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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Oct 25, 2023 20:48:24 GMT -5
There was no rest for the wicked, or so the saying went. Cyran might have - perhaps foolishly- been operating under the assumption that the death of the ancient dragon of life and death and rebirth and all which fell under that domain might mean that the chaos that had been plaguing Charon might finally die down. Unfortunately, the primordial fluctuations had not been an isolated event, nor the unearthing of ancient monsters long thought extinct. You know - consequences to actions. Cyran had heard rumors, mere whispers of turmoil from locals in the villages he and Del passed through and in correspondence from Oriole and Andromeda. Unbandaged in the desert, basilisks in the north. Charred all across the continent. And more concerning, an elder hydra in the Marsh Flats. It was blazing a trail of death and decay through the swamps - and King’s Valley was next. Cyran and Del had been meandering around the borders of King’s Valley when they heard the call to arms; squatting in huts and making camp in the Kingswood had seemed like a good place to lay low for a little while, until Knights of Duros started pouring through as they made their way to heroism and glory, speaking of their duty to the country they were set to protect, and the acclaim they would receive for protecting hearth and home. Most were only due for one-way trips. Cyran hadn’t wanted to get involved, initially. So soon off the back of their battle with the dragon. They were exhausted, still licking their wounds. But there was often no break for those who were willing and able to handle danger. Such was the way of fate. Everything that could go wrong, would. Del’s suggestion had come first… that she try to make some money doing odd jobs around Thunderhoof and for the horse tribes fixing broken axles and wagons and such, and Cyran should set off after the hydra. Oh, but you shouldn’t go alone, she’d recommended. To Cyran’s surprise, Del had caught wind that Astrid was in the area, being a seasoned monster hunter and a powerful fighter, to set off after the hydra. It would be good for both of them, she’d reasoned. “Don’t worry.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “She’ll tease you, but you’ll both have fun.”Cyran, who had once been asked by the young lady to pants Zarius in the middle of a crowded ballroom filled with some of the most esteemed politicians and nobles of Charon, was all too aware of how teasing Astrid could be. But Del, master brawler she was, had blown through the weakest point at his defenses with power and precision. No matter how talented Astrid was - and by Lunala, he’d seen her might with his own eyes - she was still a kid, and if she needed help when throwing herself headlong into danger, then he would be there to help without question. Just because she could take care of herself didn’t mean she should have to. He knew what Del was doing, really. She wanted him to get out, to do some work to ease himself back into the swing of things. Since they departed from Darkveil he’d been, admittedly, a bit of a wisp. Moving, eating, sharing meals, and conversing; though little else. Shell shock, one might call it. He agreed it would not be a bad idea to set out on the hunt - the travel had left him a bit listless, and searching for the elder beast would at least give him something to do with his hands. Yet. He could not deny his… apprehension, at the idea of raising a blade once more after he’d plunged that dagger into his heart and sworn no more. But life demanded, so he would answer. He’d not picked up Spell Slicer and Cold Steel; not yet. No, those resided in a locked box he would not open for as long as he was alive to keep his vow not to touch them. Instead, Wraithsbane hung from his hip, barely visible under the dark gray cloak he’d donned for the hunt. In the bloom of autumn, the weather in the Hauntwood left a chill in his bones while wind whipped at the gnarled, dead trees. They’d reached a clearing, some hours into their journey after meeting up - though it seemed their aimless wandering had brought them to a break in the trees. Cyran stopped, pulling his hood down. “I think we’re getting close to where the creature was last spotted.” He said, pulling out the makeshift map he’d obtained from a local. Yes, it looked like it was somewhere around here - the last hydra spotting, and the battle between the creature, locals from the Marsh Flats, and the Knights of Duros that had taken place here. He had a sneaking suspicion that they’d soon start seeing the signs - scorch marks, scratched trees, blood. He doubted anyone had even had a chance to clear out the bodies. He folded up the map once more, tapping his foot. Awkward. What was he supposed to say? I’m glad you didn’t die in the Vulcadreus fight? I hope your life has been going absolutely swell since I saw you last - oh, myself? It’s been going rather swell, thank you. I’m on the run and my entire life has been flipped upside down, but pay that no mind… how’s your father doing, by the by?What he ended up asking instead was, “So, um. Weather isn’t bad for a hunt, yeah?”
Quest Name: Ten heads are better than one Participants: Two or more Location: Marsh Flats Post Requirements: 8 post per person, 250 words per post Reward: +1 Mystical Archive Ticket, +1 Hydra Core Description: A ten headed elder hydra has been spotted leaving the Marsh Flats and making its way towards King's Valley. The scarred and battle worn Hydra is extremely powerful and has been terrorizing locals as it moves from the marsh in search for new food and prey. Locals are asking for powerful warriors to track this Hydra and eliminate it, bringing peace back to the grasslands of King's Valley.
Special Requirements: At least one member of the group (PC only, no NPC's) must be knocked unconscious during this fight.)
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Oct 27, 2023 16:36:55 GMT -5
Ever since the whole kerfuffle with Vulcadreaus, Astrid has kept incredibly busy. From cleaning up damaged towns to making new friends to suing a mob into submission, things have been exciting to say the least. To her, the idea of going and hunting an ancient, terrifying creature for sport (and also to save people) is perfectly average, normal, and fun - something a little more usual.
She does find it a bit of an odd coincidence to run into Del and Cyran all the way in King's Valley, especially considering she'd only just asked them if Cypress could crash at her place and then go on a short tracking adventure only some weeks back, but they're busy people with plenty of adventuring of their own to go about. Besides, some contacts in the WEF suggested finding a partner or two before going after the ancient hydra, so it would make sense for Cyran to be in the area with his girlfriancée (whatever the heck he and Del are right now).
Still, something about Cyran's behavior makes her feel like he's being dodgy, whether intentionally or not. She recalls catching a glimpse of Del carrying Cyran off the battlefield after Vulcadreaus, and she hasn't exactly had a chance to ask how he's doing after that admittedly difficult battle. For some reason, it feels like something that shouldn't be talked about, but she can't put her finger on why.
Maybe it has to do with the fact that she didn't see Zarius there on the battlefield. She largely chocked that up to him making sure his family was safe, and they all seemed fine if not perturbed when she made an unannounced visit to the manor via secret warehouse tunnels a while back. (Again, something she reasoned was due to the unannounced visit.) If she remembers correctly, Cyran worked at the Rookery before, so she figured that he and Zarius have a good enough relationship, though to what extent she isn't sure since neither of them talk much about personal matters. Still, they seem like friends, especially since Cyran didn't get stabbed after pantsing the fellblood some time ago. Maybe it has to do with why that Caedes guy was acting so weird? The long and surprisingly quiet journey gives Astrid a lot of time to ponder all the different reasons that Cyran could be so... Off.
"Aye, looks about like it," Astrid says. During their investigation, she's been sending Melodia off to help scout ahead and report back any findings. It's made things significantly easier in narrowing down the final location where the old lizard thing might have settled down or created a lair.
There it is. The awkward weather question. "Weather's swell," she says simply, though the expression on her face is more studious than anything. "Are ya alright? Ya've been... I dunno, more awkward than usual." It isn't to imply that Cyran is awkward by nature, just that any amount of awkwardness feels odd. "Did I miss somethin'?"
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Oct 28, 2023 22:12:08 GMT -5
At least Astrid seemed in good spirits. It was almost comical, in a way that wasn’t particularly funny, how often fate seemed to be content to rest itself in the hands of a girl who’d not even reached the halfway mark of the second decade of her life. Cyran did not mean it in a condescending way. It was simply… incomprehensible for him, in some ways, to watch a child throw themselves headlong into danger. Astrid should have been at home with her father, learning how to work the forge and have as normal a childhood as she could get. And yet, here she was, fighting for a guild who probably cared little for her safety in favor of what her power could do for them. And Astrid was powerful. Cyran had fought by her side twice now in battles against the uncaring gods, and had seen what she was capable of with his own two eyes.
But just because she could deal with these dangers didn’t mean she should have to. It was the duty of the elders to make sure that children were safe and protected, allowed to grow and flourish. There should have been a better way.
At the very least, Cyran could keep an eye on her and shield her from harm… as best he could. He’d heard from Del bits and pieces about their battle against the Ur Beast. It sounded. Dangerous.
Cyran wished he could say that the battle against the hydra would be any easier. It was merely another day, another rampaging elder being. At least one of them was in good spirits.
… A fact that Astrid had apparently picked up on.
Cyran supposed he’d not done a very good job of hiding his stress. The elf ran a hand down his face, more exhausted than he ought to be. Well. The plan for small talk had failed.
“Sorry. I’m alright.” He muttered, feeling his own rune burn momentarily. “It has merely been a long and trying few weeks since the events that took place up north. It was a long few weeks before then, too. What with clearing the cultists out of Darkveil, and… well.” She probably didn’t need to hear about all of that nasty business, though Cyran figured it was a moot point to try and spare her any gory details when he was almost certain that Astrid herself had probably dealt with the kidnapping madmen herself. But he still felt his fatherly instincts kicking in, the desire to hold his tongue and sugarcoat things, perhaps only because it eased his conscience.
“I’m just not as young as I used to be, and sometimes all that excitement is a little too much for an old man.” Cyran huffed; it was not an outright lie, but rather skirting around the actual issue. Cyran wasn’t certain he wanted to be the one to tell Astrid the unpleasant news. He… was fairly certain she was friends, or at least coworkers, with Zarius. And she was a child. No matter how much she’d shouldered in her life to make her strong, she was still learning and growing, and parts of her likely still impossibly fragile while she learned more about the world.
Perhaps he didn’t want to picture the hate in her eyes as her perception of him was twisted and warped beyond repair, as well.
“Have you been holding up since then, by the by? It’s okay if you’re… still dealing with it, you know. It was a stressful situation.” Then, he paused, and as an afterthought, because the parenting books often recommended discussing heavy topics within a compliment sandwich, added, “You fought very admirably. And I’m certain we’ll hold ourselves against the hydra just fine. But is there any reason you’re still out hunting rather than at home? Have you seen your father recently?”
As they investigated the sparse part of the woods, Cyran made his way towards a nearby tree, running his fingers along irregular bark where it looked like the wood had nearly been cleaved in half from the force of someone - something - slamming into it and nearly breaking it apart. The woods were quiet now, but they would not be this way forever. Cyran raised his head to the air, catching the faint tang of something old and coppery.[1]
Well, there was no question that the hydra had been through here. And there was no question that it brought death with it. With any luck, they might actually have a chance of finding this creature in its lair and perhaps even ambushing it in its sleep.
Though luck was not usually on his side, so Cyran relied on preparation instead.
He reached into his bag and started fiddling with a few powders and pieces of glass, in a manner that was fairly Fish-like in its execution. Cyran was a decent tracker, but Fish had definitely helped him with the alchemical know-how of a survivalist. In a few moments, he had a glass sphere containing a crude mixture of flashbang powder and deadly glass shards - a vial that was quickly tucked in his belt, ready to be used just in the event of an ambush.[2] It was a shoddy solution, but if the hydra got the drop on them, it might even just give them a single instant to turn the tides. 1. Tracker Extraordinaire (Hunter I) 2. Improvisation Engineer - Glass Sphere, Flash Powder, Powdered Glass (Hunter I)
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Nov 5, 2023 20:32:34 GMT -5
Astrid could not even begin to fathom exactly what thoughts race through Cyran’s head while they walk in relative quiet. If she did know, she’d probably tell him to quit worrying. The only person who put her up to hunting an ancient hydra was herself and herself alone. She joined the WEF because of the appeal of hunting monsters more than anything else. Luckily during her time on the streets of Sky Peak, there were few if any threats from monsters, but out in The Wastes there were plenty. That combined with the danger of lightning strikes both helped deter her from leaving on her own and made her worry for her disappeared mother’s safety.
Either way, if Astrid didn’t love adventuring, then she would simply stop doing it and stay home with Cantio and enjoy a quiet life of tinkering. The thing is, opportunities have presented themselves in more ways than she could have ever expected, so who is she to turn those down? Besides, it’s really fun to defy people’s expectations of her. Even if they told her to stop, how would they make her? Life has presented plenty of challenges that she’s overcome, so of course she’ll seek more out for the sake of fun and learning.
For all his worrying about this, that, or the other, Astrid is happy to have Cyran along. They haven’t really had an opportunity to do something fun together since suddenly being together to fight two different gods, and Astrid has a feeling that she’s taking that much better than Cyran. The man runs an orphanage, of course he’s worried about children by nature. Honestly, he seems the type to have his own children, but she can’t recall if he does or not. Maybe he’s one of those people who can’t, and that’s why he runs an orphanage. That would make his situation similar to Melodia’s in more ways than one.
But also she definitely needs someone to keep her grounded and watch her back because she is a child who gets in over her head on the regular.
“Aye, it’s been one thin’ after another lately, huh?” Astrid agrees. “The cultists were annoyin’ enough as it were – they even tried ta nab me fer whatever they were kidnappin’ folks for, but I got away alright thanks ta some friends.” And lucky she was because for days before running into Gerhart and Beist, Astrid had made an attempt to go after the cultists alone. So that combined with the recent Ur-Beast situation just made her more willing to accept help in the swamps with a smile. Even if her last trip to the swamp had her run into Morrigan of all people.
Now, his mention of being too old gives Astrid pause, and her brows furrow together, thoroughly confused. Well, he is an elf, and elves apparently live a very, very long time. Like an incomprehensibly long time. “Erm, I guess..? Ya don’t look all that much older than me da, but I s’pose it’s hard ta tell…” She tries to piece together how to agree with his agedness without being offensive or rude. “Ya do look…tired. What are you an’ Del doin’ way down here, anyway? Who’s takin’ care of the orphanage?” This is a concern that is present for her since she knows many of the kids there and cares about them being in good hands. That’s why she brought him a gaggle of kids in the first place!
“I’ve been swell since the volcano exploded, honestly,” she says though tries not to say it in a way that makes her seem like she’s bragging. “Lots a’ clean up work around Dragon’s Cradle an’ gettin’ a new village up an’ runnin’ ta take care a’ all the refugees. Hearthside it’s called, I think. Cute place. I’ve run into a few folks who fought Vulcy too, so we got ta properly meet. That’s been real nice. I’m happy ta see everyone made it outta there pretty well. Most folks have just kinda gotten back into the swing a’ thin’s as far as I can tell, me included. The world don’t stop movin’ just ‘cause a big jerkwad god showed up an’ tried ta mess it all up, ya know.” A smile crosses her face as she ends on a playful note.
The praise doesn’t go unnoticed though, because her smile turns into a proud grin. “I’m real glad ya think I did a good job though! Did me best not ta get hurt, an’ I came outta that with nary a scratch! Just a few scuffs and burns on me armor that I fixed right up when I got home! Da was worried ‘cause me an’ Blue were both there, an’ it was supposed ta be a community barbecue, but now I’m thinkin’ that was just a ploy by them cultists…” The conspiracy fades quickly though as she continues. “I see da all the time! Got a magic key that makes it real easy ta get home, an’ I don’t spend nearly as much time travelin’ ‘cause I got a potion that lets me teleport across the map! I’d only just left home a day before runnin’ into you an’ Del.”
She’s easily distracted by the talking, as if the last few days of tracking the beast in silence left her filled with words to the brim and nearly bursting. Now they can come tumbling out.
“I even got ta meet some more a’ Zarius’ family since things went kaput with the volcano,” she continues. “His da’s nice enough. Don’t seem like they got the Rookery up an’ runnin’ again. I know ya used ta work there. Have ya heard from Zarius recently? I also got ta meet his–” Shoot, how does she describe Caedes? Does Cyran know Caedes? She doesn’t know if he does, but she’d think he does. “His… partner in crime, I s’pose? He was fallin’ off the dragon, so I caught ‘im. I dunno if ya know him. Ah, shoot, he said not ta mention him ta too many folks. Crap.”
All the while, she watches Cyran work his tracking and tinkering magic, though the tinkering catches her attention more and briefly silences her.
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Nov 10, 2023 21:02:53 GMT -5
Cyran came to an abrupt halt. Blinked.
“Wait, they kidnapped a child?” His voice nearly reached a fever pitch in his worry at the realization of the true depravity of the madmen who’d tried - and succeeded - to summon the ancient dragon god. He’d known they were searching for power to fuel their rebirth… that was why they’d taken Del from Shade’s Valley and lured Cyran along with her. It was no stretch to assume they’d try to take powerful children as well. He feared for Astrid as much as he feared the people who’d made the mistake of making a botched kidnapping in the first place. "It's a good thing they're already destroyed, else I'd..." His threat died on his lips, too tired to muster much more than a light venom.
But Astrid didn’t seem as distraught over this turn of events as Cyran was. It was difficult for the elven man to glean how much she’d truly been impacted by the recent month’s events, and how much she was taking in stride. Astrid seemed genuinely happy… perhaps Cyran should make an attempt at relaxing in turn. It felt like the world had been spinning since he awoke in the aftermath of Vulcadreus, especially considering his sudden career change. It was almost freeing in a sense for the ex-assassin to work on a contract that was just… for the good of the people. Not murder that would stain his hands.
He’d still rather not be involved in combat at all, not when Cyran wasn’t sure that he could handle the sensation of holding them in his hands and remembering blood coating steel and the life draining from a dear friend’s eyes. But he could take solace in the fact that he did not have to poke and prod at the tangled knot comprising the ethical quandary of the murder he’d committed and his subsequent retirement.
Astrid’s bewilderment at his age, at least, elicited a small laugh, an amused smile hidden behind a hand, a crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the smallest betrayal of his real age. “I’m three centuries and a half, give or take. At a certain point you just stop bothering with keeping track.” He shook his head, though the humor in his expression said he was not particularly offended. “So yes, I’m old. And tired. I’m…”
The question as to what they were doing this far down south was… more difficult to answer. Cyran ran a hand down his face, trying to formulate an answer that was not so complicated.
“With all the craziness in Darkveil, Del and I had to make an impromptu exit. It’s not forever - Oriole and Andromeda are with the kids, we just need to…” Wait for the manhunt that was likely after him to die down, “Take care of some work stuff down here.”
It was not, in essence, a lie. After they’d fled the Ash Lands and Cyran received word from his father that they were reinstating his nobility, they’d decided at the very least to heed the summons - for his engagement to Del meant she would be receiving noble status, too. And though the world had threatened to fall apart, it had not broken yet, and there were some calls they simply needed to face head on rather than ignore. Which meant, in the midst of it all, they were going to meet Cyran’s parents of all people.
Cyran would rather fight Vulcadreus again.
They were not the only ones that were so busy, it seemed. There was an expression, Cyran knew, commonly favored by dwarvenfolk and merchants from the north he’d met in his youth; idle hands are the devil’s playground. It appeared that Astrid embodied that sentiment. Always moving and happy with it. Always doing good work for others. “Really? That sounds wonderful.” He said, in response to the news she’d helped with village construction. It sounded like the kind of work Del might enjoy throwing herself into, as well. “You’re quite right, the world doesn’t stop. But I’m glad that you’ve been keeping yourself busy.” It was, perhaps, more than Cyran could say for himself. After he stopped feeling like a sad sack of mephits and licking his wounds, he and Del didn’t waste much time before absconding from Darkveil. It was just… safer.
Since then he’d really only been meandering and taking small jobs, nothing serious. Until now.
Her eyes lit up at Cyran’s compliment, her excitement almost contagious. Enough for Cyran’s own smile to grow without being forced. He’d fought against two gods with the little meteorite, and though the circumstances were less than optimal, it was a fascinating thing to watch her grow. He hesitated to call her a prodigy, only because that implied more natural talent and luck than her hardworking demeanor indicated, but Astrid was a prodigy. Her natural skill, a foot in the door; the rest, the result of dedication and practice. He was not surprised she’d held her own against the dragon without much injury. On the other hand - by his own design, admittedly - he’d barely made it out with his own life.
He, uh… did have to suppress a wince at the mention of a community barbecue. Now was likely not the best time to mention that there’d been no such plan in the works in the city, which had honestly been limping along since it was devastated by the quakes, which meant whatever she’d heard had probably been a ploy on behalf of cultists.
(He then had to resist the urge to ask if her father had given her the stranger danger talk, because to be honest strangers should be fearing her, not the other way around.)
“Oh. A key? How novel.” He perked up at the mention of that particular magical item. It seemed practical. Perhaps he should look into getting one for the orphanage…
"I doubt he much remembers me given the circumstances we briefly met in -” Being that Cantio and Cyran were both well and properly sloshed at the tensest noble event he’d attended in some time - “But give him my regards next time you’re home, yes?”
Note to self - possibly invest in a gift basket for Mister Von Lumen after the hydra hunt.
His mental musings were interrupted by mention of a name he hadn’t been ready to hear yet. His shoulders stiffened, a reaction the elven man could not mask in time; his face, twisting like he’d eaten a sour lemon. He’d been in the middle of fiddling with some of the alchemical components Fish had lent him, but his sudden flinch sent powdered glass spilling all over his palm, glass making him wince. He brushed it off as delicately as he could manage, but there was no hiding the tremble in his hands, nor the shake in his voice. Shit. Shit.
“You, um, you’ve seen his family since Vulcadreus exploded?” He asked, his casual tone a poor mask for his nerves. He wanted to ask more, how Zarius’s family seemed, if they’d seemed distraught, but that wasn’t his place. He likely didn’t deserve to know.
“Oh. I know Caedes. Don’t worry.” He assured her, as light as he could muster, cloak balled in his fist. It was the only thing he could think to do with his hand to keep from biting at his nails while she spoke, still wearing an excited smile on her face, like she was just talking about a fun time she’d had with some of her friends. Truth be told, he’d seen her save Caedes from falling in the midst of the chaos, or so he thought - it had only been a glimpse and he was too preoccupied with Del to keep up with the rest of the battlefield, but he had a vague recollection of the incident. “He’s my…”
He nearly choked on the word friend.
“We know each other. I lived at the Rookery for a time before I started Shade’s Valley up.” He explained, still fiddling with the side of his cloak. It was difficult to look her in the eyes when he spoke. His tongue felt tied up in knots. Astrid had asked how Zarius was… did he tell her the truth? She’d find out eventually, especially if she knew him personally - and with both of them being of high political standing, small, tight-knit circles talked. It wouldn’t be long before she learned, and Cyran was a notoriously bad liar.
But he couldn’t be the one to break the news to her.
He just - no.
Cyran sharply inhaled, tucking the glass vial harshly into the loop on his belt where a knife might have once rested, perhaps a little more harsh than he’d intended. Forcing a smile on his face, he told possibly the worst lie he’d ever uttered.
“I haven’t seen since just before Vulcadreus was reborn. He was… preoccupied, and could not join the battle, but he was fine.”
It was foolish and horrible and perhaps more than a touch selfish, but Cyran could not be the one to tell her what had happened. Children deserved to live in light and love for as long as they could, even if that meant hiding such a large secret for her. Even if it only lasted as long as this hunt. Even if it only lasted a few seconds. Even if the lie was shitty as all hell and tasted like ash on his tongue, he still couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Well. Zarius had always been the better liar between the two of them.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Nov 24, 2023 22:02:24 GMT -5
Astrid is so caught up in talking about everything, her words flooding out like her lips were a blocked dam now open for water, that she barely even notices Cyran’s understandable concern. If she did hear his murmuring about what he might do if the cultists weren’t gone, she’d probably tell him to relax since things are about as fine as they can be for everyone all things considered.
The girl taps her chin ponderously whilst trying to remember how old Del is compared to Cyran. They’re close enough in age if she remembers correctly. Elves being so old is so weird, but them forgetting the specifics makes sense unlike Astrid who can’t even remember if she’s actually twelve or not. She’s pretty sure she counted seven winters* pass during her time alone in Sky Peak.
But his hesitation in following up with what exactly he and Del are doing so far south throws her off a little. The justification makes sense, but the “impromptu exit” seems like an odd way to say they needed to leave for work. Her brow furrows while she stares at him, unable to parse out what he truly means or if he’s even hiding something. But he sure has been in a funk, and it sure was weird to see…
“Didja leave as soon as Vulcy went down?” she asks bluntly. “I saw Del runnin’ off the field carryin’ ya, an’ far as I know, ya weren’t really around since.” It seems odd to her that the situation with Vulcadreaus would be the reason. Given his response to the cultists, there’s no way he and Del were involved with summoning the hot arse.
Suddenly something clicks when Cyran seems off at the mention of meeting Zarius’ family. And he knows Caedes! The gears start whirring behind Astrid’s eyes, the motions of thoughts and ideas clicking into place. He’s nervous about Zarius’ family for some reason. He knows Caedes. He didn’t finish the sentence. “He’s yer what?” she asks, the words tumbling out without her realizing it. Well, might as well own it.
“He’s yer boyfriend? Yer ex? Are ya an’ Zarius in a spat over him? I s’pose he’s handsome enough, a bit of a weirdo, if ya ask me. Oddly cold. Bet he’s undead a’ some sort.” A sudden gasp. “That’s why ya had ta leave Darkveil so quick! Someone’s out ta get ya fer gettin’ between Zarius an’ Caedes! They’re totally boyfriends, right? It’s okay, ya can tell me. No one will admit it, but c’mon, why else would Zarius’ family know him? Ain’t like Zarius just invites people into his house fer no reason.”
In a split second, Astrid is in Cyran’s space, hanging on his arm, her eyes demanding answers from the tired elven man. “C’mon, Cyran, ya can tell me! I won’t tell no one! Er, at least I won’t tell no one important! Like um… I won’t tell gran Kamille! She won’t know a thin’ about it! But I’m pretty sure she already does. She’s the one that made me first start wonderin’. Cyran PLEASEEEEEEE!!”
It’s not often that Astrid lets everything childish come out at once, but this is truly too juicy to pass up. Forget the hydra, forget the traps and tracking, heck forget everything else! She has to know!!!
*note: I don’t actually remember if it was 5 or 7 but whatever lol
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Nov 30, 2023 10:33:56 GMT -5
Astrid was really curious about his affairs, wasn’t she… Cyran supposed he couldn’t blame her since last she’d seen, he had a stable business and did little travel. Well, he saw no reason in being dishonest with her - of course, it wasn’t the whole truth, mind, but Cyran was a notoriously bad liar and preferred to stick with lies of omission rather than telling real fibs. Well, this was more than a little white lie, but he’d stick with it all the same. With the grace of an expert dancer, Cyran skirted around the issue entirely, because truly - the last thing he wanted was to open this can of worms and unleash some ugly emotions in front of someone who was not as equipped to deal with his problems, and more importantly, shouldn’t have to.
“Mmm… not right away.” Cyran tapped at his chin in thought. “Del dragged me away from the battlefield when I, um,” Practically died, “Lost consciousness. We stuck around a little bit until I was well enough to move again and then made sure Shade’s Valley was in good hands before departing. That was when you and Cypress paid us a visit. Sometimes Guild business forces Del and I to travel so we have a system in place… we don’t like leaving in such turbulent times but the kids will be safe. Besides, with Darkveil in upheaval and the volcano’s explosion, it’s probably good for us to scope out safer places for Shade’s Valley. I won’t let the kids get hurt when it’s not safe -“ He caught himself before he could say not safe for me - “For them.”
That tidbit was not necessarily untrue, either. The quakes from volcanic instability, the cultists, Del’s kidnapping from their very own home, it had all taught Cyran that his defenses were not as infallible as he might have thought. The ex-assassin might have fancied himself prepared for any scenario but the painful truth was that no matter how much one might try to keep their nose out of trouble it didn’t stop trouble from knocking on their door. And there were just some eventualities that one could not avoid no matter how much they left themselves out of it all. Avoid fate, and it would drag you kicking and screaming into its games.
In this case, earthquakes and pandemonium and cultists. As much as Cyran had thought it important to stay in Darkveil, to take in the kids there that needed it, he had to consider what was best for his own children.
Even if that meant moving.
Such melancholic thoughts clung to Cyran while they changed topic to… something he truly didn’t want to speak of. Cyran had to curse whoever had made the assumption children weren’t very smart. They picked up more than people realized, and with their limited experiences they had to draw associations from what they knew and experienced. Even if they could not ascribe the why of when something was wrong, they still felt the emotions. Cyran’s shoulders stiffened when Astrid spoke, her eyes alight in thought the same way Marlow’s once did whenever she was trying to put together the pieces of a complex problem.
He shoved away the pang of nostalgia.
“He’s my… friend?” Cyran tried again, a touch hesitant, worried about whatever conclusion Astrid had reached. There was no way she’d parsed together the truth already. She couldn’t have -
what.
Cyran came to a complete stop, so startled he couldn’t stifle the bewildered half-laugh that escaped his lips. “Pardon?” He choked out. Astrid was joking, wasn’t she? She had to be speaking in jest.
But the longer she went on, the more Cyran realized that… uh… she wasn’t.
Dear Lunala, what had he done.
“No! No, no, Astrid, I’m set to be married. You’ve met my fiancé. Several times!” He waved his hands in the air, frantic, desperate to dispel this rumor, and his panic was definitely not helping but he couldn’t let her keep thinking that. “They’re both far too young for me, there are literal centuries between us. And even if there weren’t I still wouldn’t be interested! I didn’t get between anyone, because there’s nothing to get between and I wouldn’t want to get between it anyways!” Well, there was nothing to get between, in any case. To be honest Cyran was also fairly certain there were feelings involved between them - had been feelings involved. And he was happy for them!
Had been happy for them. Not much to be excited for now.
“Regardless of what they ha- what they have going on, which is NONE of my business, I am firmly in love with Del. Delaela Asiliari. Who will be taking my name when we wed. But we’re hyphenating, because the idea that a woman must join the man’s family is such an antiquated elven thing and her family and identity are important to me.”
For the love of every dead god in the sky, Cyran. Shut. The fuck. UP.
“But that’s besides the point! I didn’t have to leave Darkveil for being a homewrecker, I assure you. No need to tell your grandmother, the Lady Kamille,” Because that particular nasty rumor would no doubt spread like wildfire the second that the Witch of Moonglade heard such salacious gossip, “Because there’s nothing to tell. There is a perfectly good reason for why I left and why I’ve been a little out of sorts. And that reason is…”
It was at that moment that, in their distraction, neither elf nor half-dwarf noticed the massive behemoth of a ten-headed elder hydra, which had heard the commotion from their conversation, until it burst through the clearing with a roar that shook the very trees and sent the birds flying in fear.
“… A convenient excuse to leave this conversation. Oh, look at that! The hydra’s here! We’d better take care of this threat, now shouldn’t we?” Cyran babbled, raising the improvised concoction he’d made and lobbing it right at one of the creature’s head. He never thought he’d actually be grateful for a hydra sighting - yet here they were.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 3, 2023 2:28:18 GMT -5
Look, it isn’t that Astrid is necessarily curious about Cyran’s affairs specifically, it’s just that these particular affairs possibly involve other people that she cares about, and everyone has been so dodgy about the situation that if she can get just one person to crack, she will! And of all the people involved, Cyran is the one she’s most likely to crack like a walnut. But gently. (Or not. She doesn’t know the meaning of the word. Tact? What is that?)
Ah, right, right, she did see Cyran and Del shortly after the events with Vulcadreaus. They seemed pretty jumpy when she and Cypress showed up at the orphanage, now that she thinks about it. At the time, Astrid was much too focused on having a sleepover with her new friend to think about the adults acting nervous about something. His excuse for leaving Darkveil seems usual enough, nothing that she would question normally. Except he hesitates and makes a correction, which only means that Astrid is now eyeing the elf with the most suspicious, discerning expression she can manage. Unlike Zarius, she is obvious, which probably only serves to make this interrogation in the middle of the swamp even more awkward.
Adults are so awkward and bumble around their relationships in Astrid’s experience that she has made a (bad) habit of assuming many things. She swears, this will pay off. Everyone else is just in it for the long game. Or in the denial game, which Cyran is playing right now. So she doubles down even more. “Aye, I’ve met Del! She’s real swell, a real catch! But just ‘cause yer fiancéd right now don’t mean that there weren’t other thin’s happenin’ before that!” she insists. Who knows what could have happened before Cyran met Del!
A triumphant smirk spreads across Astrid’s face when Cyran starts breaking down. He’s spilling so many words, and all of them are saying the same things in different ways. He can’t even get things straight or separated or whatever! Finally, she’s going to get the truth out of him! As Cyran babbles on, Astrid leans in more, her ears attentive and paying absolutely no attention to their surroundings.
This is helpful to the massive hydra they’re supposed to be hunting out here because that bad boy makes an appearance at the most inconvenient time. Astrid’s expression drops, all of the excitement exchanged with annoyance. “No, we ain’t done with this conversation, Cyran!!” she shouts over the roaring hydra. She will magically enhance her voice if she has to!
Putting her fingers to her lips, Astrid whistles loudly. There’s a thunderous, bellowing screech from something in the sky. Suddenly, an ice-white drake, nearly the size of a full-grown dragon comes crashing through the thick canopy of the swamp trees and lands directly on the hydra. Its talons sink into the hydra’s scaly hide, and the drake reels its head back to take a deep breath before blasting the hydra directly with a powerful exhale of frost. When the icy hail ends, an exhale of flame surrounds the drake, searing the thrashing hydra below.
The hydra’s many heads roar and shriek in pain. One of them snaps up at the drake and snags the foot. The drake roars and chomps down on the hydra’s flesh and rips the head from its neck, tossing it into the frosty swamp with a triumphant bellow. With the exhaust flames spewing from the drake protecting it, the hydra finds itself having a hard time regrowing its lost head.
Astrid seems completely nonplussed by the violent battle now happening only a few dozen feet away, and she does not take her eyes off of Cyran for a single moment. “There. Big Frizole’ll handle that. Where were we? Ah, right, ya were gonna tell me why yer outta sorts!”
Drake Hussar - Big Frizole, the 2x sized ice drake with a fire gland as its second gland
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 10, 2023 8:18:35 GMT -5
Cyran breathed a sigh of palpable relief when Astrid’s eyes lit in recognition. It had not yet occurred to him that children were some of the most tenacious and precocious individuals in the world - and Astrid, one of the most stubborn Cyran had known. “Yes!” He cried, nodding more enthusiastically than he ought to. Astrid had added two and two together to get five, and as the old adage went, the lady doth protest too much.
“Yes! Del, you met her when the two of you fought the Ur Beast, and you saw her when you came to Shade’s Valley when you came to whisk Cypress away for a sleepover.” And in the middle of his frantic babble Cyran found his subject change. “How is she doing, by the way? Did she have fun? Did she make it back to Oriole and Andromeda safe-“
Don’t mean that there weren’t other thin’s happenin’ before that!
If there were a wall nearby Cyran would perhaps consider driving his head into it if only so he could knock himself out and prevent from digging himself into a hole he would not be able to climb out of.
“- No!” He cried, shaking his head, though for all her experience with master manipulators such as Zarius, Astrid was still deceptively honest; her thoughts were written as plain as day on her face. She was convinced she’d cracked the code. Oh, hell. This was not ideal. Perhaps Cyran should expect a raven from the Witch of Moonglade any day now demanding an account of the salacious gossip from the horse’s mouth at this rate.
“Nothing happened before that! I have never once been romantically interested in either of them. Ever. There was no grand love triangle that ended our friendship.” He waved his hands in the air, conceding the fact that something had happened to end their friendship in the first place. There was no point denying that anymore. Loathe as he was to admit it, the Specter - once an assassin of repute for his ability to go where no living mortal could reach, the living ghost, the man who could pry information out of even the most tightlipped victim without even needing to use his blades - was losing this verbal battle.
Which made the hydra’s appearance incredibly convenient, as it allowed Cyran to divert Astrid’s scrutiny of himself to the great beast that was currently bearing down on them.
“Yes, we are!” Cyran’s improvised blinding power struck one of the heads in the eye, the glass shards and capsaicin forcing it to rear back; only one head out of ten. But Cyran would not allow it to gain any kind of advantage. The shadow-touched man raised his arms, the yawning darkness around him growing ever-more ominous.
“Be still.” With his command, the shade grew a touch darker, the sunlight, dimming, as if light and joy could not reach wherever Cyran touched; and from the hydra’s own shadow burst from the ground, spectral chains wrapping around its legs and holding it in place -[1]
… And then a bone-white dragon swooped downwards from the sky, and started taking care of the hydra for him.
“Uh.”
Cyran’s hold on the shadows fell slack as he watched the drake make mincemeat of one of the hydra’s head, frostfire preventing it from reforming. For a moment he wondered if they’d have to fight the dragon too, when Astrid spoke up, and his confusion only grew.
“Wha… Big Freez-Oh-Lay…?”
That giant primordial hell-creature was her pet?
Mouth agape, Cyran turned to Astrid, who was acting like this was just a normal tuesday. In what was only a half-attempt to guide the subject away from what Astrid wanted so desperately to know (or thought she did, because he was certain her mind would change if he told her), he asked, “Since, uh, when have you had a dragon?”
And why didn’t she start with that when they set out to hunt this monster?
Cyran pursed his lips, regaining some semblance of composure after the initial shock wore off. “I don’t think now is the best time to talk about this. Your drake likely can’t hold off the hydra forever. We should take it out as swiftly as possible…”
And yep, there the drake went, ripping off another head. The blood and viscera sprayed everywhere as it tossed the reptilian remains through the air, hitting a nearby tree. Doing their job for them and most definitely not giving them room to attack.
Resigned, Cyran pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a long-suffering sigh. “Alright. If you really must know, I’ll tell you what happened. Just know that what you’re about to hear cannot go to anyone. Not even your grandmother. Not even your father… I’m only telling you because you deserve to know, being Zarius’s friend. The truth is that I - oh my gods what’s happening to your drake?”
The interjection came out of nowhere, a horrified expression on the elven man’s face as he pointed in the direction of the battle between the hydra and Big Freezole. Of course, nothing was really happening that required their immediate intervention, but the split-second distraction of Astrid turning around to check on her animal companion was all Cyran needed to cloak himself in the darkness and disappear from this conversation.[2]
… He panicked, okay. 1. Shadow Binding 2. Dark Form
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 13, 2023 22:40:44 GMT -5
Astrid’s hip cocks out in the most sassy way a stout twelve year old in layers of armor could possibly be. Her arms cross. “Well, actually I met Del before that when the two of us went investigatin’ some vandalism in Zeinav,” she says. Regardless of her follow-up, the damage is done. Cyran definitely wants to off himself. That isn’t exactly Astrid’s intent, but she is going to get to the bottom of this situation! She is going to figure out what’s going on between Cyran and Zarius and Caedes and Del and whoever else might be involved.
But just as a little treat, Cyran can have an update on Cypress. “Far as Cypress is concerned, she’s doin’ good. Only blew ourselves up a lil bit. Might’ve swapped bodies ta try ta figure it out.” She says that so casually and with no further explanation. “Then we took a trip ta Sol City, met a nice elf at the library, met an odd lady with a scythe, looked fer the one-armed guy. Otherwise ain’t all that eventful. Thought we might drive me da nuts at times, but he made us his cocoa! It was great, an’ I’ll be goin’ back ta bother Cypress more ‘cause we had a swell time.”
The hydra makes its appearance, as does Big Frizole, terror of frost and fire, adeptly named after Lil Frijole, the tiny lightning bean with many legs.
And despite this, she will not let Cyran escape this conversation. He’s hiding something, she’s convinced of it, and that’s mostly just childish stubbornness mixed with his flustered avoidance. “He ain’t a dragon,” she says matter-of-factly. “He’s a drake.” The difference is minimal, just like the giant drake’s size compared to an actual dragon, but it’s a very important distinction to people in the WEF. “An’ Big Frizole’s perfectly capable of holdin’ it off.”
He does.
Which finally makes Cyran crack, or so it seems. Astrid’s eyes go wide, and she creeps closer to Cyran, looking at him with all the wonder a girl her age can muster because her curiosity is going to be satisfied, finally! She’ll get an explanation for all of the–
Wait, what’s happening to–
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with–”
Astrid’s expression sours, and suddenly she shouts with the wrath of an entire clan of dwarves. “CYRAN, YA CAN’T GET AWAY FROM ME, YA KNOW!” [1] From beneath her cape, Astrid’s wings flare out, embodying her with the magical energy to locate living creatures. “I’M STUBBORN AS STONE, YA CAN BLAME ME ANCESTORS FER THAT!” She starts bashing her fist against her buckler, sending a ringing sound out into the swamp that helps her identify living creatures in the area through supernatural means.[2] And the moment she finds him, Astrid charges right for him.
“Come here!!”
1. Voice of Thunder 2. Bat Wings
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 16, 2023 21:26:02 GMT -5
Cyran’s seemingly eternal torment was granted temporary reprieve by Astrid’s recounting of her time with Cypress, talking about the new friends she’d made, the places she’d gone, the explosions she’d caused, the bodies she’d swapped with. Normal teenage girl things.
Wait.
“Hold on, backtrack.” Cyran very carefully did not freak out at the mention of explosions even though he’d explicitly requested no blowing up, purposeful or otherwise. With Cypress’s frequent magical mishaps it was bound to happen - which was why he was thankful more often than not for the ability to use the shadows to dampen magic - but that did not sound like CAREFUL, UNEVENTFUL, NORMAL MAGICAL TRAINING.
“I - one armed man? Swapping bodies? You know what, I don’t even want to know right now…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, dropping the silent interrogation for now. “I’m putting a pin in this but we will be returning to this topic once this is all said and done.” And maybe he’d send Mister Cantio a fruit basket as thanks for watching over Cypress for a few weeks.
Any thoughts of his foster child and any accidental body swappings she might have committed were pushed out of his mind as Cyran turned his attention to the hydra battle, and Astrid’s dragon - no, drake, evidently there was a distinction, one that he should probably know given he was also a member of the Winged Expeditionary Force - began tearing the elder hydra apart without much trouble. Given that the pair of them had fought ancient, primordial, unknowable deities together in the past, the hydra seemed almost less impressive in comparison.
Or maybe that was because this entire encounter was going south, crumbling to dust under his touch, because Cyran was so awful he couldn’t even pretend to have one normal outing, and Astrid’s stubborn streak was doing its damnedest to chip away at his reticence to say anything he shouldn’t. This outing was supposed to take his mind off of things, but all it had done was pick at scabs, ones that still hadn’t properly healed since Vulcadreus broke free of the volcano - no, since before then, even.
And evidently, Cyran couldn’t even catch a fucking break from this conversation because Astrid possessed echolocation abilities similar to his own, which Cyran had not known until now. He took to the air on ink-black wings to avoid her tackle, the shadow’s cloak melding off of him from the action, but stealth mattered little when she could sense where he was, anyways.[1,2]
The ex-assassin hovered in the air above her, all pretense gone from his face. “Astrid, please! I didn’t want to make a big deal out of things but I’m a gods-awful liar and yes, something bad happened, but I just - I didn’t want to dump it out of the blue. You just have to trust I’m trying to protect you!” 1. Bat Wings
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 17, 2023 20:17:16 GMT -5
It’s a good thing Cyran put a pin in the whole magical training thing because that’s the only conversation he’s going to get to put a pin in at this point. If Astrid has a say in it, she’s going to put a pin in him to keep him from going anywhere. The moment she figures out where he is, she darts through the air after him, narrowly missing as he manifests his own pair of wings and dodges out of the way.
She flares her wings out to come to a stop before colliding with a tree and looks up at him. Every bone in her body is ready for the man to try to disappear from view again, but he seems to have figured out that he won’t escape her so easily. Now, contrary to her shouting, Astrid was not actually angry at Cyran, just annoyed that he’s doing everything in his power to avoid her. Is she pushing too hard? Yeah, probably. (Read: Yeah, definitely.) But if Kamille has taught her anything, it’s that good drama is hard to come by.
Good, he’s admitted something happened, which is good to finally hear. But… bad? Okay, well, she could have seen that coming, but in her mind, the version of bad adults often talk about isn’t actually that bad, it’s just them overthinking things.
“Aye, you an’ da both are bad liars,” she says. “I know ya just want the best fer folks ya care about, but c’mon! Why the heck are ya actin’ so weird?? It can’t be that bad!”
Meanwhile, the hydra has somehow managed to escape Big Frizole’s grasp and turned its attention on the very loud little kid floating at eye height and obviously going to make a nice snack to help its regenerative abilities. Big Frizole snaps up the hydra’s tail in his maw and drags the mighty beast back. Astrid looks over and decides that fine, maybe the hydra is a bit much for only one pet to deal with on its own.
Without much thought, Astrid casts a spell which pulls a lumbering metal golem from a pocket dimension.[1] Muttering something in dwarvish, Astrid activates its combat state.[2] A wave of magic washes over Buttfellow, lighting arcane runes etched into the metal surfaces of its body. Then a strange gurgled bellowing emanates from the construct, and it charges towards the hydra, decking it in the face with its metal fist before a spark of flames bursts forth from its face and engulfs the screeching creature.[3]
With the hydra even more taken care of, Astrid looks at Cyran with a mix of seriousness and annoyance in her expression, one eyebrow cocked above the other as if to ask if she really needs protecting. This question wouldn’t go far with Cyran considering that Del carried her unconscious body home only a few weeks ago. She does need protecting in some cases. Regardless of how capable she is or thinks she is, she is still a kid who gets in over her head and makes mistakes. Little does she know that harassing Cyran for an answer might just be a big mistake.
1. Pet Pocket - Buttfellow 2. Arcane Activation - [post 1/4] 3. Mana Bulwark - Flame Breath [spell 1/3] Bat Wings - [post 2/3]
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 18, 2023 10:55:37 GMT -5
His concession struck a chord with Astrid - for a moment Cyran hoped she might drop the matter, but he should have known better than to assume her stubbornness would allow the matter to be settled so easily. His heart broke for her, so convinced that she knew what she wanted; when it would only make her wish she’d never pushed at all.
She wasn’t… going to give up, was she?
Even if Cyran asked her to drop the subject, she wouldn’t forget. Perhaps she wouldn’t even be able to bring herself to trust him, with that great secret hanging around his neck. She wouldn’t know what was so bad, but she’d know there was something he refused to speak to her about. She’d learn, eventually, from other sources, what Cyran had done. And she’d remember that he tried to hide it from her. She’d remember him as nothing but a monster who’d shown her a kind face while clutching the bloodied dagger behind his back.
And Cyran… he was so tired of being the monster.
He could not erase his bloody past, he knew. He could not sweep it under the rug. He could not pretend to be more than he was.
But at the very least, he could stop running from what he’d done.
He turned to watch her pull another strange contraption seemingly from thin air - a construct that reminded Cyran a little of Veliky’s metallic golems - to help the drake with the strange name combat the hydra. Even her own pets had little trouble fighting off a rampaging elder beast. So young with so much resting on her shoulders.
“Astrid, I know you’re strong. Stronger than most adults I know. But everyone needs protecting from something. I do, Del does, your father does. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, far too tired for this. Any of this. “It’s not the right kind of conversation to have while we’re in the middle of a hunt. Gods, I hadn’t anticipated this coming up at all.”
His voice trailed off towards the end, losing steam; a small, quiet thing. He could not bring himself to look at her. Focusing on the carnage of the torn-apart hydra was easier.
“A lot has happened since Vulcadreus began emerging from his slumber. The earthquakes, the cultists…” His throat felt thick just thinking about it, eyes stung. He reached for a dagger that was not there, an old instinct, and felt horrified at the motion. Settled for holding his arms, as if that might brace him for what he was about to say. Astrid had promised the stubbornness of stone, and she’d made good on it - she’d cracked him like a geode, and his secrets cut his throat like amethyst was spilling from his mouth. He shouldn’t tell her. He couldn’t stop himself. She’d worn him down.
“They were terrorizing Darkveil. They took Del from our own home. I went with Zarius to investigate them, to put an end to things.”
He shuddered.
“Something took over Zarius while he was there…”
He could still feel the acrid smoke burning his throat, the anguished screams that left Zarius’s mouth, begging for freedom, for rest.
“He was in so much pain…”
So I ended it.
“Zarius is dead, Astrid. He’s dead, he died down there in those caverns - and I - I watched him die.”
He stared down at his hands, remembering all too easily what they looked like covered in blood. His cheeks burned, wet with tears but it was far too late to stop them no matter how much he wanted to keep it together in front of Astrid, but she’d broken the thinly-built wall and there was nothing he could do.
Cyran fell silent. Only the sound of the golem and the drake’s clash with the hydra punctuated his statement.
That, and the sound of his quiet sniffling.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 18, 2023 11:54:35 GMT -5
A long silence falls between Astrid and Cyran. It’s almost so deafening that the hydra’s wails are muffled and go unnoticed. For such an ancient and terrible beast, it sure has become an afterthought to the conversation that needs to be had, that might finally be had. Astrid watches Cyran relent with an even expression. He’s hiding something, and at this point, her assumptions about some silly love triangle have fallen away because this seems much bigger.
Maybe it isn’t any of her business, but everyone is acting so weird about Zarius, and she cares about Zarius. He’s important to her. He helped pull her off the streets and took her on her first adventure to get her feet wet. He owed her nothing and yet did kind things for her. She feels like she owes him the world. Zarius is a part of her family, regardless of if he thinks of her the same way.
So she listens intently to Cyran, her stare as unwavering as a mountainside. The cultists were a problem, a huge problem. Whether or not their actions actually brought forth Vulcadreaus is still something to be determined, but if they even managed to snatch Del… Astrid’s fist clenches, angry at it all, leather stretches and metal clinks as she does.
And then it releases.
Something…took him over..? Finally, her eyes pull away from Cyran and her brow furrows while Astrid rapidly thinks back to a similar situation when she and Zarius were raiding a Clasp base. Zarius was not himself then. He doesn’t remember turning on her, but since then, Astrid’s just written it off as some side effect from a potion or poison that somehow got into his system. What if it really was something else..?
Wait. He’s…?
The hydra’s ear-piercing screech pulls Astrid out of the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind only for it to be silenced by Buttfellow and Big Frizole smashing it back into the water. Her eyes trace over the battle for only a few seconds before she looks back at Cyran and sees his shoulders slumped.
No. No, that can’t be right.
Her voice comes out in a stammer. “Y-Yer wrong. No, he ain’t. I-I just saw his family, an’ they ain’t said nothin’.” Why would they? They don’t know her. They’re not close to her.
Then a nervous chuckle rattles her shoulders. “Ha…ha… G-Good one, Cyran, thinkin’ that’ll get me ta drop it. Ya don’t have ta lie ta me.” Why would Cyran lie to her? Who would lie about something like this?
She musters up confidence. “What’s really goin’ on?”
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 19, 2023 9:07:40 GMT -5
There is a certain method for stabbing someone, when you want to make the kill as quickly as possible. It is a quick plunge of the dagger, in and out - allow the victim to bleed out and die in a matter of seconds. If you want it to hurt, to burn, you twist the knife. You pull out the blade slowly.
The eternity that passed after Cyran spoke felt like a dagger had been plunged in his gut, and all he could to was wait to see if his attacker would be merciful or cruel. Oh, but Astrid hardly had a cruel bone in her body. She was a child, one who lived and loved and found it so easy, even with all the cruelties the world had thrown at her. Even if she did decide to be hurtful, Cyran would deserve it; he’d accepted that months ago when he awoke from his injuries, his head in Del’s lap and her tear-stained face looking down at him. His guardian angel. Even if she’d forgiven him didn’t mean he didn’t deserve retribution from others who he’d hurt.
Even if he’d received forgiveness didn’t mean he could look at himself in the mirror without demanding where he’d gone wrong of himself.
Astrid had every right to be mad at him. Cyran was the wretched bastard who’d killed his best friend.
But with a twist of the knife, an agonizing, slow wound that made his heart bleed, Astrid spoke - and she didn’t believe him.
The truth? Oh, Cyran wished there was a better explanation for this. That it might be a cruel joke. If it was then he wouldn’t have to be here, Zarius’s murderer, comforting those aggrieved by his death.
His magic wavered; his wings flickered. Unable to muster the strength to conjure them anymore, Cyran dropped to the ground… then dropped to his knees. Shoulders slumped. He looked up at Astrid, the poor child, and reached out as if to hug her before remembering that was not a luxury for him. “It’s likely his family didn’t say anything because they’re trying to prevent a panic… Zarius is-“
Was.
“He was someone very important in Darkveil.”
Cyran stared down at his calloused palms.
“With him gone, it - it might cause more instability in the city. People might panic.”
But Astrid was still attempting laughter, as if this was a cruel joke and Cyran might drop the punchline any second now. Any second now. Any second…
“I’m not lying, Astrid.” Cyran’s voice was a gasping sob. “I’m not lying, he’s dead, gone, and I could have stopped it, but I didn’t - didn’t know what to do. Gods, I tried to help but I just made things worse! I had no choice but to… to end his suffering!”
The shadows stirred around him, as if responding to his grief - the air growing darker, the yawning trees seeming all the more dead and dismal. The admission hanging in the air; the second time he’d spoken it, even thought to make it real. That he’d been the one to end Zarius’s life. He thought he’d made the right choice. He’d been so convinced.
He’d been wrong.
“I wanted to tell his family about it but then something about his death, it - the volcano exploded not long after and Vulcadreus was there, and everything happened so fast I didn’t know how to process it.” He wheezed.
“There’s no joke, no prank, no - no love triangle, I didn’t know how to tell you because I know you care about him, but I just wanted things to be normal for one day, but everything isn’t normal because I. I broke it, and I don’t know how to fix it!”
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