Braving the Fallien Nights

[Christoph]

This is a closed thread designed as a speed-writing exercise.

‘Walk the burning path at dusk and find the boiling oasis.’ Those had been the soothsayer’s first instructions in reaching *name of mountain*, home to the legendary phoenixes. Elijah didn’t figure it out until late afternoon, when the sun sank slowly beneath the desert horizon, casting a river of crimson light over the smoldering sands. He burning path. He rolled his eyes. Apparently, simply saying, ‘walk toward the setting sun’ would have been too easy. Still, needlessly cryptic instructions were better than none at all; he knew how lucky he had been to receive any help from the xenophobic Fallien natives. Most didn’t like the idea of foreigners visiting the phoenix roosts.

With the first step of the riddle solved, Elijah pressed forward. With little more than tattered chef garb, his pack of arcane odds and ends, and a brown turban, he pushed deeper into the desert, walking the ‘path’ cast by he setting sun. Windswept flurries of smoldering sand grated caustically against his skin as he trudged through the sand. He pulled his turban tightly over his face and pushed on stoically. A trek through a hot desert was a small price to pay for even the chance of acquiring a precious phoenix feather.

Of all the treasures that filled the dreams of adventuring arcanists, phoenix feathers outshined even dragon scales and demon horns. Elijah was no different. Even a single one was worth enough to feed a small village for a year. In skilled hands, his hands for example, they could create some of the most powerful works of magic in the world. It was for this reason alone that he’d chosen to sail there before returning home.

Afternoon gradually shifted toward evening, and a merciful coolness overtook the endless seas of sand. Stars sparked in the sky, clearer and brighter than he’d ever seen before. One could be deceived by the soothing beauty of Fallien nights, but Elijah knew better. Even more than the wilds of Salvar, many dangerous things lurked in the shadows of the desert.

Suddenly, a scream echoed through the night. A chorus of feline hisses and snarls followed, coming from beyond the next dune. More out of curiosity than anything else, Elijah darted in the direction of the noise.

[Bewitched]

Perhaps saying it was too good to be true would justify the sheer stupidity of the lavender-clad girl... then again, nothing could compare to the monumental idiocy that landed the rune-witch in the almost literal boiling pot at that moment. Gold made the world go round, and as a teenage woman with more gold than she had ever saved in a bank at home at her fingertips, the glimmering pieces could have been molten for how fast they left her fingers.

Of course, it wasn't all voluntary. Travel expenses pinched her purse more than anything else, and this latest excursion was simply one more bad choice in a string of uninformed decisions that would surely haunt the young woman for years to come. If she survived that long, that is. A jaunt around the "new world" that had opened up to her after escaping from Moenia, the hidden city of rune-masters, sounded like a wonderful idea after recovering from frostbite. Of course, that was before she found out just how much gold was required for even the simplest journey. She settled for Fallien simply because it was an interesting name that she could pronounce.

After settling into a small room in a very cheap inn, the lavender-clad adventurer overheard talk of a journey to uncover hidden treasure. At first, she thought it odd that a group of hooded and cloaked strangers were talking in anything above a whisper, but she quickly dismissed it when they mentioned needing a magic-user in their ranks. Being the only person she knew of in the immediate vicinity that knew magic, she quickly volunteered her services. Surely they'd have to accept.

Of course they did. They traveled a short ways along a winding path that, in the setting sun, looked to be ablaze with a mystical flame. It was absolutely breathtaking. That was when things went wrong. Short, scared, and now surrounded by what she could only describe as a "herd" of strange feline anthromorphs that wanted nothing more than to either enslave her rape her, or do some unheard-of combination of the two, Alex did the only thing she knew to do in the situation. She screamed. She screamed long and hard, and amidst the screaming she somehow chortled out a few choice words.

Those words being, in this order and with a great deal of power behind them, Bankorok Redgormor Terra. With each strained syllable, a rune burned itself into the ground around her, creating a triangular barrier that took the human-like beasts by surprise. It was weak, but there was nothing else she could do. Forgotten was her broomstick, stowed alongside another small pile of gold in the tome slung across her back. Her broomstick that would- could easily carry her away from these freaks.

[Christoph]

Elijah reached the top of the dune in time to see an oddly dressed young woman surrounded by a pack of odd feline humanoids. They looked similar to the tiger-striped Caelgrar from Salvar, only with different colorations and leaner bodies. The band consisted of a mix between tan-furred and spotted warriors. The obvious leader was a huge, muscular creature with a magnificent lion mane. They brandished spears and teeth at the helpless girl, but seemed to be hitting an obviously magical barrier. On the whole, the scene looked rather amusing; he could almost picture himself placing bets with some of his tavern pals back home on how long her shield would hold up.

But reality was different than imagination; if he didn’t intervene, the defenseless victim wouldn’t stand a chance. Without another second of hesitation, he charged down the slope at the band of raiders. Several heads darted his direction. A spotted warrior with a spear lunged at him, but didn’t come within five feet before erupting into a pillar of flame.

The sudden supernatural brutality gave the remaining creatures pause. They glanced back and forth between the smoldering husk of their former comrade and the tendrils of smoke rising from Elijah’s fingertips and the self-assured smirk on his face. The lull lasted for but a moment. The remaining six lunged at the sorcerer in a flurry of claws and teeth. With a few mumbles words and a force of will, Elijah called fire to his command again. Raw power surged from his fingertips in a blast of fiery wrath that crashed into the attacking creatures in a mighty explosion, burning the first three alive in moments and driving the rest back with a wave of heat.

The pack’s leader staggered backward, singed fur covering his torso. His two remaining pack mates appeared at his side and glared murderously at the pyromancer. Eli stood his ground, his face balefully illuminated by the lance of swirling flame in his hands. The smell of charred flesh and singed fur tainted the desert air. Elijah grinned wickedly as they fled.

[Bewitched]

What at first appeared to be a single and very sturdy shield was anything but. Each strike that shattered one of the three walls prompted the rune witch to chain-cast the same spell time and time again. Years of being told she was no good in her hidden hometown culminated in what was possibly an extraordinary display of mental prowess. One that she didn't even realize she was accomplishing. She continued screaming until a rather loud explosion knocked her against the inside wall of her barrier. The translucent brown wall shimmered then shattered with the force of her body flying into it.

The only noise in the next few seconds was the sound of a roaring fire and the horrifying screams of beast-men as they breathed their last. Her plight was forgotten; she was forgotten in the face of this incredible sorcerer. And just that fast the beasts retreated back to whatever hovel they called home. The rune witch's mouth was gaping as the smoke slowly cleared and she was presented with her savior - smiling like a maniac gone on a power trip. She froze completely and utterly in that instant. She was going to die, there was no doubt in her mind. The man had only driven her tormentors away so he could be the one to end her life!

The first motor skill to regain function was her mouth, though the rest of the muscles necessary for speech were still quite paralyzed. Hands and feet slowly came back to her, prompting a rather awkward crab walk away from the insane murderer. How else could he kill something in cold blood like that and smile about it?

Trying to flip her body right-side-up ended in a rather painful rock lodging itself in her thigh as trembling limbs refused to support any more weight. This was it. She was certainly going to die.

"Just... just make it quick... please..."

She whimpered like a lost puppy, tears streaming down her face. If he could even understand her words, she doubted he would listen to them. Sure the man had shown that he could kill in an instant, but that wouldn't do with something like her. She was a witch, and witches were supposed to burn. That much she had learned from books back home explaining why they refused to integrate with the rest of the world.

[Christoph]

Bunnies approved.

“Make it quick?” Elijah asked, tilting his head. He’d driven away her attackers, yet she still whimpered like a frightened animal. “Oh, surely you don’t think…” He laughed warmly, his entire demeanor softening. “Heavens no.”

He took stock of the young woman. She was definitely some sort of arcanist, as he’d suspected, though he’d never seen one dress so identically to what one would expect from witch. She even has the pointy hat, he thought, his amusement showing on his face. But why was she so frightened of him? He didn’t exactly have a lot of experience in playing the Dashing White Knight, but he’d expected something different. Like gratitude.

Then, he glanced at the smoldering piles of flesh that had once been feline warriors. “Oh, no wonder,” he sighed, crouching next to where the girl had tumbled. She scrambled away from him in a panic. “No, wait… just… calm down for a minute. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m harmless—Okay, not harmless, but still. You’re safe now.” She didn’t look convinced.

“Why would I go through all the trouble of trekking out into the desert and dispatching of those raiders just to torment some defenseless girl?” His hands gesticulating as he spoke, and the girl flinched with his ever motion, as though the next wave of his hand could set her ablaze. It could, of course, but that wasn’t the point. “If I wanted to do that, I would just go the easy way and kidnap someone from the comfort of a city where heat and sandstorms are only a minor inconvenience.” Her eyes widened; that was the wrong thing to say, he realized.

“Ugh… not that I would know from personal experience.” He groaned and slapped his forehead with his palm. “I promise that I’m not going to hurt you.” He held his hand out to her. “My name is Elijah, crazed pyromancer. At your service, as they say. I like your hat.”

[Bewitched]

Honeyed words flowed from his lips, trying to reach through the veritable fortress of insecurity that was Alex's psyche. Every gesture could have set her ablaze. Even a barrier made with every last bit of her magical blood would have crumbled from a single fireball, but that still didn't stop her mind from repeating the incantation over and over again. It was only when he held out his hand and gave a truly genuine smile while giving his name that the rune witch began to relax a small bit.

Her right hand shook violently as she reached toward him, missing the handshake twice before finally settling down enough to allow him to help her to her feet. A crazed pyromancer; yeah, that seemed to be true enough. Then there was the whole bumbling his words like a fool. No bandit would say anything like what he said. They'd be too engrossed in actually, you know, killing her to fumble for the right words to say.

"A- Alex. Alex Lamia, rune w- witch. I'm glad you li- like the hat."

It was such a silly thing, introducing herself to a complete stranger that had just saved her life. Her words were clearly forced and she spoke far too fast to be even mistaken for calm. As stress began to melt away, a rising urge to laugh flowed from her overtaxed brain. Such a silly thing. Perhaps this man wasn't quite as bad as he first appeared to be.

"Thank you for, well, saving me, and, you know... umm... well... thanks."

An uncomfortable weight shifted on her back, and finally she remembered the tome slung across one shoulder. The book made from strips of human flesh cured into leather where bones bound the pages together. the book that wasn't nearly as evil as it appeared. The last thing she needed to explain was that book.

"So, how did you manage to just 'happen by'? It's not like this place," she gestured around to the expanse riddled with sand and rock, "not like this place is a tourist area."

[Christoph]

“I don’t know why it’s not,” replied Elijah with a smirk. “The scenery is nice, but I suppose the… wildlife is a bit aggressive.” She didn’t laugh. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said that I’d lost my shoes and was searching the desert for them, not the least because I’m currently wearing my shoes. And since I can’t think of a cleverer fallacious story, I might as well just tell you.”

He produced a roll of yellowed parchment from his pocket and unrolled it. The most striking feature was the bold, if barely recognizable ink sketch of a phoenix; it looked more like a duck that had been run over by a cart, but he couldn’t complain. Several lines of sharp text covered the space beneath it.

“I have been traveling the world for about a year, and I came all this way for a single purpose,” he proclaimed, pointing to the horrid drawing. “I’m seeking out the mountain of the phoenix’s, so that I may acquire some feathers. I’d settle for one, really. With my considerable talents, I could accomplish amazing things with just a single phoenix feather.” He sighed, momentarily lost in a reverie of possibilities.

“But anyway, it took me quite some effort, but I was able to procure some guidance from a soothsayer.” He indicated the parchment. “Mind you, it’s not exactly… concise or greatly comprehensible. Most of it seems to be metaphorical riddles and other such ambiguous nonsense.” He sighed. “But it’s the best I could get. I found my way this far by following the ‘burning path at dusk’ – a fancy way of describing that river of light that the setting sun reflects onto the sand. Cleverly loquacious, perhaps, but I wasted an entire afternoon trying to find some a road lined with literal fire.”

[Bewitched]

More and more apprehension melted away as the pyromancer Elijah continued talking, making tales of the "beautiful scenery" or losing his shoes, though they were still on his feet. It was as though he was almost as uncomfortable as she was in the situation, but that was impossible. How could a man so terrifyingly powerful be... human? The question bounced around in Alex's head for a while until the man brought out a very crudely-drawn scribble of something that resembled a delicacy at a four-star restaurant.

It was crude, yes, but the words were quite interesting, as was his infatuation with even one feather from the mystical bird. Even growing up far away from other civilizations, the rune witch knew what the phoenix was. Even more importantly, she knew what could be found near them. One of the "scribbles" near the glorious bird immediately captivated the teenager's every thought. Emerald eyes sparkled with an intensity that rivaled her terror of moments prior.

Forsaking all other ideas or preconceptions, she frantically reached for her tome, brought it about, and perched it up atop a large rock. The pages were moist and felt like corpse flesh, but she had long ago gotten over that particular nuance. Images that she only recognized as runes in passing flashed by one after another until she found one that looked eerily familiar. Three lines branched out and up from a fourth, each one curving as though the whole image was aflame.

"That's it. It's there. How can this be possible? They're supposed to all be locked away in the Great Vault. It's... it's Incendia! Lord, thank you for showing me this sign. Incendia!"

All fear was gone now, replaced with a single thought. The codex of Incendia, the tablet that revealed everything about the rune of Incendia, was drawn on the image of the phoenix.

"I'm coming with you. There's something I need up there as well." Alex stated quite matter-of-factly. there was no way she was passing up this opportunity. Since running away from her hometown, she had never before come this close to a relic that reminded her so much of that place. If she could get her hands on the codex tablet, oh the dreams she would could accomplish. Flames to combat flames, to keep her warm at night. At long last, she would no longer have to sleep in the cold!

[Christoph]

Incindia, or rather the ‘Codex of Incindia’, was an ancient tablet that allows one to decipher and thus utilize certain magical runes, specifically those pertaining to fire. She had several of those runes recorded already, which she very enthusiastically pointed out one by one from her strange magic book, just in case he secretly didn’t believe her. She explained that the codices were supposedly stashed away in some vault in the school she’d studied in, but that a few were still floating around. Elijah, being a humble hedge sorcerer who more often forged his spells out of raw magic and energy than through rune-based casting, held only an academic interest in the Codex.

“So let me get this straight,” he began skeptically, finally managing to get a word in as they walked though the desert under the starry sky. “This ancient tablet containing powerful and irreplaceable arcane secrets has been hiding up in the phoenix’s mountain this whole time and nobody’s noticed yet?” She nodded. “We’re not the first ones to venture to the roost. It seems like somebody would have noticed it by now.”

“If you don’t know what to look for, you would never see any significance in it,” she explained. “It’s just a stone the size of a plate with a rune on it.”

“I suppose you could be right,” he conceded. “Maybe it’s hidden, and the vast majority of those who actually survive the journey would want to get in, get a feather, and get out before they wear out their welcome too much.

“Me, I’d never have picked it up even if I did know about it, unless I just sought to sell it. I craft magic with my will alone as a focus. That’s really all runes are, you know; special foci for the same threads of magic.”

[Bewitched]

"All they are?" Alex stopped walking, stunned that Elijah still didn't understand after everything she had said already. Sure there was 'normal' magic where the wizard crafted his spells from the raw essence, but then there was the magic of runes. "You still don't get it, do you? It's a completely different type of magic, not just another focus."

Crossing her arms with a 'harumph', the rune witch opened her dark grimoure to a page that had obviously been much larger in the past. Tearing a three-inch wide strip of the page out, she flipped through the pages until she found the image of a piece of charcoal on one page. Reaching into the page thanks to the magic of the book, she removed the stone and placed it against the strip of paper.

"I'm a mere acolyte... less than that at best, but this should show you how they're different. I have not seen another mage able to enchant a mundane object since leaving Moenia, my old home."

Dropping the tome, it fell only a few inches before floating of its own accord around her waist level. An outstretched hand released the strip of paper and it, too, floated in midair as a magical wind picked up out of nowhere. Emerald eyes glazed over and her body froze, the only motion being her mouth speaking words that reverberated with an ancient and arcane might.

"Somes, the Mighty!" Before the teenage witch, the first rune, an elongated "W", seared itself into the sand turning it to glass in an instant. On the charm, the charcoal scribed the same lines and traced a triangle inside a circle. The wind began to circulate around her now, though neither her cloak nor her hat gave any indication of wind.

"Antorbok, the Projection!" The second rune, an "F" rotated upside-down, flash-burned the second point of an equilateral triangle into the side of a rock unfortunate enough to be in her way. The charcoal drew the same symbol on the charm, then scratched a few more symbols that meant little even to Alex. The arcane wind was reaching gale force now, yet still it disturbed nothing but the currents of magic that swirled around her.

"Redgormor, the Area!" the final rune, an inverted "N" seared itself into the sand, and for a brief second, the trio of symbols burned with the intensity of the noonday sun... then everything went silent. Alex's tome dropped to the ground, no longer supported by the arcane will of its owner, and the paper talisman was now harder than stone and now engraved with a circle broken into three pieces. The charm of wounding flesh pulsed with an unnatural red aura as it lay on the ground, complete.

The rune witch, mentally spent after casting so many spells in rapid succession even before attempting an enchantment, fell to the ground nearly unconscious. She managed to only go down to one knee, but she wasn't going to be performing any more magic for a while. She slowly stood up again, retrieving the talisman and her book as well.

"Scribing any spell I can cast onto a mundane object... that is the power of the runes."

She took an unsteady step toward Elijah, almost daring him to question her now, before collapsing once more. She was mentally spent, and her body was suffering as the arcane energies she commanded took their second toll from her strength now that her mana was depleted.

[Christoph]

“Right…” said Elijah, about as far from impressed as one could possibly get. It brought back embarrassing memories from his earliest days of arcane study, when he thought that accomplishing something as impressive as lighting a candle was the most amazing thing ever. “So… the power of runes is being able to… make wind and pretty lights? Most impressive.” When she staggered and almost fell, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he darted him to steady her.

“Runes are all well and good, but they are still means to the same ends, using the same fundamental forces,” he explained, setting her down gently. “What you use runes to focus, I can just do. The foci exist in my mind; that’s the only difference. There is a time and place for rune work, such as imbuing objects with magic, but it’s still all the same. I’m a modest student of enchantment. I can practice my craft with or without glyphs and runes. The advantage of runes is that they last – they continue to channel the threads of magic for as long as they endure.”

He slid a jet-black ring from his finger. “You can’t see them, but several tiny runes have been engraved into this ring. They merely hold the original spell in place more effectively. As a means for standard casting however, they act merely as a focus. Some people use runes, some use staves; I use my mind and my hands. They’re all means of channeling magic, one that can be a bit easier for learners to work with.”

He was about to launch into another in-depth explanation when he spotted a distant trail of steam glistening in the silver moonlight like a dancing spirit. It rose from a small patch of tropical trees a few hundred meters away. Boiling oasis…

He pointed in that direction. “That’s our next stop. The boiling oasis that the scroll mentions. Let’s go!”