Personal Quest Long may you run


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#1
LongHeat sun burst through the trees like so much ribbon sliced through with sharpened scissors. Tangled and torn it fell onto the mulch below, silencing the footsteps of those who had gathered. That would probably be helpful, no? To travel so silently? Oh time will tell! And that is the fun of it, you see. The Woods look on eagerly, the sentient multitude of voices and eyes that they are. They are one and many and today they will watch a play as old as any, called the rescue. It is one of their very favourites for it encourages audience participation, and oh! are they eager to play.



This is a rescue PQ to get Amalia, Kiada and Caiside back (probably Adam too, has he even been missed though? what a miscreant). You will have heard about the missing from either Deimos or Jigano (or anyone else involved), will have been told where and when to meet.

This PQ will move swiftly, so if you cannot commit, feel free to come up with an IC reason you can't come (oh no, that darn LongHeat flu!). Posts can be very short (save your character introspection until later!)

Unlimited spots, moving on in 24 hrs.

1. Jigano
2. Deimos
3. Killian
4. Samuel
5.
6.
7.

Coding base by Sky!
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#2
Jigano had arrived early, pacing at first, senses straining to hear, to see, to smell the world around him as if he could pick up the traces of those who had stolen his friends from him - or better yet, his friends themselves. Oh, he would gladly welcome them home, safe and sound, and not need to trade debts and favors and risk even more of those he cared for.

But that was not to be. He shivered in spite of the summer heat, then smoothed his vulpine ears back into his silver hair, wearing his human face and form once more, well before he caught the sound of the approach of the next to arrive. He composed himself, pulling his poise around him. Blue eyes were glacial with determination, but he stood with outward calm in a long-sleeved tunic that blended greens in the patterns of feathers and leaves, a subtle camouflage. His customary white hair was currently bare, but the braid he was wearing it in was tucked down in his tunic, a hood ready to pull over and hide its wintry gleam.

He had come prepared with his rapier on his hip and a bag of first aid supplies, efas herb salve, food, and water slung over his shoulder. He carried his lantern and its Sparkbird feather at his side, and he nodded, solemnly grateful, to those who came to join their cause.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

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#3
DEIMOS
Delivered from the blasts
The pattern repeated, a concentric series of lines and cycles meant to fray, meant to anguish, meant to despair.

Except, this time, instead of crawling away, slithering out of sight, and hovering in those bouts of sorrow, familiar and frigid, he persevered. The Reaper’s intentions were stark and cold, but so very much alive, emboldened by the bristling, barbaric sketches, details, the world decided to etch into his skin, into his mortal, immoral flesh. He held nefariousness in the palm of his hand, the weight of his knives along his belt, the arrows and bow slung across his back, the depths of desecration billowing from his breath; machinations in a swarm, purpose in his outreach. Food and water hung from another satchel lingering across his shoulder, in case the depths snagged and captured them too.

Free them, the world echoed and bounded into his ears, into his chest, slipped a growling refrain in the center of his essence, his presence, the triumph and victory never truly in reach. Today, he thought, he murmured, in between the blades of his scorn and the rampaging ease of his savage stride, because it was for someone other than himself, because they deserved liberation and released, because he wanted them content, not imprisoned, not shackled, not tethered to the void, to the unknown.

So he’d willingly step in it for them – and he wished they knew, they understood, that the beast and warrior and damned shade was intending to come for them, that they were all aligning for a cause, for individuals who’d notched their way into their souls.

I am ready his stance beckoned, on the tree line, on the whisper of death intermingling its way through the eaves and leaves, on the outstretched boughs threatening to lance and desecrate them all. Perhaps they’re walking into a slaughter, into mayhem, into torture and terror; but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d stared it all down, lacing, lancing, and lacerating the depths of his malice and ambition into the fire. He didn't say anything to Jigano, but simply roamed into the grounds - fervent, capable of anything.
the last of a line of lasts
Killian Soleil
Scout

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#4
KILLIAN
Many times since arriving in Caido, Killian had found himself wandering along the edge of the wildwood. Something had kept him from going in, be it the known potential dangers that undoubtedly loomed, veiled with the façade of fantasy. Or maybe it was something less tangible, a presence that both beckoned and deterred like the tide. Whatever it may be, it'd kept him from venturing out, until now.

The cheetah ran to the border of the hollowed grounds, long dappled legs beating against the ground in time with his breaths. As he arrived he shifted back in an unceremonious manner, and trotted over to stand by Jigano, who waited with his usual poise. He greeted him with a nod, with a calm reservation for a change.

Normally Kiki would be more excited, smiles all around and flowing with energy. While he still gave off that spark of anticipation, it stemmed from a place of nerves and worry. Under better circumstances this could've been fun, but he was here to help bring back those who had been taken, the status of whom was unknown. Whatever he did today would affect the wellbeing of not just himself, but also his companions and the captives, and that knowledge alone was enough to inspire a nervous tick. Fingers tugged at the slim copper chain around his neck, tinkering with the badge and the ring that hung there warm from his skin.

run for the hills before they burn
listen to the sound of the world
don’t watch it turn
Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#5
















Sam desperately did not want to be here.

Not only was it an awfully dangerous mission in of itself, the pang of Longheat's sun had just begun, taunting him with pain through every branch of every tree. With a large hat and gloves he was overly warm and looked ridiculous, but it was a little more security than just making sure to stick to the shadows. Skipping from shade to shade, he finally made it to the meeting point.

He was really only here for Jigano, so he sidled up next to his friend and cleared his throat to get his attetnion, clearing his throat. "...Hello...I'm...I'm here to help. At least we aren't alone. I don't suppose me being invisible is much use when there's so many of us...but oh well..." Wishing he hadn't come now, he sighed and hugged himself, waiting for something to happen.

SAMUEL
How could a night so frozen
Be so scalding hot?
How can a morning this mild
Be so raw?


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#6
So you enter the forest with good intentions and absolutely no idea where to go.

Have fun with that.

You wander. For hours, probably. It's so hard to know. The Woods welcome you in and then spit you right back out. At some point someone has the idea of just...letting your minds be free, removing your ultimate destination from your conscious thoughts as if you might trick the woods. It woulds for a time and you do indeed find yourself deeper in the Woods...

...until suddenly you are not. You're back at the edge of the woods where you began.

What do you do?

You have 24 hours to reply. No posting order.

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Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#7
He nodded to Deimos, though the man chose not to acknowledge him. He was worried, admittedly, when the big man appeared alone, but then the bard had arrived alone as well, initially.

He tilted his head curiously at the cheetah that approached, but gave a much warmer nod to Killian when the young man transformed into someone he knew, grateful and worried all at once that he was leading someone else who was trusting him into danger.

Samuel 's appearance brought a softening to his eyes, and he reached out to clasp his friend's hand in gratitude for his support. "Stay close," he told his friends, "and alert. Sam, do what you need to do to protect yourself. Hopefully the shade of the forest will be deep enough for you." Indeed, it looked cool and green beyond the baked clay of the Hollowed Grounds.

He lingered a little while, waiting to see if anyone else would arrive, but when it became clear it was just the four of them he turned a grim gaze on Deimos.

"Ianto?” he asked. It was all he had to say. Deimos had claimed the task of securing the red fox’s assistance… and Ianto was their best bet of navigating the woods, finding their friends, and answering their questions. Particularly the ‘where’ and ‘why.’ Without him along there wasn’t much point to their attempt at this…

But still, he had to try. He wouldn’t give up on his friends, and he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t give everything he had to finding them.

At first he simply tried to trace their original trail through the woods, hoping to come across the place where Amalia had been captured, but the woods were having none of that until he remembered Ianto’s advice to clear their minds. He thought it might be working, but that, too, failed spectacularly. Without a map or a guide it would seem the woods would not let them through…

But Ianto wasn’t the only fox in town.

Clearing his mind, Jigano focused down into himself and sent out a call for assistance, much as he had the day in the forest with Caiside and the corvids. He knelt down, extending his senses out into the Wildwood and there, nearby, were two who could hear him. The pair of crows, clever and friendly, flew to the edge of the trees, less wary than their kin within the barrier, and Jigano rose to speak with them, eye-to-eye. The conversation from there was less one of words and more of senses, images, and emotions. Help he asked of them, accompanied with the memory of the appearance of those he had lost, both human and animal forms.

But in case they had not seen them, then he gave them the image of Eliza, a small humanoid with dragonfly wings. Several Elizas, a group, a many. Was there someplace within the Woods where many Fae could be found? A desire for direction, a compelling plea for guidance through the wild ways of the trees, led by some of the cleverest of those who lived there all their lives.

He glanced over his shoulder at his human companions, giving them an encouraging nod. ”Stay close,” he said quietly, before prowling in the wake of the crows who fluttered from branch to branch just ahead of him, guiding the white-haired Attuned as they had been bidden.
Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#8
















Sam smiled despite himself as Jigano took his hand; he was not used to physical affection from his stoic friend and the warmth surprised him, did make him feel a little better about this undertaking. He kept hold as long as Jigano would let him, as they began to wander into the woods.

He had never been very good with directions anyway, so Sam was not too distressed that he could not tell the way, sure that others in the group had a better idea of where they were going. But even he knew there was an issue when they reappeared seemingly back at the entrance of the woods, where they had been before.

Standing to the side unsure of what to do, he watched Jigano kneel and begin to ...stare at birds? For a moment Sam was worried for the man's sanity, then he realised: Jigano was speaking to them. Or at least, getting some kind of information. That confirmed some suspicions he had, and Sam felt a little bit of hurt in his chest that Jigano had not yet told him.

But it wasn't the time.

He followed Jigano as he led them back into the woods, wondering if they were to do this hundreds of times.

--
Sam follows Jigano back in after he gets birb direction.

SAMUEL
How could a night so frozen
Be so scalding hot?
How can a morning this mild
Be so raw?
Killian Soleil
Scout

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#9
KILLIAN
Not long after Killian another man arrived, and then there were four of them. The newest was a shorter red head, who sidled up with Jigano. When his name was mentioned, Kiki put the pieces together, this was one of the other guild members he was yet to meet.

Soon the group was off, into a dense and unforgiving forest. They seemed to be wandering forever, and at some point the canopy was so thick that even the heir of the sun goddess couldn't tell which direction she was casting her light. The light down here was just an ethereal glow, reflective and warm, and it was easy to get lost in how mystifying it all was and then you found yourself-

back at the beginning. They were at the border again, always with the same fucking border. Killian dropped his head back, his energy drained after hours of walking and frustration boiling just as hot as the day itself. He was tired yes, but not anywhere near ready to give up. And so back in they went, Killian trailing between Sam and Deimos, and stopping when Jigano did. He watched with a puzzled look as the silver fox began to commune, it appeared, with a pair of crows. It was a quiet conversation, if that's what it was, but it seemed to do something.

And now they were following birds, unsure of whether or not that was a good thing or a bad thing, Killian took heed of Jigano's words and followed closely.

run for the hills before they burn
listen to the sound of the world
don’t watch it turn
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
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#10
DEIMOS
Delivered from the blasts
He’d wanted more, expected more, to clamber and surround, to join in the fight – but there were some (just not the ones he thought might arrive). For that, he needed to be grateful, acknowledged Sam and the stranger, bobbing his head, appreciative of the attempts they made for those left in the woods. “Thank you,” he proffered, and then they seemed to be off, in that same, wandering, enigmatic curiosity that had likely snagged and ensnared their companions in the first place.

The problem was that they were unaccustomed, unfamiliar, strangers in the void, fueled and incensed by their need to solve a problem, to snag their friends, but drowned in the murky depths of the unknown. It pressed against his senses and made him want to snarl, especially as they simply managed to wander their way back out, as if they hadn’t touched upon the surface of the copses or glades. Instead of growling or mauling something (which would air his frustration but not much more), Deimos narrowed his eyes back to Jigano. “I doubt Ianto will be coming,” he responded – the tick of failure clenching in his jaw. There hadn’t been enough time to successfully snag the fox; he’d have to do it some other time or moment, when debts and obligations could press harder.

He did, however, have at least some noteworthy information. “According to a source, the captured are in the Sidhe Village, in a pit.” Which may not matter, if they couldn’t arrive there.

Thereafter, Jigano appeared to have a conversation with a pair of crows, and any other time Deimos might have stared and been stupefied by the actions, but he knew better, he comprehended the ways magic and enchantments worked, how this world twisted their foundations and nestled their way into the most bizarre filaments. If this worked, he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t have the right to, really. He had nothing left to proffer either.

Except death, but they had no need of that yet.

So he followed, because he had naught but the tenacity, the vexation, the fury, the resolve, and the exasperation binding into his soul, maneuvering his limbs, pulling him further and further away or closer, to their goals.
the last of a line of lasts
Arduinna Flidais
Wild Fey

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#11
ARDUINNA

"Hello, sweet ones."

Her voice is honey and thunder, but it is not directed at any of the group. No - she calls to the crows, which depart from Jigano and soar and circle to the tree she leans upon. Or does it lean upon her? It caresses and circles her waist with gentle branches, leaves aflutter, swaying in a breeze onto it can feel. She watches them with eyes like molten gold, gaze moving from one man to the next, before she smiles and shows small, white teeth.

"In the Sidhe village, in a pit you say?" A hand moves to her breast, as if this is something truly terrifying. "Why, you ought to rescue them at once. Follow me, warriors. Let us find your missing friends."



Hey look, a 'friendly' face in the woods! How will you respond?

No posting order. You have 24 hours.
Nature, nurture heaven and home
Sum of all, and by them, driven
To conquer every mountain shown
Table by Sky!
Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#12
















Sam expected them to be spat out again. He had faith in Jigano of course, but he felt even despite the man's best efforts this was something simply beyond them. Secretly he was almost looking forward to the chance to be out of the woods again, the sheer possibility of the place unnerving him. When they came out they could all know they'd tried and go home.

But it didn't work out that way. Suddenly they were stopped by a woman, a Fae, who seemed to nearly dance with the trees around her. Immediately he was distrustful of her, the way she so easily used the power at her fingertips, at odds with the sweetness in her voice.

Sam leaned towards Jigano and whispered: "Should we really trust her? She is a Fae too, after all. It...I don't think we should."

--

Sam questions Arduinna's motives but doesnt make any moves yet.

SAMUEL
How could a night so frozen
Be so scalding hot?
How can a morning this mild
Be so raw?
Killian Soleil
Scout

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#13
KILLIAN
Following the crows had seemed like an odd idea, and it hadn't really brought them to anything. However it did bring something to them, someone. She seemed to appear out of nowhere, and the forest moved with her instead of against her like it did them. It held her, the branches acting as her loving subjects, nuzzling her fondly. The fae with fiery hair, exerted a strange and mystical power, that Killian was both drawn to and frightened by, like the forest that caressed her.

He stopped where he was, riddled with uncertainty. Honey words that flowed from her mouth, though sweet and innocent he knew not to trust. He wanted to, he felt like he should, but a little voice telling him to wait held him back. Sam spoke quietly to Jigano, Kiki caught a few of his words and could easily infer the rest. His hands returned to his pendants, turning them over anxiously.

run for the hills before they burn
listen to the sound of the world
don’t watch it turn
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
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#14
DEIMOS
Delivered from the blasts
Hello, sweet ones coiled along his senses, for it had claws and barbs, nettles and thorns, and he shifted his head rapidly back towards the voice. The beast expected some sort of menace and mischief, it was the same woods that had taken their companions, the same woods that had promised them pits and sepulchers.

The problem with the current decision, and he’d be quick to agree with Samuel, was that they were likely going to be led to the aforementioned hole, and then shoved directly into it, joining the others, destroying hopes of rescue and contemplating another course of liberation. The dilemma was rigged further in that none of them had a map, Ianto, or anything else to lead them to where they wanted to go – who was to say their next sojourn wouldn’t land them right back where they’d started all over again – a colossal waste of time? Would they be dead by then? Seriously injured? Would the deliverance mission even matter then?

The Reaper weighed their choices, and he might have been more meticulous, more scrupulous, if given more opportunities and options. They could turn around and go home, empty-handed and harder hearted, capable of leaving behind those they considered comrades and kin. Or they could follow the spirits directly into the gaping maw of the Fae, coaxing them onward, friends waiting, caught, snatched, because they dared to explore, and they’d dared to follow them. If Deimos had only himself to be concerned with, not Amalia, not Kiada, not anyone else currently sitting in the void, then he might’ve turned around or disregarded her invitation, aware of the trickery, the deceit, the specious, duplicitous world they were about to embark within.

It was desperation drawing him forward, and he knew it. He turned towards the others, a look of apology stuck in those usual piercing eyes, as if he understood the foreboding weight on all their shoulders, and willingly bore it (always would for them). Then Deimos nodded his head, foolish and stupid, towards the Fae. “Lead on. Thank you.” If the rest didn’t want to go, and who would blame them, the warrior would go on by himself.
the last of a line of lasts


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