had her breakfast and lunch, but also because it was simpler for her to conduct her business in a single stable location within the village than going house-to-house. The inn, after all, was a sizable and well-known location, and any Occ who had a need of her services or wares knew where to find her.

Indeed, Kaarmuken’s inn was where a distressed Piyaskal, an amber-eyed yellow-brownish scaled Occ male and one of the many hunter-scouts of Asen, came running not half-an-hour after Jasilkal had her breakfast, babbling about Aldabukil having been bitten by a bronan that morning when her team was out on its usual patrol. Jasilkal thought it was odd such a reclusive and lethally venomous snake had been close-by at all, never mind the likelihood of it attacking, but kept her thoughts regarding the possible reasons to herself for the time being.

“Slow down. Where is she?” Jasilkal interrupted the male Occ’s panic – ascertaining the patient’s state was the priority.

“Oh-h, we, we’ve taken her to Elder Lerdinan already,” he reported in a slight stammer, regaining his breath in deep gasps, though he was visibly attempting to calm down.

“Good. But then what is the issue? The Elder is the best physician in the village,” Jasilkal asserted confidently, though she would eagerly offer her services if they were needed.

“Ah, well, only that- the ritual, um, it would help for it if there was a practiced Alchemist attending.”

Jasilkal clicked her tongue, slightly annoyed at the flattery, but also aware of a good opportunity when she saw one. “Certainly. Let me grab my things – you will help me carry them to Lerdinan’s.”

She took the kaolinite and zeolite to stop the female’s bleeding, the valerian and willow leaves for pain relief, and… “Mother! Quickly mix me some beef, beans, kale, yolk, and nuts!” she hollered across the rowdy inn (there had been a momentary pause at the news, but people were already loudly speaking over each other), and Kaarmuken answered just as loudly.

“Already on it, Jal!”

Ahh, of course she was. Her mother was ever the capable woman, Jasilkal acknowledged wryly. She hung her satchel over her shoulder and handed the excess healing supplies over to Piyaskal for him to carry. The unappetizing slushy mixture of high-in-iron-content foods arrived moments later, delivered by the familiar form of soot-scaled Kaarmuken in a wooden bowl.

“Thank you,” Jasilkal nodded curtly, accepting the puree-filled bowl and spoon, then hurried to Lerdinan’s sod hut as fast as she could while carrying something spill-able, followed by Piyaskal who carried the rest of her gear.

Nonetheless, they made it to Elder Lerdinan’s place minutes later, finding Aldabukil already abed and bandaged – the leeches had apparently made their work already. She hurried over, setting the food on the floor next to the female, and plucked the necessary plants and vials out of her satchel. “Chew this and this, drink this, you’ll get fed that slop by Piyaskal while we’re making the anti-venin. Try not to move too much, and Piyaskal? Notify me immediately if she starts to run a fever or needs the opium-pellet.” She then turned to eye Elder Lerdinan expectantly.

“Ah, Jasilkal. Good. Help me set up the transmutation circle for extracting the venom from the critters here,” she pointed to a glass-full of leeches. “I will be the one providing the magical forces, of course, but my eyes weren’t what they used to be…”

The younger Occ nodded, ignoring the chatter as she made the necessary preparations. Sometime during the work, her younger brother Karjuuvos (ochre-mint in his scale-tone) popped in at one point to check in on his hunting pals, but Jasilkal waved him off with a “Later.”

Later was when she had another hearty meal just outside her mother’s inn, listening to her friend Uruzik’s story time to unwind. Her brother re-joined her as she was finishing her early lunch to discuss the stray bronan. “We could be the ones to relocate it,” he enthused.

“Hm. I wouldn’t mind getting some of their venom, if they were willing to co-operate,” she answered in a more sedate manner, though the glimmer of interest in her eye belied her aloof attitude.

“You and your research,” he teased mildly. “But I’ll go find father to convince we’re a decent team for the mission. Will you stay here for a while?”

Jasilkal shook her head in the negative. “No. I’m mostly done with the trade for today. I’ll haul the rest back, notify Makumu, and prepare a sedative for the snake. Capture me some mice, will you? We’ll meet at mine.”

“So confident we’ll be the ones who get to go?” he grinned, bouncing off the chair to leave.

“Of course. You have looked after me since you were eight, as you say-”

“Since I was seven! Don’t forget that whole ‘I’ll dive to the bottom of the lake’ scheme of yours!” he exclaimed in mock outrage.

“In any case,” she stressed, “Jardaskul knows you can be relied upon. You are now a man, finally,” she teased in return.

Karjuuvos huffed good-natured. “And you can officially patch up any scrapes and heal any injuries now, right?”

“Don’t forget the poisons. Any stray Stodman tries anything, I stab them with a laced knife, they get the seizures, the hallucinations, the frothing…” she trailed off in a smirk, which was returned by a fond shake of her brother’s head.

“Alright, alright. We’re the brilliant-sibling combo, and everyone knows it. See you in a bit with the mice and all,” he waved to her and Uruzik both, then weaved his way through the streets of Asen.

Uruzik was too preoccupied by the children enthralled by her retelling of Rralsmanul to say anything, but she did give her a pointed look. Jasilkal nodded once, earnestly. Yes, she would take care. She was old enough to take the necessary precautions and ensure both her and her brother’s safety – and with his expertise to help, they should be alright. Besides, if they didn’t discover any clues of the bronan snake today, they would most likely return to Asen.

After all was said and done, Jasilkal met up with Karjuuvos at her sod hut at the hill-side, her usual satchel across her shoulder, her knives and trowel tied belted to her hip alongside some vials and cloth pouches.

“Hey, are these fine?” the younger Occ greeted her, two mice held by the tail and squeaking incessantly.

“More than. I’ll feed them enough of the drug to calm them down but not incapacitate, and coat them in the liquid I measure out for the bronan if we happen to find it.”

Her brother nodded, tossed her the mice, and adjusted the bow and quiver slung over his back; he'd also brought his hunting knife. Jasilkal dosed the mice in a minute amount of sedative, and stored the now quietly chattering duo into one of her cloth pouches. The Occ duo then straightened in tandem, their strides matching each other’s as they made their way southwards, intending to investigate and possibly find the stray venomous snake and relocate it farther from their settlement, or else return to Asen by nightfall.

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^{XP • 0 | Gold • 0}

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The Quilted Flag - Act I

@Admythaus Yeah, I assume you mean we shouldn't just have highly-skilled NPCs tag along, but if I did have her brother accompany her temporarily, all he'd have skills-wise is survival 1 and basic weaponry (bow) 1. And even that's kind of an advantage, so...I'll see where my writing takes me.

The Quilted Flag - Act I

@Admythaus Hey, so I just thought of this, but if Jasilkal decided to wander farther than usual (i.e. in the unexplored map sections), could I send a NPC (her brother, I'm thinking) with her? Or should I stick with her going by herself? I'm fine with both, and may actually decide on the latter regardless of your answer (tbh, because writing about her brother as well may be too much of a chore lol), but I'm still curious what your take on the idea is.

The Quilted Flag - Act I

@Admythaus Unabashedly copy-pasting your formatting for the IC posts, hope you don't mind. Also, I hope there being what Yorsiccos assumes is mine-excavating going on to the west isn't taking too much of a liberty? Only, he can only travel underground during the day, so this was something that seemed like it could make sense.

The Quilted Flag - Act I

6

Yorsiccos

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Yorsiccos made it back to his cave just in time to avoid the irritants that were the first rays of dawn – but then again, he always did. His years had allowed him to perfect reading the moon’s path, and when that was unavailable, pinpoint the starts which brightened as dawn approached, and he was now so well-versed in his practice that he always returned back to his cave just in time.

Tonight’s foraging had left him only with one whole corked wine-glass bottle and the shards of several broken ones, but he’d taken it all, fastening the bottle to his belt and wrapping all the shattered glass pieces in several bundles of cleaning cloths. The latter had been safely stored into cloth sack. The cloth sack carried his favourite items, and he took it with him everywhere. If he ever happened upon a new cave, sewer, or crevice during his night time exploring that seemed a better home than the current one he possessed (not that he’d found one that fit his criteria of ‘better’ yet), he would at least have what he most valued with him. The other junk…Well, he knew where it was stored.

Getting to his home (a hoarder’s paradise, really) was quite the procedure though. It took even him nearly two hours, and he knew how to navigate the cavern’s treacherous twists, how to avoid the dead-ends, the maddening circuitous labyrinthine parts of the system, and the magnificence of nature-made pitfall traps. He’d fallen into several back when he’d first started as a Mormagi, and crawling out had been…well, decades of time dulled the experience, but he preferred not to think on it. Arriving into his home, on the other hand, felt welcoming and familiar, despite some of the memories associated with the caverns. The main room, the one that Stodmen occasionally made their way in was a spacious ellipsoid thing, the centre of it possessing obvious signs of a camping: earth packed tightly by the many bodies that had lain there and the remains of an old campfire scattered around, but still recognizable for what they were.

Proceeding deeper, there was a wall with two branching and ever narrowing tunnels, with some branches stretching wide but most leading nowhere, and the branches proceeding deeper leading to smaller chambers, claustrophobic crawl-spaces and crevices. His part of the cavern was a medium spherical chamber located not far from a sizable underground lake, the walls and floors of which he’d smoothed over his time of inhabiting it. The stalagmites (but not the stalactites) have also been removed. "Home sweet home," he muttered, the action somewhat unpleasant on his throat. But it did mitigate the solitude, and that was something.

Here, unknown thousands of meters underground, was where he stashed the majority of his belongings – all of those things that weren’t quite his favourites, yet made the cavern into a home. He placed the whole corked bottle next to the collection of tin mugs, wooden cups, buckets, and other similar man-made liquid containers that he’d been able to find whole (they were damaged, and in some cases misshapen, but nonetheless whole). The shards of glass on the other hand, he put next to a set of sharp-ended items (serrated or broken-off pieces of metal, mostly) that he kept on a wide expanse of cloth. The liquid containers came in handy whenever he desired a wash (he preferred not contaminating the nearby lake, thank-you-very-much), and the sharp implements were adequate for scraping off loose skin – a procedure which encouraged faster re-growth for a new layer of decaying epidermis.

After sorting his items, he sat down, laying his satchel next to him, and unsheathed his knife. Then he picked up a chunk of birch (he had a sizeable pile of broken furniture and several logs, though all the wood was rather damp), and set to carving somewhat mindlessly. Carving was something he often did instead of sleeping. He didn’t truly require sleep, though if he chose to do so, he could also sleep much longer than any of the other races did; he’d once slept for what he guessed later must have been close to a year. Now, he rarely slept at all. Carving was better, he found. This time, he set out to make a mask. His ultimate goal, if it could be called that, was discovering a way to tolerate sunlight better. Covering up with cloth and bandages hadn’t done much in his favour so far, but perhaps another material might.

A couple of hours later, he had a crude wooden mask. He tied it to his face with several strips of cloth, picked up his satchel after, and put the sheathed knife back at his left hip where it belonged, Yorsiccos wandered over to the lake-chamber several tunnels over. He examined himself; he could now perhaps pass for a shady Stodman beggar if the one observing him were particularly drunk. Well, it was something. He didn’t need a disguise to traverse his caverns, of course, but there had been some recent goings-on he’d felt reverberate through the earth. After exploring the upper levels, he discovered a group of miners had been making excavating attempts far to the west of where he usually resided. This meant that other beings were getting much too near to his territory for his taste, however, and so he’d found (or dug out) a series of tunnels and widened some existing crevices to make a tiny, tiny entrance to what appeared a mine being renovated. This was where he was heading now, his path underground taking him westwards.

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^{XP • 0 | Gold • 0}

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I, the Demon King, Will Summon My Own Damned Heroes!

Asteria

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“You interacted with the system directly,” Asteria noted as Ed explained messing something up. Most likely a berserker-esque skill that traded mental faculties for brute strength and a cruel forcefulness. Thankfully, it seemed both temporary and at least partially under the Ratman’s control. The direct interaction with the system was rather intriguing, and something Asteria kept in mind for later. Soon after moving on from the ant colony, black smoke began billowing up to them, an indication of a fire if she ever saw one. “Agreed,” she gritted through her teeth as she geared up all her muscles for a prolonged full-on run, urging Mother Rat to follow swiftly as well.

At one point in their travels, Mother Rat squeaked a warning, and Asteria followed her lead in ducking under as she gazed up to the large white bird of prey. She reflexively used Monster Analysis on it now that she had some mana with which to do so again. It was curious that the bird seemed to have a set destination in mind, and didn’t make any detours even for what was sure to be a tasty snack for it. “Mm-hm. It was weirdly intent. Could have been related to the two humans whose tracks we’ve passed,” she suggested, though she wasn’t sure how likely that was.

Breezing through the plains meant they eventually outran the fire, at least for now. Asteria gazed forwards, trying to distinguish the shapes, which she was sure was the darker green something she’d seen up from the tree-top at the beginning of their journey. She gasped at the realization that it was a settlement almost at the same time that Ed narrated his discovery to her. “I see it, yes. I dearly hope they have a means to contain a fire that’s apparently spreading through the whole damn grasslands. If there was ever a time to discover how to use magic, and learn some water spell, now would really be the time,” she grumbled, though based on how difficult it had been for her so far to get anything like the spell she’d seen others use so far, she doubted she could magic a trick such as that simply because it would be very helpful and convenient to do so just then. Not that she wouldn’t try, but as Ed had said, they had to establish safe lodgings first.

Asteria joined Ed as he observed the surroundings carefully. Regardless of what they saw, she would also put her head to the ground afterwards, just like Mother Rat had done while she listened for the ants. If her enhanced hearing and the alertness she possessed didn’t point out any evident dangers, she would begin digging into the earth as swiftly as she could, making a hole, then a tunnel. If nothing else, being deep underground could protect them from a fire…right? Well, she certainly hoped that was the case, because it was unlikely they’d find anything better around here.

Action summary

Runs from the fire with Ed and MR, pushing her muscles to keep up with the impromptu marathon.
Uses Monster Analysis II on the white eagle.
Uses Beast Senses II to focus her sight on the surroundings, helping Ed to look for a safe place to stay.
Uses Beast Senses II to focus her hearing, trying to listen to any dangers that might be under the grounds.
If she hears nothing, she takes the risk to begin digging a hole with the intent of making a tunnel underground.

The Mothership Descends

Not sure if I'll have enough time to join but Yes, this looks awesome. I'm curious to see more.
_{Disclaimer: I'm making no promises.}

The Quilted Flag - Act I

I check the guild daily, I post whenever's most convenient for me *shrug*.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Jandar Varan

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille

Immediately upon entering, Jandar noticed the shady group, broken-nosed slick-and-black-haired male (their leader, apparently) included, while they were too preoccupied with their nefarious plans to pay attention to him. The moment he heard them mention fun and challenge and profit with that sickening, leery, cruel, mocking undertone to their words, the moment he realized they were following the Opal witch, was the same moment his mind began racing, his heart-beat quickening to an almost erratic thump-thump-thump, the sensation akin to a beast roaring against his chest, a beast doing its best to tackle and claw its way out-out-OUT.

They- Hell’s fire consume them, the bastards were going to- to rape the girl. Even if they refrained from committing that particular act, they would hurt and injure her in other ways. Would the Opal witch – the witch who had helped him, who had been worried about a weaker-jeweled witch, who had given him a snack for Teo and advice to boot, whom he didn’t even know the name of! – turn into yet another Witchblood, her blood spilled as carelessly as had been done countless times here, a mere fertilizer for the- The horrifying, thoughtless massacre, the perversion of anything good and proper in the world…Jandar sucked in a sharp breath, clearing his mind.

The scent of a Queen entering distracted him for but a moment, long enough to note that she was attempting to stay unnoticed (and the burning questions of who, why, what were roughly shoved to a corner of his mind – this was not an issue he could afford to spend time on right now), long enough that he surveyed the room’s occupants and judged whoever the owner of the pouch was, they weren’t openly panicking yet, long enough to consider paying a visit to Cook and immediately dismiss the notion, long enough to reassuringly grip the hunter knife sheathed at his back, long enough to notice the Queen was being pestered by the innkeeper (but she had a companion, he needn’t redirect his worry to her when the Opal witch was all alone, facing danger on her own).

It couldn’t have been longer than a dozen seconds – not more than half-a-minute, certainly? – since the witch-hunting males had closed the door after themselves. (But what if those seconds had determined whether he could save the witch? His traitorous mind took its own direction with his fears, whispering the likes of What if you can’t save her? What if you do, and they simply hunt down another? What if you enrage them, and they do much worse? What if you compromise your own position? Would it not be safer to ignore this? Can you afford to ignore this? Will taking action truly lead to a better result? And if your involvement worsens the situation? If the group notices, what then? Will you try to protect the witch by being the only one- the only ‘gentle’ one, you utter fool? Will you simply attack them, take on a group, risk your life and your mission for some no-name witch? Risk being taken prisoner so soon for the sheer idiocy you are about to attempt? Each thought charged him so full of emotion he felt he might burst, yet he ignored the rising anxiety, ignored the nerves, shoved it all down and under, down and under, until he thrummed full of purpose, yet hadn’t taken a single step forward, and he was just wasting time now, You’re wasting time!)

No, it hadn’t taken long at all for Jandar to reach a decision. (But, oh, you had wasted a few precious seconds, haven’t you? Wasted time for senseless self-doubting- No, no, no, keep your goal in mind, work on the method as you go, now just go!) He was moving after the group already, drawing on his Blood Opal jewel as he cast an aural shield at the door to obscure the sound of it opening for him and closing behind him. As soon as he was out of the main room and the door closed behind him, he drew upon his Craft to cast a sight shield on himself, followed by a hasty aural shield as well. He pursued the group swiftly, but tookcare to step softly and kept a bit of a distance from the group in case his Craft failed him or the power he had used drew any of the males’ attention to their surroundings.

However, the moment he determined where the Opal witch had gone, he was resolved to try to get to her first. (But unnoticed, he should not be noticed, he should hide himself and the witch, could he hide them both, How could I possibly- How to get to her first when they’re in front of you?) However, if the witch was already being accosted…well. He’d have to waste a few precious seconds in any case just to determine whether the group was speaking (or doing terrible, unforgivable, unspeakable things) to the witch, and how she was faring – could he hope the Opal witch would help herself, somehow? He rather doubted she could take on a whole group by herself.

And if the Mother-forsaken shit-sacks were engaged with the witch in some manner already, Jandar would have to take a direct approach (not an idea he was fond of, but surely, surely he could make something work? Redirect their attention? Distract them? Join them, and incapacitate them when they are- when they are-), and do his best to chase them off. May the Darkness be merciful, let me be in time. (He was furious, so furious he could kill them all, kill them and desecrate their corpses, not only could he do it – easily, he knew – it would be so easy when they didn’t even see him, didn’t even hear him, it would be easy, and he would take joy in it, he would laugh as they screamed, he would laugh as the light left their undeserving eyes, he would laugh.) Let this be simple.