[Port of Silence] Arrival (Mirage)

[Wrenmae]

Through the pain, Wrenmae eyed Chabiza with a newfound suspicion. He named him as an apprentice at first, but then suggested that for a mage like him...

Could he see the power he possessed?

What else could he see?

The paranoia of suddenly speaking to a man that had the unerring power of complete vision was sobering enough to ebb the pain when he tightened the bandages. Wrenmae looked elsewhere, unsure whether he could see lie in his eyes or if he could simply smell it off his soul.

Rising heat from the lava hole crawled across the ground and into Wren's other foot. The night seemed altogether more dangerous and pressing now. Without his full strength, he'd need to wait till morning to recover or at least...awhile.

While we're here, let's sit down and tell that guy a story.

Where have you been?

Talking incessantly, as usual. Where have you been? Oh. No! Don't tell me...you were...ummm...Delirious with pain!

Thank you Zan.

Hey. I have to entertain myself somehow.

What do I do about him.

About that guy? Huh. I never thought about it more than ten times yet. My vote is tell him what we're doing here. Maybe he can help!

Maybe he'll take the key.

Maybe we shouldn't HAVE the key. Think of that? Huh? Maybe it leads to more lava holes. Personally, lava holes and I are on friendly terms. Shyke, feels like a comfortable breeze compared to my own planet...but you, lil fleshling? Not so much.

I'm aware of my limitations.

Says the guy who, instead of getting medical attention, decided to fly to a fire mountain following a magic key.

Be helpful.

Constructive Criticism IS helpful

I mean relevant to now.

Tell him about the key. Worst, he takes it and kills you. Best, he leads us to where we need to go.

Reaching into his pocket, Wren pulled out the key and offered it up for the Myrian's inspection. "I found this last time I was on the island. When I arrived here today, it pulled me this way. I followed it...but it seems to lead me to the fire mountain."

He looked up at the rivulets of light through the trees, "I don't know what it is or where it goes, but I wanted to find out...at least before those Noktal gashed me in the leg."

Breathing out, he forced himself up along the bark of the tree, testing out the leg. It still felt stiff, but the binding held.

"Thank you," He finally offered, rubbing the back of his head, "I didn't realize how serious it was at the time."

Falling quiet, he took his shirt and put it on again, somehow uncomfortable with how much information the man could read from the lattice of scars across his chest...too neatly cut for anything but torture.

"I thought most of the people on the island were dead. I wasn't aware there was a Groundskeeper." His eyes fell on the hole and then worked their way back to the Myrian. "You use your magic to clean up their messes?"

[Mirage]

Chabiza took the key and brought it close to his eyes to examine. He turned it over in his hands, finger running over the engraving. His eyes were thoughtful, and he raised one eyebrow. He then handed the key back to Wrenmae, "Sorry I can't help ya. I've got no clue what your looking for," he said, though his expression from before might leave doubts about what he actually knew, "But I do know that where your going is probably one of the most dangerous places on the island. You better watch yourself."

The man stood, walking a good 10 paces from the tree and unsheathed one of the daggers, planting it in the ground point first so that the hilt pointed up. Its blade was decorated in faint glyphs, but other than that it just looked like a normal dagger. Chabiza then moved in a circle, planting daggers as he went until they completely circled Wren and himself. He talked as he did so, "You could say that I, and other's like me, are the caretakers of the Island. We see to the grounds, keep the populations in check, along with several other duties." He panted the final dagger and walked to the middle of the circle. Twisting his fingers into peculiar signs the Myrian whispered a recognizable phrase, an incantation, but the words were neither common, nor Nadar-Canoch. At the completion of the phrase the daggers would glow a light blue, and what looked like blue electricity would streak in a dome over both Wren and Chabiza, vanishing as quickly as it had come.

Clapping his hands together Chabiza settled against the tree Wren leaned against, taking the wineskin for himself and taking a gulp. Wiping his mouth he nodded to Wren, "You might as well settle down for the night. Its too dangerous in this area after the sun falls to travel or explore, and you should give that leg a rest. Take a load off and have a drink with me. Tell me your story kid. We got time."

Grabbing his pack he rummaged through it, pulling out two small green leaves. Placing one under his tongue he offered the other to Wren.

[Wrenmae]

Taking the key back, Wren slipped it back into his pocket, ever aware of its insistent pull toward the smoldering glow beyond the trees. By now the darkness had fallen almost completely, slinking around the edges of the pit Chabiza had dug. The daggers around them flared a brilliant blue temporarily, then fell silent again.

For some time, Wren only watched Chabiza, taking a swig of the wine he offered and taking the leaf to put under his tongue. There was a moment of mint, of sweetness, and the pain in his body ebbed almost immediately, ebbing to a dull ache. A sigh rattled through his body as he relaxed against the back of the trunk, reaching into his pack and pulling out a dried starfish, whispering for it to 'heal' and then laying it on his lap.

"I was born to a merchant," He found himself saying, "I grew up in Alvadas without my family and then left to seek out stories." Shrugging, he straightened his back against the rough bark and crossed his arms, passing back the wineskin. "Once upon a time I thought I could find a tale so compelling the gods themselves would sit in attendance to hear it. Instead I found magic and this place."

It wasn't wholly a lie, but also missing many elements of truth.

"I am not long for here," He admitted, "I was called to a place called Ravok, beyond Nyka. What I'll do there is beyond me, but there is a friend on this island I wanted to visit and the key was compelling enough to lead me out here."

He looked down at his blood stained hands, so apt in the fading light, and closed them.

"What of you? What does the living want from a place like Sahova?" He frowned, looking to his host and gingerly touching the wrapped wound on his leg. It was already feeling better from the combined leaf and maledicted starfish, but still...it was best he listen and remain for the evening. "WHat entices you to stay here among the dead, eliminating their mistakes, failures, and successes all?"

[Mirage]

"Mind you don't take too many of those Whicker Leaves ever few days. They're a nuit creation and get you addicted fast if your not careful." Chabiza looked at the Starfish curiously for a moment, but didn't say anything as Wrenmae began his story. Settling down against the tree he folded his hands on his chest, closing his eyes as he did. He might have been sleeping, however he was wide awake and very much alert.

"Sounds like your leaving a few of the good parts, but I don't blame ya kid. A good story isn't told all at once." He opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. The clouds had parted somewhat, and a few stars were visible twinkling high over head. "As for me I guess you can say its a matter of circumstance. Landed on this island nearly 15 years ago. Life was awful, nearly starved to death more times than I can count, was poked and prodded by the deadies. Then I got lucky. Got in good with the Wardens, and found I had a knack for killing shyke here. Guess you could say it runs in my blood." He didn't smile at his own bitter joke.

SIghing Chabiza looked over at Wren, taking a swig of wine before capping it, "Your not safe here, but your not in quite as much danger so get some rest. That wound of yours should be well enough to walk on. If you get up don't walk outside of the circle, and don't disturb the daggers." He rolled over, settling in as comfortable position as possible, "Right now we are unnoticeable. Not invisible. There is a big difference. The beasts will look right over us, ignore us and keep walking. Just don't do anything to attract attention. So no loud noises, no fire or light shows. Oh," He looked over his shoulder at Wren"Its nothing personal, but if you try anything I don't like or make a run with my stuff, I will lob your head off faster than you can blink."

[Wrenmae]

It was the casual nature in which he made the threat that convinced Wren the Myrian was telling the truth. So as Chabiza closed his eyes, Wren stared up at the stars before clouds obscured them once again.

"How do you learn your magic," he asked him quietly, "At heart, I'm a student...but no one has ever given me a straight answer. It was Projection, right?"

After a few more chimes, he called off the magic of the starfish, setting it back into his bag. Tomorrow he would follow the key to the fire mountain and see if it fed into a lock. Tomorrow he would seek what the gods had graced for him before he left Sahova.

His leg no longer hurt, not in the agonizing sense. Instead it pulsed dully, as if a tiny set of hands were pushing from the wound against the rest of his skin and the wrappings around it. Of course, no foul shapes pushed up against the bandages, but the Hypnotist watched it anyways, eyeing it warily. He had seen worse before, and on Sahova...things were rarely what they initially appeared to be. Chabiza was a living man here, subsisting and surviving...even thriving in a place so blasted and forsaken it was any wonder life existed at all.

The warmth of the fire pit drew strange creatures from the maze of tangled trees, things that existed only on the edges of shadows, watching with multi-eyes and chuffing to each other in a language Wrenmae did not understand.

They were not noticed, or perhaps, the creatures did not care about them.

Zan kept a watchful vigil, having no need for sleep, but Wren was soon drifting...the rigors of the day enough to put a shroud of exhaustion on his body.

He slept.

He did not dream.

[Mirage]

For a few minutes it looked as if the Myrian wouldn's answer, but then he said softly, "Your right kid, about the name of my magic. If you want to learn it though you will need to ask someone else. I wont be ripping anyone's soul out so they can lose themselves in their own arrogance." Then he fell silent, and stayed that way until mornings light.

Long before Syna rose over the horizon Chabiza awakened, standing and brushing himself off. With a deft flick of his hand all of the daggers flew into the air, sheathing themselves with the sounds of scraping metal.

Stretching, Chabiza popped his back, rolling his neck and did several stretches before turning to Wrenmae, "Well Wrenmae, would you like an escort for the rest of your journey? It is not too far out of my way, and your still not fit enough to fight off some of the beasts that crawl closer to the base of the volcano."

OOCShort post, but it gets us rolling again

[Wrenmae]

"You're sure I'd lose myself in arrogance?" the mage asked him before falling toward the abyss of sleep, "Perhaps you underestimate me."


He was awoken in the morning by the sound of metal, snaps of steel on steel that brought him from the depths of slumber with a start. Gingerly, he tested his leg, wincing at the remnants of pain there. But both the leaf, the rest, and the starfish had done their jobs well and the wound had closed over, leaving only a lingering stiffness and dull ache. He said nothing to Chabiza on waking, letting the Myrian gather up the camp and his own supplies before standing.

Like the Myrian, he stretched, taking care around his injured leg. He couldn't run well on it, but walking wouldn't be a problem. Zan was quiet this morning, more observing and basking in the warmth of the lava pit still spitting flames than pointlessly chattering.

"I would appreciate it," Wrenmae offered with a wan smile, "You wrapped up my leg and you're offering to accompany me to the foot of the fire mountain...I'm curious, what is it about me or what I hold that is important enough to merit your intervention?"

He shifted his clothes, centering his belt with weapons, and ran a hand through his hair, "I don't believe, for a moment, that someone like you is only politely interested in giving me a hand. You don't seem the man to put yourself into needless danger..." He reached out with his mind, weaving a tapestry of calming threads and ease to lightly play against Chabiza's mind, "If you know something I do not, I would prefer not walking ignorant...if you don't mind."

[Mirage]

Chabiza raised an eyebrow and snorted, "What makes you think there is anything special about you or your quest that I find interesting? Kindness is not something found on Sahova. I help you on a whim and nothing more." Though he said this line with confidence, something about his expression made the words ring with just a hint of falsehood.

The weaves of calmness fell on their marks, and as Wrenmae finished his preparations Chabiza began making his way around the large crack and into the dense forest, his heading toward the fiery mountain ahead. He remained silent for a time, but it was not long before he broke it willingly, "Life here is hard for a pulser. The odds are stacked against you, but then that is why the Wardens were founded. We exist to give the living here on this god forsaken island hope and a reason to keep fighting. So, you can say I am helping you out of both duty and whim. As another living person I would not feel right leaving you to die, but then again I am not going so far simply for your sake. I will not lie, i have my own interest in seeing you to your destination."

[Wrenmae]

It was only after Chabiza spoke the second time that Wren took interest. Beneath the guise of stiff solidarity, there was a certain...lonlieness? To the man. At the very least, he seemed ill at ease to allow Wren to wander off on his own. His very presence here suggested the danger of what lay ahead...and yet the key pulled him toward the cascading anger of the fire mountain before them. Even in the light of day, the telltale stream of smoke pushed into the heavens, and flecks of ash fell from the sky.

"I came here with a nuit I consider a friend. He spared me from some of the pulser hardships, but I can understand that it is not an easy life that you lead." He would have said more, but the words felt hollow. He knew nothing about Chabiza or the challenges he faced. He'd borne witness to his might, and his skill with magic was nothing short of incredible. It was strange...it was only after he'd pushed at the pinnacle of some magics that he began to find there were already some there, skirting the tops with their heads.

Perhaps Mizahar was recovering, at least in its own way.

They were in the shadow of the mountain, ever forward, and the heat changed by minute degrees.

"What's your stake with the fire mountain," Wren asked him, "Or the key?"

[Mirage]

Chabiza looked up at the rising smoke that threatened to block out the morning sun. He pushed aside a branch and ducked another another leafy overhang, navigating the terrain carefully but with practiced ease. In this area at least the plant life seemed to be thriving, most likely due to the nutrient rich soil found at the base of the volcano.

"No life is easy kid," he said, "But there's no use in crying over what cards you have been dealt. Just got to play the hand as best you can."

He pushed aside another large limb, holding it back for Wrenmae to pass before continuing on. The terrain was getting harder and harder to traverse, the trunks pressing closer together and what little space was left was filled with shrubs and bushes of varying sizes. Their destination was well in sight, but their going was slow.

Glancing back at Wren, Chabiza pushed through a particularly thick patch of brush, which was quickly shredded by invisible tendrils as he continued on, left arm hanging limply at his side, "I've got no stake in anything Wrenmae. In fact I can't even tell you what your about to find. I'm just following a rumor I shouldn't even know, which until now I didn't really believe." The foliage before them was cut and cleaved to make their going easier, particularly those branches that would be difficult to step over for Wrenmae, "Even on Sahova you will find stories and legends, unexplainable events just like anywhere else in Mizahar. It just so happens that this volcano happens to be one of them." A small tree toppled to the side, crashing into several more just like it with a resounding crash. Jumping nimbly over this he continued, "They say that its here, somewhere beneath this mountain, that Sahova's greatest treasure lies. Don't know what the treasure is, or how to find it, or even if the rumor is based in any truth."

Another tree fell, and suddenly they found themselves at the very base of the volcano, its peak spewing black smoke high above, "Though the rumor is very clear about one thing. The thing that guards the treasure... Well it's supposed to be able to collapse the entire island into the sea, if it decided to." He looked back at Wrenmae, "Now where does that key say to go next?"

The key's pull would steadily increase the closer they got to the base, and as they cleared the trees it would become a very noticeable force pulling them to the left around the Volcano's base, directly to a lava stream on the other side that lead down from the mouth of the volcano and into the forest that surrounded it.