Mountain Side Temple

The first warning of Peregrin's presence that Taima would receive would be a flicker of orange, a tint to the dim light that spoke clearly of one thing. Fire. As the half-celestial had entered the forge, he unleashed his flames outwards in searing hot torrents, licking at every bit of furniture, ornamentation and trim, even singing and distorting the solid stone with its heat. His approach was slow, though, and so the retribution from the attacked vampires would be a more immediate concern for the dragonborn, as the celestial finished with the outer chamber and began to move down the tunnel.

Taima's burst of sunlight was well chosen as a form of attack - the brief flash was more than enough to fend away any attempts at surprise attacks as the dragonborn fled the chamber and into the tunnel, as the lesser of the clan were seared by the light and fell away with shrieks of pain. Despite her closer proximity to the blast, though, Neferata merely narrowed her eyes, resisting the interruption to her casting and making to pace quickly after the fleeing cleric.

Long hours of channelling before she was turned - her mother running her repeatedly through tests of slapping, whipping, even offensive casting in attempts to break her focus - paid off as she maintained a solid grip on the spell despite the burning sensation that the light elicited, aided by a resistance (manufactured over millennia of careful training, as a warrior might sit beneath a waterfall, Neferata deliberately exposed herself to the sunlight for growing lengths of time, moving from crippling anguish through to searing pain through to a tolerable burn) to the glaring weakness that light posed for her kind.

While the other vampires gathered their wits and made to pursue Taima, Neferata was already releasing her channelled spell, her eyes lighting up with a powerful, natural green light as she did so.

The ground before Taima's fleeing form would abruptly erupt in a small explosion of stone shards as a powerful, boiling hot geyser rocketed out of the earth and into the corridor, the steam and water spreading outwards from the jet itself (with a diameter enough to fill the width of the tunnel) to scald the dragonborn.

As the geyser's water began to flood down the corridor (though much of the jet was steam rather than water), the vampires moved towards Taima. She had a lead on them, but the geyser posed an obstacle that would be very difficult to navigate while it lasted. Without the channelling to slow her down, Neferata was able to pick up her pace, and as she broke into a run she followed up the blocker with a small-but-focused bolt of fire, about the size of a baseball but with the impact and heat of a much larger missile, compressed down for a strong precision attack comparable to a fiery bullet.

In the meantime, the other vampires moved up behind Neferata, in a similar formation to their first approach (because invisibility aside, it was fairly obvious that they would be within this tunnel, and any area of effect or conical magic could still cause serious trouble if it couldn't be prevented by normal means) in order to make any option of retreating back the way she had come highly undesirable for Taima.

Peregrin was closing in on the fighting now, the loud roar of the geyser causing him to pick up his pace as it came into view. He halted some distance away, though - he wasn't getting through that anytime soon, that much was for certain.

The red glow visible from the far end of the tunnel gave Taima pause for concern, but she couldn't afford to second guess her destination. The way back was flooded with vampires.

However, the explosion of rock from the pressurized water brought Taima up short, one arm raising to shield her face from the scalding heat and boiling water that repelled her back away from the obsticle. This didn't boad well at all.

Scorched by the heat and splatters of water she turned in place to face off against the approaching vampires, only to be struck by the bolt of fire that caught Taima in the chest, jarring her painfully. The force of the blast staggered her back closer the geyser, growling out her displeasure at the painful blow. But as before, the nature of her elemental resistant armor left her largely unharmed, other than the residual ache from the impact itself.

With the heat of the geyser at her back, and the other vampires arriving to fall in behind Neferata, the realization settled over Taima that she was cornered. The closed confinements of the tunnel meant that her opponents couldn't surround or flank her, but she did not have unlimited stamina.

As the direness of the situation continued to climb, so to did Taima's fervent state of mind. Passionate rage and vengence were powerful driving forces, when controlled and directed with a rational mind.

Falling into a defensive stance, she rapidly began to weave her next spell, the words rolling forth, low and nearly indiscernable. As she chanted out her incantation, her shield hand lowered to her spell components pouch and withdrew a handful of silver dust that smelled vaguely of molasses.

Peregrin remained undetected by Taima, due to the geyser concealing his arrival.

Neferata's geyser spell was fading, and shortly the way onwards would be opened once again. Neferata was unaware that Peregrin stood just on the far side of the geyser, and so she narrowed her eyes. She would kill the dragonborn before she could flee, even if the pseudo-Patronus had a chance of catching her on her way out. The vampiress extended her arm out, and her eyes once more poured out a green light. To her right, Selene broke from the formation and darted forwards.

The lithe, near-invisible vampire sprinted at Taima, swerving to one side and with a kick of dust, throwing herself into the air and alighting on the wall. Her levitation keeping her from falling, Selene used both the roof and the sides of the tunnel in order to make a swift zig-zagging path towards the dragonborn, even as Neferata's spell was unleashed.

A flurry of sharp and grasping vines shot from the floor and walls of the tunnel, thick and covered in toxic spikes. Though they would by no means threaten Taima's armour, the vines were great in number, dozens of the lashes making to wrap around her from all around, it was likely that some of them would find cracks and gaps in it. The toxins in the spikes were not lethal, merely irritants - they would inflame the skin, and swell it, slightly weakening muscles where they pierced the skin.

"It ends now, cleric. You will fall, and your soul will belong to the Sealed One. I look forward to seeing your precious little allies' faces when you strike them down on the battlefield." Neferata taunted, laughing darkly.

As she spoke, Selene struck. She fell like a hawk from the ceiling, a wicked spear flashing into existence in her hands that she drove down with needle-like precision at the dragonborn's skull. "Die." she hissed as she struck, hatred and venom strong in her voice.

While the two most magically inclined vampires took Taima's attention, Korah, accompanied by Nesune, the twins and Liandrin, began to make their way down the tunnel more slowly. Korah's shield was raised to provide protection to those behind her, and their swords were sheathed so that the ambient glows would not give them away. They advanced slowly but steadily, with grim focus on the silence of their movements.

The councillors remained behind Neferata, content to take a back-seat to the soldiers. Asne remained with Neferata also, in case the dragonborn attempted a charge on their Queen.

This would end soon.

As the geyser began to lose its ferocity, Peregrin embraced the power of his faux-bracers, as well as his own potent fire magic. The pseudo-Patronus began to charge a devastating fiery attack to unleash upon his foe as soon as she was within sight, vampires be damned.

A lifeless gaze was trained on the back of Taima's head, despite the geyser obscuring his vision. He sensed the divine power in her, and He loathed it through him. It was anathema, and it would be ended.

It would all end soon.

Taima kept in a guarded defensive stance, eyes trained on the tunnel ahead as her spell reached its completion, charging the powder in her hand. The whisperings from Aecris were faint and nearly indiscernible - chaotic almost. It would seem the sword was having trouble getting a solid read on Selene's position as well, given the vampire's speed and agility.

As the vines tore up from the floor, she cleaved her sword though the air, severing several vines and left them to fell writhing back to the floor. Unfortunately, the sheer numbers were just not feasible to hack through as she found her movements rapidly becoming restricted.

Her scaly hide protected her from the brunt of the spines that made it through her armor, but a few grazes and punctures pierced between the scales in softer regions, such as her wrists, and the bends of her arms. 

As the blood flowed in light trickles, her flames of retribution spell saw to it that the wounds were mirrored on Neferata herself, a warning perhaps of what a more severe injury could inflict.

Restrained as she was, Taima's eyes burned with her inner fury, while she redoubled her efforts against the vines - cutting what she could and attempting to tear free from what she couldn't reach with her weapon.

'Above!'

The single word that cut through Taima's mind was clear and precise as Aecris finally got a lock on its target, and the clarity of the word was unmistakable as it deafened the softer more unsure whisperings.

Abandoning her efforts against the vines, Tiama instead turned her attention upwards, uttering a new spell. As the growling incantation came forth, an indiscernible force swept out from the Dragonborn, catching Selene mid attack - almost as if she had struck a solid object. The spell fluctuated outwards and sent Selene forcefully hurtling back towards her approaching allies.

Taima's breath came ragged as the battle continued. She hadn't the stamina of youth on her side anymore, and the efforts of the fight were weighting heavily on her. 

Turning her gaze to the ceiling overhead, Taima steeled her resolve for her next action. The vines were momentarily left to their own device, as she instead focused on her spell. Her voice took on a deep and resonating growl that shook the very ground itself, causing tremors to spread through the rock and long cracks to begin opening overhead.

However, the tunnel was well designed to not collapse under an assault, and though the air filled with dust and bits of rock as the cracks spider-webbed their way down the length of the tunnel, the ceiling held - for now.

Selene hissed in pain as Taima's spell struck her, and the vampire bodyguard flew backwards, control lost as the tumbled through the air. Before she hit the ground, however, her agility and training kicked in, and she curled herself in the air to twist around. She landed in a hard roll, jarring her shoulder but otherwise staying unharmed, skidding to a halt just beside Korah and the other soldiers.

Behind them, Neferata herself narrowed her eyes in pain at the small wounds that appeared on her flesh as her vines wrapped around Taima. The Queen slipped forwards swiftly to place herself at the side of her soldiers, ready to strike once more. "Be careful," she hissed, "The cleric has some form of reflective enchantment upon her. Wear her down with minor damage to avoid slaying yourselves in the process."

However, as the vampires readied another round of attacks, the roaring geyser behind Taima began to sputter, and after a few moments, it petered out into nothing more than billowing steam over a deep pit. Through the mist, a bright orange glow immediately became apparent as Peregrin's gathered fire magic fluctuated and billowed around him. The pseudo-Patronus stared through the mist directly at Taima, and lifted his arms.

"Hold!" Neferata yelled with a commanding anger, "Do not release that attack - the cleric has a reflective enchantment! You'll kill yourself if you do!"

Peregrin focused Neferata with a level stare for a few seconds, before he silently nodded. But he had no intention of letting Taima pass. With a slight adjustment to his aim, Peregrin narrowed his eyes, and released his immense fiery assault.

Superhot jets of fire shot out from his fists, more focused than his original intention, but certainly more than enough to have enveloped Taima had they been aimed at her. But they weren't aimed at her. The flames seared through the air and struck the roof of the tunnel with a roar as they briefly billowed outwards, before the magical heat flared, and the rock that formed the roof was liquified into molten lava. As Peregrin maintained his jets of fire, the lava produced by them would pour downwards in a deadly wave towards the immobilised Taima. It was a risk, for certain -- the enchantment that Taima was channelling could be intelligent enough to trace the molten rock back to its source, but equally, the attack's indirect nature could bypass it. And Peregrin did not feel fear, or reticence. He felt very little at all.

Neferata and the vampires held back, away from the deadly lava flow, in order to await the results of Peregrin's assault. If Taima survived, but Peregrin was unscathed, then they now had a tactic to employ against her defences. If she did not, then... well... that was that.

With no further imminent attacks from the approaching vampires, Taima redoubled her efforts on her spell, her voice booming down the tunnel as a loud deafening crack split through the air. The tremors running through the rocks shook her footing, but did serve to loosen the rooting of the vines, though not the entanglement itself.

The first of the tunnel to collapse was the entrance leading back out into the altar room, but the spreading crevices and cracks rapidly widened, and large chunks of rock and debris began to come down atop those still within the confines of the tunnel - though, not with the same levels of devastation.

The torrent of heat that struck the ceiling over head didn't even warrant a warning from Aecris as Taima threw her shield up over her head, wrenching loosened vines free from the cracked rocks beneath her feet. It was a seemingly futile attempt to try and stem the flow of liquified rock, but the enchantment in her shield hummed briefly, forming an indiscernible field of magic over the object. Unfortunately, it wouldn't protect Taima fully. The stream of lava as it struck the shield sprayed outwards, much of it spattering against her wings and armor, sizzling and damaging even the strong dragonscale.

The wounds would be mirrored on Peregrin, burns forming on his face and arms and spreading across his wings, leaving them mangled and twisted ruins of their former grace.

The liquified rock did serve a second purpose and it ate through the vines keeping Taima restrained, allowing her to lunge towards the vampires in an evasion effort to get clear of the devastating affects of the liquified rock. Even her elemental resistant armor could only hold up to so much, and her scorched flesh was evidence of that.

However, her movements were brought up short by the collapse of the tunnel as a heavy weight struck her from above, leaving her spiraling down into darkness.

[Post co-written by myself and Tiko]

The tunnel collapse was sudden, and despite the warning rumbles, those that were caught in its path had not seen it coming. Expecting the strike to fall on the forward fighters, those more visible to Taima, the councillors towards the rear of the group were unprepared for the splitting rock over their heads, and it was with varying degrees of success that they scattered away from the falling rubble.

The impact of the rocks on the floor of the tunnel kicked up a cloud of dust, into which the four vampires fled to try and avoid the fall. Arymilla and Tuon were the first to stagger clear, the latter with a bright crimson laceration down the length of her upper arm where a rock had grazed her - the former, as usual, emerged entirely unscathed. Muriel and Isis were the furthest to the rear of the tunnel, and as a result, suffered the most from the collapse. Muriel threw herself aside, to the far wall of the tunnel, as beside her Isis went down in a flurry of stone. The last Muriel saw of the other councillor was a hand, fingers curled and extending from beneath the collapse, before further quaking brought a second load down, leaving not a trace.

Muriel eventually cleared the worst of the falling rocks, with a fractured foot and a cracked skull to show for it. Unsteady, Tuon and Arymilla hastened to support her as they moved further down the tunnel towards the others.

The soldiers were largely unaffected by the rockfall -- as the worst of the debris piled to their rear, what little fell near them was easily avoided, though one chunk did hit Asne -- and consequently, bounced off. The large woman nursed a bruised forehead, but little further damage.

On the opposite side of the combat, Peregrin was suffering from Taima's enchantment, and badly. While the pseudo-Patronus was little enough affected by pain, he was more than aware of it, and the boy's face was twisted in a snarl of agony. Charred feathers littered the floor around him, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. His jets of fire were extinguished, and panting, the servant of the Sealed One looked to Neferata. Blank eyes gave a clear instruction: finish her.

Neferata had little need of being told twice.

Taima was only out for but a moment as she came back to herself. The smoke rising from the scorched flesh and heated armor mingled with the dust and smoke of the collapsed tunnel, marring visibility and choking out the breathable air.

A gravely cough was the first sign of life from the Dragonborn, but with wakefulness came pain, and the realization of the extent of her injuries. The most crippling being the heavy weight that had her sword arm thoroughly crushed to the rock floor.

Molten rock had severely corroded her shield, and the twisted metal fell away to lay at her side as she moved her hand to try and push the rock free, but it was far too large and she lacked the leverage needed.

The queen broke from her soldiers and strode forwards towards the fallen Taima, Selene trailing her warily. She stood over the cleric, and drew out her sword.

"Having fun there, cleric? I ask you again: where are your gods now? They seem not to have protected this holy place to any worthwhile degree, and I doubt very much whether they will choose now to intervene and protect you." Neferata sneered at the fallen warrior, "I look forward to watching you in his role," the vampiress lifted a finger to point disdainfully at Peregrin. "As, I'm sure, do your precious allies."

Taima leveled her gaze on Neferata, unyielding in her resolve, even in her current state. If anything, her fervent passion only burned all the fiercer as she moved her hand to press against the shoulder joint of her armor. It was evident that there was blood trickled from the gaps in her armor from the wounds inflicted by the vines, and a dark purple energy was coalescing between her hand and her armor. Rynhart's parting gift.

Neferata's words and implications did not frighten the dragonborn, she had faith in her companions to do what must be done, should she befall such a fate. No, she would face her death, much as she faced life. With her head high, and her convictions unwavering.

“Your words matter not to me. By the blood you have spilled and the atrocities committed this day, I curse you and your foul kin,” she growled lowly.

Neferata laughed, her melodic voice dripping scorn. She seemed to find Taima's words a source of much amusement. "I've heard that one before." she said after her laughter ceased, smirking. "My people's greatest curse has been our greatest gift. I doubt that your words... no, I challenge your words to bring us harm. But what's done is done, dragonborn. And you are done."

As Neferata spoke, she drove her sword down. The blade halted just above the floor beside Taima's throat, before with medical precision the Queen drew it upwards in a flash of crimson. A line of red blossomed from her own throat as she did so, but her vampiric nature made what was a fatal wound to Taima nothing more than an annoyance.

As Neferata spoke, the gathering energy only grew darker and more heated with Taima's inner rage. It takes a great deal of wrath to imbue such vengeance in a curse, and as the blade slashed across her throat and the dragonborn gasped her last breath, Rynhart's spell released. A lance of purple energy split off and struck out for the chest of every vampire present, leaving a dark glow of energy imprinted on each.

This was a magic much darker than anything the dragonborn herself had wielded over the course of the battle but though it would linger for a few moments before slowly dissipated into nothing, no apparent effects occurred, save for perhaps an underlying sense of unease. Perhaps it was just paranoia.

The vampires as a whole started in shock with the burst of darkness from Taima, and Neferata herself scowled. The power from the spell had been evident, but it hung in the air... and faded. Perhaps Taima's demise had caused the spell to misfire? Regardless... she would have Tamara look into it at a later date.

"For all your words, dragonborn, in the end it is you, and you alone who will suffer the most." Neferata said, "I hope you enjoy the view in the months to come..."

"Vampire."

The Queen looked up with a frown as Peregrin spoke, his voice monotone and unfeeling despite its youthful sound. She raised a questioning eyebrow at the pseudo-Patronus.

"We make for the monastery, now. Gather your forces."

Without further words, Peregrin turned and made for the temple's upper exit. Neferata scowled at the order, but knowing that arguing with an emotionless construct was pointless, ignored it. She turned to her soldiers and councillors. "It seems we are not done for the night, my sisters."

"My Queen?"

Neferata glanced to the side at the source of the voice - Muriel. "What is it?"

"Isis. She didn't make it."

Neferata's eyes widened at the councillors words, before her expression contorted in rage. The dragonborn had slain one of her clan. With a hiss of fury, the Queen turned to spit contemptuously on Taima's corpse. "Your allies will pay for her death, cleric. I will ensure that the ones you hold dear suffer the most."

An air of approval was evident amongst the soldiers, but at the back of the group, the councillors were less satisfied with the promise of revenge. Another of their number had fallen, a life that they could not truly afford to lose at their current state. Neferata's council were in place to guide her, advise her .. but with only three of them surviving, what real influence did they have over the Queen's actions?

These worries were not, however, voiced. As Neferata strode to follow Peregrin towards the exit, and to check on their allies outside, the clan in its whole followed behind her.

Several minutes later, thirteen small shapes took wing from the desecrated temple, flying in the direction of the monastery. The now-healed Corenna remained behind with the recovering Temaile, who was in no fit state to fly, let alone fight. The rest of the clan followed a good distance behind Peregrin and Arran (who having regained consciousness, had been able to heal himself, though he was weakened because of it), their larger wings giving them a speed advantage.

It would be some time before they arrived at their destination, but before the night was done, the clan would see battle again ... blood hung fresh in the air, and blood awaited them.

[Co-written between Daimayo and myself.]


It had not taken long for the dragonborn warrior to find the cheerful druid, for she had been in her beautiful oak tree's branches, spying Taima's advance ahead of time. Her smile did not waver even when she was informed that Kento needed healing, for there was no urgency portrayed, immediately beginning to clamber down the branches until she could drop to the snow-covered floor, waving at their leader before disappearing off to the smithy with a second glance back when she thought the dragonborn was not looking.

By the time Parlina reached the smithy door, her breathing was a little short on account of the pace she had set herself to get there, pushing open the door with a cheerful shove, not at all expecting the blanket of heat that met her. Her little cry of surprise was silenced quickly, looking a little rueful as she finally saw Kento beside the little vat of water, waving needlessly at the blacksmith's still form.

“Sir Kento, what have you done to yourself this time?” she teased, spirits already taking form around her, stave sat in its belt loop as she made her way over to her injured ally. It was a rare occasion that found the young druid tending to one of her allies outside of training and thus she was intrigued, expression showing this as she was silently informed of the residual magic all around them.

The young blacksmith looked rather embarassed, his hands still deep inside the relatively cool waters of the vat as he glanced back at the druidess. "Oh, you know. My hands were a bit cold so I decided to warm them up. The usual." He'd tried, after Taima had left, to take his hands out at least long enough to put a shirt back on for Parlina's sake, but even twitching the now-red fingers had been enough to keep him where he was. It was probably for the best anyway; The forge was still extremely hot, the air making it slightly difficult to breathe at times.

Shifting to the side, Kento raised his hands slightly out of the water, looking at Parlina. "Maybe we should do this out in the cool air, where I can keep these out of the water for long enough?" Not to mention that it'd be more comfortable for both of them.

A thin sheen of sweat had already begun to settle across Parlina's skin, clothed in furs and leather that kept her more than toasty out in the snow, but in here she was feeling rather stifled, chuckling regardless at Kento's attempt at an explanation. "Was that before or after you did magical stuff with Sir Taima?" she replied smoothly, reaching out her fingers to press against his scalded palms, green emitting from them immediately.

It was nothing too complex; just enough to take the edge off them until they got outside. "I agree, the heat will do them no good. Come on then!" Parlina encouraged, wrapping a little hand around one of his wrists to pull him towards the door without waiting for permission. Undoubtedly, the shift from oppressive heat into sub zero temperatures was a shock to all beings. Parlina was no exception to this despite welcoming the chill that could be felt even within the temple's walls, scattering snow all across the floor as her feet tapped against stone floor, weaving through the little corridors until they came into the main area.

It was cool enough in here to mean that Kento's hands would not feel discomfort and the blacksmith would not freeze to death with no shirt on outside in the snow. It did not make her uneasy to see him that way, grinning across at him as she gestured for him to take a seat on the floor as the druid did so herself, crossing her legs and holding out her hands - palms facing upwards - for Kento to place his upon.

"I'll fix you up in no time, but you'll need to be careful with your hands afterwards. They'll still be tender to touch," Parlina advised, tone cheerful despite the warning given. All within the temple knew that she never really took a serious tone unless a situation drove the omni-present happiness right out of her system.

Smiling as the pain in his hands momentarily left him, Kento let the eager druidess lead him outside, willingly following her into the cool air. As he looked around outside, the blacksmith was surprised at how late it had gotten, the sun was beginning to dip dangerously close to the horizon... had he really been working with Taima on his sword for that long? In the effort to get the enchantments finished he'd not realized how much time had passed. Shaking his head, Kento focused on Parlina again as she talked.

Nodding at her warning, the young man sat in front of her, feeling his skin start to cool down in the cool air... he knew that if he stayed outside for too long he'd quickly grow cold, but for now it was a far better option than the heat of the forge. Hesitating for only a second, Kento placed his hands on hers, feeling her cooler skin touching the sensitive burns.. despite the contact, it didn't hurt. The man was comfortable while she started to work her magic on him.

Spirits appeared almost immediately around their joined hands, Parlina smiling throughout as they deftly worked to heal the damaged skin, restoring Kento's hands fully following direction from the druid, who herself was watching the blacksmith with a startling intensity. It seemed like all that mattered in the world in those seconds was him and healing and indeed, that was true. Only when the spirits retreated and the glow that passed from her hands to his faded completely did she relax her gaze, looking characteristically pleased.

Carefully, as if they were made of porcelain, Parlina turned over Kento's hands, revealing pink, freshly healed skin where there had only been seared flesh before. Fingers closed around his palms, glancing up at him with relief and trepidation. Always, she had been healing in relaxed situations, often with humour around them, nearly always from Alair.

Soon, a time would come where she would be healing her allies in less comfortable surroundings and these moments would become rarer. Aquamarine eyes flashed peridot, reflecting her discomfort, but she spoke nothing of it; those thoughts were not for moments like this, pushing Kento's hands back towards him as she made to release them.

"... I... What were you making with Sir Taima, Sir Kento?" she asked, leaning forward so that there was only a little space between their faces, clearly interested despite her troublesome thoughts, hands firmly planted on her knees.

Kento leaned slightly back as she moved forward, the young man feeling his cheeks flush yet again. Parlina had a way of making him like that... awkward, as if he were a lot younger than he was. Trying not to stammer, the young blacksmith replied, "Er.. we .. were just working on my sword. It's got a few magical properties now." The sword itself was still cooling underwater, so he couldn't show it to her. Perhaps another time. "Since I can't cast any magic like you can, I needed Taima to help me work magic into the sword itself." Kento smiled. "Otherwise I can't really contend with you guys, can I?"

The entire time that he talked, Kento was aware of the pain in his hands rapidly diminishing, until all the man felt was a slight amount of tightness with the newly-knit skin. The blacksmith flexed his hands; They felt good... He should think of a way to repay Parlina for all of the times she'd healed him - Kento was noticing a disturbing trend of his, to get injured in any practice or skirmish that he was involved with. He hoped that the trend wouldn't continue when they finally joined the battle, or there may not be much left for the druidess to heal, one day.

"Parlina, uh..." He bit his tongue. Just ask her. What are you, a child again? "Sometime, I'd like to visit you in your tree. You've healed me so many times, but I don't know much about you, do I? It's not a great way to thank you, but I wouldn't mind being able to see you one of these times without it involving you needing to magic me back into wellness."

"What do you mean you can't contend with us? I need to get you a mirror or something so you can see yourself fight against Sir Alair and everyone!" Parlina chided, either not noticing his flush or deciding to pass it off as mere coincedence. People got ruddy cheeks when they were cold after all. Her eyes were bright, staring straight at his, meaning every word she was uttering. "You're good Kento and that sword will just make you better prepared to do what we're training for."

Kento's opinion of his abilities because of his lack of magic often made Parlina huff and puff, just as she was doing now, opening her mouth to deflect away from that matter and ask what they had done to improve the sword when her name was spoken. Curiosity shifted between subjects from weapon to man, thinly veiled impatience flashing through until he continued speaking, giving her reason to pause.

If he ever thought he had to repay her for anything she had ever done to help him get stronger... Silly Kento, she thought, grinning though it seemed hollow; more forced. After all, no one else had asked about her. Mostly, the others were concerned with her philosophies, good nature and abilities and that suited Parlina just fine. This request, albeit a pleasant idea, made her unsure of herself in a manner that she did not like.

"... I..." Divine, now she was stumbling over her words! Besides, this was Kento; he was her friend and most certainly not... a spy. Though, if she thought about it, he'd make a fantastic spy. No one would think twice about...

"You're rambling child."

Oh. So she was. Parlina blinked rapidly, stunned for a few moments before beaming up at Kento, preparing to ask a question that she had not dared ask anyone here yet. "I... I can trust you, can't I? Not that I don't, of course, but..."

The druid laughed nervously, waving away her words as if they were spoken in a fit of madness. Please let him not press. "He will." "What do you want to know, Kento?" The dropping of the 'sir' was rare, but not uncommon. "And just so you know, you can come visit me whenever you like!"

The blacksmith laughed in response. "Hah, I'll keep that in mind. As to what I'd like to know..." The man paused, considering what he'd wanted to know about the girl the most. "Well, maybe for starters - how did you get involved in the Patronus? Did Taima find you too? I know that you are aware of how I joined - heck, you were there - but I keep getting the impression that you're almost as new to the group as I am. Are you?"

Kento adjusted to get more comfortable, curious about her wondering if she could trust him; There was more to the druidess than met the eye. "You can trust me you know. Or just not answer... I've just wondered about you, because .. er." He hesitated. "Well, you're pretty fantastic, in my opinion." Oh gods. You're like a teenager.

Parlina let comfortable silence whilst she settled herself cross-legged across from him, pondering whilst her smile returned at his laughter, feeling anxiousness melt away. Whilst her presence made Kento act awkwardly, he seemed to only exacerbate any giddy joy that the druid held within her, which only served to make the blacksmith worse. It was a bizarre little circle they travelled in obliviously.

His compliment brought a grin to her lips, flattered and pleased. "Thank you. You're quite brilliant yourself!" Her tirade earlier about just how wonderful he was had not quite covered all that Parlina thought about Kento, but best to leave some things in silence, especially after that talk with Taima.

No matter had happened in the past, those that numbered her allies these days were so much more than that. Friends and loyal ones to boot! Curiously, it seemed Aliana had nothing to say to that and so instead Parlina turned her attention outwards back to the questions she had been asked.

"Have I really never talked about that?" she questioned softly, bemused. "How new I am entirely depends on perspective I guess. There were others before me, Lady Dallas - whom Sir Taima is still very fond of - who was a lovely lady... indeed, the one who first introduced me to our leader. I passed that off as pleasant coincedence until Sir Taima came across me again in the mountains; I don't like cities very much, you see.

"Then she said we were sure to meet again. At the time, I just took the words to be that of someone of whom I would cross paths in terms of preferred surroundings. Of course, I was quite wrong."

Parlina was happily going to talk off Kento's ear unless interrupted, clearly very into the swing of telling this expansive tale, if it in a shortened manner.

Kento nodded with a grin as he began to listen to the Druidess' tale. It would be some time before the pair would stop chatting to one another, and the walk home for the blacksmith would be by moonlight when the two finally realized what time it had become.

Taima stood overlooking a rocky ravine, lost in thought as she often was these days. Visions of the future plagued her mind, but they were too shrouded in uncertainty and shadow to discern the depth of them. The future was an ever changing place and even the stone of visions could not bring clarity to her concerns.  

This day though, she had sent for Parlina, for there was another matter to address. A matter far more pressing than an uncertain future.

A few paces from Taima rested the Nature's Guardian, the artifact that Dallas Reiger had intrusted into her care when the priestess had been forced to depart the temple. It was a rare state to see Taima outside the temple without it on her person, but for the moment the leather suit of armor rested neatly atop a large rock.

It was with a heavy heart that Taima had summoned the young druid, for she was still so very young to be entrusted with the weight of such a burden. However, she herself had been hardly older than Parlina when she first took up arms in pursuit of a greater path, and she had not had the guidance and support that Parlina had in her companions. Taima had faith in the decision she was making this day.

And so she waited.

There were many, many things that Parlina trusted and believed in these worlds that she had experienced. Joseph, Taima, her allies, the Divine and she thought she knew how they worked. Sure, the dragonborn had been getting a bit more distant lately but that had been easily put down to the growing cohesion between the younger inhabitants of the temple, especially with Kento and Ziel being so new. However, she was the leader; their main recruiter and certainly whom Parlina looked up to the most. Taima should be getting more involved now, not less!

Often she was absent from the temple proper; a change in behavior that made her raise an eyebrow but certainly, everyone was allowed time to themselves and with the growing numbers of their group, their sanctuary was sometimes all but quiet. Particularly when she and Alair got ahold of the sugar.

These summons again were not overly worrying, or by this point Parlina had driven herself so far into denial of what everything combined could mean. It was difficult to tell. The spirits were uncertain, which did little to quell her flighty nerves as she finally found where Taima waited. Aside from the slight colour change of her eyes, there was nothing outwardly to tell of her worry.

The artefact was... away from Taima. Oh dear. Now she wanted to panic, halting a few steps away, little green sparks flitting nervously over to the dragonborn. "You're not going away are you?" she asked pointedly, for that was the only reason that Parlina could imagine that the artefact would ever be removed. 

Taima turned to face Parlina and seeing the expression upon the young druids face, she would have smiled, had such a thing been possible with her draconic visage. However, the intention did reach her eyes, a softening of her expression.  

“Be at ease, I'm not going anywhere,” she instructed. “However, there comes a time when our burdens must be passed to younger generations to carry on in our stead.” Taima paused a moment, to give Parlina a moment to process the implication that she was making. 

Oh no. No. Parlina knew this little speech all too well and yet, unlike last time, the druid surrendered to her curiosity. Dutiful obedience had certainly been stamped out of her with those consequences. "I see. Why now?"

Absently fingers rose to the pendant around her neck, fiddling to try and distract herself from memories that were all too reminiscent of this moment and then the more important question came. "Why me?"

Taima listened somberly to Parlina's questions before replying. “Do you remember the day we sought out Kento?”

That day had been rather eventful, given the ambush that had been staged on the group. Taima herself had suffered a broken arm during the ensuing battle.

“I'm no longer in my prime, and this task we have been entrusted with is far too important to risk. But you, you're just entering yours. You're young, but your heart is strong and I know it will carry you far in this world.”

How could she forget? It was one of the first times that Parlina had seen the dragonborn wounded, for she rarely sustained injuries during the spars, far outstretching even Rynhart and Ziel in terms of martial prowess. There had never been any doubt in the druid's mind about the level of skill that Taima possessed. Indeed, her faith in the abilities of all her companions was absolute.

It occurred to Parlina to argue the case of Ziel or even Rynhart being more ably suited to taking up the mantle of an artefact bearer; one of her own arguments was that she was too young; that her heart sometimes ruled over her head and that could not be afforded at dire moments, but was this merely a formality? Though Taima arguably could not force her to accept, would she refuse for all she had sought since joining the temple's occupants was her friend's acceptance and there was no higher show of trust than this.

"So instead of the able hands of an older but veteran warrior you place it in the hands of a young, inexperienced child?" There was no heat to her words and actually, no truth. Parlina was a child but inexperience was not something she could admit to having. Barely grown by most cultures' standards, she had been through more than most adults ever would.

"I don't want to let you down. I might!"

Taima moved to lay her hands on Parlina's shoulders, looking down at her.  “I have faith in your abilities, and we fight together. When the time comes, I will be there at your side, as I was for the priestess. We all will be. But in war, hard choices have to be made. And these artifacts, they are more important than any of our lives. Should that time come, it is the young ones that need to survive to carry on the war. Never forget that. The day will arrive when you too will have to bow to the weight of time.”

Parlina always felt like a child stood before Taima at times like these. They fought alongside each other, trusting and bringing victory to their group countless times with their allies and in some ways, she was equal. Yet now, when it was clear that the years made the dragonborn's choice the logical one... "I only hope that when I have to pass it down that it is to someone as worthy as you're judging me."

That was probably about as close as the druid was going to give as acceptance to Taima.

In truth the artefact was a great boon to Parlina's abilities. Sharp objects and her little supple body generally did not get along so well, though it would bring no advantage to her fight against the undead. That was not her primary task; it was the personal war she fought on Terra, keeping herself ready and true to her beliefs. 

"I worry I'll make the wrong choices or even worse, that I make the right ones and I can't forgive myself," she explained softly, looking upwards at whom she regarded like a parent. Guidance was what she sought. "I... I'm not great with responsibility."

No, she was crap with politics but to Parlina they were one and the same.

Taima's heart went out to the young druid, to be put in such a position. But she knew Parlina had it in her to find the strength for the tasks ahead. “Trust in your heart, and look to the future. You will choose wisely I'm sure.”

“You will face hardships, and you will face loss, that is inevitable. Just remember, we all share a common goal and every one of us is willing to make whatever sacrifices must be made to reach that goal. Do not let doubts stop you from doing what is necessary to see that our cause will survive to fight another day.”

Trust in the future had brought Parlina here through abandonment of her past life; unwanted and pressuring. People who had wanted to suppress her natural abilities in favour of her blood. It was not arrogance that believed that every word that Taima spoke was truth, but experience like she had once told Ziel. The only way to enjoy and learn about life to the fullest was to cling tight and always push forward. Never regret the choices made; it had been a hard lesson for a fifteen year old to learn but one that had been embraced nonetheless.

Trust in her heart, allies and the promise that no matter what they had to sacrifice, they would succeed. The alternative did not bear even thinking about. "I will. I mean, I will do what needs to be done. Hardship and loss... they're just what the enemy try and abuse to make you feel weak and small right? They try and break you but as long as you can stand up, battered and bruised but walk away, you can recover and fight another day."

Experience, yes Parlina had that in bucket loads. It was going through that again and surviving that utterly petrified her; likely it showed.

Taima inclined her head in a brief nod. "Come now, I'll teach you how to use it,” she offered with a nod of her head towards the armor as she let her hands fall away from Parlina's shoulders.

With the serious and somber moment past, it was time to see to the present.

Tristan's feet rested uneasily, dug deep within the shallow stream of snow that laid in-front of the temple's entrance. His knee's buckled for a moment, forcing his leg into a jagged curve and sending him down towards the earth. His hand provided minor relief, preventing his face from slamming against the ground.

A hand tracing the exterior of the door, he hoisted himself up. His legs still providing wavering support, he was able to part the heavy doors.

One step, than another, he made his way deeper into the Temple, each step unreliable and unsure. This thinly veiled guise was only possible for so long before he went crashing towards the ground again, idly rolling onto his back.

Dupont was drenched in blood, the entirety of his form plagued with deep gashes. Shallow purple patches dotted gingerly across his skin where the men's fists had met his skin. Even his breaths were labored, weak and pathetic.

The combined beating and days of travel without food nor water had seemingly broke Tristan, reducing him to a corpse on the ground.

Reis and Whisper trudged their way up the incline, the latter keeping a firm grasp on the arm of the former. More than once the way was wrought with treacherous obstacles, even for one who could see their way. Reis' assistance eased their travel, but their progress was painfully slow as he painstakingly guided their way.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they reached the precipice, and the evening air was taking on a cold chill. Before them stretched a plateau, half buried beneath a rock slide. The entrance way carved into the mountain face remained clear of obstacles, but one of the pillars that stood sentinel had been cracked clean through, the runic markings upon it faded and chipped. To the west could be seen the charred and blackened remains of a dead tree, its branches gnarled and twisted like crooked fingers. Beneath it rested a single gravestone with a worn inscription etched into its surface.

It did not appear as though anyone had lived here for some time.

Feeling their progress stop, Whisper seemed to pick up on their arrival and her tight grip upon Reis' arm lessened. “Are we there?” she inquired.

"We appear to be." Reis replies, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the doorway. "But there's only an entrance, and the plateau is covered in rocks." He frowned, the hiss of his slightly worried breath evident as he scanned the area.

Whisper nodded briefly. “The temple is underground,” she explained. Though what he meant by rocks perplexed her. “Shall we?” she asked. Her tone was carefully guarded and difficult to read.

Glancing once at the gravestone, Reis bypassed it, moving over the rubble towards the entrance, leading Whisper. "Of course." He replied, "it isn't a bad place up here, but for the rubble."

He swiftly lead them into the entrance, and down the stairs inside. Dodging the small lumps of rocks and other rubble, the way was easier than the main body of the rockslide. Upon entering, the right hand of the bard lit up with an eerie blue glow, though not visible to Whisper, it easily lit up the descent for the bard, clearing the shadows and darkness as they entered the main body of the temple, beneath the ground.

Despite the disrepair that had fallen over the place, the temple proper still held a majestic air to it. The walls were lined with black marble columns and intricately carved scrollwork while the floors were tiled in black granite. Beneath the thick layers of dust, varying runic symbols were etched in gold leaf upon the slabs of granite. Lining the walls between the columns stood tall statues of gods and goddesses long forgotten and at the base of each statue resided a small altar. A large unadorned altar rested at the center of the vast chamber. Extravagantly candelabras ringed the room, coupled with cressets affixed to each pillar. However, both candles and oil had long burned out and they offered no source of light. Further passageways opened out from either wall of the room, though the east tunnel was collapsed and impassable.

“Something feels wrong,” Whisper said softly.

As Reis' light further drove the shadows from the room, closer inspection would reveal fresh droplets of blood across the granite floors and the form of a fallen individual largely marred from view by the central altar.

Reis, crouching down, touched the blood droplet on the floor with his finger, letting Whisper go as he did so. Bringing it to his lips, he frowned. "Blood. Very recently too." Rising, and touching her arm again, he began to, warily, enter further. "The place is empty. There's blood on the floor." He focuses on the body, his eyes narrowing. "And something behind the altar..."

Tristan cringed at the sound of the pair entering. His eyes narrowing into tight slits, his lips spiking to one side. He was naive, yes, but no stupid. There was a semblance of danger about the pair that he'd rather avoid. He should of gotten up and ran, teleported even, but he was in a state of disrepair. What was he to do?

"There's someone here,” Whisper replied to Reis. Reaching up she carefully lowered her cowl, but with bandages wound tightly about her eyes, she could see nothing. Even without her vision though, the fear permeating the room was too potent to not pick up up on it. Had the Whisperer found them again? She had not felt his presence since they had left Reis' residence that morning, but that didn't mean much.

“Alrion?” Whisper called out.

"Alrion?" He whispered, an echo of her call. Someone involved with this whole business, most likely. Touching the small pouch with his free hand, Reis readied his magic in case of conflict, taking the time to glance behind him for any flanking force...

“An acquaintance,” Whisper replied. Picking up on the tension in Reis, Whisper moved her hand to rest upon his arm once more. It wasn't until now that the loss of her vision was fully beginning to weight on her. The inability to see what was going on, the reliance upon Reis, and her narrowed view of her surroundings... It was crippling. More so than she had cared to admit, having steadfastly pushed the matter from her mind in her efforts to forge ahead.

Their voices grazed painfully against his ears, turning his face away from them, pressing his cheek against the marble floor. Soon after, he'd attempt to shift the entirety of his body onto his side only to realize that even that was nearly impossible. His teeth grinded, his fists clinched, the pain rang through him violently.

A silver chain wrapped around his neck cradled a jagged red stone. As it began to tremor, his eyes shot towards it. A look of fear struck across his face, it was clear he knew exactly what the movement of the pendant meant.

His body shook, a surge of electricty riding through him as his limbs slammed down against the floor. His back would leave the ground for only a moment as the pain intensified. It was excruciating, as if his blood had been replaced with boiling water.

"S-stop" He whispered. His words had little use other than providing Tristan a guise of control.

As the 'attack' ceased, he laid against the ground once again, his wounds looking as if they were set ablaze, charred black. He shut his eyes, the last ounce of life seemingly tugging against his chest, begging for release.

“What's going on?” Whisper murmured urgently to Reis.

"Something is... writhing over there." He muttered, continuing to glance around. "Whatever it is..." He trails off as he moves closer, his light feet making not a sound on the floor as he attempts to illuminate whatever was thrashing. Again, despite his senses which told him to be cautious, he couldn't help but be curious.

"I think someone is injured ahead of us. There appears to be nothing else in the room."

“How badly wounded?” Whisper asked. She suspected the answer, but regardless, she couldn't do much for the individual when she couldn't see the injuries. She could coach Reis, as she had with her own wounds, but not without a better assessment of what they were dealing with.

"I can't... " Reis moved faster over towards the body, still wary, but faster. Crouching down nearby the body, he frowned again. "Gashes and burns, I think." He replies, before leading her hand down to the body. "How well can you see with your hands?"

Whisper shook her head and pulled her hand away. Groping around blindly at raw wounds with her bare hands would only risk infection. “You'll have to describe the wounds to me, I can talk you through what to do. Are they awake?” She could hear the sound of the individual's labored breathing, but it only furthered he frustrations at her inability to assess the situation.

"They don't appear to be." He replies. He knew little of injuries. Even with an expert guiding him through the motions, it would be hard. "The gashes are burnt over, little injury other than that which is visible." Of course, he couldn't see the stomach. Not yet.

Tristan was ridden with cuts, bruises sprinkled across his ginger skin. His stomach was paticularly purple, almost black now. A diagonal gash made its way below one of his breasts down to his stomach, about a foot long. The gash was burnt badly, as if someone had set it on fire, the result of the magical shock collar around his neck.

His arms seemed healthy enough, a small cut or two across each wrist. The more serious injuries laid dormant beneath the sleeve of his cloak.

“Check down the hall to the left. See if any of the dormitories are in order and if there's fresh water,” Whisper instructed. Moving her hands out to hover over Tristan's form, Whisper stared blindly ahead while she concentrated in silence.

Nodding, Reis stood up, taking a few steps before glancing back once. He wasn't so sure about leaving her alone, blind, in this place. It reeked of danger. Shaking his head, he moved quickly up the hall.

Quickly assertaining the dormatories were in order, Reis found himself crouched in front of a spout, attempting to flush the water through. Tapping his fingers, he felt almost like knocking the spout around. The more he saw, the more he felt that whatever had happened to this place was very bad. "Come on, come on." He muttered, tapping it for a moment before checking the water coming from it.

Not exactly clear, but it promised that there was likely clear water down the line a bit. That would have to do, he'd rather not leave Whisper alone and blind in this place a moment longer. He disliked the feel. Hurrying back, he called out to Whisper as he approached, relieved that nothing had happened in his absence. "There's almost clear water, and the dormatories look in good order. .. But..." Crouching as he neared the spot, he shook his head. "The signs of violence don't make me feel happy about sitting around in this place."

“I know. I can feel it all around. Something isn't right with this place. But we can't move him far,” Whisper explained. Nothing had changed since Reis' brief departure, not even Whisper's position with her hands hovering over the form of the youth. “I think he's stable enough, we can move him to one of the dormitories, dress the wounds. It will take me a few days, but I can mend the worst of the damage.”

"How easily can we move him a short way?" The question showed once more the lack of knowledge that he had on the subject. He knew more about injuries on his own body, but then, he could feel the exact extent of them, and even then, he was clumsy at knowing how exactly to treat them..

“His pulse is weak, but I think most of his injuries are external, it should be safe. Can you get him there?” Whisper asked. Truth be told, she really had no idea how large Reis was, having never lain eyes on him.

Reis leaned down, looking across the body. "I'm not sure I can carry him very well."

“We'll work here then. Bring what you can from the dormitories, whatever is cleanest.” Nodding a moment, Reis paused before remembering she couldn't see. "I'll see what I can find."

As Reis was leaving, Whisper called out to him. “Also, make a poultice for the burns, you know the one. The supplies are in my pack. When applying it, make sure the cloth isn't in contact with the wounds,” Whisper instructed. As Reis moved off to see to that, Whisper settled in for a long night of working over the injured individual.

Whisper carefully walked her way along the length of the altar room, tending to the cressets as she went. Replacing and lighting the oil was slow and maticulous, but it kept her busy, and furthermore, it was a simple enough exercise for learning to get around the room without her eyesight.

She had sent a reluctant Reis away, reassuring him that she would be fine while he gathered supplies for her. He would likely be gone well into the afternoon, given that some of the herbs she required didn't grow this far into the mountains. That left her and the wounded youth alone for the time being.

She couldn't help but dwell over the events of the past week. Everything seemed to be spiraling out of control, and even now when she should be seeing to more important matters, she found herself tending to a stranger. A youth whos name she did not even know. But it simply wasn't in her nature to turn away.

The temple itself continued to leave her unsettled, but she couldn't quite ascertain why. Perhaps when she better understood what had happened here, the answer would come to her. However, until she and Reis had time to look through the place more thoroughly, that was a mystery that would have to wait until another time.

As she made her way along the length of the room, the flickers of firelight were beginning to drive the shadows back like a veil to leave the full spectacles of the templerevealed to those who could see them.

Tristan’s eyes slowly spread open, taking in his surroundings. He was confused, stunned, as if he was just born right this second. He didn’t understand anything, and honestly, his brain couldn’t handle trying.

He grew up believing nothing existed past the forest. Him and his father were the only people on this earth, plain and simple. He didn’t know of marble, or ivory, glass, running water or candles. Suddenly, they surrounded him. They scared him. He’d lost the only thing he knew in this world, left pain ridden physically and emotionally. Everything just seemed to well up inside of him with know where to go, no outlets-

God, it didn’t make sense.

He spotted the girl; his expression was first that of awe, but it was short lived as he remembered his interaction with the other group of men. He clenched his fists, his eyelids pressing against each other. His body seemed to flicker; Tristan was trying to teleport away. It was never guided, could be a hundred miles or two feet and it took every ounce of energy out of him.

Tristan couldn’t even do that. His lips spread apart, a harrowing scream escaping his lips in response to a combination of the pain setting in and his realization that he was trapped.

He wanted to fight back, to get up and run. All he managed to do was raise his arm above his face, whimpering like a wounded dog. “Don’t hurt me, I’m sorry. I just want to go home, dammit. I hate it here. I just want to go home!” His voice waivered, weak and harsh. Tears made streams down his face, forming a shallow puddle beside his head.

Whisper wheeled about at the sound of a scream, her own pulse quickening at the spike of terror that filled the room. It quickly became apparent though, that the individual was not being harmed, but rather, simply frightened. The tension eased out of her body and she took a careful step forward.

“It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you,” Whisper replied. “What's your name?” she asked. It was clear that the individual was distraught, but her voice held a soothing note. “Mine is Whisper,” she added gently.

The flickering fire light danced across her pale skin as she spoke. Her small stature and pale complexion left her looking little more than an ethereal wraith come out of the dark. Pristine white bandages were wound about her eyes and silvery locks of white hair framed her gaunt face.

His hand remained, a shallow sheild casting shadows across his face. Instinct, nothing more. It provided him a semblance of safety, like a child pulling up it's sheets to protect it from the terrors it's mind assure him rested in the night. His body trembled, breaths heavy, mind racing.

He tried to calm himself, running his hand across his face as he tried to gather himself. Attempting to shift himself onto his side, the pain got the best of him. forcing him onto his back.

“Don't try move, you're injuries were very severe,” Whisper urged him.

"Why did you do this to me?" His voice was calmer, but it carried an apparant sense of fear.

She confused him. To him, she was some sort of mystical creature. Her voice wasnt rough, it wasnt deep. It was soothing and feminine, something he had no idea existed. He knew one man his entire life and the extent of his experiences came from him. He was not kind, he was not calm, he wasnt soothing and he didnt take care of him. Tristan took this for granted, knowing nothing else.

“My companion and I found you here. We tended to your wounds, but there is much to be done still. I couldn't do more until you stabilized, not without risking further harm.” Whisper explained. “Your strength is returning though, and if you would permit me, I can see to your wounds further.”

"See to my wounds?" He spoke with earnest confusion. "I... don't know what you mean."

“Your injuries. I can help you. Here, just lie still,” Whisper explained as she made her way over carefully. Brushing her fingertips against the altar she knew she was close and she carefully knelt down beside him.

He pulled away, only in the slightest. He still wasnt quite sure how one could help with injuries, it made little sense to him. "Why do you wear that thing across your eyes?"

Whisper turned her head away, allowing the silvery locks of her hair to shield her face, almost as if she had suddenly grown self conscious. “Injuries of my own,” Whisper explained before moving her hands out to hover over Trystan's form once again. “What is your name?” she asked again.

As silly as it sounded, even the simplest question confused him to some extent.

"My name is Tristan."

He watched her carefully, his eyes slowly flicking across her body.

"I like your face."

“What happened to you anyways?” Whisper asked.

"I... dont know. I was in the cave, and some men chased me out of the forest. I sat with them first, but they held me down and hurt me. They stuck peices of metal into me. I dont know why."

His eyes rolled over the wounds on his arm.

"I didn't do anything. I swear."

“Well, you're safe here,” Whisper replied. “I would offer you something to eat, but I'm afraid until Reis returns, there won't be much available. I have some stale bread and jerky if you want it. It's in my pack there on the floor.”

"I... don't know what that is." He looked away, almost shamefully, reaching one hand into the other as he nervously playing with his fingers.

“What what is? Jerky?” Whisper asked.

"Yes... and bread?"

Whisper seemed perplexed by his response. Perhaps this wasn't the boys native language? “Jerky, it's dried meat. And bread is baked flour and water.”

He looked back at her, intent on maintaining some sense of pride. "Dried meat... yeah. That sounds good" He'd rather not mention he did'nt know what flour was.

"We don't have all these things back home...."

“Help yourself,” Whisper offered. Her hands didn't move from their location, but the pack was leaned against the altar, within arms reach. “Where's home?” she pressed, trying to learn more about the boys origins.

He reached out for the bag, haulting for a moment. "Are you sure i can have some? I dont want to take all of your... jerky?" Looking at her, he seemed confused. "What do you mean where? It's in the forest."

“Of course. Reis will be back with supplies soon. Take as much as you want,” Whisper encouraged. “Do you have any family or friends back home? Someone that might be looking for you? Someone we can contact for you?” Whisper asked.

"Friends?" This concept was foreign to him, days ago he didn't know that anyone else existed on this planet. Equally foreign was the concept of a family. "I have my father. He is my friend."

“That's good, you say you're from the forest? The pine forest south of here? Perhaps Reis can locate your father for you,” she offered. As she made the offer though, a stab of guilt struck her. She couldn't help but feel that she was being too free with Reis' generosity, too assuming. Surely the man had his own life and affairs to see to.

"There's more than one?" He stopped for a moment, catching himself. Slowly, he started constructing things, fitting them together. Obviously, this land was vast, larger than he imagined. There were also more people occupying it and there were certainly many things he'd yet to experience.

"My father is gone."

He spoke, his voice begninning to quiver slighty.

“I'm sorry,” Whisper replied, uncertain what else to say.

He put his hands to each side, attempting to force himself to set-up.

"I hate laying down"

His body surged with pain, instinctively reaching a hand to cover the wound. This only furthered it, causing him to grind his teeth, a muffled scream. He breathed, leaning forward on his hands as he sat.

"Wasnt fun"

Whisper withdrew her hands as Tristan forced himself upright. “Lie back, you shouldn't be up for at least another day. Your wounds have a lot of healing to do still,” Whisper instructed. Though from the pained sounds the youth was emitting, he had discovered that for himself. “You're going to re-open the wounds if you move about, and I can't bind them with those burns,” Whisper added. "I would take it as a kindness if you didn't undo my work, this isn't as easy as it looks."

He looked over, pain struck. With a breath, he leaned back and into his make-shift hospital bed. Reaching for the bag, he pulled out the bread, examining it closely. He broke it between his hands, poking at the inside of on piece. He sniffed it idly before taking a bite. He chewed slowly as he attempted to distinguish it from the other food's he'd tasted. "This is bread?"

“It is. I'm sorry I don't have anything fresher,” Whisper replied. “How are you feeling?” she asked. Though her efforts may have appear a lot like sitting there and doing nothing, she had made a lot of headway. Unfortunately, the physical drain upon Tristan would be heavy as she worked to accelerate his bodies natural healing capabilities. The effects had been subtle, but the wounds were already looking days old rather than hours. As his strength grew the process would be faster, but for now she needed to pace her efforts or risk leaving the youth worse off than she started.

He laughed idly, eying the bread. He was fascinated by how it crumbled and broke apart within his mouth. He couldnt help but smile despite the pain, his mouth filled to the brim. Swallowing quickly, he looked to her. "I like this... bread." He eagerly reached into the bag again, pulling out the jerkey. "I hope this tastes as good." He bit into it, his teeth lingering as he spoke. "It's stretchy" He yanked his head back softly, tearing it. He grunted as a line of pain shot through his neck.

All the while he felt his energy slipping away, far too interested in the food to say anything of it.

His appetite certainly seemed intact. It was a good sign Whisper thought. Retrieving her staff from its place near the altar, Whisper rose back to her feet. “Rest, I'll bring you some water,” Whisper instructed before moving carefully down the left hall.

Unfastening her pouch of herbs she deposited it onto a table before locating the water tap. She allowed it to run for several minutes to be sure it ran clear enough for drinking, even taking a sip of it herself to be certain that it was palatable. Rummaging about blindly, it took her several minutes of carefully searching the vicinity to locate an intact clay mug that she could utilize.

Filling it with some water she added a few pinches of ground bristlewood. Without any means of boiling the water, the effects wouldn't be as strong and it would be very bitter, but it was better than nothing.

The return trip was made all the more carefully, so as to not bump into or trip over anything and spill the mug. Perserverence and meticulous care saw her back with the mug safely in hand.

“Here, drink this,” Whisper instructed as she set the clay mug down beside him. “It will help dull the pain,” she explained.

He took the mug into his hands, shifting it from side to side as he watched it's contents crash against the mug's walls. Bringing it to his lips, he leaned off the ground a bit.

Dumping it down into his mouth, he seemed a bit confused. Water didnt have a taste, and the closest he had come to any sort of liquid with a taste was the one day that his father gave him an odd white liquid. Milk he called it.

Forcing it down his throat, he decided not to question it. One more discovery for the day.

“Get some sleep, if you need anything, just give me a call,” Whisper explained. The drug would already be leaving Tristan drowsy. The side effects were quite potent and he would be out within a few minutes, unlikely to wake for hours. She may as well use those hours to get some rest herself while she awaited Reis' return. Her efforts at mending the youth's wounds were leaving her fatigued, and she had yet to recover from her own wounds yet. Sleep beckoned, and for once she answered - regardless of what awaited her in that place of terror and nightmares.

Whisper was standing just outside the entrance to the temple, her back to the cracked pillar. There was a chill bite to the air, but it was giving way to the arriving spring. Bits of water trickled down the rock face from the melting ice and snow, dripping down to patter against the ground. It had a soothing rhythm to it and it helped to fill the silence.

Her few hours of sleep had been fitful as always, and she had woke feeling as if she had not even slept at all. The stress continued to wreck its havoc upon her form. Each passing day left her all the more gaunt and weather worn. The pristine bandages that bound her eyes masked the weariness that was once reflected in them, but the telltale signs still remained in her physical state and lack of personal care.

Doubts had begun to worm their way into her mind and were weighting heavily upon her. Blinded as she was, what match would she be if they came for her. What good was she if she could not see the threats that would confront her. Engrossed in her silent contemplations, Whisper did not hear Reis' approach.

Not that Reis was being particularly loud in his approach. As always, his soft footfall didn't make much disturbance on the air. The pack and back that he lugged along with him weren't light either. The supplies, some of which could've been replaced by simple foraging every day, would last a while. But only if it was Reis and Whisper.

He had no idea how the injured man inside would change that calculation. Thinking about something else, he wasn't aware of Whisper himself until he drew close, though the entrance itself wasn't exactly something to invite seeing others.

"How is the patient?" He asked, keeping his voice low. The freedom of the open air for a time hadn't removed that dark feel of the temple. The disquiet that Reis felt.

Whisper gave a brief start at Reis' voice, but as recognition settled in, the tension eased back out of her. “Resting. I gave him some bristlewood. He'll be out for a few hours still,” Whisper replied. “I spoke with him briefly, enough to ascertain that he seems to be on his own. No family left. He says he was attacked, but the wounds from what you describe seem too deliberate for simple robbery.”

"I agree with that assessment." He mused quietly. "Burning after the other wounds especially. Bandits kill or maim their targets, they don't injure or traumatize." The words had a ... familiarity to them. Like he knew about the subject somehow. "How're you holding up navigating without .... being able to see." A pause in the middle of the statement conveyed the small uncomfortability he had with the question. He didn't like pointing the conversation back to her own injuries.

“Well enough,” Whisper replied. Her answer was as usual brief. The topic of her eyes seemed to leave the woman introverted. True to form she quickly changed the topic. “I should thank you. I mean, for all of this. You scarcely even know me. But you should know that if you remain near me, there will be danger involved. It has a way of finding me, no matter where I turn. I think it's only fair to warn you, after all you have done.”

Truth be told, she couldn't have managed this far without Reis, and her words couldn't begin to express her gratitude. She didn't want him to leave. Part of it was her blindness, but another was her loneliness. Gone were her companions of old. Natalie, Dallas, Sylvire, Arrow, all memories of a time past. There was just her now, and it had been that way for a year. Reis helped to ease her mind to the present. But she hadn't the right to ask him to say, and she did not voice her wishes.

Cocking his head slightly, and smiling, Reis laughed. It wasn't a loud laugh, but a quiet sound of amusement. "Why would I be worried about a little bit of danger?" Oh, he was still afraid, of course. He didn't like combat. And he didn't like this temple. "Travelling only a short way with you has been far more interesting than my last few years of travelling around playing music at inns, taverns and public parks. And snooping around unknown areas."

And besides that, Whisper herself was an intruiging person. He felt bad about that, about helping her because she intruiged him. It felt like he was using her to find excitement. "How much have you eaten?" Another subject change, the subject now felt uncomfortable, after that last few thoughts...

“Enough,” Whisper replied. Her physical state betrayed her words though. The woman clearly had not been eating enough for weeks, if not months. “Have you found any traces of what happened here?” Whisper asked suddenly.

"No. It looks to have been a proper battle, though, rather than a slaughter. I'd say the invader most likely won, though." Pulling out a piece of fruit he'd foraged along the way back, he put it into her hand as he stepped up to her. "Here, a bite to eat." A casual approach to trying to deal with her reluctance with food.

Whisper didn't turn as Reis approached, still staring blindly out over the mountains, but her fingers closed around the fruit. “It's more than just the battle. It's something more... tangible. Something happened here, something potent enough that I can still feel it. Do you know how much emotion it takes to leave residual traces for this long? There's pain, grief, fear and anger, and it's all rolled together and I can't unravel it. There's something darker as well, I can't quite get a read on it. It's like having worms crawling around under my skin when I try.” For one who was unaccustomed to Whisper's capabilities, her words were probably a tad on the bizarre side.

Shocked into silence for a moment, Reis laughed again, humour overflowing despite the area. Or maybe because of it. Laughter chases shadows away, right? "So, that wasn't just my imagination and paranoia." Reis was both amused, and trying to help Whisper loosen. She was always so serious, would do her good to laugh a bit. He still had no idea what she'd dealt with, for the most part...

“This was once a sanctuary. A place of knowledge and safety,” Whisper murmured outloud. Though the thought didn't seem to go any further than that as she sighed and turned about to head back inside. “We should check on the boy. Oh, he said his name was Tristan.”

Calling distantly was a quiet voice as it was before. However this time it lacked the calmness and the patience.

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"Whisper,"

came the firm voice of Orochi. He didn't sound pleased, an uncharacteristic thing for him to show.

Once inside, Whisper had excused herself from further discussion with Reis in favor of retreating to the library for some solitude. Though she could no longer read the tomes that filled the room, the scent of leather and old parchment was a pleasant one. It helped to ease her nerves and allow her the peace necessary to think.

She could scarcely process everything she herself had endured over these past few weeks, without the task of trying to decide what to do with the wounded youth or Reis. Furthermore, Reis had a way of bringing up questions she didn't know how to answer. It wasn't his fault really, and she momentarily felt a stab of guilt for thinking it. Reis had proven a valuable asset, and he had given her far more than she had any right to ask for. It was wrong of her to fault him for his curiosity.

Sighing deeply she ran a hand through her hair as she mulled the matter over again and again. It lacked the same effect as writing her thoughts into her journal had served in times past. Storing information on paper to review later with a clear head was an option lost to her. For now she would have to rely upon memory and repetition of recollection.

However, as the time ticked away, Whisper began to nod off. It was then that the voice of Orochi came to her again, rousing her from her slumber. Her thoughts were hazy and she quickly felt around until her hand closed around her staff. With her vision gone, she hardly felt comfortable without it within arms reach anymore.

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"You had best be awake,"

the voice continued unhappily,

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"I don't want to be wasting my time I could be better using expanding my search."

Whisper rubbed at her brow trying to clear the fog of sleep from her thoughts. “What is it you want now, Orochi.” There was about as much warmth in her own voice as his.

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"Do you know what the Corruption is?"

he demanded.

"What business do you have with the Corruption," Whisper replied.

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"What business does it want with me? No, more importantly, why didn't you tell me about it?"

“Tell you about it? What do you imagine would have compelled me to do that? I don't make it a point of telling my life's story to random spirits who talk to me on the chance that there might be something in there of interest to them.”

There was a momentary silence of annoyance.

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"Then now would probably be a good time to share, since I have discovered it exists, and that it is killing the patron spirits of the Seven Swords."

“And why should I? What matter is this of mine?” Her words were harsh, but the past week had been difficult to say the least. It was leaving her worn thin.

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"Do you seek to chase away your allies when they present themselves?"