Personal Quest From the Ashes, part 1
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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
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#1
{This PQ takes place before the current KQ and new government announcement}

The Atheneum had stood for centuries, and as near as Jigano could tell the gaping hole in its side had been there for at least three of them. The sheer scale of the project had daunted him at first, and though it had hung over his head – literally – as the seasons passed, there had always been something else to work on, something more important at the time, something that he felt he could actually do something about.

And there were still plenty of things that came to mind, new challenges and problems that needed solving. But this particular one had remained for too long, a monument to his inertia and unwillingness to tackle the bigger problems that loomed. It was so much easier to seek answers out than to make use of them constructively, and the time had come to wrap his hands around some of those fears and take control back from them.

Attention! Workers are needed to help the Loreseekers Guild repair the Atheneum! the notice had declared. Those skilled with wood and stone, or with magic in shaping or creating such, or with an interest in helping out with strong backs and hands, please gather at sunrise at the hole in the Atheneum in two days’ time.

He wasn’t sure if any Ascended would want to come, but he hoped that by placing the timing early in the day they would be shaded, if they wished to help. Perhaps they could organize a night shift, if it came to it? But for the safety of those who couldn’t see in the dark the initial work would begin in daylight while they pulled together the materials and began to repair what had been broken.

At the appointed day and time he stood outside the great gap, where the fallen side of the building created a mound of rubble, much of which had fallen inwards. He looked around at those who gathered with a smile. There were more than he expected, but less than he had hoped for. They were each and every one a welcome pair of hands, however, and he bowed gravely in gratitude before he began. ”The Atheneum has been open to the weather for a long time, and it has taken its toll on the books and scrolls within. Moreover, the building isn’t safe when people might need to seek shelter at times such as Long Night, when sturdy walls are needed. But before we can begin to try and repair the damage, first we’ll need to move the rubble and break it down or reshape it into usable blocks and bricks.” He took a deep breath, looking around with a lopsided smile.

”During my searches through the books within I found architectural plans that I think will help. I’d like for us to move half of the fallen stonework outside, and clear the area of the wall so that we can start by building a wooden patch-wall there, first. Once we can keep the weather and wild animals out, we can take our time rebuilding the stonework on both the inside and outside of the patch. It doesn't have to match the old architecture or be a work of art if we don't have the expertise to do so, we just need to get it sturdy and functional.” He looked around to see if anyone disagreed or had a better idea before continuing.

”There should be space to pile the rubble beside and behind the building, and I’ve borrowed some carts and tools to help us so, please, let’s get to work shifting the worst of it outside again for today. I know this is a large undertaking and will take time, so for today let’s just focus on getting the rocks moved and the wall cleared.” So saying, he reached back to tuck his neat braid into the back of his simple tunic, and rolled up his sleeves. Pulling on a pair of gloves from a pile, he headed for a large-watermelon-sized rock and proceeded to lift it with some difficulty and load it into a nearby cart, hoping his example would inspire the rest to begin, each according to their strengths.



This is a PQ to repair the Atheneum! Because this is large undertaking, this PQ will take place over several days. Day 1 is moving the rubble and clearing the wall so the repairs can begin more easily tomorrow. There is no limit to how many people can join this PQ!

1. Melita
2. Rory
3. Caiside


Round update time will be determined by number of participants.
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
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#2

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

Melita had somehow managed to avoid the Atheneum for a lengthy time, which was too bad, considering the wealth of information, awe, and mystery kept within its quarters. She’d been absorbed by every other little thing: power and prestige, might and fury, potential and annihilation, brewing her skips and steps into nefarious armaments. But when she saw Jigano’s notice, calling for assistance (but being none of the things he required, except will and tenacity). She had no magic to her name, her being, her existence. She had no skill with wood or stone, but she had the sunrise, the hole before her, and the dedication, the stalwart tangibility, to do something for someone, anyone.

She and Fangorn entered the confines with obvious admiration – mouth agape, eyes twisting over the wares of books, of stories, of legends, of information that must have embodied so many things and essences she missed, she craved. They were like her mother’s voice and her sister’s hums, strumming along; there was an ache in her heart, in her fingers, to reach out and touch the yellowed pages, to understand and comprehend the layers underneath. But it wasn’t the time – she’d ventured too long already, and then lingered, further and further in, until she heard Jigano’s voice.

The explanations made sense, her stare loitering on the gaping hole in the ceiling now – pondering what had caused it, rubble or ruin, cataclysms or merely time, eroding and casting everything away. But for now, the certainty of the task was at hand: grabbing hold of the rubble, and placing them outside. She could do that – it didn’t require any special skills.

With a silent salute towards the bard, she and Fangorn maneuvered to the debris, tying her long, crimson locks back, out of the way, as the summer heat curled and coiled around them. After perusing for a few moments, Melita went about selecting several articles of wreckage. She grabbed hold and placed them in her arms, the little vampire gourd hissing at several smaller rocks, and snagging them in his fangs. Together, they began the trek back outside, placing them where they needed to be, and then continued, cycling back through.
M e l i t a
But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power
I'll find a way to be without you, babe

Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
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#3
First, this: being ill. Being very ill. Being ill enough that you couldn't get out of bed for at least a week (at least, not without falling over, gracelessly staggering from support to support as your feverslick fingers slipped over worn wood), and then mostly useless for another week or two.

Then, this: trying to catch up on everything you'd left undone, while keeping up with everything that still needed doing.

A relentless tide of labor. Sure, day by day he regained his strength and chipped away at the mountain of duties and obligations, but... you know. There were other things, too, like his friends getting kidnapped and.. and barely-dodged wars, the flurry of change, the slow seep of poison through brittle veins, bubbling in the tired and bruised chambers of his heart.

But there was light, too: sunlight spilling over Jigano's bare shoulders, fingers tracing spines, stupid songs invented together in the warm, light Longheat nights.

It was a whirlwind and a hurricane, and Rory wondered when he'd catch enough of a break to process any of it.

He had come to help not because of the notice (Rory still didn't read rather well, and it was a touchy subject), but because of course he would; and because of course he knew about it, and there had never been any question about whether or not he'd be there. Jigano had mentioned his plans and just like that, Rory was going to help, because while he might not be loreseeker material he was strong (now that he had been healthy a while again and worked himself back into shape) and willing and a hard-working animal.

He lingered next to Jigano, belonging like a shadow did, laying no physical claim to the bard yet fitting the space. His arms were crossed over his chest, because they needed somewhere to be, and though he looked pensive and distant he did not look sullen.

Once Melita arrived he nodded at her (and, of course, at any other arriving helper he knew), watching the sole surviving little vampire gourd on her heels with a faint and thoughtful smile. No doubt thinking about fox-eating calabash, or perhaps just wondering at how peculiar and flighty life was: Fangorn's kin had been mercilessly slaughtered in droves, and yet here he was. Accepted, and loved.

Rory gave his head a small shake once the instructions were done, trying not to think about how monumental a task it was; the rubble was no small pile. Still, with persistence, most things could be worn down.. achieved... So he picked at the stones, slowly and methodically moving the lift-able ones to the cart.
Caiside Annatar
Blacksmith

Age: 43 | Height: 5'5" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#4

Caiside had seen the notice asking for help in the settlements centre, his brows raising as he read it. It was the first time in a while he’d heard about one of the bards undertakings second hand, since he’d had the chance to simply show up without being asked. He was actually quite looking forward to it.

On the day of Caiside was late, as he had been to nearly every other event he’d showed up to. No matter his arrival time, he had come ready to work, a pie of gloves tucked into his belt and his hair ties up and out of the way. He smiled and nodded at the others who had assembled, his eyes lingering on Jigano’s shadow, a silent question on his face when he turned back towards the bard. A question that would have to wait until later it a eked.

When Jigano explained it, repairing the walls seemed a very simple undertaking. It was another thing entirely to look past the silver haired man and actually see the pile of work that awaited them. Caiside tried to look on the bright side, mostly to keep himself from considering leaving. With a group of them, it shouldn’t take too long. And there would be conversation, and the chance to get to know new people. It had been a good time last time he’d helped with something that seemed nearly impossible.

Caiside moved to follow Jigano’s direction, transferring rubble from the interior of the Atheneum. He took care in stacking his loads, trying to work smarter rather than harder. He knew he wasn’t exactly a beacon of strength, but he was still determined to help as much as possible.

Caiside
I have never been allowed to be Holy,
I have never been forgiven for Wanting;



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
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#5
Melita was a welcome sight, fierce and fiery as the dawn, bringing her energy and her strength to the task in a way Jigano had already learned to appreciate. She was a hard worker, tireless and enthusiastic, and the formidable Fangorn was a sight to bring a grin to the face of anyone who had met the pair, endearing for how helpful he was to his mistress in spite of his toothy visage. He bowed gratefully at her salute, and was unsurprised to see that she needed no supervision as she set to work with a will.

For once, Jigano had risen earlier than Rory . It was a rare occurrence, almost unheard of when the bard spent the night at the farm, but some things were worth a little less sleep in the morning, and this task that he had set himself was one such undertaking. Even so, he had known from the moment that he had mentioned his desire to rebuild and repair the great library that the hunter would make the time for him, even as the fox did his best to help out around the farm. There was a quiet comfort in having the blond at his side, a rightness to the day and an easiness to the way they stood that showed more than any touch that Rory was as much a part of him now as his own heart. They needed no touch, no outward display, but there was a softening of the bard’s blue eyes whenever he glanced to his partner, and a tilt to his smile that seemed to brighten and lighten his whole bearing even in the midst of the heavy labor.

Caiside was the last of his close friends to arrive, stylishly late but willing and quick to lend a hand, and Jigano flashed the ex-demigod a grin as they passed each other with rocks for the cart, impressed at the thought that the redhead was putting into his task, making sure each trip counted without wearing himself out too fast.

As the morning wore on more people trickled by to help, townsfolk who had heard of the project and approved out of civic pride or who owed the Loreseekers a favor. The carts cart filled up quickly, and when it came time to move them Jigano asked Rory to help him and stepped around the side of the building. A white horse, tall and elegant, stepped back hesitantly a moment later, and backed gingerly between the traces of the first cart, waiting for the hunter to harness him so he could pull the carts around to where the outside of the great hole, where it would be easy to work with later.

As the sun rises higher the heat increases, pounding down upon the Hollowed Grounds and those who work beneath it. Though there is shade inside the Atheneum, carrying stones outside brings those gathered under its burning lens.



Clearing the rubble has gotten underway with the help of some townsfolk! Do you find any innovative ways to move more rubble? And as the sun rises higher, the heat increases! How do your Strength and Endurance hold up?

No posting order this round.
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#6
For a while, it was only the four of them, one of which was a stranger to him. Rory had studied the slender man when he came in like an errant breeze, a stray shaft of sunlight: something not quite of this world. He seemed fey in his grace, different in the way he moved, as if he should've weighed less, somehow.

It took him a while to realize that the stranger reminded him of a deer.

It took him a little longer to realize that the stranger reminded him of Jigano. Both graceful; both animal. Copper and silver, different sides of the same coin (one side stamped with fangs). The realization sat in his gut, not ugly, but uncomfortable, as if he didn't quite know what to do with it. His brows furrowed as he set to work, unsettled, a rough, blocky thing in a sea of elegance and passion—

He did not doubt, and he was not concerned, nor was he jealous, but the thing that was called knowledge sat in his bones and it did not quite fit the shape he wore. He knew he would have to examine it later, for now wasn't the time: he had other things to focus on, mindless drudgery to lose himself in, though he couldn't forget. Whatever it was, it stayed below his skin, like a bad taste in the back of his mouth, a shadow over his grave, wrapped and hooked around his spine.

The merciless Longheat sun beat down on them, and Rory paused to drink from his waterskin, and splash his face with the lukewarm liquid. He had long ago abandoned his shirt.

Jigano got his attention and then disappeared, returning mere moments later as a horse that had no business being that gorgeous. He was unlike anything Rory had ever seen before—tall, refined, graceful, elegant, powerful... Everything, from the quality of his mane and tail to the regal arch of his neck, the strength of his broad hindquarters... Whenever he saw Jigano in his horse form he watched him with a different kind of hunger, a senseless longing that he had no idea what to do with, for Jigano was not a horse. And though he frequently ran his hands over the honeyed skin it felt altogether different to obsessively want to run his hands along his horse's body, to constantly battle his fascination and his admiration and his habits. His eyes said this is a horse and his hands wanted to move in certain ways, but his brain said this is Jigano and it was just .. weird.

It always took effort to not talk to him like he did with his ponies, and little things slipped through: a scratch at his withers here, a steadying hand on his flank there. Biting the inside of his cheek Rory fitted the harness to the white wonder, and then hitched him to the cart.
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
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#7

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

The honeybee girl relished in her work, content to have something to do with her hands, her energy, her zest for life. Fangorn was another welcomed into the strange, bizarre inclusion, nonetheless appealing to the dragging of debris across old floors, and they lingered in the intervals. She brushed her hair from her face when it became disentangled from her knotted adornments, thought about braiding it back but truly had none of the patience for it (another part of her sister’s craft she sorely lacked; content to bumble around in a fury, tendrils and tassels whipping behind her as a bloody, ferocious omen and beacon). Instead, she went about her way, lifting rocks and rubble, then taking them outside, waving to Rory as he settle into his routine, and then coming across a stranger once she re-entered the building.

“Hello!” She beckoned to the slender man, reminding her of some feral animal in the woods, likely quick and swift, enduring despite his slight stature. “I’m Melita!” The youth crooned and echoed along the vast pavilion, against the enamel of disaster, ruin, and the thousands of blessings contained within. Then, as if she recalled she wasn’t pulling her weight by talking, she gestured again with a fond wave to Caiside, then Rory, before continuing with her task.

But there had to be a better way. Her hands were already aching. Her muscles were already complaining. Wessex and Roana would’ve proclaimed it as strength training – weight after weight after weight making her grow mightier, tougher, but she should’ve also applied herself smarter; into accuracy and precision instead of constant endurance. She didn’t have the ability to create, or frankly, shift, and the sun was pressing down, down, down on their backs, along their skin, intertwining into her thoughts. Melita adored the heat, was born into its forthright upheavals, but she also didn’t drag or carry heavy objects along its threshold either. Was there a wheelbarrow or something alike nearby?

Her eyes searched; but her inquiry would be met with silence – Jigano nowhere to be seen. She wrinkled her nose, and then continued on her first quest, filling her arms with debris once more.
M e l i t a
But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power
I'll find a way to be without you, babe

Caiside Annatar
Blacksmith

Age: 43 | Height: 5'5" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 19 - Int:
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#8

It had been some time since Caiside had worked with strangers, though it was an easy strangeness to bear with the friendliness of them. At least, one of them. It seemed like every time he looked at Jigano’s shadow, there was a different emotion simmering on his face, and with the type of work they were doing, the thoughts the expressions betrayed could be anything. Normally, his ability to read the people around him was a point of pride for Caiside, and this situation was a frustration he didn’t want.

Melita, in stark contrast, was a ray of sunlight. He returned her wave, and her greeting, his own smile beaming back at the girl. ”Caiside. It’s a pleasure.” Before he could get in another word she was back to work with an energy Caiside could only dream of, but one he tried to emulate in his own work. It didn’t last long, if he worked at the same pace she did he’d be collapsed within the hour, especially in the heat.

That was still something he was getting used to as well, being sensitive to the temperature and rays of the sun. It was strange, the things he’d taken for granted at home, with his power. Before too long, though still far longer than Caiside was used to doing manual labour for, he found himself wanting a break, and seemed to find the perfect excuse in the confused face of Melita as she looked around. Before she could get back to work properly, Caiside stopped her, tapping her arm gently.

”What were you looking for?” He asked, his tone implying he would be happy to help. Then, he looked over her, his smile slipping as he ran a critical eye over her falling braids. ”Did you want me to fix your hair? It’ll help keep you cooler.” He offered, not mentioning the added bonus of giving them each a few extra moment to rest in the restive colness of the shady interior. It seemed like she could use the rest as much as he could, her youth only able to power her for so long.

Caiside
I have never been allowed to be Holy,
I have never been forgiven for Wanting;



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
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#9
The work proceeded at a good pace, the strength and tenacity of naturals and outlanders alike working to shift the rubble and begin uncovering parts of the Atheneum that had been buried for centuries. Water was shared freely between friends and strangers alike as the morning wore on, and each worked according to their strengths.

Rory was a distracting sight for the bard, especially once he removed his shirt against the heat. It was just as well the grueling manual labor provided a constructive way to keep himself busy, though he might have stolen more than his fair share of glances at the hunter, admiring the play of light over muscle and the gleam of sun on pale golden hair. He confined himself to looking… at least while he wore a human shape. As a horse he had more free rein – so to speak. He liked the little touches that slipped through, the scratches and pats, and he turned to nuzzle his soft nose against Rory’s shoulder in return as the hunter hitched him to the cart. The pair moved it to where it needed to be, tipping the load into a flat area of broken pavement that had perhaps once been a little fountain square beside the Atheneum. For now it would serve to hold the stones they would use to rebuild the outer portion of the wall once the patch was complete. The second cart was shifted and emptied in the same way before they returned it to be filled again.

Melita was a hard worker, and along with Fangorn the bright girl moved rubble with the best of the crew who had arrived to help. Though she received a few scrapes and scratches from some of the rougher rocks on her unprotected hands they were shallow and superficial at best. Her strength earned more than a few admiring compliments as she toted her loads to the carts or to the side of the hole, and the vampire gourd was even tossed the occasional treat as people realized he wasn’t going to go on a rampage like his wilder kin. By the time she stopped to look for a wheelbarrow, however, she would find that her mouth and throat were parched dry, and the world was beginning to wobble just a little. In a stroke of luck, a wheelbarrow was off to the side, brought by a helpful townsperson who had abandoned it to help his friends lift some larger pieces of rubble together as a group.

Caiside was smart enough to pace himself, though he still suffered a number of scrapes and scratches along his bare hands and arms from the rough and broken stones and splintery wood. Though he shifted less rubble than the other two, he kept up with several of the townsfolk, who offered suggestions on improving his lifting technique as the stones were moved and broken shelves and tables, reduced to little more than splinters, began to appear beneath the diminishing pile of fallen masonry.

It was nearly lunch time, and Jigano was about to call a break when a yell from one of the townsfolk was prelude to an ominous silence as everyone turned to see what the commotion was. A broken hole had just been uncovered by a trio of three burly farmers lifting a large chunk of ceiling and starting to shift it to the side, and out of that darkness came…

Spiders.

Small, with bright red bodies the size of a grown man’s thumbnail, the spiders swarmed from the hole and into the light, a skittering mob of eight-legged furies a few hundred strong. Small they might have been, but their fangs were sharp enough to pierce skin as several workers found to their dismay, hollering and slapping at themselves as the tiny terrors swept out to attack anyone they could reach!




Rory uses his water wisely and is Unharmed by the heat!
Melita has begun to be affected by the heat and is feeling a little Dizzy and Dehydrated, but finds a wheelbarrow!
Caiside received several Scratches, but doesn’t succumb to the heat!

But now there are spiders D: Are they poisonous? Quick, do something!

No posting order
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
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#10

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

Despite the hard labor, the crushing heat, the girl found fast friends: Caiside, a beam and a smile granted on the heels of hers. Her arms ached a little, but she didn’t mind, didn’t truly process what a toll it might have been taking on her. She was born to the desert, to the sun, to the wide-open sky, to the vast domain of endless sand and dunes – but there’d been an oasis there too – something this threshold didn’t have at the moment. Before she could cast off to commit to another load of rubble, Caiside managed to slip beside her, quick and swift, and she tilted her head as he tapped her arm, called for her attention as something murky and bizarre slipped over her mind. “A wheelbarrow, or maybe a cart.” She shrugged, wishing Emmett and his donkey abilities were here, capable of hauling – though she wouldn’t be able to set anything ablaze in this midst. “Thought it might be easier than going back and forth constantly.” Then he offered to fix her hair, and an immense, intense relief washed over her, with a blazing, fervent smile to follow. “That would be wonderful!” Perhaps the man had far more patience than she, especially with the depth of her locks and their spiraling endeavors.

Thereafter, the youth didn’t mind the scrapes on her hands, shallow, not something she was going to bother trifling with, but she could feel some part of the world spinning, spinning, spinning, as some wonderful townsperson had left their wheelbarrow nearby. She took it as a blessing, and Fangorn bounded after her, leaning some of her weight into it as she maneuvered it back within the Atheneum, and began piling more of the rubble into it. The girl figured only a couple of cartloads would do the trick, faster, swifter, keener, as she wiped her brow, as her throat informed her she was parched. She shifted back to Caiside, pondering if he felt the same. “Do we have any water here?”

But perhaps it didn’t really matter in the end – her question would likely fall on deaf ears as someone yelled in the background. The girl raised her head, and her gourd hissed, and there were a bunch of people in the crowd pointing upwards, shrieking. She expected to see monsters, ghosts, some form of wraiths or other threatening, ominous beacons – but then there were spiders, infiltrating the grounds out of a hole. Melita wasn’t truly bothered by the state of arachnids, as a child she spent half her time following them, butterflies, and hundreds of other insects, but as she watched, waited, and listened, the swarm became to move towards the townsfolk, fangs piercing, assaulting, sieging. “Oh dear,” she added, as if this was just one more ordinary circumstance in a series of chaotic choices, ventures, and rampages in her short life. She wished she still had her staff, but it’d been tucked away for safe-keeping in her home until she fulfilled Ludo’s request, and she had a feeling Jigano wasn’t about to let her set fire to the place.

Then Fangorn came to the rescue.

The gourd saw this as a grand opportunity for lunch - leapt and growled, tore into the droves of spiders as if it were time to feast. Much like she’d seen him unleash destruction on the flinthoppers, the fangs made short work of those clustered nearby, eradicating them in quick swallows, some legs flung in all directions as he ripped into larger ones. “Well done!” She shouted, encouraging the little wayward beast.
M e l i t a
But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power
I'll find a way to be without you, babe

Caiside Annatar
Blacksmith

Age: 43 | Height: 5'5" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#11

While Caiside had been getting ready for his day, after he had decided to come help Jiganos project, he had though specifically about bringing a pair of gloves. He hasn’t known exactly what the work would consist of, and somehow, that small kernel of uncertainty had caused him to decide against gloves. It was something he was paying for now, sharp pieces of rock and splinters of wood alike biting into his hands. The break of braiding Melita’s hair was a welcome respite, the speed of his fingers making it clear he had some experience working with curls.

The townsdolj, people he’d never let, or at mor spoken with in passing, offered advice, Caiside first response to them his nose up. This was not work he was used to though, and judging by the ‘repaired’ look of... well, everything in town, there were people who knew what they were doing. Some pointers couldn’t hurt more than what he’d already done to himself. Some of them did improve his efficiency, while reducing the number of injuries he received. Melita seemed to have found the cart she was looking for, Caiside changing his strategy and helping her to load ir, the exertion not leaving much room for friendly conversation, though it was clear when Melita turned towards him there was a question on her lips.

Unfortunately, he words were drowned out by a sudden shout, Caisides attention immediately somewhere over her shoulder, in the direction of the commotion. Even from the distance they were at, Caiside could see the red horrors swarming from the ground, their effect immediate on the people around them. Instead of doing the sensible thing though, he stepped closer, looking around for some kind of jar. All he found was a glass candle holder, but it would be enough to trap at least a few of the little things. If they were poisonous, a sample would be needed for an antidote, and I’d they weren’t, they could make a good subject for his bestiary.

Trapping the spider was always the tricky part, and it was made more difficult here by the swift anger of them. Fsnghorn made the process much simple rn though, the plant creature going after the larger clumps and more aggressive spiders and leaving the stranglers for Caiside to trap. Once he had what he needed, he stepped back, trying to pull people back with him and help them to remove spiders from their bodies.

Caiside
I have never been allowed to be Holy,
I have never been forgiven for Wanting;



Leatherworker

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#12
[ Sorry, midsummer stole my soul for a bit <.< ]

Something about a horse not being a horse was so .. mind-breaking; he thought it was, perhaps, because he knew horses better than he knew almost any other animal. And it was all in the little things, in the details that made a horse: an animal surviving on fear, in the instincts and reactions, their priorities.. And then there was Jigano and though the affectionate nuzzle from his plush nose was kind of horsey, very little else about him was genuinely, truly horse.

He was a human mind in a horse's body, and Rory could tell.

It seemed like today would be cause for a lot of later introspection. He thought on that as he walked beside Jigano and tipped the cart, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

Oh well. It was what it was: Jigano not being an actual horse made him a little uncomfortable, just as Caiside made him a little uncomfortable. And Jigano was one hell of a fine horse, which was both very fitting and such a waste of genes.

Even more oh well. Rory tipped the second cart, sweat running down his face and pricking in the scabs and scrapes on his hands. Straightening up and righting the cart he took a moment to sigh and dab water on his neck. He was used to hard work in the sunlight, but even so, he'd misjudged a few times in the past and gotten himself heat strokes.

He rather wanted to avoid making a fool of himself on that day, though, but barely had he drunk another mouthful and begun to contemplate suggesting going back inside before shouts came from within. After a brief, stricken look at Jigano's long horsey face Rory took off into the building, skidding into the section they were emptying, and...

Spiders, spiders everywhere, not really distinguishable enough at first sight for him to tell what they were except upset. They swarmed those closest, even as the gourd rolled among them for a snack, and Rory grabbed an abandoned shovel to start smacking at them. Oddly enough, there was a second instinct: fire.

But two problems:
1, he could still not make fire
2, he did not want to accidentally burn the Atheneum down (which also meant no bypassing problem #1 by waving his Spark Bird feather around)

So he did some whack-a-spider with the shovel, coming close enough to a fellow Natural he sort of knew, asking the man if he knew which spiders they were.

[ If Rory would have Natural knowledge of the spiders pls let me know x.x ]
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
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ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#13
Melita would find water, brought by some kind folk who weren’t up to lifting rocks but still wanted to help in other ways. A barrel of rainwater had been rolled into the shade of the Atheneum’s entrance, where it wasn’t exactly cool but at least provided relief for dry throats and hot skin as the workers took small breaks to fill their mugs from it. She and Caiside would be welcome to enjoy a drink as well – once the arachnid infestation was dealt with! Something Fangorn seemed well-suited to do, leaping into the fray with a glorious fury and making gourd-sized inroads on the swarm with every roll and crunch of his sharp teeth. Unfortunately, the little terrors were swift on their eight skittering legs, and many managed to avoid his bite.

The honeybee girl’s cheering might have encouraged her companion to further carnage, but it did little to protect her from the handful of stragglers who got passed Fangorn’s buffet. Three red spiders made their way up her clothing and delivered bites to her hands and arms that would swiftly begin to swell and itch annoyingly.

Caiside and Melita made a good team, moving more rocks and rubble with the wheelbarrow than either could have done separately, and much faster than they would have done alone. Visible progress was being made, large sections of floor beginning to show from beneath the toppled wall, before the swarm was disturbed and struck chaos throughout the workforce. Using his makeshift trap, he was able to catch seven spiders, and help other workers slap away or squish their nightmarish passengers. Nimble fingers and careful eyes helped the Attuned avoid being bitten himself.

Rory and Jigano made a good team as well, hauling the rubble and emptying the carts so those doing the carrying by hand didn’t have to walk so far. They had found a good rhythm, before the screaming started inside, and they shared a startled look before they both rushed in to the Atheneum on two legs and four, respectively. The hunter’s shovel wasn’t a terribly effective weapon against the tiny terrors, his swings too slow to catch many of them with each crushing smash of the tool against the ground, but the reverberations at least kept them from trying to swarm him, and he remained safe from harm. He would perhaps recognize the small, bloated red bodies as being a species of Rosethorn Spider that was annoying, but not usually deadly. Their bites were like bee stings: painful, quickly swelling, and itchy, but rarely life-threatening to a human unless a swarm was able to catch a person unawares and cover them in enough bites to overwhelm them.

Jigano had four large feet with which to stomp and crush, and he did so in an equine dance of thorough dismay at the new arrivals to the party. Snorting and prancing with agitation, each hoof landed with well-executed precision on large clumps of spiders, crushing them into the flagstones and then lifting again before their brethren could run up the long, slender legs to exact vengeance for their fallen siblings.

The spiders and the subsequent hollering, dancing, and swearing almost drowned out the noise of stone shifting and grinding against stone.

Almost.

The nest of spiders had not merely been angry at being disturbed, it seemed, but were also fleeing the tremors of centuries of rubble being reorganized, and not always with care taken for how some pieces of wood and stone supported others. As the last of the spiders skittered away into new shadows, the largest portion of the rubble groaned and then collapsed in a rolling, rumbling cascade, throwing dust into the air – and trapping two of the townsfolk who didn’t get out of the way fast enough before being caught in the miniature landslide. For a moment there was only silence, broken by the coughing of those who had been closest to the collapse. Then the cries for help began, echoing with increasing panic and pain from beneath the newly-restructured pile of broken masonry and beams…



Fangorn makes a small meal and Melita is bitten by 3 spiders!
Caiside collects 7 spiders and avoids being bitten!
Rory smashes a few spiders and avoids being bitten!
Jigano stomps many of the spiders to death and avoids being bitten!

But the remaining rubble has fallen on two of the townsfolk, and it doesn’t sound stable as ominous creaks and groans emerge from the pile. What will you do?

This is the final round for part 1! No posting order.
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
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#14

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

Fangorn enjoyed his snacks with relish, snacking upon them with his sharpened fangs and sending legs in all directions, apparently neither bothered or worried about venom, poison, or any other noxious toxins. Perhaps he was immune? Melita wasn’t certain, and in the complexities of those machinations, she didn’t notice the spiders crawling along her until the bites pinched and snagged at her skin. Her arms flailed and her hands maneuvered to the places chomped; to her dismay, they were almost immediately itchy and swollen, reddened and malicious. She was obvious in her scratching, nails raking over the marks and wounds to find some relief in the obnoxious, irritating burden, her lips raised in a hackle, as though she were an exasperated predator. “Is there anything I can do for these?” Her eyes flickered to the crowd, to all her compatriots, noting none of them tearing into their skin. Rotten luck.

But there was more coming: no sooner had her gaze shifted from one individual to the other, than the sound of rubble and ruin toppling down rumbled over the sanction. She coughed as the dust billowed and shifted into the surroundings, lifting the collar of her dress over her mouth so she could breathe without inhaling the haze; but alarm chiseled its way down her throat and along her ribcage too. Had anyone been caught in the turmoil? The youth listened, for more than just the hacking intervals of decay – and then came the screams.

So attuned with the outcries for help (how many times had she ran headlong into danger for them: her family, her friends?), that despite her wounds and marks, she held no hesitation. Fangorn came along too, shuffling along the floor and striving to sniff, seek out those caught and trapped in the latest onslaught. A portion of her simply thought about digging them out, shifting the piles of rock until they were free: but the creaking and groaning was a foreboding sign. Could she start from the top and work her way down? Would her weight make it worse? She furrowed her brows, and went for it – traveling and traversing carefully, swiftly, up to the top of the makeshift pile. “Hang on!” She echoed and bounded, taking one rock and tossing it to the floor in a swift movement, ignoring the barrage of pain skimming over her hands and arms. If they all worked together, perhaps it could be achieved faster? Maybe someone had a different, alternative plan? She was unrelenting in her pursuit, persistent to a fault, but would listen if there was a better option.
M e l i t a
But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power
I'll find a way to be without you, babe



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