PI: Scouting and sorcery - Torc- 27th MT

[Tristam]

After helping the group get settled at the farmhouse, Torc headed off towards the woods of Pan's Isle to begin his mission. Zeke came with him as did a fresh faced human named Scipio. The other three were charged with aiding things at the farmhouse. Zeke and Scipio led the way as they were the guides with the training but Torc was in charge should he want them to stop. They did insist on getting a safe distance from the farmhouse and to sleep near the edge of the woods where it should be far from any adhiel scouts.

The day dawned dark and gray with thick storm clouds without a storm. Zeke and Scipio were already up and breaking out breakfast rations from their packs.

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc began to take care of his own bed roll. He looked up at Zeke and Scipio, “Give me a few burns, I have to water the plants then find some components for weave. Shouldn’t take me to long,” Torc smiled, “But if I am not back in fifthteen burns avenage my death.”

Torc stood up brushing his slacks for a moment and carefully walked into the forest. He need not go far but he wanted to find a blue stone, rose quartz would be better, or a tallow root. Of course it would also be better if he emptied his bladder, the trail ahead didn’t allow for to many pit stops.

[Tristam]

Torc had no problem finding a semi-private spot to take care of the needs all mortals wake with. After relieving himself, Torc set off into the forest in search of his components. Unless he found a rushing river or a spot where a jeweler had been waylaid, seeking his colored crystal would be an exercise in futility. Tallow root on the other hand seemed quite likely given the other flora in the area or so he vaguely remembered from a long ago hunting trip.

A few burns laterTorc had found a likely looking spot to hunt for it near a wild tangle of blackberry bushes.

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc took out his dagger looking down at the bare earth in front of the blackberry bush. Rose quartz would have been better in his creation of the divination plum. The idea was simple and most hedge wizards could do the same. A divination rod floated on the idea that a stick attuned to water flowing threw would point and vibrate where an underground well was. A divination plum was the same idea.

Tallow root had several qualities about. It once was living, it sought the ground more the then target, making it better for bypassing shield, and the nice thing about the ground quality was the idea of a secondary object taking backlash from a shielding spell instead of Torc’s own personal shields. Still with all that Torc would have dropped it for a good piece of rose quartz.

The stone help warm the blood and made a dynamic between the quartz and the blood. Torc slowly went down brushing the dirt aside he went down with his knife to gently scrape the root. Even the smallest of root would work with there twisted form and wild scent. It would drop small white beads of moisture not quite milk.

[Tristam]

Torc patiently scraped at the ground where the root should be. The tricky thing is that the root was easily damaged as was the tiny tuft of leaves and stem that fed it. That meant either taking up a huge amount of earth and sifting through wire mesh or much careful digging.

As such the sounds of branches rustling and creaking might not mean much with his senses focused elsewhere. Sevti had to move carefully you see both for the stealth required for her continued survival and the fact that blackberry bushes sprouted thorns. Still with determination she was able to creep forward and find a spot she could peer through. Thus she was able to see Torc digging at the ground with his knife.

[Sevti]

Sevti pulled back, surprised. That face... she knew that man. But where from?

Her mind cast back, first running to her parents' tavern and it's many patrons. But while there were achadhiel that frequented the tavern, he was not among them. On the streets of Tal`Fea, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Scars. A back littered with scars. Did I share Joy with him in the Temple?

No.

Dark green leaves. Warm water. Strong rock. Gentle caresses. A clear sky giving way to a storm. Soft words. Deep passion.

He was the man from her dreams, the night she lost Abeo.

"You. You're real." The words escaped her lips before she had time to think.

And just as the words were said, another memory came back to her. Not his name, though that did follow soon after. No, she remembered that this man she had shared Joy with in the land of dreams was something she could never have imagined.

A Oneist.

She knew she should plunge her dagger into his heart before he had the chance to harm her but something stayed her hand. Some curiosity that caused her to wonder if he remembered her too. Because the longer she stood there, the more bits and pieces came into her mind. No strong details, more feelings. The torture of his soul. The strength of his beliefs. The kindness he showed her. The passion they shared.

And a name. His name.

"Torc," she whispered, and she knew she was right.

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc continued digging till he heard the soft voice reach his ears. He stopped feeling his body tense ready to spring or flee. He was in a bad spot, digging in the dirt for a simple root. It wasn’t all bad he still had his dagger.

Yet then Torc heard his name. Slowly the achadiel rose, turning to finally see the interloper. A vague sense of knowing came over him. She was someone… but who he couldn’t quite place. Still Torc felt tense and ready to act. This was no time to get vague notions.

For all Torc knew this could be some kind of spell. One that messed with his senses… an illusion. Quietly Torc wondered if he had blundered into some kind of mystical entrapment. Was this woman so unspoken desire from his own mind? She certainly was pretty and shapely. A good bit of padding on her rump and she fill out the top have of her blouse nicely. Yet she still had a dagger, and he wasn’t even sure if this was real.

“Carefully now Miss, you seem to know me, but I am afraid that of all the things I am knowledgeable of… you are not one of them. So why don’t you stealth that dagger of yours and we can speak to one another in a decent tone.” Of course if it came to a fight Torc thought he had some good advantages. Longer reach, he was familiar with his hunter’s dagger. Longer then an average dagger, not to mention it was his preferred brawling weapon.

Somehow a distance thought came to him that she was a panling that had very shapely thighs and another thought about stroking them came as well. Torc took a flicker to refocus his mind on the task and switch the dagger in his hand to a better fighting stance.

[Sevti]

It didn't surprise Sevti that Torc didn't recognize her. Not everyone remembered their dreams - particularly not from a couple of nights ago. But a part of the panling was disappointed as well. And she wasn't quite sure how to explain how she knew him without sounding... well, crazy. But maybe she was. Finding someone from your dreams as a living being did seem a little crazy, didn't it.

But for all that she had fond thoughts of him from the passion they shared in dreams, she still snorted derisively when he asked her to put away her dagger. "You're a Oneist, holding a dagger of your own, and you expect me to put mine away?" she asked incredulously. "I don't remember you being that much of a fool, Torc."

Capturing her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought for a moment. "I'll put mine away if you put yours away," she promised. "Then we can talk and I can tell you what I remember." It wasn't ideal, but it was the best she had. And, rediculous as it may be, she still wanted to learn more of this man in the flesh.

[Torc Blackfoot]

“And I don’t remember giving you my name… So what am I to think? Your some specter, or illusion created by the Panlings to confuse Oneists. What if you are real, then I should keep my dagger at the ready, so that I can, either have a fighting chance or slice my own throat to avoid capture. No dear Panling, I think not, we can still talk with daggers out.”

Torc fingers flexed around his dagger, he had reach and strength on her. He could probably punch deep inside of her with his hunter’s dagger. Of course the blade was made more for slicing then punching. The tip was sharp, but it was the edge that did the work. Then again he wasn’t really here to kill some Panling. So it took a lot out what moves he could do… Then again he could wait for a swipe from her and then close in grapping her dagger arm with one hand while bashing her in the head with the hilt. It would put her out cold and make damn sure he had time to escape.

A foggy sense of a white thigh came unbidden to his mind. So Torc squashed it. He didn’t need to think of Allegra at a time like this, nor was he going to rape this woman if he bashed her on the head. It was the old used sense of leather in his hand that kept him at the ready. Cutting deer hide and slice at flesh he knew the resistance he could have.

Wait Allegra, of course. Perhaps this Panling is just trying to go home. Escaped from Aveas and is going back. If that’s true then we could follow her… or if she was coming from the camp…

She was the answer, no magic was need all Torc had to do was make her feel easy and knock her out. Then get back to camp and then circle around her and either figure out where she was going or where she had been.

“So you wanted to speak, tell me why we should put away our daggers.”

[Sevti]

Don't think. Speak.

For all that her voice was soft as she spoke her piece, there was a passion held there that could not be mistaken. The more she remembered, the more the passion felt right. And she wanted desperately for Torc to remember the same.

"Remember three nights ago," she began. "In your dreams, there was a hot springs, secluded in a clearing. The smell of the jasmine in the air, the heat of the water around you. The firm stone at your back. And you were not alone. There was someone there that you shared your time with, that you shared Joy with, that you shared your thoughts and feelings with." Her dark eyes rose to meet his as she took a tentative step forward. "Me."

Nervousness caused her tongue to dart out and dampen her lips. "I don't remember everything," she admitted. "It comes back to me in flashes, this dream remembered. When I awoke the next morning, I thought you were a figment of my longing for Abeo. I never expected you to be real. But here you stand. And here is what I remember."

Another small, tentative step forward. "Your name is Torc. You're achadhiel. Your back is covered with scars that I found myself often tracing. You have a love..." She paused, trying to recall the name. "Alyce? No," she muttered to herself. "That's not right. It's longer than that. But I do remember that it begins with an A." She took a deep breath, then continued. "You told me you were a mage and told me of... trouble that you had. I don't remember it clearly either. But that was why you came to Pan's Isle. You don't want to hurt, people, Torc. You told me that. But you feel you have to because your God commands it. Your devotion to him is one of the most important and most necessary things to you."

She swallowed hard. The next part would be the most difficult. "You shared Joy with me. Many times and in many ways. And that Joy, in part, brought us together. And you were good at it," she smiled slightly. "For a Oneist."

[Torc Blackfoot]

Strange if she was so smart, why didn’t she know that mages have few dreams since they shield there minds from touching the Aether to much… Untrained minds touching the aether can’t bring horrors back their dreams. Torc had a basic shielding on his mind, like a seed that grew when he went to sleep. It blocked dreams but it protected Torc from lashing out with the aether uncontrolled. The only surety that a mage could have when asleep to exhaust himself beyond using any more magic.

Slowly Torc steadied his breathing. The dagger was within his hand and he steadied himself. He could lash out if need be but he had to check the aether for tempering with his mind. Slowly Torc sense dissembled to peak into the Aether. If he was wrong he would become vulnerable to magick attack during his transition. Torc needed a true shielding charm, or he was going to get hurt one day. Torc awaited the transition of senses, but it was the centering that completed the verse.

Torc’s magickal object was his dream. A wild white willow tree that was born of magick to treat the pollution of the scilius. It was his dream, his passion, and if given the chance the creation to show the world his knowledge. A willow tree pure white bark like the fresh powered landscape during winter, with golden leaves sparkling of the sun. Its how he reacted with the world, magic and the forest, his twin essences. He waited for the results from the Aether, but waited for the backlash of magick that a mind intrusion would cause.

[Tristam]

A mage can encounter more in dreams than your average man. Some mages ward against this, especially if they have made enemies in the spirit realms. Other sorcerers encourage their spirits to travel the Aether in search of the revelations that only come from dreams and divinities. Still, all mages must remember the fundamental truths that all men must dream or go mad and that a spirit too far from its body will never find its way home.

The tree flared into life and with it all the energies that made up the world. His own aura looked as it always did. There was no lingering energies of a cast spell nor were there any flows of energy feeding a weaving about him. The girl before him was similarly untouched as was the grove about them. No forces but those of nature were present.

[Torc Blackfoot]

This is wrong, something about this situation is wrong. Torc’s hands collapsed to his sides, dagger falling from his loose grip. Surely this had to be some kind of deceit, what in all possible normalcy could this be? He waited for a moment wondering if she to would drop her dagger.

Torc gathered small threads of force weaving them into a ball that would knock the woman down if she tried to attack him. She still was the enemy and truth be told that was enough reality to make him weary. Yet he held his arms open for an embrace if she would allow her dagger to fall from her.

[Sevti]

The Panling wouldn't be fool enough to drop her weapon to the ground as Torc had. She may not be able to get to it quickly in it's sheath, but it would be a far sight quicker than if it were lying on the ground. Watching him carefully, she slipped it through the cut in her skirt, sliding it home securely.

"You... believe me then?" she asked as she took a cautious step forward. It could be a trap. He was still a Oneist, even if she knew he held a tender heart rather than a cruel one. But she so wanted to believe. Believe in the goodness she remembered from her dream, the sorrow that he had in doing what he felt must be done.

But what if he feels what must be done is harm you because you don't believe as he does? the small voice in her mind asked. Hurting you with regret is still hurting you.

But he's giving me a chance, she retorted to herself. A chance to show him once more that he's on the wrong path. If I don't take that chance, I'm not being true to myself.

And so, right or wrong, she stepped forward into his embrace and, without another thought, pressed her lips to his in the hope that this would rekindle more memories of the night they shared in dreams.

[Tristam]

It could have been something from a bard's song. It would have been a tale of destiny where love conquered all and this the moment of rekindled passions and dreams made flesh.

Torc's ball of force slammed into the side of Sevti's head before her lips could touch his. It felt like the time her mother swung around in the kitchen and clocked her with a cast iron skillet. Sevti let out a cry and fell reeling to the ground. She was dazed and confused but clung to consciousness.

----------------------------

Gotham, Thyren, and Mnnaguth headed off into the forest in search of Sevti. They had no skill at tracking beyond three pairs of eyes but Sevti had little skill at concealing her passage. Thus with some difficulty and many stops to look closely for footstep or broken branch, the trio was able to follow Sevti's trail.

All doubt of this being the right way vanished when a female shout was heard of in the distance away from the sun and behind a thick set of thorny bushes.

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc didn’t stop, with waves of his hands he moved more threads of force and layered them on top of her. The first thread came down upon the woman’s hands then her feet. The weave was to become a web of force which would immobilize her. He hated that he had no time, but as each thread went down forcing the woman to be still.

If Torc had the time he would have curse the damn woman and his cautious nature. He should have just tried and kill her. Instead of a ball of force a simple rope around her throat would have done the trick. But no he had to play nice. Don’t take a woman’s life, don’t hurt non-combatants. Yep, if he had the time he would have said all those things.

Instead he laid the strongest force threads down upon the panling. Focusing on his task before she had the chance to do something stupid Torc did his best to lay cold force threads upon woman. It was the fastest Torc had ever assembled a weave, yet he did his best to keep it clean and tight.

[Gotham Devoue]

Gotham got to the edge of the thick thorny brush and stood their. He witnessed Torc man-handle a woman. Is that Sevti? he inquired.

[Guest]

OOC: Not sure who will answer this so I put it here for everyone to see.

Tristam, please feel free to delete it if you want.

My question is what do we see coming through the clearing? The webs of force Torc is creating: are they visible or is Sevti just laying on the ground appearing to struggle to get up? If we can see them, what do they look like, and is it obvious Torc is creating them. I assume (perhaps wrongly) that his eyes are open so that he can see what he is doing, but is he gesturing? Speaking any of the words marked as thought?


Thanks,
Mnnaguth

[Tristam]

First off, my apologies for the confusion. My minimalist description was clearly not sufficient to the take. Here is a clearer picture of the situation.

Gotham, Mnnaguth and Thyren have heard a scream from beyond some thick bushes. These bushes are thick enough to prevent them from seeing what is going on in the clearing beyond until they are about halfway through them.

Once there they will see Sevti on the ground. She looks rather confused and is struggling against something unseen, but it does look more like pressing against an invisibile wall than wrestling an invisible creature. Torc does have his eyes open but is clearly concentrating on something and making odd gestures. None of the words marked as thought are spoken.

I hope that clears things up enough for you all to make informed posts.

-- T

[Guest]

Mnnaguth's blood was still boiling, having never actally had a chance for all the pent up energy and rage to be released. Looking over Gotham's head he could see a slender man standing over Sevti. Through the red tinged haze of his Blood-filled vision it seemed that he was laughing at pointing at his new friend as she struggled to rise.

Thyren had made it clear that despite initial appearances the newest member of thier group was not an enemy. At least not right now.

The world in front of the desert dweller grew redder and redder to his eyes, his vision narrowing to a tunnel with a thinly built brown-haired man at the end of it.

GRGRGRGRGWWWWWWWWWWWW

The sound coming out if his throat was not something humanoid creatures normally made. It sounded more like what you would expect to hear when two wolves fought over a kill.

Stepping over / around / through Gotham and Thyren Mnnaguth's long legs carried him into the clearing. His voice, eyes, posture all made his intent clear.

And if he succeeded there would be one less Oneist soldier living on Pan's Isle.

(OOC: I know, I know, Torc isn't necessarily a Oneist soldier. But you try telling that to a half crazed, half giant and see how far you get! )

[Sevti]

At first, Sevti thought it was the impact of the kiss which had so knocked her for a loop. It was only a flicker later that she realized No... kisses don't HURT like this.

She stumbled and fell, holding on to conciousness with strong mental fingertips, holding on with sheer will. The Panling tried to reach for her dagger, her hand fumbling along her side to her thigh. But even if she had been able to grasp it and hold it steady, she wouldn't have known which of the three Torc's standing before her to aim her attack at.

Blinking her eyes to try to clear her vision, the three wavered into one. But by then it was too late. She felt the layers of force pressing her to the ground, holding her tight, negating her threat. Redness tinged her vision, but she fought it back. Even the strength of Blood would not be able to fight her past this, she knew.

Instead, she tried to meet Torc's eyes, tried to hold them steady on her. There was accusation in that look; accusation, pain, betrayal. "You tricked me," she whispered softly - for even if she wanted to speak more loudly, the pain in her head would not allow it. "You held yourself welcome to me and used it to hurt me. You're just like the rest of the murdering, raping bastards that the One's liars have sent here."

Before she could say more, a loud roar rent the air. Involuntarily, the woman closed her eyes tightly, the pain from her head becoming visible on her face. Please don't let it be someone coming to help him. Lord Pan, I don't know how much more I can take.

[Guest]

"Sevti?" The small halfling gasped out loud when he heard a scream and followed it, he felt the world moving as realized that it was Mnnaguth moving with his angry growl.

"No!" Without thinking, Thyrennan ran, leaving Gotham behind and quickly following the Half-Giant, trying to catch up with him as the halfinf heard him growl like a pure animal. It was then and there that he saw everything when thyren passed around a bush.

There was Sevti and she seemed to be struggling, lying upon the grass as if some unseen spirirt was raping here.

"NOOOO!"

He didn't realize that it was him screaming, as he found himself rushing, the anger boiling inside him.

"SEVTI!!!"

He screamed at the top of his lungs, mingling his piping voice with the thunderous roar of Mnnaguth as headed directly to the supine woman who was his friend.

[Grant]

"He's been gone awhile."

"Relax, Scipio. He knows what he's about."

"You know what they say about this island, Zeke. They say the trees watch us. It feels that way, too."

Oh, there were few in Aveas that hadn't heard and studied those very stories closely. The Inquisitors might say differently, but soldiers were a paranoid lot in general, much given to chance, fate, and the supernatural. Still, the young man needed to be lead, so Zeke would lead. "Pipe down, jackass. And get ready to move out. It isn't as if we can't find him," he shrugged. While he was improving, Torc was perhaps the worst woodsman adhiel Zeke had ever known...the poor gentleman could be tracked by a blind dwarf...so they could catch up to their commander without too much difficulty. "And load up your arcballistae. Maybe we can catch a dinner more appetizing than this shit..." he added, tossing away the uneaten end of his dried cake rations.

With that, the pair rose and slipped off into the woods with practiced ease, leaving virtually no tracks of their own as they went.

-------------

For Thyrennan, the scene was perhaps difficult to assemble at first...more difficult for him than for Gotham. It wasn't that his eyes were any less capable or his ears were any less functional...but he had the insufferable handicap of being knocked bodily away when the massive, hulking form of Mnnaguth charged more or less through where he and Gotham stood. Battered to the loamy soil a short distance away, the halfling recovered and rose up to scream out his dismay before he, too, charged in the wake of the half-giant. Indeed, the prostrate form was Sevti...and her attacker stood just over her, perhaps twenty yards away through the thick, lush overgrowth of the forest floor.

It would have been mad for Torc to miss the subtle shift in the forest before him. Towering at eight foot seven inches and weighing in at over twenty six stone...almost half the weight of a large horse...the charging half-giant could scarcely be considered subtle as his sprinting form cut a new path through the foliage towards where Torc wove his magic to hold Sevti. His spell could hardly be called complete...it had real beginning or end...but already he had placed a number of aetheric strands to hold the Panling down, and it was then his concentration failed and fell away from him in favor of the five hundred pound subtlety that charged through the forest even now.

Torc had perhaps three flickers to choose his fate before the massive creature (followed by the tiny one) closed upon him.

[Gotham Devoue]

OOC: Glad to have you back in our world Grant!

IC:

Gotham didn't know how to react to the situation. In one sense, he was on the side of the Oneist, seeing the adhiel as not so much of a nuisence, but people that ought to be brought into the light. Dominicus, was the ultimate light, and for the crusader, it was a lost cause. What he witnessed was beyond his control, and it was also something he completely disagreed with.

On the flip side, there were the adhiel and a race he had come to love, even through the hardships of his heritage. As a Oneist, he was some what sworn to kill them, and according to Father Rathe, that's what should be done. The man didn't feel that way and so his vision of the woman and achadhiel was torn beyond belief.

Swinging his sythe through the flattened brush, Gotham followed the huge creature. "Torc!" Gotham yelled through the thunderous cry of the half-giant. "Don't kill him Mnnaguth!" he pleaded. There was a rational explaination, and Gotham would recieve it, or his Aveas friend would be place into the aether.

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc didn’t dare let lose the enemy on the ground, for he was already outnumbered. So within Torc’s aether self he closed upon the threads with his will; neither allowing them to move nor adding to them. In a way it was like placing your hand hard over loose threads. The pressure of your hand was the only thing keeping it all together. No maid or seamstress could work on those threads, but for the flicker they would hold together.

As Torc applied pressure with his mind, he quickly lowered into a crouch to pick up his fallen weapon. As he grasped the cedar hilt within his fist, Torc waited upon the incoming bull. Allowing his fighting instincts to take over while he kept the pressure in his mind, for his only hope was to sidestep his opponent and make a downward slash at the half-giants thigh.

Instincts told him that down this opponent would have to be fast, otherwise the others would be able to gang up on Torc and kill him. It was a hope in the dark; for if Torc could sidestep the beast, if his wild downward slash bit into the half-giants thigh, and with all that if it bought him enough time to run, then Torc would have the lucks of Kings.

Readied as best he was able Torc, waited for his queue to sidestep and slash.

OOC: Welcome back Grant