• Graded • The River's Daughter

[Pig Boy]

The River's Daughter

121st of Ashan 720, Midnight

Strangely, after the sacrifice of the Naer to the River Induk of Vynmur, the peoples of Melrath have all forgotten about the existence of Augiery, which was revealed by a Naer whose name has also fallen from memory. In place of that memory, a vision of Vynmur, blackened by shadow appears to them in their dreams that night, laughing in coy mockery.

It began as a coy, mocking whisper on the 7th of Cylus, a vague memory of a dream that haunts you in the night. The vision of a snake laughing for a few moments at you. There's something missing, something you're forgetting, but you can't quite place what it is.

Suddenly, as you try to grasp for the memory, the snake delivered its venom, coiling around and crushed you, or simply struck you with its teeth in the neck or wrist. Then you awoke with chills and a fever, which subsided within half a break.



On the 100th of Ashan, several individuals were blessed or cursed with a repeat of this terrible dream. But rather than wake in a fever, they awoke into another dream with an ethereal certainty, that they ought to gather at the banks of the River Vynmur, not far from Raelia, where the sacrifice of the 7th of Cylus was performed. The snake promised them, with that same coy, mocking smile, "Find me at the river. Such an abundance of knowledge, power, and riches I have to impart. Come in peace, come as foe, come as you are."

Then they would awake.

Three Individuals would find their way to the banks of the River Vynmur, on the outskirts of Raelia. However far they had to travel, however hard the journey, they'd discover that they arrived at almost precisely the same time as each other.

There, they would find beneath the waters of the river, a pit of snakes, all entwined and wrapped up in a basket, far below the motion-distorted waters. They glowed with golden radiance and had scales of black and red. Unintelligible whispers gathered around those who found themselves answering the call to that place. The whispers growing more insistent the closer they drew to the banks of the river.

The whispers would raise in pitch and volume until a phrase could be intuited from the rest of the ambiance, "Whisper me a secret..."

Rundown

!	Message from: Pig Boy
	Ok. So this is a quick, one-off modded thread. Up to four pc's, anyone currently signed up for this season's roster, can join. Yes, there's risk. No, I'm not telling you more than that. I'll be posting every three to five days. Next post will be on the 13th of May 2020.

Objectives

I'm stealing this method of setting objectives from Pegasus

There are secret objectives, you will be informed if you hit anyone of them.

Must-Do

1. Each player will choose one of the three methods of disposal that the snake used on you in the dreams. More than one player or all players can choose the same method.
2. Show up at the same location, indicated by the snake.
3. Let me know what equipment you have with you on the first post you make. You need only mention it once.

Can-Do

1. Bring either a weapon, or a live plant of some kind. If you bring one (Plant or weapon), you may not bring the other. You can also ignore this objective to no detriment to the party.
2. Pack a lunch. Describe what you're packing.

[Brent Forrester]

The River’s Daughter

7 Cylus 720

In the dead of Cylus, Brent had been having stranger dreams than normal. Sometimes they featured soaring towers which he tried to climb while other times he was in a suffocating black pit trying to get out. One night in the endless night of Cylus, a great shadowed serpent appeared in his dreams. In his dream he was trying to find a rare pearly white snowdrop amongst the deep banks of snow, when the elongated shadow swept over him as though it had great dark wings.

Brent was looking for something, something about this secret white flower. But as the darkness fell from the great serpent, there was a whisper upon the wind that turned into full out laughter. For a split second, Brent realised that he was in a dream, but try as he might, he couldn’t shake himself from the flow of events. He was forgetting something. Who was the flower for? What was its purpose? No, there was something else he was forgetting…

The serpent went from looming shadow to something almost tangible before him, and he faced it uncertainly. Then with surprising speed, it struck, fangs bared, into his arm. For a moment there was piercing pain but almost immediately it subsided. He could hear his hear pounding in his chest but he was relieved when the serpent darted away. Yet even with the pain and the snake disappearing, so did the feeling in his arm and then his legs. Collapsing to his knees, Brent found his body rapidly going numb. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t feel, he was helpless. Even his breath seemed to be tightening as he struggled to remain conscious…

Waking up with a start, Brent found himself shivering under the thick blankets of his bed, but with cold sweat covering his body. It hadn’t been an ordinary dream.

--

100 Ashan

Brent was out traveling in the wilds when the dream repeated itself. The paralyzing venom was just as intense, but at the end when he was ensnared, the serpent of shadow spoke. It was a creature of the river. Could it be Vynmur? The Vynmur? It spoke of power, knowledge, and riches. None of these were particular aspirations for Brent, and yet his curiosity made him unable to take his mind off of the strange phenomenon from the moment he woke up. What ‘if’….?

Despite spending his entire life in Melrath, he had never truly seen a spirit. Felt them, sure. Heard whispers, on the rare occasion. But to truly see and know a spirit… Ah, but perhaps his mind was just playing tricks on him. Dreams were fickle things after all. And he certainly knew ‘of’ the great Vynmur, but he had more familiarity of its lazy meanders and its rushing waters.

Find me at the River.

Despite knowing its full and long length, there was something that made Brent quite sure it would have to be near the mouth of the river. If the Vynmur truly was a serpent, it would speak from its head, and thus traveling northwards to its mouth near Raelia. It would be a detour in his current charting, but manageable. For a moment he recalled the intense venom of the snake, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. No, despite the risk he had to see this for himself.

--

121 Ashan

Brent rode at a slow walk on his old stallion. Tony had been a faithful companion for many arcs but was better suited for casual riding or as a packhorse rather than dashing about with youthful energy. The cartographer wore a simple black cloak over his riding gear. With the warm weather, the hood was down as he kept his eyes alert. Strapped to the horse was some basic traveling gear including a tent and a bedroll, as well as food for several days. But more importantly was the small bag slung over his shoulder which contained parchment and drawing implements.

The cartographer had been traveling with a group for most of the journey, but now split off on his own, briefly explaining that he was going to spend the next couple of trials scouting a specific feature. As Brent guided his horse out from the slowly thinning woods of Myrkvior towards the wide river before him, he could see the soaring blue towers of Raelia in the distance. The cartographer approached the bank of the river, and to his surprise, he was not alone. It was a strange coincidence to see others at the same place and it made him think that his dream was more than just a dream.

Of course, as a regular traveler he had food such as bread, salted meat and biscuits packed away as a lunch or snack. But even as he was nearing the others, he was far less interested in food but in the odd reflections coming from the river. He dismounted, swinging his leg over the saddle and landing a bit awkwardly, and then limped over to get a better look at the water.

At first, he thought he wasn’t seeing it properly because below the surface appeared to be a bubbling burning cluster of coals. But when he looked more closely, he could make out the vague shapes of coiled snakes with golden red and black scales. The whispers of the babbling river became more incessant the more he looked and eventually he could make out words.

Whisper me a secret…

A secret? What secrets did he even know? With a sudden jolt, he was reminded of Freya. Except it wasn’t Freya. The scared woman who hid herself by taking on the appearance of another. He had never seen her again, yet he had promised to keep her secret. Then he thought of Navyri’s feathered blessing from her god Delroth. That was not his secret to give. And Malach? Sybil Malach? Again, to share would be to gossip. If he were to share anything it would have to be about himself.

As he considered the words, a cluster of brilliant white flowers caught his eye. Snow drops. Rather late in the season for them too. He picked one of the small flowers and was reminded of Navyri’s pearly white wings. No, not Navyri, he would not betray something like that. But then he was reminded of his doubts regarding the Ragnari. Had they really been right to abduct foreigners and torture them? But more importantly, the stormtouched, the ones who were now Svariella’s Chosen? As he wavered on what secret to share, he ended up on settling on something that made his cheeks redden just thinking about it.

Brent leaned down and scooped up some of the water near the writhing snakes and whispered softly against the surface.

“I made love to a man.” He said with a scarlet face, and feeling his whole body tighten as he looked around, quite sure that the others hadn’t heard him. But with a pregnant pause, he wasn’t sure if that was enough, so he added one more secret. One that was a greater risk but was something that had been troubling him for more than a season.

“And I’m not sure if the Ragnari should be trusted. If they are doing the right thing for Melrath, or not.”

OOC

Must do:
1. Venom
2. Showed up
3. Small tent, bedroll, horse (equipped with saddle etc.), food for several days, basic clothing including a cloak, drawing/cartography gear including spyglass and regional map of Melrath

Can do:
1. Snowdrop flower
2. Salted meat, bread, biscuits

✕✕✕

Template Credit: Navyri

[Azrael]

7 Cylus 720 | Azrael Blackfire | The Wilds

Well Alivilda was a bust. Maybe it was unfair of Azrael to judge the whole place so harshly but he'd been there for almost a whole season now and not found one useful sign of treasure. Fensalir had been a let down despite Brent's map making it easier to navigate and on top of it all he was having really strange dreams. He didn't like snakes. He'd seen an orange snake once and for some reason it reminded him of a little slithering carrot and he hated carrots. If someone asked him to write a list of things he hated, carrots would certainly make it onto that list. However snakes might not. He didn't like snakes, but they were better than spiders. If it was a list of ten things he might get spiders on the list but not snakes. He'd certainly still put carrots on the list. But snakes, he didn't like snakes and on the seventh night of Cylus he got a notably snake-themed dream.

In this dream Azrael was in a ruin, turning over stones to try and find a treasure he believed a tower had toppled down on. The stones looked heavy but he pushed them aside like loose dirt. A breeze blew through the ruin and Azrael's digging stopped. There was something one the wind that he couldn't quite hear and then suddenly laughter from beneath the stones. Laughter? Was someone trapped? Azrael shoved aside a rock the size of his body and from beneath it a large serpent emerged. It was laughing at him. Laughing... Azrael reached for his sword to cut the snake in half when it lunged for his throat.

He woke in a cold sweat and didn't feel right for a long time despite his blessings.

*** 100 Ashan 720 ***

Damn it. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Azrael remembered the ruin when he found himself in it so many nights later. He remembered the treasure he was seeking and the stone. But it played out just the same. Only this time when he awoke he didn't truly wake. He sat up on the banks of the River Vynmur and a voice spoke to him, calling him to the river. He didn't know where it was at the time, but when he woke from the dream he was determined to find out. Fortunately he'd met a man who made maps and saved him from a grendel.

Azrael didn't know what was haunting his dreams but he knew he wanted it to stop. Then again he couldn't deny the allure of what the voice promised at the river. Knowledge was alright. Power was good. Riches were fun. It couldn't have sounded any more like bait for a trap but Azrael was too curious not to give it a shot. He spend the trial looking over the map he'd bought from Brent. He didn't know the river in his dream by name but he would spend as long as it took to figure it out.

*** 121 Ashan 720 ***

Twenty one trials. It turns out it takes twenty one trials to figure out the winding, snake-like river is the river the snake-themed dream was trying to direct you to. Azrael felt like a fool on the 121st of Ashan as he lead his horse by the reigns with one hand and tried to make sense of the map with the other. He wore his sword at his him and his father's spring loaded blade on his right arm. He'd dressed in leather armor- mostly because he seemed to have a bad habit of getting in fights. "I don't know, I think we're almost there." Azrael grumbled to his horse before rolling the map back up and putting back into his horse's saddle. He'd been walking along the river for a long time now- well he'd been riding but he got tired of his horse veering and not listening to him so he decided to take a break and that break had gone for a lot longer than planned at this point.

Azrael took a bite of an apple, the long walk having made him a little hungry and when he found it was a little too mushy he held it out for his horse to eat. Note to self, get new apples. He still had some bread and dried meat wrapped up in the saddle but he was half was through his waterskin already and didn't want to get thirsty so he tried not to think about his growing hunger. Azrael was about to lose hope entirely when he finally reached a place that looked familiar.

It wasn't the sort of familiar that one felt because they'd been walking along the same river for a long time. It was familiar because it was the place he'd seen in his dream. His realization was confirmed by the arrival of others who seemed to have had a similar experience. He recognized Brent, the very man who gave him the map he had fumbled to understand on his journey here. There wasn't much time to talk and Azrael didn't feel compelled to immediately. If this was meant to be a hunt for treasure, Brent had become competition. Yet Brent noticed the figures in the water before Azrael who followed Brent to the water's edge to look into the pit.

Nope. No. Why did it have to be more snakes? Azrael lamented to himself as he stared into the coiling pit of red and black serpents. Then a whisper on the wind like the one in his dream began. Azrael looked around for a source but found nothing. He backed towards a river a few steps on accident and then noticed how the whisper seemed to become clearer. A secret? Did he have any? What was something he'd not tell anyone? What was something he'd say in front of Brent and the other?

It didn't matter. Azrael said softly. "I don't know if people actually like me or if they're just kind because I've been blessed by an Immortal." Azrael paused. There was more. This wasn't the secret it was a curiosity. In an even lower voice he continued "But I don't care so long as I get what I want... and I'm worried what that means about me."

OOC

Must Do:
1. Bit on the neck.
2. Arrived.
3. Leather armor and the weapons listed below. His horse, a bedroll, a waterskin, saddlebags, and an average map of Melrath.

Optional:
1. Steel Shortsword and a Spring Loaded Dagger on his right arm.
2. Bread, Dried meat, and some bad apples.

[Hart]

7th of Cylus, 720

Eihr's dreamscape was black like the silence between the stars. He floated within that blackness, unfeeling and unthinking. He did not like to dream -he had experienced many nightmares- and so it was black. Distant lights echoed in the dreamscape, lights that Eihr was able to visit when he wanted, but he liked the blackness as well; he liked the simplicity of the space, and he understood it implicitly.

This meant that he was aware when something slithered in.

The slitherer hissed and laughed, unwanted in a dreamscape that was meant to be vast and quiet. Eihr floated blindly in the blackness and tried to pay the slitherer no mind.

The laughter hissed and bubbled.

"You are not wanted here," Eihr said, and thought of banishing the slitherer.

That was when the slitherer -the serpent- struck.

Its fangs buried in his throat, and Eihr screamed in surprise. He grabbed the serpent and tried to rip it from him, but it only bit harder, its fangs sinking in.

Eihr floated in the silence between the stars, thrashing, as blackness crept to his mind. The serpent's venom slowly obliterated him.



In the waking world he shivered and shivered, and the shivering would not stop.



100th of Ashan, 720

The laughter hissed and bubbled.

They had been in a Svar dreamscape, Eihr and the emeyan, but with the sound of the laughter the dreamscape was gone. "Pala," Eihr said, and the emeyan -sitting atop his head- granted him sight.

Eihr saw the serpent; it laughed at him and Pala hissed like a snake.

The serpent struck.

The bite was expected, but it was simply too fast. It hurt, and Eihr tore at the serpent, ripping it from his throat. Blood and venom sprayed, and Pala cried in a child's voice, "Yeztlik'o'!"

The emeyan was no longer the small being sitting atop his head, but the size of a child. She grabbed the serpent, perhaps wanting to squeeze it until it was dead, but it vanished. Eihr blinked, blinked, and then he started to thrash with the serpent's bite.



They were near the star Vesa in Eihr's dreamscape. He orbited the blue-white star slowly, floating, half-aware. The emeyan floated with him, small again, a white-winged seraph tangled in his hair.

Eihr blinked, confused as to how they had returned to his dreamscape, but it was tranquil here. He liked Vesa. Her light was soothing, and cool. He orbited slowly, and perhaps in a thousand arcs he would orbit the star entire.

But then Pala hissed, and he knew that the serpent was there.

He was quiet as the serpent spoke, calm to its promises. Come in peace, come as foe, come as you are, it said. Then it was gone.

"Come as foe," Eihr mused, and he shut his eyes.



121st of Ashan, 720

Eihr stood on the banks of the river Vynmur, not far from Raelia. There was a bad feeling in his stomach, being so near to the city, but he had suffered worse. Come as foe.

The emeyan was manifested in Reality and was tangled in his hair, a small seraphic form- a little girl, perhaps as tall as his hand, with strange translucent wings similar to a fish's fins. Hanging upon Eihr's neck was the young at heart necklace, and because of its magic he was older, with unkempt silver hair and glittering light-filled eyes, a man in his fifties.

There were others at the riverbank, though Eihr paid them little mind. Pala had granted him sight and he stared down at the river and at the basket of serpents within.

The men whispered their secrets to the river, or perhaps to the serpents that whispered in return. Now Eihr did pay attention to the men, though not to what they said- he paid attention to their voices. The man to his right sounded familiar. The little fish-winged seraph glanced over at that man, though Eihr himself did not turn. Now the seraph glanced to the man to Eihr's left. The man to his left was a mortalborn.

He committed the men to mind.

Eihr set his travel bag down upon the river's bank and discarded his boots, socks, and shirt. Fractures of silver-white light hummed down either side of his spine. He knelt and pulled a sharp-edged eating knife from the bag, the sort of knife that might be used upon the hard bread and the full, rotting watermelon that were the bag's other contents.

Then he dove into the river.

The emeyan tangled herself further into Eihr's hair as he swam, her little fish-wings flat to her back. Eihr swam against the current, down toward the basket of serpents. The emeyan girl hissed at the basket, bubbles bursting from between sharp teeth.

And Eihr plunged the knife into the swarm.

OOC:

must-do objectives
-venom + throat
-arrived at the river Vynmur
-equipment mentioned: clothing, eating knife, the young at heart necklacea necklace that makes Eihr appear older, but which grants him +2 levels to any physical non-combat skill as long as he's wearing the necklace; the necklace is set to swimming for this thread, so he has expert swimming for the season of Ashan 720. [link], the emeyan[link] ;p, his bag. assume there is not much in the bag because Eihr does not have many things

can-do objectives
-weapon: the eating knife
-Eihr brought stale bread!!! and a rotting watermelon

skills + knowledge
Eihr's blades skill is at 25 novice with 10 knowledge.
His necklace is expert swimming, but he has 0 swimming knowledge.

[Praetorum]

Date: 121st of Ashan, Arc 720

Status: Cautious

Weapons: Buckler, Quarterstaff

Armor: Plate-like Leather

No Current Magical Effects

7th of Cylus

Praetorum had been moved out of the labs after the accident, thrown into a dank, lightless cell where the worst hurt he'd gotten was a stubbed toe. He was safe here, relatively speaking at least, far away from the knives and pincers and potions, blessedly alone at last. 



But the destruction of that pyramid had returned dreams to the prisoners of Niflheim, and the dreams, in turn, had returned Prae to the labratory, bloody and intact and ready for another experiment.


He'd tried to stave it off as much as possible, but there were some things a body could not do without. So Praetorum curled up in the warmest corner of his cell, and waited to return. 



He had no way of knowing when he'd closed his eyes; he only knew that when he opened them, he was once more in that cold laboratory cage, chained to the bars, with something strapped over his face. His memory was fuzzy—usually was, with how much they were dosing him at each meal—and he didn't remember what he'd done this time to earn the muzzle, but he still had the presence of mind to realize something was wrong. 



In front of him, the experiment continued as usual, the puddle blood inching ever closer to Praetorum's cage. The ithecal blinked wearily at that, not able to muster up the will to look, see which companion or stranger was suffering this trial. Instead, he gazed into the growing crimson, now nearly at his feet. There lights in the lab were bight as the sun, and in the glossy pool of liquid, he could just about make out the reflection of his own exhausted face. 



And something above him. 



Prae hesitated then, then slowly raised his head to look. Tried to, anyways. A clinking of chain marked the end of his tether, leaving Prae unable to look higher than straight ahead. The view there was one he'd seen often, but no less unpleasant for its familiarity, so he lowered his head once more, staring into the pool of blood, just starting to congeal around the edges. 



The thing above him came closer, its body long and undulating as it lowered itself from the bars of Prae's cage, closer and closer until it was hovering just above his shoulder. 



The first hissing chuckle at his ear sent a jolt of familiarity through Prae, but whatever it was that was now itched in his memory, the haze in his head kept it from him. His hand twitched, like there was something that belonged in it that had disappeared. But what was it he was missing?


A weight settled around first one shoulder, then the other. There was the rasp of scale against scale, and in his mirror of blood Prae watched passively as the serpent started to coil around his throat, tightening with agonizing slowness. And through it all, Prae simply tried to remember, wracking his memory even as his vision started to go white, even as the blood started to pound in his ears. 



But all he could remember was the gleam of red on polished white floors, and the sound of laughter against his throat






100th of Ashan
Prae opened his eyes to a bright blue sky, and the burble of a river by his head. The serpent lay coiled on his chest, as if Prae were a warm rock it had chosen to bask on this sunny trial. The only move Prae made was to yawn, and stretch out his limbs, shaking off the ache of phantom chains and shackles. The serpent responded in kind, uncoiling and stretching out over Prae's head, staring down at him as it spoke. 



Prae didn't have the energy to scoff at its offer. Knowledge, power, and riches—it was difficult to care about such things when even waking up with the sunrise had become an almost forgotten luxury to him. No, Prae knew, he cared little for this serpent's offer.


But it had never been in Prae's nature to ignore strange happenings, and with bait as broad as power and coin, Prae was almost certain this trap was not for him alone. Either this serpent was a fool, or there were others who had, or would receive similar offers if Prae didn't accept.





121st of Ashan
So once more, Praetorum traveled directly towards trouble, this time leaving his companions back in Raelia. Knowing his destination this trial was a river, Prae left behind his trademark tower shield, instead heading for his destination clad in leather armor, carrying nothing more than a buckler and the silk scabbard wrapped around his wrist. He had also, at Ricky's insistence, brought a small pouch of ashes and charcoal. A snack, the Yari had said, just in case Prae had forgotten how to light a fire while in prison. A stupid joke, but Prae appreciated the concern in it all the same. 



Just as he'd feared, when Prae emerged at his destination, he saw there were already two others, whispering into the waters. A third sat between them, methodically removing his clothing. 
Summoning his quarterstaff, Prae stepped forwards to join them


Danger, Prae's attunement spark hissed as he drew closer, listening to the whispers of the river. 



For once, the mortal and spark were in complete agreement. "What will you do with our secrets?" Prae asked, loud enough so the others could hear. "If you've an honest trade to make, kindly reveal yourself instead of hiding behind dreams and whispers."



OOC

Prae has brought leather armor, a buckler, the silk scabbard (currently with the quarterstaff drawn), and a lunch of charcoal.




[Pig Boy]

The River's Daughter

Theme

The river babbled and whispered its nothings into the air, as the four gathered around it. Three stood respectful by the river, giving secrets, sharing concerns. The River babbled laughter at Brent's revelation, but there was no judgment or mockery in the laughter. The was pure unbridled delight that he'd been willing to confide. "Oh! But it isn't a secret if you tell people, silly! But we can make it a secret, a secret nobody will ever know or remember. Is that your wish?"

As he knelt by the river, he could feel the memory of his encounter with the man he'd been intimate with slipping away. It wasn't a forcible tearing of the memory, a gentle tug, waiting for a full confirmation that this was what he wanted.

As to his concerns over the Ragnari, the river hummed, "Hmmmm... Not a secret, but interesting all the same."

Then, Azrael descended upon the scene. As he whispered his words ot the river, it babbled in response, "Afraid are you? That people won't really really like you?" Azrael almost saw the reflection of a sarcastic face in the waters. She twisted her mouth in a sardonic frown. Within trills, the impression of the face disappeared. But the voice kept talking to him, "Toughen up. You're not a puzzle with pieces to be taken up or discarded. You're a whole being, mark or no. If people like the entire thing, who's to argue their feelings authenticity? You? Hmph..."

Then came the second victim of the venom-bearing snake of their dream. The whispers became panicked as his feet entered the waters, not speaking a word but bearing a poor-quality eating knife. The waters were cool, freezing to the touch, but Eihr entered regardless, guided by his Emeyan companion.

He managed to swim to the bottom of the river, his superior skill at swimming preventing him for the moment from being swept along its undercurrent. Then, he stabbed into the basket, the swarm of black snakes writhed and coiled around his hand. They held fast, though he'd struck a blow against one of their bodies. All around him, he heard an unbearable, icy voice screaming into his mind as the waters rushed around him.

Above the surface, Praetorum had arrived at the riverside, as was expected. The warrior sought clarity, which wasn't expected. Then again, the facet of the river that had sought him out didn't quite know what to expect. The whispers spoke to Praetorum regardless, in response to his queries, "It's up to you. Take the offer or stand where you are. Is there nothing you would like for the world to forget?"

Once the four visitors had made their intentions, their thoughts fears, and one secret known, there was silence for a time. After a trill or so, three sections of the water began to bubble up as if something was rising from the depths. With the ascension of these forms, the icy screams from below assaulted everyone's ears for a trill.

And then, they were joined by three others.

[Pig Boy]

The Secret Keeper

The river turned ink black as something poured out of the wound that Eihr had struck against the small pit of snakes at the bottom. A few meters from where Brent was, the form of a woman appeared out of the water, her hair black as midnight, eyes glowing gold with reptilian pupils. A singular snake with a triangular head seemed to twine around her form, with no clear ending or beginning. It appeared as if it was part of her hair.

"Well, Brent Forester, what is Melrath after all? The peoples who have settled it? The spirits, the land itself? It's pretty blue marble that her cities were built from?"

She drifted over toward Brent, shrugging her shoulders as a cut in her side leaked black blood. She didn't appear concerned about it, however. "The protectors of this valley have lost their way, supposing they ever had a way."

Meanwhile, beneath the banks of the river, the same apparition appeared to Eihr, identical to the first. "And who might you be, to come as a foe?" The serpents in the pit of the river held fast to his knife hand, as she reached out an arm to caress his face. "Poor child of Jealousy, it's a mercy for you to have lost your vision." Eihr would find as she caressed his face, he was able to breathe and speak. "But I suspect I know the animating spirit for this hostility. Would you have me take my venom back?" She smiled, drawing closer.

Above the waters, the spirit continued to speak to Brent, "But I appear to have you at a disadvantage, I am Vitria. The Keeper of Secrets. Newborn daughter of Vynmur."

[Pig Boy]

The Provider of Shade

The coils of serpents that Eihr had dug his knife into, began to part. They didn't relinquish his hand yet, but opened enough for something to fly out. It appeared to be a crow. As it flew out of the water, into the air and branches above them all, she settled her yellow eyes on Azrael. He could feel her gaze on the back of his neck.

"Have any other hangups, son of Sight and Beauty?" She flapped her wings. If he turned around, he'd see a strange amalgam of a woman and a crow. Half of her face resembled a pale human woman. The other half was a crow's head that twined around her forehead, with feathers gathering around her neck. She gave him a sardonic smile, "Don't be shy now. Or are you afraid I won't like you either?" She winked. The crow's head that shared her personal space cawed at him.

"You have a lot of weapons. Expecting a fight? Or is it compensation for other shortcomings...?"

She laughed. It was a high, hollow laughter, that brought to mind the flapping of many feathers and wings. Before she could say more, a whimpering issued from the river. "Oh I suppose I should tell you my name. I'm Svellhulda. Second daughter of Vynmur. My sisters just call me wet blanket, though."

The whimpering from the river grew louder, and more insistent. Svellhulda couldn't suppress a roll of her eyes. "Spirits below, now you've done it... You've gone and upset the baby." Svellhulda directed that comment at Praetorum.

[Pig Boy]

The Terror Struck

The piteous whimpering bubbled up from the river until a head laden with serpent hair poked out of the surface. She looked around, wide-eyed, with tear-marks running down her eyes. As she arose from the river, they would see her body was mostly covered in serpentine scales. The snakes hissed and tasted the air intermittently.

"I-is it safe? Can we..." Her eyes darted around at the men all around, until they fell on Praetorum, at which point she 'eeped', and ducked further under the water. Only her eyes and hair above the surface.

Yet they could still hear her whimpering, soft voice, "A-are y-y-you a soldier? Have you come to protect?"

Svellhulda sneered at her little sister, "No, he's here to take your hide and make a cape out of it." She gave a cruel, mocking laugh.

The gorgon-like creature narrowed her eyes at her sister, but the snakes in her hair directed their eyes on Praetorum, watching him. "Oh sister, don't tease me! P-please say you're teasing me?!"

She turned her wary eyes back to Prae, coming out of the water a bit, until her mouth showed, "You aren't really after my hide... a-are you?"

"Please don't say you are. I don't know how I could bear it... I'm only young, too young to be skinned! My name's Framilia. T-there, you wouldn't hurt someone whose name you know, would you!?!"

The blackness that was pouring out of Vitria, at that point, was beginning to spread like octopus ink throughout the river. Until it turned black and murky. Eihr could no longer see anything from beneath the water, although he could still talk and breathe, and feel her hand on his face.

Objetives

Congrats, you've accomplished a secret objective (each method of murder done by the snake was present in at least one of your dreams). As a result, the possibilities for this event have opened up in ways I cannot explain as yet.

Objectives for this round: None yet.

Please post your replies before the 21st of May 2020

[Brent Forrester]

It was only when Brent looked up from his kneeling position by the water, did he notice that he was not alone. It took him a moment, but Brent soon recognized Azrael as the treasure hunter approached the river’s edge. Knowledge, power, riches… Yes, that would entice such a man. Even though Brent wasn’t sure of Azrael’s overall purpose here, there was safety in numbers. Azrael had saved his life once, and the cartographer would not forget it.

There was a much wilder and older looking man who had come, and who looked vaguely familiar. Certainly not with Azrael’s handsome face but there was something about him. Brent couldn’t quite pin it down. Yet the man was clearly at work stripping down to take a dive. Silvery glittering hair and web-like patterns like lightning criss-crossed his skin. Brent was suddenly startled by the movement in the old man’s hair in which something bird-like with iridescent wings fluttered.

The babble of laughter brought Brent’s attention back to the water, which he strained to see under the dark starry sky. He released the reins of his horse, not sensing any immediate danger and he strained to hear the whispers of the water.

The river spirit seemed to delight so much in Brent’s first secret and yet strangely belittle the second. To question the actions of one’s own military could be considered treason, especially to the most fervent traditionalists. Perhaps it was not as secret as he might have thought or he was not alone. Both which uncovered several other uncomfortable doubts.

The slow tug at his memory, as he knelt beneath the night sky, summoned a foggy vision of Malach. It could stay a secret, forever, and no one would remember… While part of him had fond memories of the experience, there was also a deep rooted shame that he could not shake, no matter how hard he tried. And as an offering to this spirit?

Brent glanced briefly at Azrael next to him. Had the treasure hunter said something about an immortal? There was a sudden and rather uncomfortable moment of arousal when he looked at Azrael, and the cartographer turned sharply back to the water.

“Yes. Yes, this is my wish. To forget about that time, and so no one can remember.” He replied quickly to the dark waters. “Especially if that would appease you, river spirit.”

With the sudden splash, Brent got to his feet and looked around. The old man was nowhere to be seen, except for the trail of bubbles and ripples in the water. Was he a passionate worshiper of Vynmur? But there was something unsettling in Brent’s stomach. Although he wasn’t sure, he thought he had seen a glint of steel out of the corner of his eye before the man had disappeared underwater.

Yet a critical and accusing voice alerted Brent of yet another newcomer. This one was unlike anything Brent had seen. Reptilian and humanoid at the same time with a fiery glow emitting from the darkness. Had it not been for the tone, Brent might have mistaken him for the spirit of Vynmur, due to his serpentine features. But the light bubbling laughter repeated its offer to let the world forget a secret.

The water continued to churn and bubble. How long had the old man been submerged? The dark waters seemed to blacken even further with an inky fluid and there was suddenly an apparition of a woman stepping out of the water. She was beautiful, shapely and with golden leaves that seemed to just barely cover her. A black serpent was entwined with her hair and bright golden eyes shone in the night.

She spoke in a light melodic voice, almost like the murmurings of the river. Yet he didn’t have a good answer to her rhetoric questions.

“Melrath is all of that. Its people, its community…” Brent began but then saw the black blood leaking from her side. “M’lady spirit, you’re hurt!”

Should the Secret Keeper let him, he would attempt to cover and wrap the wound with his cloak, hastily folded up into a long rectangle. He would try to apply pressure, or even tie it around her waist so as to hold it in place.

“The protectors of the valley have not always kept up the old ways…” Brent murmured quietly in agreement.

It was only then that he realized what the glint of metal had meant when the old man had splashed into the water. How dare he try to harm the spirit! In a sudden rage, Brent looked around the darkened river banks and spotted something peeking out from a dropped bag. A watermelon? Hardly caring, he hefted the melon and threw it into the water where it churned the most, hoping to hit the spiteful old man who was still underwater.

“You bastard! To harm a spirit!” He shouted. The melon hit the water with a big splash, but in a few seconds it bobbed up to the surface again, starting to drift downstream. With disgust, Brent turned away and back to the river spirit. When she introduced herself he bent to one knee, his good leg, and bowed his head briefly.

“Vitria,” he repeated. “Daughter of Vynmur.”

The other daughters were just as mystical. Svellhulda was far more cocky with the distinctive raven obscuring her face. Poor baby Framilia had a whole head of black serpents compared to Vitria’s single black viper. Brent was unsure of when or whether the old man would even surface, but it would be smart to be ready if he did.

“Azrael, if that old man, the one underwater, makes another hostile attempt on one of these spirits. Shoot him with your bow. Or you know, something…” On second glance, it didn’t seem like the treasure hunter had his bow and arrows on him, but the message was clear all the same.

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