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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Apr 17, 2023 1:52:02 GMT -5
Kvasir's starting to wonder if he'll ever be allowed a normal visit to the Ash Lands. Somehow, through the power of intense journaling and other forms of careful documentation, he still remembers one of his last trips to Mount Drakolt somewhat clearly-- he'd been up on the mountainside in search of whatever herbs and plants with medicinal or alchemical potential grew there, only to have a rock thrown his way by a certain fellblood and for him to get caught up in a hunt for traces of a lost researcher. Then, in the aftermath of that, he'd found his godsdamned Lux Lilies and made his way to Darkveil in search of a way to relax, only to get tangled up in the utter chaos that rather rapidly unfolded within the walls of Zarius Rha'Oriyn's tavern. And then, months later, in the beginning of his and a certain Morrigan Moonweaver's quest to make their way into the Golden Consortium, his dearly beloved enchanter had managed to shatter their legs all to get their hands on some Ash Roses.
And now, on yet another trip to the Lava Pits to go looking for Baby Dragon's Breath, Kvasir Sigurros once again finds himself entangled in the affairs of another and preparing for what will inevitably become pure chaos.
As always, it was unplanned-- Kvasir had been making his way through the Ash Lands when he'd come upon quite the scene, finding some poor traveler horrifically wounded, their companion panicking by their side. He'd hardly hesitated before rushing to the stranger's side, medkit and magic alike in hand, and he'd gotten to work patching the stranger up with the chorus of gratitude from their companion serving as the backdrop. Apparently, they'd both been traveling through the Ash Lands, simply intent on making their way to the next city, only to be set upon by a pack of godsdamned Hellhounds-- really, they were quite lucky to even be alive.
Somewhere through the chaotic mess of thank-yous and questions, Kvasir had found himself agreeing to go looking for those damned dogs, and now, here he is, wandering the lower regions of Mount Drakolt in search of any trace he can find of where the hell they'd gone.
"Dear Solaria," he murmurs beneath his breath as he kneels by the ground, trying to gauge whether the ash-stained scuff in the ground was a human footprint or that of his target, hardly caring that the god he's murmuring to is long-dead. Old habits die hard, after all. "I really need to learn to say no to people."
Mount Drakolt has been acting up lately, with smoke rising from its summit and tremors vibrating the ground. This has stirred a large, old pack of Hellhounds who had been slumbering inside the tunnels around the volcano. Now awake and furious, several dozen fiery dogs have been let loose on the Ash Lands, attacking travelers and local villages. They are very dangerous and have been leaving a trail of destruction in their path. Please subdue or eliminate the pack of 6 hounds before they get to Darkveil.
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Post by Vail on Apr 25, 2023 20:32:14 GMT -5
Drakolt, what contemptuous place. Suffering was the only feeling Vail had ever associated with the volcanic peak. Whether it be a slow, agonizing end through the pox, or a quick excruciating end for enemies of his former family, the mountain range was draped in an air of death. Perhaps that's why he had jumped at this job when Zarius informed him of it. Maybe he could find some atonement there; a chance to make up for his inaction while so many suffered. At the very least, volunteering meant he could prevent anyone else from meeting their demise there.
Hellhounds are ferocious beasts, eager to strike at anyone foolish enough to enter their territory. Growing up in Darkveil, it wasn't uncommon to hear of some poor sap meeting falling prey to the beasts. It even happened to a member of his gang once. The boy's name eluded him, but his dumb smile remained burned into Vail's mind. He was a humble lad, not the brightest, but always well-meaning. The kind of person that falls victim to the unfortunate mixture of curiosity with Darkveil’s criminal underworld. He clears his mind of these wayward thoughts as he reaches the end of the Deadwood, now wasn't the time to be distracted. Hellhounds are damn quick and being caught unaware would surely be a death sentence if one happened to be nearby. His feet stop suddenly as a sound sneaks through the idle creaks of the pines. He would normally attribute such a sound to the mysteries of the forest, he was living proof that the place was somewhat supernatural after all, but this sound had come from outside of the woods. Looking up to the base of the volcano, he spots a figure hunched over in a position that suggests they were examining the fresh ash or placing a trap. He leaned towards the former as he quietly approached; the person’s attire suggested they weren’t from Darkveil, more likely Zeinav judging by his past experiences. Vail’s tension dissipates at the revelation that this person wasn’t a member of his former family or some other goon from the Fathers. He calmly begins to address the figure from the edge of the treeline, keeping a safe distance for both parties. “Did Zarius send you?” he asks calmly, his hands resting open on either side of him.
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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Jul 23, 2023 21:01:30 GMT -5
Kvasir likes to consider himself someone with honed senses.
It’s part of the territory of being what he is; those vulpine features are hardly just for show, after all, even if their capabilities tend to launch him right into oversensitivity sometimes. He has a good nose and a precise palate, a good sense of his surroundings, and sharp hearing, just like the creature his species derives its features from– by all accounts, he should be more than capable of being aware of when someone or something is getting closer to him than they really should.
Emphasis on should, apparently.
As soon as an unfamiliar voice sounds behind Kvasir, he immediately startles, his tail bristling and his ears perking fully to life as he swivels around to assess whoever has approached him. He’s a stranger, just as anticipated, with pale, scarred skin and dark hair, his expression remarkably neutral, his stance not indicative of any intent for violence. He isn’t standing overly close, either, thankfully– he seems to be willingly keeping his distance, aware that he’s a stranger approaching a stranger.
Kvasir lets out a sigh of relief as soon as he’s confident the man has no ill intent, and he’s quick to get up off of the ground, dusting ash off of himself as he stands once more. He pauses for a moment, letting the stranger’s words sink in, his eye flashing with interest as soon as he processes what he’s been asked.
“...Oh! Are you a friend of Zarius’s?” he asks. The reach that man has truly does border on legendary-- it's a little amazing just how many people seem to know him. Kvasir still remembers his surprise when he figured out Caedes and Zarius were close, long after separately meeting both of them. “I wasn’t exactly sent here by him, no, but he and I are quite well-acquainted. My name is Kvasir– who might you be, friend?”
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Post by Vail on Sept 3, 2023 18:50:47 GMT -5
Vail's eyes widened in surprise at the man's reaction to his words. Their physical features were much easier to observe in this startled state. His previous assumptions were reinforced as he observed their fox ears and tail. Fox Folk were a rare sight in Darkveil, so much so that he couldn't remember if he had actually seen one in the city before; although he had to take such thoughts with a grain of salt. Whatever intention was behind Kvasir's overly friendly introduction, it is lost on Vail. In this region such friendliness was reserved for those especially close to you, or swindlers eager to liberate your solar from your pockets. His eyes stare calmly at the man as he plans his next words, not giving a singular hint to the internal conflict brewing within.
This job just got a whole lot more difficult. Best case scenario, he's an enemy and either engages me here or waits until I'm occupied with the hounds. Either way, I don't have to worry about collateral damage. If he's being honest, we have a significant problem. Vail's expression softens as he begins to address Kvasir's words. Despite his unease, he figures it is best not to put the stranger on edge. If he is an acquaintance of Zarius, then he is clearly used to Darkveil's unsavory side and thus would likely not budge to some idle threats. On the other hand, if this is a trap, well... let's just say he is in for quite the surprise.
A light smile appears on the pale man's scarred face as he speaks calmly once again. "The name's Vail, I'm somewhat of a private contractor for Zarius. It's best that you leave here as soon as possible. A group of hellhounds is on the loose. Things won't end well if you linger in their territory, for either of us."
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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Sept 4, 2023 17:04:13 GMT -5
Kvasir blinks as he listens to the stranger– who has now introduced himself as Vail– speak, his words even, his tone calm, the trace of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips the whole time. It’s hard to say what’s going through his mind as he talks, explaining that he’s a… private contractor, interesting, that it’s best that he leaves quickly because of the hellhounds, and that things won’t end well for either of them if he sticks around here for very long.
…Is that a threat, or is Kvasir reading too much into things? It’s difficult to tell, but he’s hardly one to simply wilt away from words alone.
“Ah, yes, the hellhounds,” he sighs. “Don’t worry, I’m quite aware of them, Vail– that’s… actually part of why I’m here. A pair of travelers happened upon them, and I happened upon the travelers– I’ve been up here looking for some specific flowers, and instead, I found two injured adventurers. It’s moments like that when a doctor’s skills come in handy.”
He manages a weak half-chuckle, though the smile on his face quickly fades. Gods above, he is not looking forward to dealing with hellhounds.
“They asked me to go after them, if I was willing and able, and I… wasn’t quite able to tell them no,” Kvasir admits, perhaps a bit sheepishly. He’s not the best at turning down a request for aid when it falls into his lap, after all. “Ah, I understand and appreciate your concern, and I’d truly hate to get in your way, but they say two sets of hands are better than one. If you’re here to deal with them, I’m happy to offer my aid.”
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Post by Vail on Oct 10, 2023 18:59:18 GMT -5
Vail notes Kvasir’s reluctance as he silently listens to the fox’s story. Since leaving Darkveil, Vail had learned that many healers shied away from inflicting pain; which may very well explain Kvasir's lack of motivation, however something wasn't adding up. Vail gives the foxfolk a doubtful expression in response to their half-hearted laugh. If he is some manner of adversary, he is either a terrible liar, or an extremely talented actor perfectly portraying the role of hapless foreigner in over his head. “No offense, but judging by your sigh and tone of voice, you aren’t exactly thrilled to be taking on such a task. I don’t blame you, few would be after all, but that poses another question. Why exactly would these travelers want you to go after the hellhounds? Darkveil is packed with foolhardy ruffians who would gladly throw themselves in harm's way for the promise of some coin, and yet they ask a doctor to exact their revenge. Surely you must have some other skills outside of healing; perhaps you did something that caught their eye?”
As he awaits a response, Vail looks towards the volcano's peak, contemplating how to proceed. This task would only get more difficult the longer it took, and nightfall may very well bring out more threats beyond the hellhounds. He walks forward, moving closer to Kvasir with the slightest hint of trepidation, stopping in place a few feet away from the man.
"Regardless, you are free to do as you please. Despite how some folk in Darkveil may act, Drakolt belongs to no one. I have no right to force you to leave, however, I ask that you do not linger once these hounds are dealt with. Not all beasts that wander this mountain walk on four legs." His voice drops to a mere whisper as he turns away from Kvasir. "I know that better than most."
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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Jan 20, 2024 18:58:43 GMT -5
Dear Solaria, this guy is quite the analytic one, isn’t he?
Kvasir tilts his head as he listens to Vail’s assessment, to the way the man carefully dissects every motion he’s made and inflection to his words, quickly (and accurately) determining that he’s not exactly delighted by the idea of hunting down hellhounds, while also musing aloud over just why anyone would’ve asked a doctor to go chasing down beasts as ferocious as those, and… well. It’s hard to fault him for his skepticism.
It isn’t as though Kvasir paints the picture of a fighter; he’s lithely built, with an archer’s arms and a healer’s hands, his fingers made to draw a bowstring and measure out bandages, to hold a mortar and pestle, to brush the sweat from feverish brows. He is not the kind of person anyone readily assesses as being primed for combat, and he knows it; he is alright with it. He is happier to be known as a person who can fix things rather than a person who can destroy, happier to rebuild foundations than shatter them, and yet some part of him stings still at the idea that he could be seen as incapable.
It’s hard to say why. It’s one of those strange, unfathomable little contradictions that comes with sapience, he supposes.
It doesn’t make it much easier.
“Well, I don’t think I did anything particularly special,” he says, trying to keep his voice even, easy. “But I am a trained archer and mage– I’m hardly incapable in a fight, Vail.”
He watches the other man carefully as he turns away, his words hanging in the air between them, undercut by a broken whisper, distrust creeping into his tone, but it’s hard to say who it’s reserved for. It… isn’t his place to ask. Kvasir knows that monsters wear many faces; he has no idea of how many of those faces this man has seen.
“As you wish, then,” he says all the same, taking a few steps past the man– an offer of goodwill, almost, an extension of trust, turning his back on someone he’s only just met. “Well. Shall we, then? I see no reason why we shouldn’t handle these together.”
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Post by Vail on Mar 18, 2024 22:58:54 GMT -5
Vail pauses his steps momentarily as he musters a considerable amount of willpower to prevent himself from smacking his own forehead. Of course he is a mage, why didn't I think of that when he mentioned he was a doctor? Perhaps the rarity of such a thing in Darkveil is still hampering my judgment. Regardless, knowing that the fox is an archer is helpful, whether it allows him to keep his distance from the hounds or whether it will leave him open should I need to rush him.
Despite Kvasir taking the lead, Vail continues to tread lightly. If Kvasir’s story is true, he couldn't rule out the possibility of an ambush further up the mountain. His eyes are locked onto the foxfolk’s back, watching for even the slightest movement of his arms. Leading their advance meant that whatever awaited them would see the fox first; along with any signal he wanted to communicate. More importantly, the ash lander stays silent; listening for the subtle sound of a bowstring being pulled or noises that may indicate an incoming spell.
The pair continue their silent ascent for some time, but with each step they take, the unease in Vail only grows. Finally the ash lander yields, addressing Kvasir with a question in an unsteady voice that betrays his previous stoicism. “You said before that you are quite well-acquainted with Zarius; tell me, what do you think of him? I met with him rather recently in a… less than ideal state.” The ash lander sighs under his breath before continuing, having traded his unease for the burden of explanation.
“I had a proposal for him, one in which he would provide me with information and in exchange I would do any job he desired, no matter how much it put my wellbeing at risk. Ultimately, he refused my request, stating that he would help me without needing me to put life at risk. At the time, it did little to help my misgivings; why would he be so willing to help someone who could be just as great a threat as they would be an ally? I thought he might be toying with me, not taking my concerns into consideration, but now, I don’t know.”
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