Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia
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glmstr
Magus
The Neverending Dream
Across the great, infinite nothingness, the astral oceans even vaster than the cosmos we know, lie islands of existence. Each ‘island’ that just from the void contains its own rules, its own realities. The material universe happens to occupy a sizeable continent to harbor near-infinite matter in its own reaches, but for some, such is not enough, or, more often than not, the amount of space is not the primary concern. The last several millennia, mortals found one new atoll that held back the cosmic brine, a realm beyond mortal logic, yet inhabited by beings that once followed such arbitrations. Now they instead follow a sleeping giant, spending their days whispering into its ancient ear.
The one that remains steward to such a realm arbitrates how it manifests, at least to the Dreamer’s discretion. An infinite plain extended far out from view, and in the center a tower that pierced what would otherwise be an atmosphere. At the top of its ebon spires sat the steward, gazing into the nothingness. Luciana Fabre, once an arcane genius so many centuries previous, now recluse in her studies instead of interacting with the mortal world.
“The Dreamer stirs, warden,” A guest peered over Luciana’s shoulder. The former brushed a lock of feathery raven hair away.
“I am aware, Arianne. In fact, I was aware long before you returned. I do see it outside my window every day.” A dry remark from the erudite -and audibly disquieted- sage. “The child. Is she going to be at risk?”
“She has been sent to the Elysian Vanguard, under the guise of a call to adventure. There she will train, grow, and survive, but most importantly, do so in secret. I do appreciate you giving her visions in the night, by the way. I wasn’t sure if it was going to be convincing enough.”
“You underestimate me, yet again,” A slender hand waved dismissively at the dark witch. “Perhaps I don’t leave my post quite often enough. What of the boy, by chance? Tethys’ new plaything?”
“He’s a gifted child with a knack for magical study. I suppose she sees him as material to join our ranks, and I don’t blame her. I’d support his induction if he turns out as well as he’s been going. And speaking of the b-”
“Is that why three people entered when there should have been two?” Luciana wrinkled her nose, “I hope you’re aware of the consequences of bringing new people here constantly. It stirs at the scent of new guests.”
“You need not prattle again. I get it, you’re cooped up in this tower for literal centuries. He’ll be staying here for a bit. I might bring others here. Maybe. If someone else brings in new people, you can yell at them. Now, I have a terrified boy to tend to, and probably a paladin too. I’ll bring you a gift basket or something.”
Ronin
Active Member
Lutetia City: Saint Lemeux
Kol wound the streets of Lutetia with the prowess of a born native, effortlessly weaving in out of traffic, taking shortcuts, finding side routes and avoiding traffic like the plague. A trip from Cascestal to Saint Lemeux would have taken half an hour with clear freeways; Kol managed it in ten minutes. A few angry honks from passing motorists aside, both of them reached their destination unscathed: an abandoned stretch of concrete beneath an overpass.
Being Saint Lemeux, it was a well-kept area, devoid of litter, potholes or most other aesthetic unsavories which infested most other parts of the city like lice. Even so, faded graffiti lined the wall of the overpass: 'FUCK ALL PALAPIGS', and underwritten, 'ANAARANS OUT, IVERIANS OUT, LUTETIA FOR LUTETIANS'.
Kol parked the bike and helped Aiofe dismount. "Demoiselle, we've reached our destination. We know you have a lot of choices out there, so on behalf of your pilot, we thank you for choosing 'Kol Transportation'...." He gave her a goofy grin. "Seriously though, you okay? Not about to vomit?"
As the motorcycle came to a stop, Aoife felt that she'd finally calmed back down. She could still feel how her guts had twisted at the death she'd caused. Her parents had warned her what er power was capable of, and that to give life means life must be taken in equal measure. Druidic magic didn't simply rip from some unknown energy source, it pulled from life itself. Unfortunately, extremely rapid forms of healing were not nature's way, and the land would not provide such energies to any druid.
"Oi..." she shuddered slightly. "Oi'll be fine. When Oi was a wee lass, my parents told me just how dangerous being a druid can be. Oi didn't think that..." She shook her head. "When Oi healed myself, Oi had to rip the life from almost two dozen animals. It's..." She stood, hugging herself. She didn't know how to make him understand what it was like. To him, they were probably just rats and birds and things, not living beings so full of life.
She looked around them, seeming to finally see where they were. It was a place so devoid of plant life that she couldn't sense anything living besides herself, Kol, and a smattering of insects in some nearby rubbish.
"W-Where are we, and why'd you bring us here?" she asked, trying to shift topics, though her discomfort at what she'd done was obviously still on her mind.
"Oi..." she shuddered slightly. "Oi'll be fine. When Oi was a wee lass, my parents told me just how dangerous being a druid can be. Oi didn't think that..." She shook her head. "When Oi healed myself, Oi had to rip the life from almost two dozen animals. It's..." She stood, hugging herself. She didn't know how to make him understand what it was like. To him, they were probably just rats and birds and things, not living beings so full of life.
She looked around them, seeming to finally see where they were. It was a place so devoid of plant life that she couldn't sense anything living besides herself, Kol, and a smattering of insects in some nearby rubbish.
"W-Where are we, and why'd you bring us here?" she asked, trying to shift topics, though her discomfort at what she'd done was obviously still on her mind.
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Ronin
Active Member
Kol frowned, putting a hand on Aoife's shoulder as she hugged herself. He didn't quite understand it himself, but he supposed that, to a druid, even small lives like rats and birds had immense value. "I'm sorry, Aif. I wish I wouldn't have put you in a spot where you had to do something like that."
He perked a bit as she changed topic. "We are at a special meeting spot, demoiselle. This is where I told my friend to rendezvous with us. You'll hear him coming a mile-" In the distance, a deep rumbling, like thunder rolling through the concrete. Kol grinned. "And as if on cue..."
A massive motorcycle rounded the corner, twice the size of Kol's already formidable chopper. Mounted on the bike was a man clad in plates of close-knit steel, a helmet and visor obscuring every inch of his face save a mouth and jaw, the lips drawn into a bloodless grimace. A sword was belted to his hip, a pistol on the belt, a rifle strapped to his back. An insignia was forged on his breastplate - a wingspread raven, black as night, feathers gilded against cold steel. There was no doubt who this warrior was: a knight of the Monastic Order. A paladin.
The bike rumbled close before the engine cut. Kol stepped forward, arms wide.
"Saviiieennnn," he smiled, "how you doing my friend? It's been a long-"
"Cut the shit, Kol," the paladin dismounted, "and it's 'Sir Durandet' to you. I've told you that."
"My dear knight, you offend me," Kol feigned protest, "what have I done to deserve such impropriety?"
"Consider it anticipatory impropriety," the paladin growled, "you only call me when you're in trouble - which means you've yet again ignored my advice and done something stupid."
"Now hold on, I-," Kol lifted a protesting hand, stopped himself, then winced, "...actually, yeah. That's exactly what happened."
Savien shook his head, stifling a snarl. He met Aoife's gaze - her bright green eyes reflecting in his fiberglass visor. "Demoiselle." His voice softened just a notch, and he touched two metal-clad fingers to his lips. "What is your name?"
He perked a bit as she changed topic. "We are at a special meeting spot, demoiselle. This is where I told my friend to rendezvous with us. You'll hear him coming a mile-" In the distance, a deep rumbling, like thunder rolling through the concrete. Kol grinned. "And as if on cue..."
A massive motorcycle rounded the corner, twice the size of Kol's already formidable chopper. Mounted on the bike was a man clad in plates of close-knit steel, a helmet and visor obscuring every inch of his face save a mouth and jaw, the lips drawn into a bloodless grimace. A sword was belted to his hip, a pistol on the belt, a rifle strapped to his back. An insignia was forged on his breastplate - a wingspread raven, black as night, feathers gilded against cold steel. There was no doubt who this warrior was: a knight of the Monastic Order. A paladin.
The bike rumbled close before the engine cut. Kol stepped forward, arms wide.
"Saviiieennnn," he smiled, "how you doing my friend? It's been a long-"
"Cut the shit, Kol," the paladin dismounted, "and it's 'Sir Durandet' to you. I've told you that."
"My dear knight, you offend me," Kol feigned protest, "what have I done to deserve such impropriety?"
"Consider it anticipatory impropriety," the paladin growled, "you only call me when you're in trouble - which means you've yet again ignored my advice and done something stupid."
"Now hold on, I-," Kol lifted a protesting hand, stopped himself, then winced, "...actually, yeah. That's exactly what happened."
Savien shook his head, stifling a snarl. He met Aoife's gaze - her bright green eyes reflecting in his fiberglass visor. "Demoiselle." His voice softened just a notch, and he touched two metal-clad fingers to his lips. "What is your name?"
Aoife backed up a step when she saw the mass of man-shaped steel astride the oncoming motorcycle. When it stopped and he got off, she felt herself reflexively huddling in on herself, as if to appear smaller. It had been twenty years since her mother had passed, but she still remembered what her father had told her: Never trust a paladin. The lesson was one he'd driven home for over a year after her mother had died, and she'd taken it to heart, almost to the point of irrational hatred of them, like her father had. Still, in the presence of one for the first time, she couldn't help but feel a deep fear of the man, though she couldn't say why that was, beyond the fact that she knew what history said of the meetings between the church and those whose faith lay with Nature. When he raised his hand, she flinched slightly, only to realize that he was greeting her, not preparing to strike her.
Perhaps he didn't know what she was, impossible as her father's teachings made that seem. He'd always said they could smell heresy, which druidism apparently was.
"Oi'm Aoife O'Mag, Ser Durandet," she responded, the 'r' in his name being rolled by her accent. She didn't much say anything more, though she did relax slightly, if only to try and trick herself into not fearing him. He was, after all, just another man clad in metal. She could handle that if something happened.
Perhaps he didn't know what she was, impossible as her father's teachings made that seem. He'd always said they could smell heresy, which druidism apparently was.
"Oi'm Aoife O'Mag, Ser Durandet," she responded, the 'r' in his name being rolled by her accent. She didn't much say anything more, though she did relax slightly, if only to try and trick herself into not fearing him. He was, after all, just another man clad in metal. She could handle that if something happened.
Ronin
Active Member
"Aoife O'Mag," Savien repeated, "I hope Kol hasn't gotten you into any trouble." He looked her over as a doctor might inspect a wound - seemingly unaffected by her near nakedness. He stiffened a bit as he found her arm.
"Sunray?" He looked to Kol.
The scoundrel nodded. "It was Calos. We barely escaped him."
The paladin growled low and walked back to his bike. "I don't know how that piece of shit is still getting monastic equipment, but I'm going to find out." He swiped a vial of red liquid from a pouch on his motorcycle and some gauze. "For now..." The knight returned to Aoife. "If you don't mind, Ms. O'Mag, I'll treat you. This is salve. The healing properties in this potion counteract sunray, among other things."
"I tried to clean it with some liquor," Kol said.
"Quick-thinking, but pointless. Sunray cauterizes wounds as it inflicts them - the cut is clean. My concern is getting rid of whatever residual liquid is still in there." He uncapped the potion and lathered it over the gauze.
"May I?"
"Sunray?" He looked to Kol.
The scoundrel nodded. "It was Calos. We barely escaped him."
The paladin growled low and walked back to his bike. "I don't know how that piece of shit is still getting monastic equipment, but I'm going to find out." He swiped a vial of red liquid from a pouch on his motorcycle and some gauze. "For now..." The knight returned to Aoife. "If you don't mind, Ms. O'Mag, I'll treat you. This is salve. The healing properties in this potion counteract sunray, among other things."
"I tried to clean it with some liquor," Kol said.
"Quick-thinking, but pointless. Sunray cauterizes wounds as it inflicts them - the cut is clean. My concern is getting rid of whatever residual liquid is still in there." He uncapped the potion and lathered it over the gauze.
"May I?"
The druid shied away, if only momentarily as the paladin stepped closer, bandages and potion in hand. She looked at her arm again, realizing that some of the tissue that her healing had produced had broken open, allowing the wound to be open to air. She sighed slightly, then held her arm forward. After all, she'd once been asked to get some of the herbs and such required for salve production.
"Oi get myself into trouble, so he's not been too bad. Oi've certainly been in worse scrapes, though the scar this'll leave will be unique." She shrugged.
"Either way, whatever might have been left of the sunray should already be gone. My healing should have flushed it from the wound our broken it down into harmless material."
"Oi get myself into trouble, so he's not been too bad. Oi've certainly been in worse scrapes, though the scar this'll leave will be unique." She shrugged.
"Either way, whatever might have been left of the sunray should already be gone. My healing should have flushed it from the wound our broken it down into harmless material."
Ronin
Active Member
Savien applied the material, nodding as she spoke. "I'm only sorry you were at the business end of his blade. Calos should have been stopped long ago - it's a stain on the Order's honor that he continues to ride free." The knight bandaged the wound with gauze, packing it tight and clean. He rose to his feet.
"Healing?" his head cocked to the side, "are you a paranormal? One of the packs, maybe?" That would explain the accent. Many of the werewolf packs around Lutetia had Iverian roots.
"Healing?" his head cocked to the side, "are you a paranormal? One of the packs, maybe?" That would explain the accent. Many of the werewolf packs around Lutetia had Iverian roots.
Ronin
Active Member
Two Months Before the Caer Attacks
Rain spattered the nighttime streets of Lutetia City, glossing the cracked cobblestone roads and misting the ghost-green gaslamps in a shroud of water. Thunder cracked overhead, the lightning hidden somewhere in the storm clouds. It was cold. Not cold enough for snow, but just cold enough to make every drop of rain feel like a liquid icicle. It was not a night to be outdoors, not even in a crime-glutted district like Audrieu. The whores were absent from their posts at the stoplights, the dealers huddled low in their alleyways. Not a night for-
Gunfire in the streets. Sirens. Four black vans sped down a nearly vacant freeway, followed closely by three police cruisers, lights strobing. A gunman leaned out of the backseat of one of the vans and unloaded a clip from his semi-automatic at the nearest flashes of red and blue.
"Fuckin'," he swore as he came back into the van, "can't see shit in this rain..." He lifted a radio to his lips. "Boss, they're gaining on us and our shots aren't scaring them away. What do we do?"
He steadied against the gurney in the center of the van, eyeing the tarp-covered body placed therein. If only he had the skill to reanimate this bastard... that'd take care of those pigs.
Rain spattered the nighttime streets of Lutetia City, glossing the cracked cobblestone roads and misting the ghost-green gaslamps in a shroud of water. Thunder cracked overhead, the lightning hidden somewhere in the storm clouds. It was cold. Not cold enough for snow, but just cold enough to make every drop of rain feel like a liquid icicle. It was not a night to be outdoors, not even in a crime-glutted district like Audrieu. The whores were absent from their posts at the stoplights, the dealers huddled low in their alleyways. Not a night for-
Gunfire in the streets. Sirens. Four black vans sped down a nearly vacant freeway, followed closely by three police cruisers, lights strobing. A gunman leaned out of the backseat of one of the vans and unloaded a clip from his semi-automatic at the nearest flashes of red and blue.
"Fuckin'," he swore as he came back into the van, "can't see shit in this rain..." He lifted a radio to his lips. "Boss, they're gaining on us and our shots aren't scaring them away. What do we do?"
He steadied against the gurney in the center of the van, eyeing the tarp-covered body placed therein. If only he had the skill to reanimate this bastard... that'd take care of those pigs.
Ronin
Active Member
Written by Lucifer and Ronin
In the midst of a rather thrilling chase, the news of more chasers could only add fuel to the fire of excitement. Although troublesome, sending a message at this point in time would be incredibly beneficial in the long run. The man in the back of the van smiled, his suit smelled of the dead and the glint of amusement in his eyes reflected a rather menacing expression.
In times like these, a plan of utmost brilliance will always serve well with good instinct.
The boss was hiding it for later, but now's a good time as any to unload the prototypes that they stole. One of the werewolf citizens was completely intact physically, save for the bullet wound to the back. With such minimal damage to a perfectly well-reserved body, how could a necromancer resist? He held the radio in his hands delicately, his fingers barely grazing the top of it.
"Hold them off for a few seconds. When I give a signal, swerve to the side of the road. Don't give them enough time to follow you."
---
In the police cruisers, Officer Dan Tremille was doing his best to tail the vans behind the sheets of rain. He picked up his radio. "Jenkins, do you have a shot?"
The walkie crackled. "Negative... rain's too thick, I can't see the tires."
"Dammit Leeroy, this freeway is clear! Now's our best chance." He slammed his hand against the wheel, fighting to keep control in the downpour. They'd been following these bastards since the first alarms at Third General Health. He hated these metahuman criminals. Robbing banks was one thing, but kidnapping the corpses of deceased werewolf citizens to harvest their organs? That was another kind of wrong.
"Did you put out the dispatch to the Monastic Order?"
"Yeah, they said... wait... why are they..."
Tremille blinked. Up ahead, it looked as if the vans were pulling to the side of the road. Were they... surrendering?
In the midst of a rather thrilling chase, the news of more chasers could only add fuel to the fire of excitement. Although troublesome, sending a message at this point in time would be incredibly beneficial in the long run. The man in the back of the van smiled, his suit smelled of the dead and the glint of amusement in his eyes reflected a rather menacing expression.
In times like these, a plan of utmost brilliance will always serve well with good instinct.
The boss was hiding it for later, but now's a good time as any to unload the prototypes that they stole. One of the werewolf citizens was completely intact physically, save for the bullet wound to the back. With such minimal damage to a perfectly well-reserved body, how could a necromancer resist? He held the radio in his hands delicately, his fingers barely grazing the top of it.
"Hold them off for a few seconds. When I give a signal, swerve to the side of the road. Don't give them enough time to follow you."
---
In the police cruisers, Officer Dan Tremille was doing his best to tail the vans behind the sheets of rain. He picked up his radio. "Jenkins, do you have a shot?"
The walkie crackled. "Negative... rain's too thick, I can't see the tires."
"Dammit Leeroy, this freeway is clear! Now's our best chance." He slammed his hand against the wheel, fighting to keep control in the downpour. They'd been following these bastards since the first alarms at Third General Health. He hated these metahuman criminals. Robbing banks was one thing, but kidnapping the corpses of deceased werewolf citizens to harvest their organs? That was another kind of wrong.
"Did you put out the dispatch to the Monastic Order?"
"Yeah, they said... wait... why are they..."
Tremille blinked. Up ahead, it looked as if the vans were pulling to the side of the road. Were they... surrendering?
"Oi..." Aoife began, only to stop herself. She'd never told anyone from the church what she was, at least not before today. She had suspected that Kol was of some affiliation to them earlier, but hadn't voiced the issue because he didn't seem to even know her for what she was. This, on the other hand, would be offering up a secret lifetime that could very well get her killed, if her father's words were to be believed.
She teetered on the brink of holding back, only to feel a wave of relief as the herbal components of the Salve flared into action, reacting to her nature-attuned aura like gasoline to a fire. There was a shimmer of amber light beneath the red liquid, as it had not yet hardened, and then the liquid began to turn clear and clean, the skin beneath still bearing a scar from the wound, but it no longer was deep and concerning, but rather thin and light, like a very long scratch instead of a sword-wound. She flushed for a moment, having never known that such a reaction could happen, and her arm instinctively flexed, only stopped as she froze to consider the implications.
"Para...Paranormal might be one word for it. Magical, another. Your kith and kin, however, might've once considered me a heretic, though Oi'm not sure if it still holds true." She paused, the green of her irises becoming ringed by a shimmering golden halo as she flared her magic, the remaining fluid from the salve steaming away suddenly.
"Oi'm the Druid of Lornanine, practitioner of the Iverian line of teachings, Ser Durandet."
She teetered on the brink of holding back, only to feel a wave of relief as the herbal components of the Salve flared into action, reacting to her nature-attuned aura like gasoline to a fire. There was a shimmer of amber light beneath the red liquid, as it had not yet hardened, and then the liquid began to turn clear and clean, the skin beneath still bearing a scar from the wound, but it no longer was deep and concerning, but rather thin and light, like a very long scratch instead of a sword-wound. She flushed for a moment, having never known that such a reaction could happen, and her arm instinctively flexed, only stopped as she froze to consider the implications.
"Para...Paranormal might be one word for it. Magical, another. Your kith and kin, however, might've once considered me a heretic, though Oi'm not sure if it still holds true." She paused, the green of her irises becoming ringed by a shimmering golden halo as she flared her magic, the remaining fluid from the salve steaming away suddenly.
"Oi'm the Druid of Lornanine, practitioner of the Iverian line of teachings, Ser Durandet."
Ronin
Active Member
Savien's hands slowed their work as Aoife told him exactly who she was. He looked up at her, eyes hidden beneath his visor, his expression unreadable.
"A druid..." he mused to himself, lost in thought for a few seconds. Then, quite suddenly, he gruffed from his throat, nodded to himself, and kept working. "Don't think I've ever met a druid before. They keep far away from the city, for the most part. Can't say I blame them." Her hand wrapped, the knight stood up and returned the empty vial to his belt. "Sometimes we get a few in town. Apothacerys, mostly, trying to make some coin. But never one from Lornaine."
Kol sauntered over. "Yknow Savien, it's polite to remove your helmet when you're introducing yourself to someone. Isn't that part of the Order's etiquette?"
"It's also polite not to drag innocent people into your shenanigans, Kol," Savien quipped, "but I suppose you're right." He turned back to Aoife. "Apologies. Let me meet you eye to eye." His hands came up to his helmet, undoing the metal clasps locking it to his cuirass. He lifted it from his head and tucked it under his arm, running metalclad fingers through his messy black hair.
He was quite average looking, all things considered. His jaw was strong and masculine, flecked with stubble, but was not jutting or pronounced enough to be handsome. His nose was slightly crooked at the middle; repeated breaking, most likely. His eyebrows were low, drawn over serious, sunken eyes as brown as fresh earth.
A scar - a great terrible scar sliced from above one of his eyebrows down to mid cheek. The flesh was still red and angry, not quite healed. This was recent.
"If you don't mind my asking," Savien continued, "what are you doing in the city?"
"A druid..." he mused to himself, lost in thought for a few seconds. Then, quite suddenly, he gruffed from his throat, nodded to himself, and kept working. "Don't think I've ever met a druid before. They keep far away from the city, for the most part. Can't say I blame them." Her hand wrapped, the knight stood up and returned the empty vial to his belt. "Sometimes we get a few in town. Apothacerys, mostly, trying to make some coin. But never one from Lornaine."
Kol sauntered over. "Yknow Savien, it's polite to remove your helmet when you're introducing yourself to someone. Isn't that part of the Order's etiquette?"
"It's also polite not to drag innocent people into your shenanigans, Kol," Savien quipped, "but I suppose you're right." He turned back to Aoife. "Apologies. Let me meet you eye to eye." His hands came up to his helmet, undoing the metal clasps locking it to his cuirass. He lifted it from his head and tucked it under his arm, running metalclad fingers through his messy black hair.
He was quite average looking, all things considered. His jaw was strong and masculine, flecked with stubble, but was not jutting or pronounced enough to be handsome. His nose was slightly crooked at the middle; repeated breaking, most likely. His eyebrows were low, drawn over serious, sunken eyes as brown as fresh earth.
A scar - a great terrible scar sliced from above one of his eyebrows down to mid cheek. The flesh was still red and angry, not quite healed. This was recent.
"If you don't mind my asking," Savien continued, "what are you doing in the city?"
She felt her fear lessen as he talked, though with how he spoke of druids, it seemed like he had only met those who dabbled enough to gain some of the benefits, rather than those who dove in fully, embracing Nature and binding their essence to hers. She managed a weak smile as he finished his ministrations, and as Kol moved closer, she shuffled a bit, allowing for some more room between each of them.
As the paladin removed his helm, she expected to see the features her father had ingrained into her mind, of flashing blue eyes and idealized structure, but when she saw his more homely appearance, she couldn't help but be slightly surprised. This wasn't turning out at all how she'd expected, and certainly her father had been wrong on the subject of men of the Church. His scar intrigued her, however. She'd was about to offer to help it along in the healing process, but he got his question out before her mouth could even open. Instead, she responded.
"Oi'm here looking for what's causing such a mess of the local area. Witches came into Lornanine some time ago and in their foolishness they drew a manticore from its den. Oi'm certain that they had no intent to do so, and were Oi not there to stymie the beast, it might've rid me of them and the problems that their ilk carry with them, but Oi'll not have it said that we druids ignore the plights of our fellow humans.
"To be honest, Oi've gotten nowhere with any of the leads Oi've picked up on, but Oi'm hoping my luck might change. The only problem is that Oi'm nowhere near as capable here inside this mess of false stone and steel that mankind has chosen to live within." She shrugged. "And as for the druids you've met, most only know the basics, with maybe a spell or two. My parents..." She trailed off, took a breath, then continued, saying, "My parents taught me the craft as it was passed down to them. We lost my mother when Oi was very young, but by then Oi'd bound my spirit to Nature's and Oi'd taken up the mantle of Druid. Within the confines of Lornanine Forest, there are now only two druids of the Iverian teachings: myself, and my father."
She paused for a moment, only to add, "And the Iverian teachings are the oldest, going back to times when the Church you chose to be with and our kind were not at odds with one another."
As the paladin removed his helm, she expected to see the features her father had ingrained into her mind, of flashing blue eyes and idealized structure, but when she saw his more homely appearance, she couldn't help but be slightly surprised. This wasn't turning out at all how she'd expected, and certainly her father had been wrong on the subject of men of the Church. His scar intrigued her, however. She'd was about to offer to help it along in the healing process, but he got his question out before her mouth could even open. Instead, she responded.
"Oi'm here looking for what's causing such a mess of the local area. Witches came into Lornanine some time ago and in their foolishness they drew a manticore from its den. Oi'm certain that they had no intent to do so, and were Oi not there to stymie the beast, it might've rid me of them and the problems that their ilk carry with them, but Oi'll not have it said that we druids ignore the plights of our fellow humans.
"To be honest, Oi've gotten nowhere with any of the leads Oi've picked up on, but Oi'm hoping my luck might change. The only problem is that Oi'm nowhere near as capable here inside this mess of false stone and steel that mankind has chosen to live within." She shrugged. "And as for the druids you've met, most only know the basics, with maybe a spell or two. My parents..." She trailed off, took a breath, then continued, saying, "My parents taught me the craft as it was passed down to them. We lost my mother when Oi was very young, but by then Oi'd bound my spirit to Nature's and Oi'd taken up the mantle of Druid. Within the confines of Lornanine Forest, there are now only two druids of the Iverian teachings: myself, and my father."
She paused for a moment, only to add, "And the Iverian teachings are the oldest, going back to times when the Church you chose to be with and our kind were not at odds with one another."
Ronin
Active Member
"I never knew there were druids in Lornaine," Savien replied with keen interest. "In truth, I don't know much about druids at all. The Order doesn't offer much training to paladins in arcane history and lore - only how to defend against its use." He began re-sorting the vials on his belt, situations them closer to the buckle for ease of access. There was another red, two blue, a gold, a tan, and a black.
"Your father must be a good man," Savien continued, "to raise a daughter who would leave her home and risk her to life to protect a city of strangers." His head dipped slightly and he touched two metalclad fingers to his lips. "Your concern is heartening, demoiselle. Not many in this city have the courage to defend their neighbors." He remained silent on the matter of her mother.
The paladin turned back to his back. "Now, as for these witches - have you found them yet? If not, I think I know exactly who you're looking for."
"Your father must be a good man," Savien continued, "to raise a daughter who would leave her home and risk her to life to protect a city of strangers." His head dipped slightly and he touched two metalclad fingers to his lips. "Your concern is heartening, demoiselle. Not many in this city have the courage to defend their neighbors." He remained silent on the matter of her mother.
The paladin turned back to his back. "Now, as for these witches - have you found them yet? If not, I think I know exactly who you're looking for."
His comments caused her to quirk an eyebrow. She supposed she held some amount of compassion for the people of Lutetia, but it had never been a driving force for her, especially not for her current course of action. She was simply trying to figure out how to put the forest back to it's natural self, rather than have all these others mucking it up. It was, after all, one of a few places still left that had a connection to Nature strong enough to support a fully realized Druid in their craft.
"Oi've not found them, no, but they're not necessarily the primary concern. There's something beyond them at work, something more ancient than Lutetia or even Lornanine. Older than their names, at least. Nature's out of sorts, and Oi mean to find out why, especially considering the safety of Lornanine relies on Nature's strength to stay as it is." She remembered something her father had told her, about the Heart of Lornanine, and how it mustn't be consumed by Old Winter. As she opened her mouth to mention it, she paused and held herself back.
She'd brought up more information than was probably a good idea already. No reason to give the Church further reason to want to investigate her home any more than would likely be upcoming, now that she'd let loose who and what she was.
"Oi've not found them, no, but they're not necessarily the primary concern. There's something beyond them at work, something more ancient than Lutetia or even Lornanine. Older than their names, at least. Nature's out of sorts, and Oi mean to find out why, especially considering the safety of Lornanine relies on Nature's strength to stay as it is." She remembered something her father had told her, about the Heart of Lornanine, and how it mustn't be consumed by Old Winter. As she opened her mouth to mention it, she paused and held herself back.
She'd brought up more information than was probably a good idea already. No reason to give the Church further reason to want to investigate her home any more than would likely be upcoming, now that she'd let loose who and what she was.
Ronin
Active Member
Savien's look darkened. He turned from Aoife, eyes downcast.
"There is a great evil rising in Lutetia City, yes - an evil that threatens the balance of both man and Nature." His hand moved unconsciously, nearly rising to touch the scar slicing down his face, He stopped himself and brought it back to his side with a growl. "But confronting it is not your burden, Aoife. The paladins of the Order have sworn oaths to defend humanity from evil. We will face this threat and destroy it - such is our duty."
He moved back to his bike. "As for the witches, I could have them meet you in a couple of hours, if you still want to speak with them." He looked over his shoulder. "If that's something you still want to do, of course. Witches can be a volatile lot... especially this coven."
"There is a great evil rising in Lutetia City, yes - an evil that threatens the balance of both man and Nature." His hand moved unconsciously, nearly rising to touch the scar slicing down his face, He stopped himself and brought it back to his side with a growl. "But confronting it is not your burden, Aoife. The paladins of the Order have sworn oaths to defend humanity from evil. We will face this threat and destroy it - such is our duty."
He moved back to his bike. "As for the witches, I could have them meet you in a couple of hours, if you still want to speak with them." He looked over his shoulder. "If that's something you still want to do, of course. Witches can be a volatile lot... especially this coven."
The woman watched him, listening and hearing more than just his words. She heard his frustration, and his heartfelt desire to do what the paladins were meant to do, but she also heard the most subtle of warnings, if it could be called even that. He wanted her to keep from getting further involved, and though he'd been helpful, she could well imagine the capabilities and armament this man could bring to bear against her. She smiled.
"While Oi respect you for protecting the smallfolk from the greater dangers we three are familiar with, might Oi remind you that you keep the people safe. You're very good at it, as an Order, on the whole, but when it comes to something dangerous enough to warrant your resources and it all messes with Nature, you can bet your priestly arses that what druids remain will hear the call to arms. Oi'll be in the thick of it when the time comes, for while you protect humanity, Oi serve to protect Nature herself." She walked over to him and looked up into his face, his armor making him seem enormous.
"Oi'd like to meet them, yes, though perhaps we might find a way to work together from here on out. If the threat is the same as our oral history suggests, we'll have to in order to even think of survival."
"While Oi respect you for protecting the smallfolk from the greater dangers we three are familiar with, might Oi remind you that you keep the people safe. You're very good at it, as an Order, on the whole, but when it comes to something dangerous enough to warrant your resources and it all messes with Nature, you can bet your priestly arses that what druids remain will hear the call to arms. Oi'll be in the thick of it when the time comes, for while you protect humanity, Oi serve to protect Nature herself." She walked over to him and looked up into his face, his armor making him seem enormous.
"Oi'd like to meet them, yes, though perhaps we might find a way to work together from here on out. If the threat is the same as our oral history suggests, we'll have to in order to even think of survival."
Ronin
Active Member
Savien perked a brow. "I have no problem with 'protecting nature', as you put it. But there's standing up for what you believe in, and there's suicide. Against this threat, you're closer to the latter." He searched one of the compartments on his bike. "Paladins are trained to die against overwhelming odds, Aoife. Don't burden yourself with a duty others live to shoulder."
He procured a small phone and began searching through contacts. "There's a cafe up the street from here, I can have them meet you there?" He looked up. "Or would you rather rest? I imagine you're still in a bit of pain."
He procured a small phone and began searching through contacts. "There's a cafe up the street from here, I can have them meet you there?" He looked up. "Or would you rather rest? I imagine you're still in a bit of pain."
The druid favored Savien with a smile, then turned to Kol, who'd bee rather quiet for much of the exchange. It seemed he wasn't as wild as she thought he'd been when they'd met. That's just how human were, though: unpredictable and confusing, no matter how much they'd done or harmed the things around them.
"There are also threats that transcend the duties of any one group, and if this threat is compromising to both our ways of life, Oi will fight with all Oi am to restore the balance and to protect Nature herself as best Oi can." She chuckled softly, only to continue. "And if you're going to try and sweet talk a woman as defiant and stubborn as me, you'd have done better to go the route of saying that you'd be there to protect what Oi loved, and that you'd aid me when Oi needed it, but that you'd not hinder me." She winked and thought his suggestion over, only to nod.
"Sounds good, though Oi probably ought to go and get another shirt. While Oi personally don't mind showing so much skin, you folk here in the modern world have a very prudish nature when it comes to seeing the body of another person." She shrugged. "As for being hurt, Oi'm probably healthier now than Oi was before that blade dug into my arm. Oi'll keep the scar though. It's a nice touch, and it'll serve as a strong enough reminder why Oi'd rather not fight your kind toe to toe, though Oi've no doubt Oi might prove a fair match for at least one or two of your order."
"There are also threats that transcend the duties of any one group, and if this threat is compromising to both our ways of life, Oi will fight with all Oi am to restore the balance and to protect Nature herself as best Oi can." She chuckled softly, only to continue. "And if you're going to try and sweet talk a woman as defiant and stubborn as me, you'd have done better to go the route of saying that you'd be there to protect what Oi loved, and that you'd aid me when Oi needed it, but that you'd not hinder me." She winked and thought his suggestion over, only to nod.
"Sounds good, though Oi probably ought to go and get another shirt. While Oi personally don't mind showing so much skin, you folk here in the modern world have a very prudish nature when it comes to seeing the body of another person." She shrugged. "As for being hurt, Oi'm probably healthier now than Oi was before that blade dug into my arm. Oi'll keep the scar though. It's a nice touch, and it'll serve as a strong enough reminder why Oi'd rather not fight your kind toe to toe, though Oi've no doubt Oi might prove a fair match for at least one or two of your order."