illusions in the mist. [Now open thanks to ninja subthreading.]

[immortal-lion.livejournal.com]

Characters: Rishfee, Vincent Valentine, General Rughadjeen, Eiko (You are stowing along, right?) Auron (I believe. Lemme know if Ive been informed wrongly.)
Progress: Ongoing.
Summary: Caedarva Mire exploration / Azouph isle staging point discovery / boss fight / aftermath. Luzaf's UNEXPECTED TURNING UP IN FINE FORM AT THE WORST TIME EVER will be included in another log, we already have quite a lot to get through.
Location: Caedarva Mire.
Date: 02/02
Warnings: A few. Epic Quest! Creepiness, lamia, preserved genocide aftermath, soulflayer, (really bad descriptions of) gore / mental defect, NO POSTING ORDER YAY, mindgoboom, tentacles, blue mages gone wild. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YOU N00B, DON'T MELEE THE SOULFLAYER. Possible/Probable big fluffy sheep murder, Oh, and coffee. Yes, coffee.





The mire was dark, and it was foreboding. The stench of death, already prevailant even in the outskirts of the forsaken wasteland known as Caedarva was unbearable once within the black shroud which made up the territory. It was barely possible to even see 10 feet in front thanks to the heavy, thick, stinking fog-- and barely possible to know what brushed past your leg thanks to a reluctance to turn your nose to what appeared to be the source of the stench.

...Maybe it was a treant, a small, bulb-like creature that with life of its own that often amused itself by stalking unsuspecting passers by. Maybe, more worryingly, it was a chigoe- a filthy ball of an insect with a venomous bite. Or maybe it was a protruding, hard substance entwined with the grasses of the mire... a twig... or the rotting arm of one who had sunk into the swamp - still outstretched. Still begging for assistance, though the owner had long since been forsaken of anything of the sort.

With Rishfee, it was the latter. Silently, he moved his own arm down to brush the skeletal claw aside and continued walking. Light, careful steps. He raised his head quickly as a faint giggle travelled through the air. A Lamia... perhaps two. But they were far. Turning his head, he breathed the smallest amount of guidance to those that travelled with him. "Do not set foot in the tall grass. And follow me. If you hear an Imp.... stop immediately. Kill it immediately. It doesn't matter what kind of invisibility spell you use. They will see you... and they will summon the others..."

His words were interuppted. Voices. Spectral and distant, yet brimming with anger. Malice. The worst kind of rage. deep-sated, voracious, sofilled with hate, they would quite simply burst with their malice. Yet they were pained. So pained...
Yet the pain only added to their anger.

Whereever they were... They wanted to come. They wanted to engulf the group which set foot inside the mire, simply because of two members. Yet they wanted to rip them all asunder.

Imperials...

Those who serve... the accursed emperor... Lapdogs...
That smell...so familiar... Cannot bear this anger...
Vile emperor...
You... You!!

The voices seemed to all join together to create a deafening cry; and then they were gone. Immediately -- replaced with nothing but the sound of the trees as they moved alike the little treants, eyes forever fixed upon the mire. If one listened closely, they could hear more giggles, from more Lamia.. and the distinct sound of the Merrow's harps in the distance.

Comments

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It was all Rishfee could do to pay the voices little mind. He glanced at the ensemble, and then to Rughadjeen, and merely shrugged his shoulders. More of the Empire's secrets coming to light... but at least they would not attack.

"This was the reason for not doing this when the sun sets. When it does- they rise from their graves and walk among us. "

...And probably a Hell of a lot more, considering. He decided to move on.

"You will see creatures in the swamp. Jnuns, they are called. They are already dead... rotting mounds of flesh, nothing more. But they are capable of attacking. But they sleep during the day. Tread very carefully around any open expanses of water... they are heavy sleepers- yet they have been known to wake... and are awkward to really kill."

Azouph Isle staging point / soulflayer fight.

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As the general wind temperature seemed to inform the group that it was nearing twilight and as the voices of the Ephramadian fomors started to grow stonger yet again, finally the dreary, foggy and murky scenery started to dissipate. The fog remained as strong as ever, as did the stench, yet the dim and faint outlines of trees finally gave way into something unseen, something that could even be relished, as it signified an end to the long and slow traversion of the mire.

It was a wall. A solid darksteel one in fact -- one that was easily 70 foot high and very rigid. Ornate, detailed carvings were inlaid upon the solid, impenetrable sheets of various serpents- symbols of the empire upon which it was crafted. A sign in the common tongue was displayed profoundly and almost immediately, informing anyone that cared to read it that the gate signified imperial territory. There were no locks. No key holes. Not even a door, so to speak... It was merely a wall. Scaling it was impossible. Knocking it down was even more so. Yet Rishfee moved directly to it, moving a hand to his arm and unfastening some of the ribbons that held his gold bazubands firmly onto his arm.

All it took was a few seconds, and the sheet of worked gold fell to the stinking, muddy grass with a somewhat sickening squelching sound leaving him bare armed. ...Well, bare wasn't the word. There was something on his forearm which the bazubands had always hid -- cut into the flesh cruelly and actually implanted underneath the skin. It was a mark of a two-headed serpent (http://wiki.ffxiclopedia.org/wiki/Mark_of_Zahak), magically infused and magical in nature.

...And it was also a key. The door around the blue mage's forearm seemed to glow for the smallest of moments, An un-noticed cage of fireflies at the right of the wall seemed to glow with a new energy, then finally the sound of heavy darksteel bolts clunking individually and the door opening slowly made the ground shake.

"Enter..." The sentiment was soft, though it came from Rishfee.

Pausing, the Immortal picked up his bazuband and walked through the door, eyes widening at what lay before him. The camp... was almost ruined.

Sundries, supplies, medicines, books, documents... piles and piles of items lasy strewn around the camp. Some of the silken, enormous tents had been ripped-- as if something huge and something that didn't quite move right had attacked them in blind rage. The grass was dead in a certain location, an unknown substance darker than night itself still boiling away, burning at the earth, and a scimitar -- exactly alike the one Rishfee himself held -- was lying at the front of the dead patch of earth.

"...No..."

The gate slammed shut instantly behind the group -- and that made something aware of their presence. The sound was almost impossible to even describe, it was a sound--- but it was a feeling. Perhaps of someone scratching their nails down a chalkboard. Perhaps worse. But it was constant -- alike the drone of a wasp, and somewhere inside it was the sound of a woman screaming endlessly, as if lung capacity meant nothing.

It made him recoil, and he was used to dealing with the fallen.

Before he could even lay his eyes back on the gate to open it again, it had moved into view, originally concealed by one of the ruined tents. it was almost nine feet tall. it moved like an old puppet that was operated with strings -- should one of the strings be broken. The arms... limp, pallid, dead things with claws for fingers and nails easily 10 inches long splayed and jerked in unknown patterns. Some kind of broken logic they could never, ever hope to understand.

It's head rolled back. and it's eyes were the same blue as Rishfee's. It spat out putrid, stinking water. And it was coming.

Azouph Isle aftermath. (Rughadjeen exit stage left?)

[immortal-lion.livejournal.com]

Finally, it was over. The Immortal's breath was weak, his body limp, and as the soulflayer finally fell, he did. Situated directly opposite the creature, they were almost touching. The Immortal was curled up into a foetal position, eyes open and staring at nothing.

He was not hurt. No more than the others. But something was happening. His body was twitching, and his eyes were staring in the bizarro way they should tend to when one was suddenly realizing that somehow, inadvertantly... that soulflayer, Nareema, the Immortal the soulflayer was, was now a part of him.

Physical, as well as mental changes were occurring. The ability he'd learned brought more of the monster, more of the soulflayer he really was out, and it tempered him as a vessel. Repaired past damage, past mutation, past... abnormality in body, soul and mind. It overwrote things. It corrected things.

...But with all things, it was a painful process. He was not himself, right now. He was her. Nareema... as incoherant, and as bizarre as the girl had always been. It didn't stop him from adapting her speech patterns.

"Blue...muddies the purest waters."
Blue...
Is the colour of our blood... and our future...
I was pure... I cannot bear it..."

And he laughed. It was so faint, so delicate-- her laugh. Yet she was gone... long gone. Unto him. Unwitting or not... he'd consumed her very essence. Perhaps this broken pile of words was her last words through him, as the vessel he always was.

Perhaps.