• Graded • [Oakleigh] The Hills Are Alive

[Aeodan]

21 Saun 717

What was in a trial? A few breaks, a couple of bits, a fleeting trill, and yet the trial seemed to always go forward and never backward. Aeodan, a student always and a scholar nowadays, particularly enjoyed looking forward. Variety was the spice of life, he'd found, and the more new things he tried, the more he found he liked the world around him. Being cloistered for arcs because of his legs wore heavily on his need for socialization, but did nothing to dull the furious edge of his curiosity. The trip to the Settlements had sated that curiosity for the moment, but after the Barrows, Aeodan needed something to keep him occupied.

Sciences in the Settlements were strange. A lot of the farmers knew how to breed specific traits into their vegetables or livestock. The woodcutters seemed to have organic compounds that could help fell a tree. But Aeodan had discovered, most strangely of all, his host's predilection towards alchemy. Never having given the magical arts much thought, Aeodan found a few books on the subject and devoured the knowledge in the fleeting breaks of twilight. He had been having a difficult time sleeping, and even his usual meditation routine wasn't breaking the cycle. Instead, he decided to at least fill the time, and it had worked.

Alchemy, the process of instilling qualities into a second medium, sounded like a very precise and analytical science to Aeodan, one that did not seem to fit too much into the strange sciences of the Settlements. But then he'd heard that the Duke liked to use unusual ingredients, and Aeodan understood. Even the most precise and straightforward science could find an interesting twist outside of Andaris, and the few texts he read encouraged the reader to go out and discover his or her own ingredients. With a smile, Aeodan had closed the books. All he needed to do at that point was wait for an appropriate time to call on the Duke.

Aeodan had been wanting an excuse to talk more with Tristan, but could find no good reasons beyond the construction and upkeep of the Museum. Discovering the Duke's leanings toward Alchemy gave Aeodan a better excuse, and he was excited to spend time with the artist. Something about Tristan vaguely reminded him of Edalene... Perhaps it was the Duke's passion, or his willingness to indulge Aeodan's strange peculiarities. Something. Regardless, Aeodan was excited to delve into something as strange as Alchemy with the Duke, and perhaps even learn something new. After all, that's what acadaemia was, right?

When the time was appropriate and the suns were up, Aeodan approached the Duke's door. He knocked lightly with his knuckles, waiting for a call to be let in.

[Tristan Venora]

Tristan was working on a new alchemical project. He had decided to make a color-changing stuffed animal for Ayla. She was a very special little girl and deserved a very special toy. All his previous projects had been successful, so the risk of him accidentally hurting the person that he loved more than anything else in the world was comparatively small in his opinion. Since the stuffed animal was supposed to be a surprise, Ayla wasn’t watching this time. She was with her nanny. Tristan wasn’t sure anyway if Ayla should be watching him manhandle fat, orange, salad-destroying slugs with a spatula that he had originally used in the kitchen (slime, was, as always one of the main reagents).

Since Tristan didn’t particularly enjoy borderline-animal abuse (Hart had assured him that the spatula didn’t bother the slugs, but Tristan still wasn’t entirely comfortable), he had bought a dozen huge green heads of lettuce that were better than anything that grew in his garden. After he had harvested the slime, he placed each slug on a separate head of lettuce that it was allowed to destroy to its heart’s content. It was his way of apologizing to the slugs because animals had feelings as well in his opinion, no matter how small they were.

Mistral definitely had feelings. The black cat was lounging on top of the stack of books that Tristan needed for his alchemical research, and his tail was swishing back and forth as if he was nervous or perhaps angry. Mistral was angry a lot. He had once been the leader of an evil cat gang in Andaris, but when Tristan and he had moved to Oakleigh, he had been forced to give up his gang (since Tristan couldn’t talk to cats, he hadn’t been able to ask him who the members of his gang were and just take them all with him).

He was just about to add the second reagent to his bowl that he had likewise taken from the kitchen, but cleaned thoroughly because contamination could be a real problem in alchemy when he heard a knock on the door. Who could that be? He furrowed his brow and quickly dropped the crushed crystals into the bowl before he hurried towards the door. Mistral didn’t follow him. The cat remained where he was, on the books. He had apparently decided that they belonged to him now and that Tristan wasn’t allowed to read them anymore.

Tristan had half expected to find Atolini or perhaps Hart on the other side of the door, but instead he found himself looking at Aeodan, his favourite scientist and hopefully future babysitter. “Aeodan!” he greeted him and quickly wiped his hands on a towel because there was a bit of slime on them. “How are you? Is there anything you need from me? More money maybe? Come on in! Let’s talk! Do you want anything to eat or drink by the way? I have wine. One of these trials I’ll make magic alchemical wine, but I don’t think that my experiments are safe for consumption yet!”

[Maltruism]

Sheor...

Did a word ever strike greater fear and revulsion into the hearts and minds of today's Settlers?
Not "death" alone; the smallest part of Sheor was synonymous with that.
Not "suffering" alone; Sheor embodied that as well, with horror to spare.
Not unholy madness and avarice, or any term denoting twisted, grasping malevolence. That which had brought ruin upon the realm of Sheor made such terms seem harmonious and leisurely by comparison.

It was true that the rampaging power that had razed the kingdom to haunted ruins and emptiness had not been seen in generations. But the lingering by-products of its existence, and that of its former master, were in abundance. Domes, bubbles, capsules of corruption, floating, sinking, bobbing on the land's surface; now static, now active, now rampant with mutagenic grip on any matter that it touched.

It was only the rarity of living matter within Shoer that maintained a relative containment of this affliction. However toxic a shrub may be twisted to be, it stayed rooted in the decaying Sheoran soil. However spiny a rock may become, it did not roll forth to impale victims in neighboring lands. What evil percolated in the lands of Sheor, remained bound there by the unbent physics of the world.

At least, for the most part...

Those brave few that had noted the slow but steady decline in the number of spheres and conjunctions of aberrant power still dotting the land had offered no explanation for this development. And while it may not be the only cause, the Misty Miasma could well be one reason for it.

As the randomly-appearing, extra-dimensional phenomenon manifested within the scope of Sheor's tainted influence, it was not unlikely that it might have carried a percentage of the affliction away with it to manifest on some other doomed location. Any that became entrapped within its presence could certainly attest to the twisted monstrosities often found within...if they survived the encounter, that is.

But this is not to say that the magnitude of chaotic evil found in the Misty Miasma could ever truly compare to that which afflicted the ruins of Sheor. Some of the mysteries abounding in the Miasma were genuinely beneficial, though they could rarely survive transplanting to the outside world.

Still, there were exceptions from time to time...

[Aeodan]

Upon entering the Duke's chambers, Aeodan was taken aback by how Spartan the man lived, comparatively to the household whose name he still bore. Given the Venora reputation for finery, Aeodan was pleasantly surprised at how low-key Tristan's abode was. Though it was comfortable, it wasn't extravagant, and that spoke volumes to Aeodan about Tristan's character. Graciously bowing as he entered, Aeodan hung just within the doorway so as to not intrude on the Duke's space.

"Your Grace." Aeodan greeted the man whose manic sentences flew out with gusto! Aeodan smiled warmly, genuinely feeling welcomed by the Duke, and shook his head slightly.

"Immortals no, no more money, Your Grace. You've been more than accommodating, I assure you. No, instead, Your Grace, I was--" He stopped, seeing the wriggling slug move slightly in the bowl behind Tristan. Casting a wary glance towards Tristan, then leaning slightly to get a better view of the bowl, Aeodan just stared.

"Your Grace... Ah... You know there are garden slugs in your dishware, correct?" A hint of a smile played on the corners of his lips, and Aeodan finally started to piece it together. He'd heard that the Duke had strange predilections towards the kooky and sometimes otherworldly, but never had he expected to walk into the man's lab, which seemed to double as his sleeping chamber.

"Ah, Your Grace... I'd heard rumour that you enjoyed trying the strangest and most... eccentric... ingredients in your alchemical dealings. I'm woefully ignorant on the subject... Care to show me around the laboratory?" Aeodan smiled again, still sincere. It was strange, meeting someone as interested in the natural world as him, yet in such a drastically different way.

Whereas Aeodan wished to alter the fundamental understanding of the world by ascribing to it linguistic purpose, so did Alchemists attempt to do the same with natural qualities. Aeodan could pick up the bowl, call it a "Cualapa" and give some arbitrary meaning to it, but it was still a bowl. The thing was itself, but not with alchemy. With alchemy, the bowl could be a receptacle for soup and slugs, but also double as a warning beacon if the contents are poisoned. With alchemy, a thing becomes itself plus something else... Which Aeodan hoped he could apply to languages. If he could ascribe to things logical... Well, it was a mental debate for another time.

"I'd be quite obliged to help, if you even need it. I am quite handy at taking direction. Edalene has been ordering me around for arcs." His sheepish grin crept over his face, and his dark eyes never left the bowl.

[Tristan Venora]

“Oh“, Tristan made as Aeodan informed him that he didn’t want any more money. He almost pouted because he was so disappointed. “If you change your mind, let me know. As for the slugs …” He looked at the slugs, and then he faced Aeodan again, a huge smile on his face. “Yes, I’m aware that there are garden slugs in my dishware. They are the source of one of my most important alchemical reagents. I think that I need more though. I’ve already spatula’d each slug once, and this here isn’t nearly slimy enough!” He held up the bowl where he had mixed the slime and the crushed crystals. “Spatula’d is a word, right?” he asked and then decided that he didn’t care because that was how a language evolved. People came up with a term, other people adopted it, and eventually everybody used it. So if it wasn’t a word now, it would eventually be one!

“Sure!” he replied as Aeodan talked about showing him around. He led him to pretty much every corner of the room and showed him various collections of tubes, beakers, vials, burners and bottles that contained all kinds of suspicious looking liquids. “It hasn’t always been a laboratory. It actually used to be a sitting room, but I added some alchemical equipment and threw one of the sofas out. I could probably have asked somebody to build a new laboratory for me, but most conventional laboratories are uncomfortable and ugly.” Realizing that Aeodan might be worried about his safety now, he added, “I had a special coating added to the table though so that it doesn’t burn as easily. There is a huge bucket of water right under it in case something starts to burn, and the windows are quite big so that there is always enough fresh air.”

As Aeodan offered him his help, Tristan looked at him for a moment, and then he grinned. “You can come outside with me and help me find more slugs. I don’t really want to torture these poor guys here anymore.” He stopped speaking and looked under the table, and then he proceeded to open a cupboard and check that and finally triumphantly presented a clean and slug-free wooden box to Aeodan. “Unless you are one of those people that find slugs disgusting? Personally I think that slugs are awesome. Mistral will guard the laboratory for us in the meantime. Right, Mistral?”

He looked at his cat who stared at him blankly and briefly wondered if that had been a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, and then he moved towards the door. Once he had reached it, he turned around and looked at Aeodan expectantly. The man had offered his help. Would he back down now that he knew exactly what that entailed?

[Maltruism]

True scientists and scholars were understandably hesitant to conduct first-hand research on the Miasma, even when the location of any given manifestation became known to them quickly enough to allow them to reach it with time to conduct such experimentation. As a result, most of what was taken as "accepted" knowledge was just speculation with enough redundant testimony to call it confirmed.

One of these supposedly confirmed details was that mortals caught within it had only so much time to win free before they became permanently entrapped. It is understandable that such limited study could lead to this conclusion. There have been numerous reports, by those that have escaped, of a mortal "colony" within the Miasma.

The conclusion is that this colony is made up of those that have come to accept their fate and now aid newly enclosed victims in figuring out how to get out. Another theory is that, like the theory of how humans first appeared on Idalos, it is nothing more than the shattered essence of the destroyed Immortals that came together in some spontaneously fertile form to spawn this mortal life; but that they are somehow bound there. But it is undisputed that when mortals from outside are caught within the Misty Miasma, some get out and some do not.

Another detail is that the Miasma does not fold out of some dimensional seam to fill space in the worldly plane; but rather finds some phenomenon on that plane that aligns, as a boundary, to some aspect of its many natures and then lifts from the ground to envelop and replace the reality within this boundary.

The parameters of what would trigger this manifestation are rarely the same from incident to incident. The theory is that when the phenomenon phases back into whatever pseudo-reality within which it spends its inactive time, the many elements of those Immortals whose death created the thing are randomized in some sort of ethereal vortex and are subject to different randomized priorities each time.

There have been maps of ocean quadrants penned by some marine cartographers that contain islands none since have been able to confirm. Many now believe that these may have been incidents of the Misty Miasma forming at sea. In these cases it may have been based upon the lingering ethereal sphere from a shattered Immortal of currents or tides that held sway as it rebounded to the worldly plane.

But whether the approaching cold of Vhalar came to prioritize its oncoming formation with cold; and whether that cold may have been ethereally connected to highland environments, the Misty Miasma was not forming at sea this time. It was forming in the hills of Oakleigh.

[Aeodan]

Aeodan had, for arcs, lived around the nobility of Rynmere and had partaken in the generally whispered anti-nobility sentiments that had begun to sink their roots into the soil of the Andaris political landscape. He'd listened to Edalene rant and rant about the selfish and garish ways of the nobles, and that how, given the chance, they would deceive and extort the commonry. But Tristan was different than that. Coming from the house of the most extravagance, he seemed far more down to earth than Aeodan could have imagined. Aeodan got the sense that the two of them would have been fast friends had they grown up in the same social circles. Unfortunately, they had not, and Aeodan was just now meeting the man. But he was much more than Aeodan could have expected, even with the grand donation to the excavation. Aeodan felt that he and Tristan would make up for lost time.

He hoped so, anyway.

As the Duke led them from the lounge-turned-laboratory, Aeodan smiled. He could sense the passion with which Tristan spoke of the practice, and it reminded Aeodan of himself. Aeodan took to his practices with the same zeal, and he hoped Tristan was the same way. If so, the two of them would have fabulous and comical adventures in the pursuit of passions. Perhaps that's how it should be.

"It never hurts to be prepared, Your Grace." Aeodan chuckled after, running a pale hand through his hair. He knew that they were going out into the hills of Oakleigh, and Aeodan smiled at the prospect. He'd spent a lot of his time in the region in between the Barrows and the estate. It'd be nice to see the beauty of some of the rest of the region.

"So what do you use alchemy for, Your Grace? As just a hobby? Is it a passion bred from necessity? Or perhaps a future studious profession?" Aeodan smiled. He was always a scholar, even if not actually attending classes every trial. "Perhaps you could give lessons on it?" He smiled, hopeful.

Aeodan could imagine Edalene's face at that point. She was asleep, but he knew she would not approve of him altering the properties of the natural world. They saw what tampering with nature could do with Farafan, and Aeodan admitted too that he was a bit wary of what this kind of thing could do. Still, though, he trusted Tristan, though he did not know him well. The Duke seemed to have a good head on his young shoulders, and Aeodan knew that he would not intentionally lead him down a path to destruction.

Ignorance was an armour, however. Tristan may not intentionally lead him down a path of destruction, but the world seemed to have other ideas. Aeodan had no idea what the Miasma was, or that it was coming. He just wanted to help his new friend find more garden slugs.

[Tristan Venora]

Tristan Venora, who had found himself in charge of a duchy through some strange twist of fate, had no idea that the Misty Miasma was currently forming somewhere in the hills of Oakleigh. He didn’t even really know what the Misty Miasma was. He was only interested in the big, fat, red and orange slugs that could be found in said hills and that he needed for his alchemy. Since those slugs weren’t the only things that could be found there though, he briefly stopped at his office and grabbed something that looked like a glorified walking stick with a golden handle that was shaped like a dragon’s head.

“That’s a cane sword”, he explained to Aeodan. “Cane swords were in fashion a couple of seasons ago, so I bought one. A machete would be better, but I don’t have one, so we’ll use this here to remove leaves, grass and thorny branches and such. Oh, and we should take this as well!” He grabbed a crossbow and handed it to Aeodan. “I learned how to use a crossbow by shooting the sculptures that nobody wanted to buy. Maybe we’ll find something that we can shoot out there as well. I really need to practice.”

Having said that, he grabbed a backpack, a container for the slugs (he couldn’t just dump them into his backpack!), a couple of bandages (in case he put his hand somewhere it didn’t belong and got hurt in the process), a bottle of wine and a box with chocolates. Wandering around the hills and looking for slugs was bound to make them hungry and thirsty!

“It’s mostly a hobby”, he said as they finally walked through the gate and stepped outside. “I just like doing weird stuff. I initially learned alchemy because the boyfriend of the woman I loved was an alchemist, and I wanted to show her that I was a better alchemist than him, but that’s all in the past now. Nowadays I practice alchemy because it’s fun and not because of him!” In a way Tristan was actually grateful to Padraig. Without the terrible tutor he’d never have thought about becoming an alchemist. Of course that didn’t mean he liked him (he had fallen in love with Faith after all)!

“I’d love to teach you!” he then informed Aoedan. His eyes were huge in that moment. Somebody actually wanted to learn from him! How cool was that? He couldn’t believe it!

“Let’s talk about it some more when we get back”, he said. “Maybe you could also tell me how you got interested in archeology and science and such sometimes.” With that he quickly started to walk towards where he hoped the biggest slugs would be. Before ong they would reach said place – only to discover something quite unexpected …

[Maltruism]

There may have been some concern by the pair over the Saun heat bathing the hills. Those who knew slugs knew that they were not well suited to hot, dry weather. This did not exactly give the adventurers cause to anticipate failure, so much as to narrow their search to shaded, and overgrown areas where the heat would be slow to penetrate.

This was harder going, of course, than open, grassy slopes, and fatigue began to intrude on their agenda. They took repeated breaks, not just to collect their breath, but to pull burrs and thorns from their clothing. Passing through thick scrub and undergrowth was taxing, and more than once the men experienced some dizziness when straightening.

Relief appeared to arrive in the form of an overcast, reducing the direct temperature of the sunlight. Looking up would not confirm this detail however. There were no actual clouds that could be detected. But the dizziness remained. Striving to continue looking up would come to feel as if one was falling backwards. It would, however, reveal that the drop in sunlight was the result of a steadily rising mist.

Whether either or both of the men ended up on the ground or not was irrelevant, as they both had their vision impacted by an odd shimmer that affected all they saw. Being in the areas of thicker foliage, it seemed that the trees seemed to sway, branches even appearing to switch from one trunk to another as some prismatic effect passed before their eyes.

Looking out into more open areas only brought the appearance of a sea of mist, where no ground could be seen. A figure appeared to be approaching them through this mist. By the time he arrived, the dizziness the humans were experiencing had passed. But the uncertainty of what had just occurred remained. The figure standing before them was not fearsome exactly; a robed humanoid with feline facial features that nonetheless displayed human intelligence. But he looked as if he could be formidable if angered.

He spoke, his tongue utterly alien to the two humans. He paused a moment and spoke a second time in a second tongue. Again the language was not familiar in any way. The third time, there was still no translation to be certain of, but there was a pattern Aeodan could perceive. Naturally, Aeodan sensed for Envoy to aid him in this linguistic barrier; and was dismayed to find himself unable to make contact with his spirit companion. There was just a subtle echo of a response, but it quickly developed an equally dismayed element to it; what little of it that could be sensed anyway.

The bi-pedal feline was not garbed in anything elaborate. It was more in the manner of an academic than a mage. He clearly puzzled over how to communicate; demonstrating again that he viewed things intelligently, rather than instinctively. But he had noted just a twitch in Aeodan's reaction to his third choice of language. He made a fourth attempt to find common linguistic ground.

The similarity to Omyeric inherent in his next choice allowed the slimmest measure of understanding by the linguistic student. The blends of sound & structure, put through a translating filter of Aeodan's broken understanding of Omyeric, came across as an equivalent to, "Joined presence for? Meaning of aid offer?"

The tonal inflections made it clear that these were questions. It would be up to Aeodan to figure them out, without Envoy's help.

[Aeodan]

As they walked, the Saun heat baked down on them, causing sweat to rise to Aeodan's skin quickly. He did not mind sweating, nor was he worried about the exhaustion, but he wondered if the Duke was used to such endeavors. It was strange to him to think it, since Aeodan himself was not all that much of an outdoorsy, do-it-himself kind of man. But still, Aeodan wondered if the Duke was used to more finery than this, or perhaps had a palanquin decorated and carried about by servants. Nobility was strange that way, and the Venoras more than all.

Of course, Aeodan still found it hard to equate Tristan to what he knew of the Venora. The man was too down to Idalos, and when he seemed particularly excited to teach Aeodan, the young scholar grinned. He loved the exuberance of the student, the desire to learn from everything around them, whether it was their particular field or not. Aeodan, who loved languages, found that he also enjoyed exploration and anthropology simply because he wanted to try everything he could. Without an attempt, one could never know how much one loved something.

"Of course, Your Grace. It's actually relatively simple. Languages aren't static, they are fluid and dynamic. So as people and times changes, so too do languages and their parts. Words take on different meanings, contact changes context, and new and emerging slang is formed every single trial. It's such the ebb and flow that attracted me to languages, and what better way to study how far languages have come than to study the records of those who no longer change with the times?"

The young scholar's energy was infectious, and they pushed forward. Strangely, though, the day began to change. Even in the heat, the weather of Rynmere had never behaved so strangely. Mist and fog rolled around them, covering them, obscuring their journey from going much further. Aeodan's heart raced as he thought about being separated from the Duke. If Tristan died out in the wild, and Aeodan returned without him, many would suspect foul play. Staying close to the Duke, Aeodan bent his knees and prepared for anything.

Well, almost anything. A bi-pedal cat person that seemed to materialize before them was not one of those things. Aeodan's mouth hung open as the creature attempted to communicate, then a second and third time. As all the languages passed before him, Aeodan's mark shimmered slightly. One of the abilities granted by Xypha was the ability to determine the name and most commonly spoken region of any observed language, so as the cat-man spoke to them, Aeodan's mind whirred with the names and regions. But the fourth, he needed not think so hard. He understand a little Omyeric, though it sounded strange coming from the strange feline creature before him.

Disconcertingly, the Diri seemed distant and muted. Aeodan was used the creature keeping strange habits, but it rarely returned to the Beneath anymore. Mostly, it stayed closed and tried to learn from the world. Still, Aeodan did not fear not to have Envoy close. It was a powerful entity, but the cat-person did not seem to mean them any harm. Aeodan smiled, raising his hands in a show of universal peace, and replied in Omyeric.

"Yes. Aid. What with?" Though he did not know the language well, his accent and pronunciation were spectacular. One of the benefits of being a linguist was his ability to feign accents well enough to pass as a speaker of the language. Turning back to Tristan, he explained the situation.

"He asked if we were here to help. I told him yes." Aeodan shrugged. "I hope that's okay."

It was an earnest statement.