Quest for the Lyre of Orphaeo

[Philomel]

A soft giggle, filtering through the illuminated gloom. Bright, gleaming eyes from under the hood gazed back, as the lone figure stood atop the ancient stone coffin. Beneath her leather-wrapped feet the sarcophagus lid was cracked one third of the way, the remainder of the stone pushed back to shatter on the ground. Pieces of it littered around the thirty metre long avenue that was the road to the last resting place of Orphaeo, the praised bard of old Tel’Eldalie. All was uplit by a pulsating globe of white light, that hung by itself in the empty gloom behind the figure. Philomel ground to a halt, hooves carving a skidded path through the dust as she faced the horror that was No-One, and beside her the great firey mass that was Veridian bared his teeth, similarly coming to a stop.

"Beloved of Drys, I suppose," cackled the dark mage, sounding like the gnarled witches of legend. "Here to stop me?"

Breathing in a sharp intake, Philomel stared, eyes narrowing. Searching over the form of the unknown villain before her she tried to figure out who or what she might be, any clue to her allegiance or religion. For the first time viewer this woman was a tall fellow, with bright blue eyes and whisps of silvery hair peeking from under her hood. She wore dark, had the curves and build of a human, but with the proud baring of a noble. Carefully Philomel unsheathed her white glorious mythril sword and let it hung by her side, glowing with the shimmer of light with the flames dancing over Veridian's back. He was a behemoth beside her, nearly five metres from nose to tail, and, she hoped, a suggestion of the power she held. A suggestion that may leave this situation without bloodshed.

However, the faun was stunned to hear that the human girl seemed to know she was Drys'. That was a matter that Philomel had not even told her closest friend Vaeron when they had first met, until a couple of months into their companionship. And here was a complete stranger, telling all the truths.

Our enemy is powerful, Philomel whispered to Veridian through their mindful connection. The fox inclined his head, never taking his eyes off the enemy.

"Don't answer me then," the woman continued, dropping a long bow to the ground with a light thunk, "But know that I have conquered already. The lyre is for my god, not yours."

"The lyre belongs to no man, but to those who granted the bard it in the first place," Philomel declared, tightening her hold on her blade. "As it is written, Orphaeus is a servant of the Ancients, and it is those who chose who to gift it to."

Slowly the woman's eyes glowed, and she seemed to resonate with joy. "Ahh! You speak!" she cried, raising a hand. With a flurry of movement she threw back her hood, exposing her mane of beautiful hair. The curve of her face could now be seen, showing young features and sharp lines. Her mouth was a curve of amusement and quite suddenly she became animated in her speaking: "so glad to see you, my dear enemy who I am about to kill! For too long we have been following one another."

"I do not know who you are," Philomel hissed darkly, the violent tendancies showing in her eyes, "but you are treading very precarious ground here. My goddess sent me here to ensure the lyre did not fall into the wrong hands. And yours seem very wrong indeed."

Philomel! Veridian barked, Do not be hasty! Do not you see the globe of light? This woman is a mage, and we do not know where she gets her power from.

The faun growled, but knew he was right. She bared herself a little, and began to open her mouth again to try to rectify what anger she may have placed in - but their enemy was faster. A fake pouting frown appeared on her face, and she crossed her (now) free arms.

"Oh that is not very polite is it?" she crooned, "neither was my travelling companion. He knew too much, so then I had to kill him. Send him right into nothingness, into dust and ashes. Just what I will do with you."

Philomel's tactic of trying to be nice was forgotten then as soon as it had come. She knew she stood on dust - probably the same matter that had been this mage's apparent friend. Raising her sword, she stepped forwards, the new clock of brilliance flapping around her.

"You will do nothing of the sort," the Matriarch screeched, "the goddess will be praised!"

And with that she slammed down her hoof. The pathway, the cave, the tomb - everything - was suddenly flung into violent reverberations, the rocks clattering together as she shook the world. Across the upraised land the land began to splinter. It shivered, roared, and a rift was suddenly opening as the quake took it fiercely, severing the world in two.

The woman gasped slightly, eyes widening as she saw the world beginning to shake and swoon. Glancing around her she looked as if she feared the ceiling might cave in. Philomel saw her do so - so she was being distracted. Good.

Thud. Vehemently, she banged her fist this time on an upraised rock, making the very stalgamites shiver in their hold. Then, gathering herself, the faun blessed of Drys steeled herself to become what she had always desired. Powerful. Maginificent, beautiful and -

Suddenly, the witch-mage of whatever species was not so distracted. Standing at the end of the pathway platform, near the not splintered top of the great poet's tomb, she turned her attention back to the faun. Even though the stones from ground to ceiling sung of destruction and mortal end, she still would not be faltered. A slow grin appeared on the mage's face, as the caverns shook, and she cried in the loudest voice:

"You will not take me so easily ..."

And she beat her hands together. As Veridian bared his teeth and sped forwards. Down by the side of the dyke, as low as he dared, as fast as he dared, as the other mage turned her attention fully easily to Philomel. From her hands a golden light began to glow, as bright and as glorious as the mage light above. Except - well. By her words this was likely a spell, a weapon of some sort and it would only be beaten by equal magic.

Drys magic, honoured magic. The light streaked. Philomel fell to the ground as her body began to writhe from being overtaken by the beast that resided within her. The beast that longed to get out, to cause destruction and chaos. All the while Veridian ran, so small and secret that the light that was not aimed for him never got to him.