RP Crowsong

The cleric shot a look at Fen. "Yes, I've already got 'dying backwards' on the list. It's just that according to everything I've ever known about 'dying backwards,' this isn't supposed to be how it works. Weeks late? With no trigger, except that we dug him out of the ground? Over the course of several minutes?"

"Get the mage out here, then. "
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What?

"He looks preserved. Something magical."
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I just said he'd been repaired--

A hint of exasperation crept into her voice, joining the jumble of other emotions already present there.

"Dzwonyr," she was very careful to pronounce his name properly, "nobody knows how any of this works. I'm as close to an expert as you're going to find. If I can't tell you what's going on here, the Protectorate woman won't be able to either." And she didn't want to be away if the corpse started changing again. He'd done his own medical examination of the corpse, too, not content with her own admittedly-scatterbrained appraisal. And he kept trying to give her instructions. It was like he didn't trust her anymore. Which was stress she didn't need, under present circumstances.

But--well, they'd been traveling together for ages. Half her life. Months, at least. They'd grown to trust each other in that time, she'd thought. Surely it couldn't be that. A strange person, who Dzwonyr had determined was a magic user, showing up at the same time this happened? Hadn't she been trying to leave, when they'd headed out back? Maybe she'd done something.

"I'll go get her," she said, shame-faced. Her voice had softened considerably. She'd been jealous. How embarrassing. "But if--something changes, about him, shout? Please?"

She ducked back through the door, past the firbolg and the annoying little rodent creature.

"New girl?” She was looking directly at Aleyah, who, hopefully, still had her hand on the door. “Get out here; Dwzonyr wants your opinion on a corpse."
 
Aleyah did indeed still have her hand on the door, waiting to see how their newest situation had resolved. Based on her being called for, it seemed it hadn't been. She removed her hand from the door, retrieving her cloak from the hook on the wall and began to walk over. "I figure that's fair enough. I didn't want to intrude, considering how high tensions seemed to be," she said, flipping the cloak back over her shoulders just before drawing even with Smoke.

"So, how bad- oh. That's... unusual." The woman took pause as she neared the back door, and as Pyotr came into view. She took a few steps forwards, before kneeling in the rain-soaked grass to look over him more closely. Then, soon after, with a deft hand sign and a mumbled incantation, began to channel a spell, the silver of her eyes seeming to glow slightly in the gloom. They darted across his form, and her face became more concerned with each pass. To anyone familiar, it was clear she had cast detect magic.

"Hmmm... there are traces of evocation, conjuration, even abjuration lingering. But it's all... mixed, blended with something else. I can't identify it." She closed her eyes, and upon reopening, the glow was gone. "Whatever it was, it was novel. Unique. I have to imagine it has something to do with those letters you were all sent." She rose now, knocking some of the mud from her knees. "Speaking of which, I think you should answer my question now. The letters- they mentioned a vault, correct? He wouldn't ever tell me. Said he wanted it to be a surprise."​
 
"Respectfully, I want a second opinion." Dzwonyr stated, looking to Smoke with a slightly sympathetic-- but still outwardly cold-- eye. This was not the man she'd known; his gaze was more reserved, and far more skeptical. Every instinct she held about him was right-- he did not trust her. "You deal in clerical sciences. She has a different outlook, I reckon."

And so he waited. Crossing his arms as he kept his squat over the grave, looking over Pyotr's body in silence-- hand deviating only momentarily to take the crystal from his pocket and turn it over in his hand, looking at its form before it flickered back to the corpse of his ally.

Unfortunately, Aleyah's assessment was similarly unhelpful. Dzwonyr rolled his neck for a moment, sighed, and knelt down a bit further-- hooking an arm under Pyotr's form and pulling him from his resting place, unearthing whatever remained hidden and slinging the corpse along his back in a soldier's carry. He stepped towards the house with a slow pace, moving sideways through the door-- and setting the man's body down upon the kitchen table with a thud, stepping back.

"Letters specified a reunion. He didn't say much about the vaults he was after. Just a general mention of it." Dzwonyr muttered, wiping at his face with his forearm. He gave a brief glance to the fairy, his rage not yet vacant, but at the very least repressed. Still, his covered eye burned and his skin almost seemed to itch. "We know about as much as you. In fact, you probably know more than us."

After a moment, he procured the stone once more. Holding it out for others to see.

"But he was keeping this covered in his luggage trunk. A key, perhaps, or some sort of attunement material. Not sure."
 
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"If it is a key, then perhaps it is one to open the vaults." She frowned, "And if it is one to open the vaults, it means he has ventured there before. Alone. Perhaps he was attacked by whatever he found?"

It certainly seemed odd.

"But, until we know what's there, I fear there's not much we can gather. We... we may have to make the journey ourselves, or send someone else in our stead."

Felys shook her head.

"Dzwonyr, was there much else upstairs? Journals, maps- any documents on his travels?"
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“Mm.” Sana intoned at that prospect. It was possible perhaps, though that seemed far more within Smoke’s area of expertise than her own. She rose to her feet as the duo who had gone outside returned carrying Potyr’s body. He certainly looked better than she had expected or even better than what the giant had said about the state of the body not but five minutes prior.

“What’s different?” Sana murmured, her gaze breaking from the body to look up at the ceiling above. The change hadn’t begun when Fen had buried the body, but after had been disturbed by the giant? An arcane reaction from something Smoke or Dzwoyr had found upstairs? “A mage nearby?” She muttered the last thought as she turned again to look out a window. That offered her only gloom and rain.

“It would be worth checking the vault out, see if anything there feels similar to the ah, glimmer on Potyr.” Sana said, finally walking over to the table.
 
I want a second opinion. Wow; that burned. She'd known it would, but she hadn't expected it to feel as bad as it did. She was still stewing on it whe she got back with Aleyah, and missed half of what the protectorater--er, protector--proctor?--whatever, her, she, that one, said.

"I used to like surprises," she mumbled, slumping into a free chair. "Yeah, Felys, there was a map of the inside of something. It's probably important, but." But I'm too tired and stupid to move. "We can get it later. If it hasn't turned back into a tree.
 
"The map is most likely for the vault," Dzwonyr stated, looking away from Pyotr's corpse. "In any case, we've no use sitting around here and speculating what happened to his corpse. Any answers we're seeking likely lie within that vault, as Sana stated."

He walked towards the door, now-- slipping the rock back into his pocket. "I imagine we're all going, yes?" Dzwonyr glanced to Fen, at that. He approached her, slowly-- leaning down a bit to get a good look at her.

"I don't know why you're still here. I told you to leave. But if you try any more of that glamour horseshit, I'll be the last one you ever cross."

And at that, he straightened-- pushing towards the door, and out into the rain. The sooner they reached the vault, the better.
 
Fen shrank back a bit as Dzwonyr glared at her, ears drooping. Grabbing her hat by the brim, she straightened slightly, staring right back.

"Not gonna. Not hafta." She tutted. "Don't gotta send Fen away, not when it's getting all interesting! Secret vaults and secret magics and dead people looking all less dead!"

She stuck out her tongue, then glanced at Sana. That was a nice one. Didn't shout. Didn't look all sadly.

"I can stay, yes yes? I can."
 
The storm, by this point, had abated. A fine mist still hung in the air, and far over the mountain range, thunder echoed down, but it was clear that it had passed over the small village and it was not currently an ongoing issue. The group left the House on the Hill, the body of Pyotr secured firmly to Aibek's back. They circled around the building, and began their trek to the foot of the mountains.

Beneath the trees growing along the base and up the mountain range, the group will find it relatively easy to stay dry. The canopy above has caught most of the rain, leaving the only concern the remaining damp mist hanging in the air. The ground will have been held together by the grass and tree roots, and any leftover rainwater has concentrated into channels down the mountainside. The air is cool and crisp, and there are no signs of anyone ever having come up this way.

It was a twenty minute walk from the House to the foothills. You stand at the forests edge, with no vault in sight.​
 
The rain was mostly trapped above them, and though the ground was still muddy, the air itself was perfect for a walk. Smoke was following closely after Pyotr, watching the corpse for any further signs of regeneration. Just staring at Aibek's back. Which was very awkward. She had to imagine the tall man felt like she was staring holes in his back. Which, well, maybe she had been doing that a little, after they'd left the house, but it was hard to stay sullen in weather like this.

"Have you ever needed to carry a corpse before?" she asked. "Er--I mean, it's just, you're doing a very good job. So. Um?"
 
Dzwonyr was silent throughout the march to the forest. The walk brought time for reflection, and, perhaps more importantly, vitriol. In the span of twenty minutes, he thought upon the death of his comrade Pyotr, resolved to enact revenge upon those who had caused it, and compartmentalized the task deep within the mind-- shoving down the emotional pain and rage that accompanied loss, and allowing the emptiness that paired with each to take hold. Anger would do him no good, here. Not now. Like food, like water, hate was meant to be conserved in times of crisis-- managed and rationed, its energy finite and dangerous.

When they arrived at the forest's edge, Dzwonyr spared a glance to the group, then nodded forward-- taking his eyepatch and lifting it from his head before tucking it away. He'd taken point, which meant nobody would see the eye, for a time... until they did. His draconic pupil contracted from the sudden influx of light, and darted amongst the trees with its twin-- looking for any sign of life.

"Somebody could have beaten us to this place, if they'd killed Pyotr." Dzwonyr stated. "Keep your eyes peeled."
 
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It seemed to come as a relief, at least, that the canopy above was enough to stop the rain from falling so much as to require the use of a hood. Much as Felys was used to wearing one, it was awkward to fit over the horns.

Of course, this was the least of her worries at present- which was, perhaps, why she was dwelling on it.

The reunion, mysterious as it was, had only led to more mystery, each one more sordid than the last. Though she lacked the depth of connection with Pyotr that the rest of his party displayed, she couldn't help but be troubled by his demise. He was a kind man, from when they met- even to her, even to the Witness. He led his group well, fostered the right connections, struck bonds deep enough to successfully call a reunion, even after the party dissolved. He was strong, and brave, and capable, and something had managed to kill him.

Perhaps it was a bad idea for her to have come. Things never went well when she did.

"Did you find out what the vault would've looked like?" She asked, her own eyes scanning the forest in tandem, "I'm afraid I could not gather much on the topic, as I was occupied with seeing to the fae."
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The mud trapped the sole of his boots each step, already being quite big, with his own pack and the full weight of a second man on his back, it all made the treck harder on Aibek. Yet, he did not show it, instead marching along with the rest of the group, nothing but a slightly heavier breath betraying his struggle.

"Can't say I have, no." He looked back and down towards Smoke, barely able to see her over his own shoulder. "I've seen plenty moved, though rarely with this much care."
The arena could be unmerciful to young men with more brawn than brains. He did not count himself lucky to survive, simply resourceful enough to.

Taking the chance with the brief stop, the firbolg shifted his cargo on his back- careful enough to not shake the poor corpse too much, yet managing some respite for his shoulders. A twinge of worry colored his face as he looked trough the branches, Aibek was not one to walk in company, much preferring finding his own path and he had not had a chance to look at the map that was apparently found.

"Are we sure we know our way trough this forest? I'd much rather not get lost." Liquor hit his lips right as the last word was spoken, then his flask quickly found its home at his belt.
 
"Oh. Well--I was going to say, you're--er--doing it well?" What did she mean by that, exactly? How did one carry a strapped-on corpse poorly? "As for the forest, um. No. I've never been here before. But if we look long enough, we'll probably figure it out."
 
Fen scampered forward ahead of the group on all fours, tail swishing sinuously behind her, a wide grin plastered on her face. Rising up onto her legs, she leaned against a nearby tree and chuckled.

"Deepwoods, darkwoods, dimwoods, dearwoods. Trees eat their dead, grow again. Maybe Pyotr-Thing was a tree."

She waited a bit for the group to catch up before falling in line beside them, walking with exaggerated steps to match their own gait.

"Looking for what Pyotr-Thing wants? He wants you getting lost in the deep, deep woods?" She bit back a laugh. "Fen's good at finding wantings, yes, yes. Never lost when you know where you're going."
 
Dzwonyr was, predictably, unamused by the creature's ramblings.

"I'm quite wanting you to shut the hells up." He snapped, pushing forward to get ahead of the fairy. The thought of being led by Fen was preposterous. "Be useful and scout ahead to try and find the damned vault. I don't know what it looks like, but we'll know it when we see it."

He gave a glare towards the fairy. "And don't you dare leave my sight, if you plan on sticking around as an ally. Trust is earned, and you've squandered any good will you could've garnered. Do we have an understanding?"
 
“With mud like this I dare say we could simply follow our own trail back should we become lost.” Sana said, watching the little one as it scampered around the trees. Impressive fortitude to be the only one not in a dower mood really, though that seemed a thought best kept to oneself. “Though that is supposing there isn’t some charm on these woods that keeps us walking in circles.” The elf added, tapping the end of her staff against a tree as she passed it. Her gaze slid to Potyr’s body and she frowned.

“Strange magics afoot, in this place.” She muttered.
 
Fen rolled her eyes.

"Scout ahead! Don't leave sight! Contra-dict. Stupid, stupid rules."

Hopping beside Dzwonyr, she scrambled up his back, perching somewhat preciously on his shoulder in a half-squat - grabbing a handful of his hair for purchase. Holding her hand over her eyes, she peered ahead.

"Fen sees." She glanced down at him with a sharp grin and rapped him on the head. "Trees. Helpful!"

Looking to Sana, she huffed.

"No circles. You said footsteps, no footsteps! That'd be funny, though. Stupid enough. Stupid, stupid, stupid."
 
Like a fellow who just had a man-eating hawk descend upon him, Dzwonyr's pace stopped-- body still as Fen climbed up his body. He stumbled, a bit, and let out a grunt as his hair was grabbed-- one hand reaching up to try and hurl her off before he resigned himself and trudged forward, eyes narrowed. One lid twitched.

"Get... off of me." He growled. "Or I'll cook and eat you for dinner, you miserable little rat."
 
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"I see."

Ah, they didn't know what they were looking for. There must not have been many clues- the secrecy of the vault didn't lend itself to map-keeping, she supposed. Still, as much sense as it made, it didn't make their job any easier.

Felys hung back from the group, still searching around her for any signs of an entrance- to absolutely no avail. Everything in the forest looked identical. Sana was right; they could've been walking around in circles, for all they knew. Although, Felys of all people wasn't known for her ability to know where she was going. She tended to drift. This might have just been another example of that.

Dzwonyr and the fae were arguing again. Quite why he decided to bring her along was beyond her, but she was never one to argue. Besides, he seemed more irritated at the prospect than she ever could. Felys didn't mind. She couldn't.

She'd offer to help, but there wasn't much she could do.
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