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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Nov 27, 2023 18:04:10 GMT -5
Odd jobs were not hard to come by when everyone was in need of something or other to be done, but this particular request Cyran found while he and Del were making their pilgrimage overland from Ash Lands to Moonglade was perhaps one of the weirder ones. Not the contents of the quest, necessarily, but the time in which the venture was being carried out. At present most everyone was worried about the fallout from Vulcadreus and the havoc on the world, this particular question almost seemed out of place in retrospect. Hearty adventurers needed to investigate swamp creature in the Marshes!The pamphlet had then gone on to explain the Bogaboo, a creature that existed purely in legends told to children (he would know, as he’d read plenty of stories to Marlow about them in her youth). Cyran had nearly dismissed the parchment, until he noticed the description of victims that had gone missing from nearby villages. Some adults, but mostly children who had wandered too far into the wilds during play. Enough to constitute a pattern. A concerning one. Cyran had noticed the promise of payment down at the bottom, but it seemed inconsequential in comparison to the anger that coursed through him at the realization that there was something in the woods - whether fairytale, or nightmare, or otherwise - that was endangering children. He’d brought the missive to Del when they set up for camp that night, a request from a researcher named Lloyd. Not associated with the Winged Expeditionary Force, which the two were both part of, but individual, professional interest. He only wanted them to research and unearth more information about the creature, but if there truly was something in those woods, they couldn’t afford to let it live. Dead or alive, Lloyd had said. I just need you to bring me whatever information you can find.They were supposed to be lying low, honest. But neither of them could allow that kind of atrocity to keep happening while they could do something about it. Del’s sense of justice was infectious, he supposed. Even while on the run for her life, as pragmatic as she was, she never wanted to stop doing good for the people of this world. It did not take much discussion for them to come to an agreement - neither of them could let this slide. So the next day they packed up Del’s tent and readied themselves to set into the Marsh. Cyran did not arm himself with Spell Slicer and Cold Steel before they left; the only weapon he carried on his person at present was Wraithsbane, the only of his knives he could bring himself to carry at present. The only knife of his that had been forged with love rather than the promise of blood. It was perhaps a touch foolish to venture into danger without his primary weapon of choice, but Cyran still wasn’t ready. His double blades were a symbol of the Specter, and he was trying so hard to just put that all behind him. He would make do in this investigation without them. At the very least he could take comfort in the fact that there was no one else he’d rather be adventuring side by side with. He and Del had hunted monsters before; the Yeti hunt came to mind, though that… was a rather hectic venture. He probably should not hope that this one would be peaceful. It was best just to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. With that in mind, he turned to Del while the two set off through the marsh, a small smile on his face. “It’s been a moment since we’ve been on a hunt, hasn’t it? Have you ever heard of this creature? The… Bog-a-boo?”
Quest Name: Into the Marsh Participants: Two or more Location: Marsh Flats Post Requirements: 4 post per person, 200 words per post Description: You have been asked by Lloyd to venture into the swamp and study a Bogaboo, however the trip has already started off rough. A thick mist has settled across the region making your trip into the swamp even more difficult than normal. The first part of your task is to simply find your way. After getting lost in the dangerous bog, you need to find an area that resembles some sort of safety, and set up camp. This venture may take you a few days, or even weeks, so you need somewhere safe to set up and stay at for a little while.
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Jan 5, 2024 20:46:36 GMT -5
The world only seemed to continue getting stranger and stranger. An entity had just erupted from the volcano in Darkveil not so long ago, after weeks of steadily increasing earthquakes. And that was only one of the more recent things that had happened in the world. Unrest and oppression was increasing by the day, to the point where there were whispers of something taking shape in the Crescent Isles now... just in time for the Black Legion to be making appearances everywhere.
All this, combined with the desire to keep Cyran safe in the aftermath of... well, everything-- ran the risk of making Delaela more on alert than even before. There was so much that could go sideways, and so much of it hinged on being seen, being spotted. It was no secret that she was a paranoid sort, after all. It had kept her alive thus far. The farther away from everything they could get to figure out what to do next, the more isolated they were during travel, the less interacting with anyone, the better.
Due to all the unrelenting complicatios of the world around them, Del had started feeling more on edge, powerless as she was to be able to do anything effective to help those she could see suffering. She could not be in so many places all at once, and though while she often did what she could, there was only so much the two of them could do; there was no replacing the volcano and repairing what was lost. There was no... undoing what had happened between Zarius and Cyran, necessary and kind though it was. Frustrated, she felt powerless, knowing she could not effectively help anyone, even if she wanted to.
There were exceptions, of course.
She always did have a soft spot for those who were vulnerable. When Cyran had brought her the missive regarding the bog-a-boo and the missing persons, that spot ached. Children, no less; the very thought made her blood run cold. And this man, Lloyd or whatever, only wanted them to worry about research and nothing else?
It would have been easy to do nothing, but Del was never one for doing things the easy way.
After taking some time to speak with Cyran about it-- though their intent to assist had been all but a certainty-- it was something she knew she would have to see to, and Cyran's good and wonderful heart found itself agreeing, again, with hers. She was grateful for his presence, in this and always, knowing full well the level of anxiety any exposure brought, no matter how benign. Being on the fringes of society had it's perks, of course, and the wilderness of the Marsh Flats was about as fringe as it got.
Adjusting the strap of her pack across her shoulder, Del returns Cyran's smile with one of her own, feeling a little more at ease. It was good to see him smile. "Here and there. Campfire stories, mostly, though I hardly paid it any mind. I'm not in the Marsh Flats often enough to make heads or tails of any tall tales." she chuckles softly. "What of you? It had seemed familiar to you when you brought the request back to camp."
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Jan 14, 2024 9:32:54 GMT -5
There was a certain level of irony that two members of the Winged Expeditionary Force knew so little about a certain monster that the culmination of their knowledge could fit in a thimble. Cyran figured that was par the course. The both of them were competent hunters and fighters, but their entry into the guild had been more a way to make money at the time than anything else. There had been individual hunts since then; an Ur Beast here and there, ghosts, hydras. There were no shortage of creatures in the world that needed their attention. The displacement of primordial energies in the weave had thrown the world into disarray. The world was at a tipping point - either it would destroy them and plunge them further into destruction, or they could find a new normal.
Today, the world brought them a figure of legend.
“That’s just it…” Cyran shrugged in response to her query, “Stories. As far as I can figure, it’s the Marsh Flats Nightcrawler. I used to read Marlow books, when it was storming and she couldn’t sleep. They spoke of a gnarled, dead tree under which murderers had come to bury their bodies through the centuries. The tree absorbed all that hate, the blood and bonedust, until it came to life and stalked in the woods. It snatched vulnerable travelers from the road and devoured them, their skulls joining the Bogaboo’s collection.”
He stepped over a large branch, offering his hand to Del to give her stability over the obstacle. It wasn’t that she needed it - far from it, in fact - but he relished the opportunity to treat her with the manners and compassion she deserved.
“In the tale, the villagers grew angry. They combatted it with fire to burn the entire swamp down. A pyre to put the spirits to rest. Of course, it is impossible to discern how much is fact from fiction.” He supposed there was a kernel of truth within every legend, but if all they had to go off of were campfire stories and stories to spook children, then the two of them didn’t have a full, accurate picture of what this creature was capable of. Cyran didn’t like not knowing.
He supposed, though, given the contents of Lloyd’s message, that was what they were here to find out.
“I think, regardless, we shouldn’t have too much of a problem luring it out.” Its ravenous hunger and hatred would hopefully ensure that it would smell the living people lurking through its territory and decide they would make a fine meal. This rolling fog would pose a problem, though… Cyran went through the motions of removing the patch over his right eye, blinking to adjust to the light.[1] It helped, somewhat, but if it grew any thicker then it wouldn’t be safe to travel.
“Though I’ll be happy not to deal with Marsh Flats weather when all this is said and done.” He let out a half-hearted grumble. Truly, Cyran was happy to be able to do good for once, to put a stop to the creature that was terrorizing innocents. The muggy atmosphere that made his hair frizzy, the thick mud that limited mobility, and now this mist… he could do without. 1. All Eye
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Feb 12, 2024 19:20:55 GMT -5
Listening raptly, it sounds as though the tale of the Bogaboo had a substantial amount of history to it. The ones she had heard were much more apt to dramatization of the events, of course, being told around campfires in the effort to scare comrades in arms. She takes his offered hand with a shy smile, revelling in the quiet gallantry that seemed second nature to Cyran.
It was quite the story... but, it wasn't only a story, was it? She shudders at the thought, of the lengths people seemed to go to in order to rid themselves of monsters, and the monsters that were borne of them.
"It certainly seems like one of those things where the legend has roots within truth. Disconcerting to say the least." She glanced down the path, frowning slightly as a prickle of sorrow enters her chest. It reminded her a little of the ghost situation she and Plague had decided to investigate, the girl who had likely died to the giant rat faced monster that had tried to bite her head off.
Del puts that out of her mind for now. Nervous though she was, she felt much better prepared-- and in the company she trusted implicitly-- this go around. She chuffs softly as Cyran grumbles his annoyance with the weather. "It is rather cold and damp. Poor love," Del coos, teasing a little as she slips an arm around Cyran's waist to hug him against her side for a moment. She rather liked the dreary weather, but the cold tended to cling in the Marsh Flats, embedding everything with a damp chill that seemed to magnify the longer one was away from a source of warmth. Fortunate, then, that Del was a veritable furnace.
"The fog really isn't helping," Del frowns slightly, watching the mist coalesce around their feet. Was it getting heavier? It was starting to become difficult to see the path. Looking to Cyran, she presses her lips into a thin line. "We should stay connected if we can. I don't like the idea of getting separated in these conditions."
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Feb 17, 2024 14:48:13 GMT -5
“That’s what I’m worried about as well.” Cyran had to suppress a grimace. The legends themselves were brutal, intended to scare and confuse, and keep children indoors after dusk. But what preceded it? What gnarled, twisted roots lie underneath dead branches and rotting tree trunks? “Each story changes, but what remains the same is how horrible it is.” and if it was truly undead, something horrible must have happened to create it.
His flush only deepened as Del secured an arm around him, giving him some of her warmth. It staved off the cold dampness, somewhat. “I rather wish my body hadn’t decided it was only suited for warm, dry climates.” And he could hardly ever be called a vain creature, but like most elvenkin, he was rather proud of his hair, and the humidity certainly wasn’t doing it any favors.
The heat from his fiance helped.
The fog, on the other hand, did not.
Cyran glanced behind them, curious to see if it had sprung up all around them - but to his surprise, it tapered out only a little ways away, slowly creeping across the march like fingers pulling themselves out of the mud.
“... Odd.”
It didn’t inspire much confidence that the fog was natural.
He nodded, reaching for a pouch on his belt and pulling out a couple of tools. A vial, a pinch of pitch-black powder, and a yellow substance. The two were mixed together in the glass, corked, and handed to Del.[1]
“Something I learned from Fish.” He said with a smile. “If we get separated, throw this. It should make light and a noise. I can kind of see,” He tapped at the cheek under his shadow-touched eye, “But I don’t want to test what might happen if we accidentally stray from one another.”
Next, a piece of wire was pulled from the pouch, tied around his belt. He reached over and tied the other part to her own belt.[2]
“There. Not a permanent solution, but… it’ll have to work.” He muttered before offering Del a small smile. Probably one obscured by the fog; with each passing second, it grew thicker around them, making sight almost impossible. “We’ll just have to be slow, and move together.”
He set forward at a snail’s pace, only to promptly trip on a root and fall flat on his face in the mud. 1. Improvisation Engineer - Crude Gunpowder, Flash Powder, Glass Spheres 2. Improvisation Equipment - Spidersilk Wire
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 22, 2024 0:26:33 GMT -5
"Mine is rather fond of the cold, so I suppose that makes us perfect for one another, mm?" she murmurs, her tone light and playful despite their circumstances. The matter at hand was rather daunting, not to mention the tale behind it. She could not banish the fog and the clinging damp, but perhaps she could at the very least try to keep it from seeping into her beloved's bones.
There would be multiple stages of this particular adventure. The bogaboo, if it even existed, was probably not going to stumble into their path or invite them into its cottage for tea and cakes. It was one of those things they could not rush; fortunate, then, that they were both elves with plenty of time in the world. But, comfort was finite, especially out here.
Her thoughts shift again as Cyran fiddles with some sort of tincture or powder, blending the two together and handing the full vial to her. Del beams, delighted. Cyran and Fish seemed to be getting on even better now than they had been. That was certainly cause for joy, if ever there was one. "Look at you two, bonding so well! That is a fine little invention. I feel even safer." she tucks it away amidst her belt, an easy enough place to grab and throw from if she needed to. Hopefully they wouldn't get lost-- maybe what they needed most was to find a camp and secure a base of operations while they sought out this creature? The last thing Cyran needed was to catch a chill.
Though, falling into the mud was not going to help in that regard either.
"Oh!" Del kneels, helping to pick her fiance up and out of the muck, sitting in the mud with him to help wipe the mud out of his eyes and off his fine features. "I didn't even see that root, are you alright...?" SHe pauses to look at their surroundings, how the fog seemed to be closing in around them. She might have an easier time blindly navigating the swamp, but she still had no idea where they were going. And if she stumbled into a patch of water.... [color=8AAEE0"Perhaps,"[/color] Del hums, thoughtfully, "We find somewhere sooner than later to make camp, yes?" she pours water from her skin into her shirt to dab the corners of his eyes, his nose and lips. "There's no sense in risking life and limb in these conditions. We're no good to anyone injured or worse."
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Mar 25, 2024 15:42:35 GMT -5
Despite the sourness of his mood, Del’s lightheartedness did not fail to cheer him up. Cyran huffed out a small laugh and nodded. “A perfect match. Together, we achieve a completely average temperature.”
He rubbed at the back of his neck, rather sheepish, as Del offered gentle encouragement regarding his relationship with Fish. She was all too aware that the elven man struggled with reconciling his own personal guilt and operating on Fish’s personal level. It had caused strife; that wasn’t even considering Cyran’s recent retirement, which Fish was still not privy to. He thought he’d found some common ground with regards to Fish’s chemistry. Cyran didn’t have a mind for it… though it was handy to have a few pieces here and there that even someone as scientifically illiterate as Cyran could make use of.
“We’ve made progress.” He said, after a moment’s thought. The voice of a man who did not want to sound too hopeful, though there was a cautious sort of warmth in the undercurrent of his words.
It took some of the edge off of falling and landing on his face, at least.
Cyran pulled himself into a sitting position, to which Del crouched down to help him. His face was flush with embarrassment while she gently cleared mud from his face and cheeks. Cyran spat out a bit of mud that had gotten in his mouth and wiped away the rest. “I meant to do that.” He mumbled.
Even more prevalent than his embarrassment, though, was the sharp edge of wariness at being caught unawares. Cyran did not want to inflate his own ego by boasting his skills, though it was no lie he was generally sure of foot. If the fog was so thick that even he was losing his footing…
“You’re right.” Cyran nodded. The weather was growing so fast that camp was growing more prudent by the second. Stumbling like baby fawn as they were, any Bogaboo would make easy pickings of them. At the very least, if they stopped for the night, they could anticipate and react to any possible ambush on their own terms. Del’s line of thinking was right. They had time.
They could be patient as they stalked their prey.
“Camp it is.” Cyran nodded, leaning into her touch - and at the dash of apprehension through the bond, a primal fear he could not understand, he leaned forward and chanced a small kiss on her cheek, likely getting a little bit of mud on her as well.
Making camp was a ritual for them by now. Traveling together since departing from Darkveil had allowed them to settle into an easy routine, both having their own part to play in constructing a safe rough haven. Cyran’s vision was still able to cut through the fog, somewhat, so he was able to go through the motions of slowly setting up a perimeter.
He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that the bog was silent, save the creaking of branches in the wind.
But, as far as he could figure, they were alone in the bog. It seemed like the Bogaboo, or something malicious enough, had scared off any animals that normally inhabited this space. Hand resting on Wraithsbane’s hilt, Cyran made his way to their campsite, the shadows nipping at his heels as he moved.
Behind him, the dead air stirred; a whisper, a promise.
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