• Graded • Mixed Messengers

[Robin Stark]

The wind fumbled the orbs and they scattered. Robin's jaw clenched as he fed his ether into the world. It poured off him, the wind blistering in hunger, in anger, a desperate gale driven by pride. The orbs were a source of embarrassment. It howled through the trees, chasing perfect spheres with ink black feathers. They dared to fly. Sweat beaded his brow as the wind caught one, and then two, and then suddenly they were a group, spinning and diving and fluttering.

And so they were delivered: a disappointing merry-go-round.

He reached his arm out and --

"Damn Immortals," he cursed, catching one orb, the rest fleeing him. The wind cradled him, a blustering armor of shaking leaves and crisp evenings. Robin brought the orb to his gaze, a black jewel, catching his reflection and something else. "It's a...uh," he said, his eyes squinting, "Gold nel on a plate?" Robin asked, the wind purring with curiosity. It swept the orb, following it like a cat hunts a rat. It soared, a dizzy breeze against the defiant ink blots.

"What kind of idiot --," Robin hissed at the man, pale and blond, who'd stumbled into him, forcing the orb back into the sky; but a scream interrupted him.

She was too pretty. Even in her pain, she was graceful. A delicate creature of poise and inherent nobility. Robin frowned. Beautiful people tended to be an issue. Hans. Zipper. He sighed.

"Right. Here's what I'm offering," Robin breathed a spell into an air. The wind pulsed around him, a creeping vine, extending back towards the air, collecting soil and wet and whatever it caught in it's growing funnel. It spun and spun and spun. "I'll get the orbs again," he paused, giving an ugly look at the man who'd forced the orb away from him. "You," he pointed, a vulgar gesture, "Stay away. You could've had your orb already had you not rushed me," he raised his arms, his hands twisting, urging the winds in a way his words couldn't. The wind rippled away from him, harsh and strong, their voices raised to the singular goal.

Catch the orbs.

"The winds will bring them down," Robin said, his voice bright with pride and affection. "You're worth a million of them. Show them what you can do," he whispered his encouragements, feeding the spell.

"When they're down -- just grab whichever orb doesn't fly from you. And then we trade."

Robin gave the wind what it demanded. His ether bubbled from his skin, invisible but heavy. He boiled and imagined it evaporating, like a brewing pot, water caught under the lid. His magic soared to the sky, keeping the wind alive and smart.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor Handor Alseman

:: 121st of Vhalar, 717

Read me!

I received guidance/instructions over PM from Maltruism, so I am not winging the craziness below. This is what happens when you get bitten, it seems

The greenery soon made way for wet and uneven soil, lined with thick roots and dotted with mossy stones. The sounds of the other people were like a distant murmur, drowned out by the constant buzzing of the insect swarm that stalked him. A wispy fog snaked between ancient tree trunks, like ropes ready to grasp trespassers by their ankles, entangling them. A scent of rot filled the air, as though some bloated corpse was slowly unravelling in one of the swampy puddles of water that dotted the forest floor. Finn screwed up his nose as he wandered further and further into the bog. Perhaps he was supposed to get the orb after all. But could it really be that easy? Thetros had made it all sound much harder, much more adventurous.

He swung his wooden stick idly and hummed a quiet tune under his breath when the buzzing of the insects flared up, as though they’d been angered. He spun around on his heel, just in time to see a cloud of enraged who-knows-whats, buzz towards him with their stings primed. Only a few of them were glowing.

He dropped the stick and ran.

And ran.

But the damned critters followed. There was little solid footing to be found on the wetlands. He slipped and nearly fell, only to stumble forward and have his other foot sucked deep into a putrid puddle of mud and rotting foliage.

And then he was stung, right in his neck. The sting lasted only for an excruciating trill before it passed. Still he kept going, his legs aching and tired. A small clearing emerged between the trees, a puddle of dark water. Perhaps he could lose them there! The world swayed left and right, and left, and right and-

His body kept running, but he felt as though his mind was running after it, somehow, strangely detached from himself. But he was himself, wasn’t he? So who was his body? He halted, or he would have if he had limbs to stop. He had no legs, no arms, no breath to catch. There was only him, and as he looked on he saw his frame run into the water before it collapsed like a puppet cut from its strings.

-

Handor sputtered as he emerged from the pond. The vessel was small and weak, but he adopted to his new limbs within trills. The stupid boy had jumped into the water. Did they not teach children about the dangers of bloodthirsty fish? The standards of education surely had fallen in. . . how long had passed since he’d first come to the Misty Miasma?

He didn’t remember, but he knew not to linger in the water.

Many things lurked in the murky pond. Things with teeth, things with claws, and dead things too. The water reeked of death and rotting animals. Its filth took root on his new skin, plastering it with flecks of decayed, darkened leaves and swollen plants. Not that Handor cared. He knew precisely what had happened and although the boy had almost drowned himself, the rancid smell that now surrounded him drove the swarm of buzzing insects well away. All except one. Handor payed it no mind.

-

Handor soon returned to the grasslands outside of the bog, where the voices sounded. It took a little longer with the shorter legs of the new vessel, but he wasn’t in any particular rush. When he’d arrived, Handor lingered at the tree line for a moment, contemplating his next move. Did the other visitors know the child? Would they listen to him? If they did know the child and he announced himself as Handor Alseman, insectologist of the University of Rynmere, he’d no doubt cause a fair bit of panic and that wouldn’t be beneficial to his research. If these other visitors didn’t know the child however, well then it would be hard to convince them of anything at all. No reasonable person ever listened to children. He arched an eyebrow at the odd gathering of visitors and realized he’d made a grave error. They didn’t strike him as reasonable people at all.

Who in their right mind would come to Misty Miasma only to collectively obsess over some glorified flying marbles when there was exciting flora and fauna to be discovered? Handor snorted and cleared his throat as he approached the group. At least he knew what these people wanted and how he could lure them into the bog for his research.

He said nothing as he stepped up to the bickering dummies. Handor Alseman was a child (a rather smelly one) in all but mind and he was quick to understand the nature of the orbs, and how their count correlated to the number of visitors. From what he’d seen he was quick to understand the rules that guided the orbs. Once you spent several arcs in the Misty Miasma, one got an intuitive understanding of the bizarre laws that applied there.

A smile curled his lips as he came to understand that each orb would happily be taken by anyone except the one it was destined for. But he was not the boy that had fallen into the pond and so, by extension, he should be able to grab anyone of them, or all of them. Shame his hands weren’t larger.

The defier among the group commanded the wind and brought the orbs down. Handor couldn’t quite contain his excitement. “What an exquisite show, good man! Good man!” he cheered. “I’m only really familiar with Professor Magnus’ research on defiance which deals largely with the effects of defiance on the larger ecosystem but,” Handor rattled on as he snatched an orb from the air, “we’re all greatly indebted to his studies on ant colonies. They’re such fascinating creatures aren’t they?” Handor’s voice was that of Finn’s, and so was his appearance, but his choice of words seemed absurdly unfitting for a youth of barely thirteen arcs.

It mattered little. Handor had one of the orbs and he reached out to seize another. Two or three would be enough to establish a trade of sorts. In return for the orb, the person to whom it belonged would have to take part in his research. A small sacrfice, for science! If they refused he could simply bolt with the orbs in hand and lure the group that way. The orbs were but means to an end.

[Zana]

The orb which she nearly caught bit her and Zana let out a curse which would not be the kind of thing one might expect from a lady. She reacted, though and with her other hand she grabbed at it, trying to grab the Immortals-cursed thing and getting it wrapped in her skirt. That would reveal more than a little of her very long legs and much more than was usual in decent society, but Zana was not concerned with that. She ignored the blood, she ignored the pain and she simply went about grabbing someone else's orb and wrapping it in her skirt.

"I suggest you gloat less, dear heart," she said to the very poorly dressed barbarian fellow (Nir'wei) who was continuing to look rather amused. "And learn that sharing is a good thing. Grab someone else's don't let it bite you." Or do, she really did not care. But either way, Zana would make sure that she did not allow herself to get bitten again. "Indeed we can" she said to the blonde man (Tio) who seemed far better dressed and with more manners than Thrud the Smelly Barbarian.

Zana was, at her heart, a selfish and vain creature. She didn't help other people unless there was something in it for her. But in this instance there very much was something in it for her and so, she would do her best to grab one, or more if she had the opportunity, wrapping them or holding the thing they transformed into (they weren't all squirrels, she concluded). However, there was another man, who seemed to be a spell caster of some kind and Zana listened to him and nodded. "I'm in." she said and turned a gentle smile on him. Her ice blue eyes, so like her father, roamed over him for a moment and she seemed to appreciate what she saw.

However, a boy came along. Zana had very few morals but she did draw the line at children. However, whoever grabbed her orb was fair game and she looked out for that. The others orbs she did not care for one tiny jot. Whoever had hers? Well, that person would be feeling the full effects of her not inconsiderable charms. If she had to, she would use her mortalborn powers in order to ensure that they really, really... really liked her. So much so that it might be considered akin to worship.

After all, that was the long term plan. No time like the present to begin.

We don't need instructions, baby. Don't you be afraid.
It takes a little friction, baby. That's how our love is made.

[Davic]

It had been only a few bits since Davic had awoken in this unfamiliarly familiar valley, but he was already getting desperate. A recently abscised hazelnut pod to the forehead wasn’t a calming wake-up call, however even more frustrating than the dull pain in his skull was the target he now chased. His orders had been vague, but the strange orb that fluttered on the edge of his reach matched his expectations for the mentioned “artefact”. Not performing his side of the deal here out of doubt would be dangerous anyway – if he didn’t try to catch the teasing orb and it did turn out to be the intended target, he would be sorry. Better to just play it safe. Hell, even beyond any fear of retribution, Davic was irritated enough by now that just slamming that flighty bastard to the ground sounded fucking therapeutic. Sprinting after it as the orb threaded between fallen logs and branches, the young monk was reminded of breaks spent after lessons when he was slightly younger, chasing and tagging people he’d no longer be able to see. Davic leaped over a fallen log, keeping pace with the quarry while his mind drifted. It had been oh so long since-


-THWACK-

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Groggily, Davic climbed to his feet clutching his head for the second time this trial. Without knowing his location the passing of time was difficult to ascertain, but he had definitely been out for a while. His vision worryingly out of focus, the young monk looked around. Just behind him was a horizontal tree-trunk, severed from its roots but held up by the surrounding foliage. It rested just at just about his head height, and looked very solid. Now understanding what it was that he’d impacted, Davic scanned his surroundings for the cause of his running. It took a few trills, but he spotted the orb much further along the crevasse. Where before it had stayed close, flitting about like a hummingbird - confident in its ability to get away - the solid black sphere was now paying him no heed. Feeling slightly more clearheaded, Davic began to sprint again. This time he didn’t let himself get riled up, thinking back to lessons with Brother Kruz but staying wholly in the moment. The monk’s breathing was steady and his body aware, paying attention to the environment he’d previously ignored in his haste. There was little way of telling whether he was gaining on the orb, as it was still just a black dot in the distance, but Davic began to notice the valley widening outward. Within a few bits it was as wide as a river, before finally Davic found himself at its end. Before him was a clearing, outlined distantly by familiar arbour. In the far distance the monk saw his orb fly towards a swelling swarm of its own kind, dashing his hopes of catching up to it.

Before he could grasp what the presence of other orbs implied, Davic found himself buffeted by a sudden wind. A very sudden and very strong wind. Such an open and empty field was bound to suffer gales, but even without much experience in the wilderness, Davic felt certain such force wasn’t natural. It was as he dug his heels into the ground that the monk realised the source of his certainty. Davic opened his mind up as he had a few times before, allowing the nagging voice that had risen with the wind to speak louder. Slowly he began to notice its effects. Within this wind, unhidden by caution, were strands of familiar light. The eldritch blue energy he’d seen in his initiation was present here, but where his own flames grew from ether, fuelling themselves on its energy and glowing electric in their core under initiated eyes, this wind magic instead twisted itself around the streams of that power. Racing with the streaks of immaterial light, Davic could now see these strands as they twisted, turned and pushed around him. Ever so faintly they formed a trail, one that his unpractised eyes could barely follow. Barely. On the horizon of this clearing stood a man, from who all the energy he managed to trace sprouted. Without other option, Davic began pacing toward the distant figure. Abruptly, the mass of black orbs he’d watched converge began to swerve towards the wind defier, caught up in his power and seemingly unable to resist it. The young monk’s pace quickened, the fear of failure and its repercussions returning to him. As he began to run he heard behind him a distinctly feminine shriek, but for once the apprentice’s mind was too panicked to be curious. If this other magic user claimed every orb for himself it would doubtlessly mean an end, firstly to Davic’s chance to get some answers from his new patron, but potentially also an end to a lot more than that.

Suddenly there was sprinting towards the defier another champion, one without the same gravity of ether. This new second factor was grinning widely, and Davic heard them shout something cheerful but authoritative towards the caster. The apprentice failed to make out any words within that call, but whatever the blond person had said didn’t seem to help much. The single orb the defier had managed to retain escaped its captor once again, the latter turning toward his interruption with clear annoyance. Davic grinned briefly at that. Not only was it a relief to see that direct confrontation with a powerful mage was no longer unavoidable, but with an opponent as powerful as this so genuine a show of fluster was comfortingly humanising. The young monk pulled off the shadepatch he’d strapped over his left eye in anticipation of a fight. It didn’t look like the champions were going to come to blows, and he certainly wasn’t going to provoke them once he reached the pair. While the two men faced off, one looking notably less bothered than the other, Davic saw a third person run up to join their group. The monk decided he must have been out a lot longer than he realised, if so many of them had already began gathering together. Halting the aggravation that the fuzzy memories of head-pain and a frustrating chase would source, Davic gave this third champion the once-over he’d given the rest.

Whoever this new arrival was, they were particularly short. As Davic reached listening distance of the trio, the pitch of voice that came out of this third figure gave explanation for its diminutive height. They were a child – almost certainly even younger than he was. A small part of Davic's anxiety left him. To come into this arena as only the second weakest participant was far beyond his expectations, more favourable than he had feared it might be. The monk-apprentice stepped properly into the small gathering, in time to catch the end of the younger child's speech.

“-greatly indebted to his studies on ant colonies. They’re such fascinating-” The boy continued, in a voice that was neither timid nor afraid nor in any way uncertain.

Ah. So much for weakness. The boy’s face showed none of the nervousness, none of the fragility Davic had hoped for. The young child exuded confidence borne from power, the same kind as Brother Kruz and the rest of the teachers at the Monastery, the same kind Davic was meant to have gained from them. Was this what everyone was like out here? Even the children younger than him being powerful, and aware of that power? He was meant to be prepared – ready for challenges like this. He’d underestimated this kid, the task at hand, all of it. If he expected and assumed someone to be weaker like this, it only made him more vulnerable.

Huh.

Maybe... Maybe that was the play here. These people – they don’t know me. They don’t know my strength or any lack of it. So, if I want an advantage here I need them to think...

Having to restrain a grin was a good feeling after so much fear.

“H-Hey” Davic began, avoiding the three gazes that suddenly turned to him. He always found it irritating when some other apprentices like Jose would dodge eye contact, but it definitely served the purpose of looking meek. “Do you guys know what’s going on here? I was in bed just a few b-breaks ago, but I woke up in a weird valley and all my stuff was gone and there was this shiny black ball thing flying around and I chased after it and then it flew away into this big swarm and-” He halted his tirade briefly as he saw the caster begin to look annoyed at his over-hurried mumblings. To be honest, letting loose like this was actually genuinely comforting, but he wanted to get a better angle on these guys – not annoy them into avoiding him. “W-Well I was wondering if you knew what all of these orbs and warps are about?”

[Navyri]

"What if I fall?"

Oh but darling
What if you fly?

121st of Vhalar, 717

• A great dizziness rushed her, the poor creature unfamiliar with flight and as dedicated as she was, it had not been enough. Navyri’s body could not keep up with her persistence and soon she found herself crashing, tucking her wings in and colliding with the ground. She groaned, more irritated than injured, rolling on her side as the soil stopped rising and falling like a ship at sea. Her arm hurt, and her bright eyes struggled to see straight as a terrified trill erupted from seemingly nowhere.
  
  Curio came flying forward, unconcerned with the orb that had caused her state, only landing next to her and pecking her lightly to check her responsiveness. Navyri felt a wave of concern flow through their bond, and she reached out a hand to pet the invisible familiar before falling short, “I’m fine,” she whispered, pushing herself off the ground and slapping any dirty residue from her pants. Flying was a gift, a reward for a job well done in her last Delroth instigated adventure, but it had also been an enormous change, both to her mental and physical state.
  
  She could still hear his words, echoing in her mind as she imagined the predatory way he looked at her - a vulture eyeing an item of interest, “Hello, Nightingale...Now is the time, Navyri...I want them back. They're mine. Mine! You will find them for me, Navyri. I have pushed you from the nest… Do not make me regret saving you…” While he had been talking of the wings she currently possessed, she was sure it translated to his task as well.
  
  His words, they didn’t stop. A mantra. Mine. Mine. Mine. What he said was both a promise and a warning. She had experienced the pit of wind and talons. She knew... what he could do. "I don't care how you do it. I don't care why you do it. But you will do it, won't you little one?"
  
  As the world began to settle, Navyri turned at the sound of shouting and voices. Her brows knitted, realizing that unlike her last trip to this place, if it was the same nightmare, it had been scarce in living things. And the ones you came across… well… You didn’t want to. But now?
  
  She took a tentative step forward, seeing how they gathered, exchanging ideas as her black orb raced off and melded with others like it in a tree. What game was Delroth playing at? She knew little of the immortal, meeting with him only twice since he marked her. He had doted on her each encounter, stroking her cheek and draping her in soft finery, but had always been quick to warn her what was to happen if she, or anyone for that matter, failed him. The immortal of Greed’s favor was a fickle thing and losing it terrified the Naer: “I would be disappointed. And you know what happens when I'm disappointed."
  
  
  No.
  
  Navyri would not. Could not. She would get what she was sent for, failure was not an option. As the group collected, she kept a distance, eyes watching the flying black balls like a cat who has spotted a group of robins in a tree and cocked her head, directing her next thoughts at Curio, Fetch me an orb, but be careful. Just like we’ve done before.’ She sent a few memories down their bond, like when the barred owl had dropped the apple in her hand for the street urchin, Toan, for demonstration. Then, she prowled forward, not wanting to offer assistance to people clearly competing for a similar stake, walking up just as a blonde woman spoke about being ‘in’. Navyri thought the idea of anyone else touching her orb was irksome, but it seemed a pact was being formed, “What’s this?”
  
  She crept into the circle, wings opening slightly before settling nicely against her back, “Are we still giving out invitations to this party?” she smiled, a bit sardonic on her full lips, but waved a hand amiably, “I’ll play.”
  
  The Naer looked upward to her feathered friend, watching as he swooped into the group of black orbs, prowling at the bottom of the tree and sliding her bag from her shoulder to open it. Hunting the orbs not her own was going to be easy, no? Her mind turned over this idea and she crouched, following Curio’s movements with her own, her focus honing in. She wanted these orbs… She reeeally wanted them. Her backpack was poised and ready in her hands, wondering her next move, “What pretty orbs,” she complimented, moving away from the group as she tried to apply whatever knowledge she had. If this was a test from a particularly vain immortal… well… Flattery was never a bad idea, “With such pretty items. I bet they belong to Delroth,” she coaxed, waving sweetly to the dark masses, “He is so smart, so strong, so wise…” she never took her eyes off the floating things, talking to them softly as if trying to lure in an unstable animal, “Mighty enough to make the skies tremble…” Come on, she silently urged, swallowing. She crept closer and waited. Sooner or later… one would come, and spared only a glance at the others. Navyri did not hold the same sentiment as the blonde haired woman.
  
  Sharing was not a good thing. Not when you could have it all.

[Maltruism]

There was a mood of grudging cooperation developing that might have actually resolved the situation. But hesitation was still present as no one knew exactly what happened when any one person got "their" orb. Did they "win"? Was there a way they intended to ensure a tie between two or more? Did any of the others know what was going to happen and be scheming something to help just him or herself, and maybe one other, at the expense of the rest?

Everyone was poised to grab an orb or two, confident that it would give them bargaining power. But how much if they got the orb for the wrong person? They began to compare the images they'd seen as they'd had their chances to scope this or that one out. It was pretty well accepted that the one with gold nel on a plate was meant for the one called 'Tio'. The one with the squirrel was undoubtedly meant for 'Nir'wei'. One with a set of wings was most likely meant for the avriel-looking one, Navyri. Then there was also one with a Tiara, which seemed to align with the conceited attitude of the blonde girl.

Still, that left one with a Mountain, which was not to be confused with the one showing an erupting volcano. And a last one with nothing at all. The Stark fellow may or may not have felt inclined to reveal which he thought would be his orb. That left Davic and Finn, who was acting truly bizarre; as if the personality of some collegian had replaced the youngster's mind. What could that orphan-esque child know of Professor Magnus, or his research on ant colonies as microcosms of the global ecology?

He now grabbed a second orb as the insect swarm began to make its presence known with a number of stings. Everyone at once found themselves swatting defensively at the little pests. Peripheral vision would show dramatic windmilling by the arms of every person present...except this odd Finn character. He seemed quite content to watch the goings-on, and the insects seemed to be completely disinterested in him.

If one was to guess that his odd behavior was somehow connected to the insects, they would be right. And if not, there own odd behavior was about to become a grim revelation as every one of them was bitten at around the same time. Were they not all finding themselves swooning with a sudden dizziness, they would notice that the rest of them were as well. Each would undoubtedly notice the odd behavior of everyone else moments before they realized the change that had come over themselves...

___________________________________________

More than one wave of dizziness struck some members of the group. Tio, for instance, found himself on his hands and knees, unable to remember who he was. As frightening as that was, it was offset by the certainty that some detriment had been removed from him. He did not understand its nature right off, but somehow he knew it stemmed from the realization of how hungry he was for plain food. For now though, he stood up, unsure if he should reveal that he'd had his identity somehow stripped from him.

As the others began showing their own levels of sudden alarm and panic, he thought that perhaps there might be something in his bag that could help him identify himself. He reached a second bag, within his bag, and found it full of colorful marbles. Insight suggested that these might be somehow related to the orbs, so he dumped them out...

___________________________________________

In the meantime, a number of looks had been cast Navyri's way. Her quick head movements, the odd hooting noises, and the wierd way she seemed to act as if she was shocked to find herself unable to turn her head almost completely around, was almost as strange as the behavior of her owl. Curio looked panic-stricken, and was making shrieking noises completely unlike an owl. But worse yet, there were disturbing intervals where it sounded like a human trying to learn how to speak with a beak instead of lips.

Inside her own head was the disbelief that she could actually be looking down at her own body; her actual consciousness being somehow up in a nearby tree. It was not until she lost her balance in her confusion, that she discovered she now inhabited the body of her owl. Her plunge to the ground was salvaged with the meager flying skill she still apparently possessed. But it was hardly the natural grace of a true owl. The 'Navyri' body stared in horror at her, tried to leap into the air, but flapped her arms instead of the wings on her back, which were guided by a different set of muscles. She ran in mad circles, making a truly alarming series of shrieking hoots...

___________________________________________

Still nursing her bit finger, Zana suddenly felt a much less painful bite. Of course the thought of having bugs crawling on her was repugnant to her idealized thoughts of herself. She went to swat at it, but the motion seemed to bring an attack of vertigo. As she stumbled to her hands and knees, she looked at a golden ring she bore on one of her manicured fingers. It was remarkable how much it suddenly looked good to eat...

___________________________________________

Robin Stark felt the bite and suddenly staggered, catching himself against a tree trunk. His head cleared, but he found something missing, as if an innate segment of his soul was gone. He looked around and saw the wind current behaving very strangely. He tried to call to it, but was suddenly unable to "feel" any access to it. Horror struck him at the sudden realization of his loss of connection to the element.

The wind itself suddenly seemed now to be focusing on Nir'wei. The sevir did not seem to severely troubled by any inner confusion. But the wind was becoming furious with the way it felt the mortal was ignoring him. Jealousy became an issue as it detected a preference for the insufferable squirrel and the beastly dog...thing. Spirit or not, it was a smelly, furry intruder on his partnership with the Sevir. If the wind could truly speak, or if Nir'wei had the affinity to hear its 'voice', it might have called him by the name of 'Robin', which would probably help both Stark and Nir'wei understand what had happened. But for now, both stood in utter confusion, Nir'wei becoming more annoyed, and Robin Stark becoming more anguished...

___________________________________________

Davic stared in growing dread. It did not take long for him to see how elements of each person were being swapped out with elements of the other mortals present. It looked as if the insect bites were doing it. He wanted to run, to get away from this mad zone, but...but the...marbles....those gleaming...sparkling......wondrous........mar...bles.......

He stood, completely mesmerized, completely unaware of the swarm surrounding him...

___________________________________________

"Finn", in the meantime, stood in rapt, academic wonder, furiously taking notes for later review. He'd never seen such a demonstration of the amazing capabilities of the Misty Miasma's Needle Midges. It was of far less importance to him to wonder what had become of the child's personna...

!

Message from: Maltruism

Awesome! I am super delighted to have every one of you post! In fact, I now feel bad for having taken until now to post . I won't bore you with my RL sob story of relentless interruptions and distractions. I'm sure you all know what that is like. However, if you are curious, you can click here and look in Tio's "Magical Items" tab to see what the deal is with these marbles. Davic, I realize, I've kind of robbed you of much to react to, what with you being all mesmerized and what not. Maybe some other folks' posts will help. If not, I can probably give you some insight, like I did with Finn last time... Hope you are all desperately clutching at straws to find a way out of this mess. And remember Zana, you asked for it!

[Tio Silver]

Twisting his hands in a circular motion, the grumpy mud-flecked guy cast some manner of spell that sent the air around them spiraling towards the cluster of orbs and forced them down to the ground. Taking advantage of the opening Tio lunged forward and grabbed one of the orbs, deliberately avoiding his own since he knew it would dart away from him again, and clutched it tightly to his chest with both hands. No way was he letting it slip out of his grasp, even if it bit him like the one with the squirrel picture bit the blonde lady. He'd already missed a chance for victory thanks to Butterfingers over there, no way was he going to let it happen again!

He backed away from the group a little, intending to peek down into his hands to see what picture was on his orb, but before he could do so a buzzing noise that was steadily growing louder caught his ear. Too late did he notice the presence of the insect swarm about to crash down upon them like a wave, and the kid standing among the swarm that talked in a disturbingly mature voice. Rather foolishly Tio didn't think that the swarm would pose any threat for him; his journey into Scaltoth Jungle had already proven that even the most exotic insects tended to leave his kind be unless provoked, and neither illnesses nor poisons could effect him, so he let the swarm sweep over him without resistance, confident that they'd simply ignore him.

As it turned out, that was a big mistake.

The insects bit into him just like they did to everybody else, and Tio cried out in pain! It felt like a hundred needles were being stabbed deep into him all at once! A wave a nausea washed over him and forced him to his hands and knees, and as it grew stronger and stronger he found that he could no longer think of anything else besides the chaotic pounding in his head.
The very first thing he remembered was opening his eyes to the sight of grass.

His head was ringing as if it was filled with church bells, and his body was covered all over in sharp, scratchy aches, but otherwise the man didn't seem to be in too bad a shape. He was crouched over on his hands and knees in a field of long, untamed grass, and in one hand grasped a strange black orb so tightly his fingers were going pale from the effort. Even on his hands and knees he felt wobbly, too wobbly to walk, and so rolled over onto his back to rest until the last of the dizziness faded.

He was in some kind of strange forest filled with eerie green mist and a dozen or so tiny green lights that flickered through the air like fireflies. The clothes he wore were comfortable and the cutlass strapped to his belt was expensive looking, but other than them and a few other items on his person there didn't seem to be any supplies around. A shame really, he was really in the mood for a bacon sandwich right about now! It wasn't that he was especially hungry, but there was a dull metallic taste in his mouth and his taste buds seemed to be crying out for the taste of any kind of food besides it. The realization of this caused a brief flash of relief and joy to course through him, but when he tried to remember why that was and failed it quickly faded away again.

On the subject of remembering, it suddenly dawned on the man that he had absolutely no idea who he was or how he had gotten here! He had no memories at all beyond opening his eye to the sight of grass! Panic began to well up within him, and was only prevented from overwhelming him by the nauseous feeling still draining him of energy. What kind of man went wondering through a forest with no supplies on him, and what in the world could have led them to do so?

As the dizziness faded the man became aware of other noises nearby, and lethargically looked around to notice a group of other people. Some of them also held black orbs, and some of them didn't, but all of them were... strange. Like him they seemed to be recovering from a stroke of dizziness (which surely couldn't be a coincidence?), but unlike him they seemed to be bothered by other things, such as their jewelry or... the wind?
But out of the lot of them, the award for acting the craziest without a doubt went to the pretty black haired lady, mainly because she appeared to be trying to fly by flapping her arms up and down when she had a pair of wings on her back! The hooting noised certainly weren't helping matters either, nor was the owl next to her that was going absolutely ballistic for some reason.

When he was finally able to pull himself to his feet, the man patted himself down to search for any sort of identification that could tell him who he was. At first his quick search revealed nothing but a coin purse and a pistol crossbow, but as he moved up to his jacket pockets a bump alerted him to the presence of something there. Looking inside, the man found a bag with a faint glow creeping out of the drawstring and had the strangest feeling that whatever was inside the bag was somehow... important? No, important wasn't the word for it, but the word for whatever it was he felt towards this bag escaped him. He reached inside and withdrew a single marble that glowed with a soft light, expecting something to happen, but as he continued to look at it nothing at all changed. All the marble did was glow, and that was it.

Who on earth felt the need to travel around with a bag of glowing marbles? They weren't even especially bright, so they didn't look like they'd be helpful for exploring dark places or anything. Perhaps if he wasn't so disorientated the man would have thought it through a bit more, but at the time it seemed to him that there was no point in carrying about dead weight. If he emptied the contents of the bag he could put this orb he'd been clutching onto so desperately into it.

Unknowing of quite what it was he was throwing away, the man took the bag from his pocket and tipped the marbles out of it, not sparing them a second glance as he put the orb he'd been holding in their place and returned it to his pocket. His attention then returned to the black haired lady who looked like she was trying to twist her head around enough to break her neck, and decided that he needed to do something before she hurt herself. But what in the beneath did you say to someone who ran around hooting?

"Easy there bird person. Easy now." He said as calmly as he could manage in this situation, which admittedly still sounded way too shaky to be convincing. "Just... um... stop trying to fly and let's sit down for a bit, okay? Let's be nice and calm..."[/color]

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[Nir'wei]

He frowned, and heard Archailist snort. "I wasn't gloating." Well, he had been, but only to try and bait her into getting another orb. "Besides, sharing is for people who aren't smart enough to win by themselves." He turned and narrowed his eyes at Robin. This was exactly why he didn't like doing these puzzles with others, and he could feel Archailist felt exactly the same. The moment he took down all the orbs at once, they'd all grab an orb, exchange it, and... well, then what? The first person to get their hands on their own orb was the winner? Or was it done in teams, with those other two that'd first been there when Thetros appeared before them on his side and everyone else belonging to another team, or teams?

"It's all too unknown," Archailist grumbled under his breath, eyes still on the orbs - specifically his own. "Better to just stop focusing on everyone else and grab what you need first. Whatever happens after that, we keep going until we find out how to win... or how to make everyone else lose." He felt a thought - the potential to bury the orbs of everyone else when he found them, throw them into the air... was it possible to break them? Maybe. His thoughts were drawn back to the present when he remembered that that spellcaster wasn't the only one on his 'team' - the annoying little child who seemed to appear behind them all was supposed to be as well, although he really didn't seem like the same boy he'd met before, no rude outbursts or suspicious glaring. Personally he considered it an improvement. "ORBS!"

Attention snapped back to the tree and he launched for one, Greyhide launching for another - the one falling closest to that woman he'd been rude to, Zana or something, trying to snatch it from her with sharp teeth and very little regard for whether they had to sink through fingers to get their prize. Two bargaining chips were better than one, as many others were already probably finding out; though, whether he managed to catch two or had to settle for just one, all attention was focused on the orbs, and not the gradually increasing buzzing that made itself truly known while he crouched over the little black ball, shielding it with his own body while trying to peek at who's orb he'd just picked up. He tried to disappear entirely inside his own coat to shield himself from their bites and stings, but they bit straight through his clothes again and again until he swore the heat of the stings was combining together into a whole-body heat that made his head ache and the world spin around him.

It took far too long for the swarm to pass, but as it did and the heat of his body cleared, he stood up and dusted himself down. Well, tried to. For some reason the wind was tugging at his coat like a small child wanting attention from its parent. He snatched his coat back and pulled it tighter, and the wind tugged again, and again. "Get off! The hell is wrong with this." Looking around, nobody else had the same problem as him - nothing as much as a light breeze stirred in their clothes, yet it felt as though the air was constantly pulling on his coat and tugging at his body, pushing at Greyhide and trying to shove the wolf down against the ground.

He turned and walked several paces away. The wind followed, tugging him. He walked back, it followed. He strode straight up to the young boy with strange mannerisms and several orbs, calmly watching all that was going on around them... and it was like the wind barely touched a hair on his head! "Can someone... grrr! Can someone get this stupid stuff off me!" Greyhide snapped his jaws at the wind but there was nothing to hold and the wind gave him a firm shove back, sending him stumbling a few steps, before rushing straight back to Nir'wei and swirling around him, whistling loudly in his ears. "I swear to god, if this is you messing around, I'm ripping your damn arms off!" he yelled, pointing a finger at Robin. He was the one who'd used the wind to get all the orbs down, it couldn't be anyone else doing this to him.

[Robin Stark]

The wind cooed and purred; the orbs fell to it's power easily. It flexed it's range, widening into a gust, forcing the floating blobs of ink into some kind of obedience. Robin rolled his eyes. His arms waved in the air. His ether bled out through his finger tips, invisible to him and the world.

This was his magic, in the end. Feeding the hungry, listening to the ignored, and begging for favors. He did those three things very well.

He watched as the rest of the group collected their trophies. The woman with wings pushed what she could into her bag, and Finn, clever Finn, reached out for one, two, and then three orbs. Finn he trusted, the rest he could easily strike a bargain with -- or, if they weren't so inclined, he was sure the earth or the wind might convinced them otherwise.

Robin was smiling when the insect flew towards him.

He was thinking how easily he'd conducted the trial when the creature, dully glowing, landed on his back.

"And this is what the immor --," he slapped his neck, a searing burn cutting through his body. Robin hissed, feeling dizzy, feeling empty. He blinked, the world dumb in surprise. He stumbled. "What the...," his speech bubbled into air and nothing. He tripped over his feet. A tree truck. Large and brown and wide. He breathed, balancing against it. The air was stale.

Panic him like a train. Or like Zipper.

He clutched his chest feeling nothing. The bright burning was gone. The hidden part, the gift, the curse, empty. His eyes widened in stark realization. "No," he whispered. Fear cut through him, an iced dagger to the heart. The world was silent. He was quieter. The part of him he'd shared with Nebarra, his secret soul, extinguished. Or stolen.

The wind tousled Nir'wei's hair.

It played, light and quick.

He couldn't hear it. It wasn't there, and neither was he. Two creatures looking at the other, separated by panel of clear glass. Torture.

"Fucking YOU!" Robin roared, charging at Nir'wei. This was strangely familiar to him, a strange sense of nostalgia. Like a dream. "Give me it back," he screamed, jumping towards the man.

[Zana]

Date

These people were less than nothing to her and, as such, Zana hated the very notion that she might need them. Still, it was for her father and, as such, it was a necessary evil which was her pleasure. After all, she'd have slept with any one of them for the right amount of gold and that, when all was said and done, was just her job. This was personal and so she'd put up with what she had to.

However, she felt a sudden wave of nausea and as the world swum around her, she fell to her hands and knees. That would be the perfect end to this trial, she thought, the idea that she might actually throw up out here. It was ridiculous, beyond such. She kept a firm hold of the orb she'd grabbed, even as she fell to her knees and fought against passing out.

And then, it cleared.

Which was fine, but it was most certainly NOT fine. As she stood up, Zana realised that she felt hungry. Deeply, overwhelmingly hungry and, as she looked down at the ring on her finger, she realised with a dawning horror what she was hungry for. Then, and only then did something in Zana snap. Standing up, she strode over to the nearest person to her. Robin, although she did not know his name. Except HE turned into some kind of lunatic attacking the irritating one who had gloated at her earlier.

Damn, but she was HUNGRY

"Enough," she stepped in front of Robin and she looked at him, directly, in the eyes. As she did, she blew in his face - not hard - just a breath and as she did that she used her mortalborn power, "Breath of Life". Her aim was to instill a fierce loyalty to her in Robin. Loyalty, love, adoration. Worship, if you would. If it worked, her tactic then would be simple.

"Go get my orb for me, please."

Mirror, mirror, on the wall... who's the fairest one of all?