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  #61  
Old Feb 18th, 2020, 10:12 AM
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Still A Bad NightAngharad looked at the hermit with perplexity, not quite knowing what to make of the man's sudden attack of existential discontent. Her mind was taken off the matter when Beatrix announced an uncharacteristic intention to go outside despite the weather. Angharad didn't like the idea of leaving Maren and Erwin behind with this strange hermit, but Aefa had been very insistent on his good nature - and to let Beatrix go outside unsupervised was likewise disagreeable. The girl must have had a plan, doing something so unusual, and Angharad didn't trust Beatrix' plans to be safe.

"I'd better go with her..." she remarked and likewise pulled the hood of Erwin's cloak over her head, following the eldest Segert daughter.

OOCTo better understand what's going on with the hermit, if that is possible:

Dice Human Perception:
1d10+12 (8)+12 Total = 20


EDIT: Misremembered the stats - should be +13, not +12.
 
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Old Feb 18th, 2020, 10:43 AM
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As they sat around the fire with the rations Tymek was thankful he had packed before their hurried evacuation, the Witcher regarded Annika with soft concern, knowing she was likely putting up a strong front for what had happened because of her siblings, and likely believed she had to do the same in front of her erstwhile-tutor in monster hunting.

He was about to open his mouth when his head suddenly turned towards the wood and Annika saw him frown for an instant before getting to his feet. "Lady Annika I think I hear someone close by. Get your bow out - if I do not return in ten minutes, make your way back to the Hermit's hut. If anyone approaches in the meantime and they do not identify themselves, you shoot."

Tymek paused for a moment before smiling wrily. "But we both know you will probably ignore my request to stay here, so if you wish to accompany then, stay behind me."

With that said, Tymek got to his feet and quietly stalked put into the rain...
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Old Feb 19th, 2020, 02:06 AM
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Annika sat in silence, chewing her food without really tasting it. Tymek's assurance did little to move her mood. Make them pay? Who were they though? And the list of those who had to pay for her family's woes was getting wearisomely long. Her House was not so powerful or large to be a target for this sort of thing. Their lands were natural forests and some plains, good to subsist on but hardly rich or worthy of envy. And yet, despite their best efforts, her family seemed to be constantly under attack...

She looked up at Tymek as the witcher reacted to something she hadn't heard. Her heart immediately started slamming, and she nodded mutely and took up her bow. True to his assumptions, Annika did follow close behind, squinting into the darkness and the storm to try to pick out whatever it was he'd seen or heard.
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Old Feb 19th, 2020, 08:35 PM
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Old Feb 20th, 2020, 10:16 PM
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The Mourning After
Of Huts and HermitsThe hermit gave her a quiet nod and made his way back to the bed after taking a drink, slowly climbing back on top and waving to her "Jus' be sure't'close the door on yer way back in." he called out, rolling over on to his side. When Angharad joined her, Beatrix looked back over her shoulder towards the entrance of the hermit's home, slowly opening up the cloak she had draped across her shoulders and withdrawing a very rusted and old-looking necklace, cracked down the center and in a similar shape to Tymek's Witcher medallion. "Why would a hermit have something like this?" she inquired. The chain was rusted and worn, clearly too small to be worn around the neck of the hermit - it could barely even be worn around his wrist.


Happy CampingTymek's hearing was what guided them, from what was a single occurrence of sound was now a small crackling in the distance, constant and silent like that of a small fire. The Witcher's senses led both him and Annika to a dimly lit cave where a Woman was huddled up as if she were holding something.



OOC

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Old Feb 20th, 2020, 11:52 PM
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As they got closer to the fire, Tymek signalled for Annika to remain a few steps behind him. If this stranger proved to be aggressive, he wanted his charge both out of immediate striking distance and at a comfortable enough range that the powerful bow she carried could be put to good use, and the Witcher trusted Annika's skill enough to not put an arrow through him in the possible ensuing melee.

Walking up behind the woman, Tymek politely cleared his throat to catch her attention, hands at his side and far away from any of the numerous blades about his body to not frighten her...Well, no more than a Witcher might frighten someone. "Excuse me, miss, are you alright?"
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  #67  
Old Feb 21st, 2020, 09:48 AM
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"Good question", said Angharad quietly, taking the medallion from Beatrix' hands and inspecting it with lively curiosity. She didn't seem to disapprove of the girl's theft. "Probably, it's connected to what was happening to the old man. He's having some kind of episode... maybe it's just bad memories coming back, or maybe it's a curse. I wouldn't know."

She held the medallion on her palm and focussed her attention on her own arm, letting magical energy flow through it and then dissipate again at the end of her fingers without creating an observable effect. Except for one: the medallion twitched.

"It's real. Huh." She looked at it, pondering. "The old man shouldn't have this", she finally concluded, and her hand disappeared under her cloak to put the trinket into a pocket. She was going to show it to Tymek in the morning, though she didn't quite know herself what for. The Witcher could probably have helped the hermit, but the disagreeable old man was unlikely to allow that, and she certainly wasn't going to spend any time persuading him if there was an opportunity for them to move on. Perhaps if the weather turned out to be so bad that they couldn't get back on the road at all, because what else was there to do in that event...

"Let's show it to Tymek in the morning", she remarked to Beatrix, a very unexpected, mischievous smile of complicity playing around her lips. "Get some more sleep if you can."
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Old Feb 22nd, 2020, 08:02 PM
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Marsilia of Verden
Marsillia's eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of someone's presence behind her. She realized suddenly that her arms were empty. 'Where...' she thought, starting to panic as the voice called out behind her.

She sat up cautiously, putting her hands in the air to show they were empty, her back still towards the stranger. "I-I mean no harm," she said. "We sought to avoid the rain." She hesitated, turning her head only enough to see the figure out of her peripheral vision.

"Did they send you for us?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.


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Old Feb 22nd, 2020, 10:30 PM
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The Mourning After
Hutting it OutBeatrix gave Angharad a querying look as she glanced over her shoulder to the hut behind them then back to the sorceress and crossed her arms.
"Well can't you just, I don't know, cast a spell and pull the facts out of him? Or some kind of... I don't know, truth-saying-salve or something? That idiot brute Nurlan always had you doing... Something to the new farmhands." she inquired, pulling the hood of her cloak to further cover her face, the sound of the old man howling could be faintly heard once again. "I don't know how any of us will get sleep with him screaming like that." was all Beatrix had to say as she walked over to the hermit's makeshift well and half-heartedly filled one of the buckets next to it, carrying the half-filled and sloshing bucket back to the hermits home.

Beatrix had returned to the warmth and cover of the hermit's hut, leaving Angharad to stand in the hammering rain with a roar of thunder off in the distance. Angharad would find that Erwin and Maren were still sound asleep, visibly undisturbed from the hermit's thrashing, howls and twisting, a bottle of mead remained open on the table with a mug as its sole companion. There had obviously been some love and care put into this place, the way it was decorated alone just oozed with a homely, comforting air. It was quaint, possibly even humble if not for the howls and cries of the hermit. Peculiar as it may be, this all brought back a very early memory of a lesson Angharad's mentor had given her...

 


Happy Campers?A roar of thunder echoed out throughout the sky high above the forest as the fire in the cave crackled and popped, there is no sign of a person having been here asides from the caves sole inhabitant from where Tymek and Annika could see.


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Old Feb 23rd, 2020, 01:51 AM
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Tymek gave a brief glance around the cave as the woman mentioned "we" but as far as he could see, there was no trace of anyone other than the young woman. Glancing back, he motioned for Annika to come closer - the women seemed unarmed, and scared in her own right.

Walking around the campfire so Marsillia wouldn't have to keep casting furtive glances without turning her head, the Witcher crouched before her, yellow eyes searching her face, looking for any sign of falsehood in her apparent distress.

"No, miss, no-one sent us - we were out in these woods ourselves, believing we were the only ones. If you mean us no harm, then you may expect the same from us," A large gloved hand reached across to her in greeting. "My name is Tymek, miss."
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  #71  
Old Feb 23rd, 2020, 10:45 AM
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A Natural Experiment"Maybe", said Angharad guardedly. She wasn't keen to explain to Beatrix just how this wasn't, unfortunately, quite so simple. Prying into this dodderer's mind was likely to be a confusing, disorienting, and unpleasant experience, and she had no idea what she would find and whether it would bring clarity. But she had to admit that it was, it seemed, their only chance to understand what was going on, and what had happened to him.

Perhaps it was merely the tiredness from lack of sleep and the emotional exhaustion from the last day that made her hesitant. As she reflected alone, amidst the wet, cool air and the noise of the rain, she remembered what and who she was: a sorceress. And as such, she was no stranger to unpleasantness and had to be above such trifles. A determination arose in her as she recalled her mentor's words that one day. She briefly wondered where he probably was, and regretted that she still had no means of contacting him - and now was further from finding such than she had been. But even if she had lost him forever, she couldn't allow that to weaken her. The chaos consumed people all the time, and it was for her to tame it.

What she was determined to do, right now, was to get to the bottom of whatever was making this night less restful than it should have been. She tried to be quiet as she opened the door and slipped back inside, but found that this effort was wasted: between the rain outside and the old man inside, there was anything but silence. The mead might have dulled the worst, but the hermit was still unruly in his bed, turning from one side to the other, and mumbling and making noises that were of no verbal nature at all.

Angharad didn't know if he was sleeping or not, and wondered if she could catch a glimpse of whatever dreams he might be having if he was. It occurred to her that it was quite curious that she had never made that experiment, and it now seemed to her a grave omission - although an understandable one, as she was not in the habit of sleeping next to people. If it didn't work, she could always just wake him up and talk to him - which she was going to do anyway eventually. Standing by the bed, the sorceress steeled herself for what was to come. She extended a hand towards the hermit's head, and with a little flick of her fingers and a whispered word to support it pried into his mind...

OOCCasting Telepathy on the sleeping hermit.
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Old Feb 23rd, 2020, 12:04 PM
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The Mourning After
Hutting it OutThe room around Angharad begins to slowly melt away as her mind tunneled into the Hermit's dreamscape, the murky waters of his mind a violently shifting contrast of blacks and whites swirling around as though the light was caught in a tornado of darkness, violently shifting and throwing about, growing holes of nothingness and the sounds of hundreds of people talking at once, were it not for the gentle vibrations of the medallion in Angharad's pocket, it would be easy to suspect she had just been thrown into one of natures most extreme expressions of chaos.

Then it all stops.

Dreams, Visions and all inbetween.The large, open cavern you are standing in is vast, filled with a variety of obstacles for testing one's agility and dexterity. A young boy is running through a stream further on the floor below you, an instructor demanding he practice more and demeaning him for... Something?

You are standing among a group of seven other boys, listening to the The Fiendolder man before you. "I have to say, your performances today were not up to standard. I expected better from all of you."

There came an echo, sounds of men screaming and crying out in agony from far away. The instructor looks down to the other and motions for him to come up. The man and the boy with him are on the same level as you within minutes, metal clashes with metal and more cries echo out into the cavern. The sounds progressively get louder as the instructors immediately set about guiding you and the others through the halls connected to the cavern, there was a cry from a boy behind you as a blade came down and struck him in the shoulder, an armored hand coming from around the corner and pulling him away. You and the other boys begin running as armed men begin to turn the corner, their weapons dripping with blood and armour caked in viscera.

You are now standing in the alchemical laboratory, surrounded by the remaining six boys and two older men. The older men are clad in armour with weapons strapped to their hips that resemble daggers. blurry imagery pesters your vision, the elderly gentleman's memory was clearly not what it would have been several years ago, though the Angharadobserver had managed to recover as many details that they could. The light of the room flickers from darkly lit torches hanging from braziers on the walls. There are numerous tables lining the walls each with its own alchemy set. You can remember being taught to make something. Something dangerous.

Suddenly the door beings to rattle and BANG! A collective of voices speaking in tongues you do not recognize nor understand breaks out, yelling and shouting. The adults look to you and the other boys. One of the men is throwing his arm out and pointing to the shelves near the back center of the room.
"Grab anything you can and bring it here!" he instructs. You didn't like it when... Czigiarus began to command you like this. It meant You weren't trying enough in your combat training.bad things, You have to do an extra two hours of agility trainingawful things, Someone you know is deadterrible things, even. Nonetheless, you rush to the shelves with the others and grab everything you can, filling your arms and pockets with vials of thick, even smoking poisons and acids.

Czigiarus takes the grenades first and examines them, cursing as he tossed three of them to the ground and handed one of the remaining two in his hand to the other man. BANG! The door began to show the impact of whatever was on the other side, more yelling in a foreign tongue. You look to the oldest of the two men and he kneels down, handing a vial to you and the rest of the trainees. You can feel fear building up inside of you now, looking down at the vial of poison. Fear of dropping it, fear of not throwing it far enough, fear of what'll happen if it doesn't work.

You set about helping to extinguish most of the torches in the laboratory as another BANG! crashes throughout the lab, the older men getting into position behind a bookshelf opposite the room of one another and unsheathing their blades. The door gives in with one final BANG, multiple armoured men stepping into the room a single one shouting orders in a foreign tongue.

The men look down at the ball in bewilderment before something before them explodes into a cloud of gas, rising up and forcing some of them to drop to their knees, coughing; The men who were less well armoured began to scream in agony, falling to their knees and clutching their faces as their skin began to eat away at itself, blood pouring from their nostrils and bloodied vomit forth spewing from their mouths. You stand in horror at the scene before you, frozen when the other boys begin to throw their vials at the men in armour who hollered and cried out, some reaching up in what you could only imagine was a show of surrender before the vials broke and smoke began to pour out from the gaps in their helmets, cries of agony roaring throughout the room.

The sounds of the agonized cries brought more men, who stepped over the bodies of their comrades and began to close in on you and the other trainees, the two older men coming around from the bookshelf and slitting the throats of each man they could, eventually finding themselves locked in combat with the people who came after the first group of reinforcements. The older man on the right is run-through by an attacker's blade, collapsing to the ground. Czigiarus, however, was putting up as much of a fight as he could - struggling with interlocked blades. You were the only boy not yet hiding, frozen in a paralysis of fear so great that you don't even register one of the attackers had gone around the fight and was now grabbing your arm, pulling you towards the door as he yells something. You notice while passing by Czigiarus locked in combat a moment to escape - not just from the attacker, but from this place.

You raise the vial up with your free hand and smash it into the ground.


Days, weeks, months and years have since passed by as you're now sitting at a table, medallion in your pocket and a letter in your hands, doing your best to not show the wave of cold fear that washed over you as you suddenly stand upright and look around the tavern, eyes scanning for one of those abominable mutants. A freak knew you were in Toussaint, knew exactly what vineyard had taken you in as a stableboy. The only thing you could do was head north, go into hiding, kill anybody who could relay information of your whereabouts to that foul beast. To your knowledge, there was only one person in Toussaint who knew of where you came and she had to be silenced.


The images and sounds of the tavern begin to crackle and burn, holes of nothingness tearing at them again as she's pulled back to reality, standing in the hermit's hut as he had fallen into one of the brief moments of peaceful slumber, soon to fall back into the same looping dreamscape once more.


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Old Feb 23rd, 2020, 03:39 PM
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Angharad's hand was gripping the nacre disc of her amulet. Stooping slightly, she was even paler than usual and her heart was beating heavily. She was visibly upset and staring at the old man, who after a brief period of quiet was thrashing about himself again.

When it had become clear that the dream was repeating, Angharad hadn't been able to bear it anymore and had let go of the connection. Still fingering her amulet, she wrapped her second arm around her body and pondered for a moment what she had seen. Some traumatic childhood memory transformed into a dream, perhaps - but she couldn't make sense of it, especially of the end. Why on earth would a witcher be hunting a boy - who had a witcher amulet? It was a thoroughly bizarre configuration.

Without paying any mind to Beatrix, she finally pulled herself together, stepped forward and, suspiciously eyeing the area behind the bed where the blade was hidden, reached out to wake the man. "Enough", she stated with odd harshness. "Do you sleep like this every night? With those dreams?" she continued more softly.
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Old Feb 24th, 2020, 07:51 PM
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"I'm Annika," says the young noble,though she presently looked nothing of the sort after her night's journey and sleeping in her clothes. She'd lowered her warbow and taken the arrow from its nock, though she still held it in her right hand. "We're no threat to you." She looked back over her shoulder into the dark forest beyond, then added, "Who did you think we were?"

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Old Feb 25th, 2020, 10:26 AM
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Marsilia of Verden
Marsillia flinched as the man spoke, trying her best to discern what threat the two might pose. She took the man's hand in hers and returned the gesture with a quick shake before standing up. She slowly moved back to the wall, trying to balance her instinct to flee and her desire to be polite to the people that seemed to pose her no harm.

'A witcher,' she thought, 'is he the one they were going to send after me? Is he here to kill me?'
"N-No one," she responded after deciding to play dumb, "sorry, I must have dozed off and had a strange dream."
Her eyes searched the cave, desperately searching for something and finally coming to rest near the floor, beside the young woman. Her expression relaxed and she took in a deep breath, finally feeling as if she could breathe again.
"I'm Marisilia," she said, forcing a smile to her lips and waiting for their move, still unsure how things would turn out... or what to hope for.

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