The Search For Miomo

[Aramara Meibi]

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From her position on the ground, Aramara had a good view of Mariana and easily recognized her actions. Her Red Way instructor, Ferryd, had taught her the basics and fundamentals behind the spell Mariana was weaving, but had not yet awarded her with the glyph and knowledge how to cast it herself. Still, her inclination towards Red Way gave her a good sense of what was happening. She could feel the entropy and chaos increase in the ground beneath her friend's furry feet, as latent energy pent up in the crystalline structures of the granite was released. It's about to get really hot in here, she thought.

She noticed too, her bow was not far from her, within reach on the ground where she had placed it. With her free paw she took it up and rolled to her side away from Mariana's lava trap, trying to spring herself to her feet, but found she was too week to do so, and collapsed again, sitting on her haunches with her back against the cavern wall. If it weren't for the sparse light, she would have a perfect vantage of the scene. This was remedied when the Ylian lit his bonfire.

Within seconds the chamber was bathed in light, casting deep shadows behind all objects. For Aramara, the tunnel was now filled with the presence of the Fire Spirit, in all of its forms and states. Where Mariana had laid her trap, Aramara could see fiery fingers and hands creeping from the ground, crawling upwards, reaching for the suspended Diaboli, through him, embracing him. Everywhere the firelight illuminated a surface, the Fire Spirit stood, burning eyes locked on Aramara, but pointing towards the fallen figure of Callie. The whisper of a thousand voices resounded within her.

The result of your actions.

"Dear Gods NO!" the cry came from her lips, but she did not recognize the voice, as tired, cracked and desperate as it was. The Spirits faded from her view, but left her with gathered strength. She saw herself kneeling next to the dying elf, cradling her in her arms, and then was kneeling beside Callie, holding her thin frame. The girl was growing cold as the poison coursed through her veins. "Hold on Callie! Hold on!" Aramara pleaded with her, "Don't let go!"

Even if she had the energy to cast any more magic, her healing spells would only work on the light scratch on the Nolthrir's arm and do nothing for the contamination within her body. Her gathering of herbs too was useless without any knowledge of the alchemical makeup of the toxin. No, sadly, her best hope for a cure remained with the Ylian. Aramara placed her dagger in her mouth and knocked an arrow to her bow, pulling back and took steady aim for a incapacitating shot at the man's leg. The arrow ignited in flames as she let it fly.

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Mariana was aware of the nolthrir girl's suffering. Her senses were keened, cued, ready to react and spring. Every small sound and motion was heard by her: the muttering of the insulting Ylian, the movements of the Diaboli. She could hear Aramara's desperate pleas, and as much as she longed to help the poor woman, she knew that for the moment her attention must remain fully fixated on this menace before her. The Diaboli first. The girl... Her eyes caught the glint from the arrowhead as the other akkaio readied it and let it fly, and she couldn't keep a tiny smirk from forming. Well played, Ara. Well played. Perhaps if the other man was injured, he would be more persuaded to cough up an antidote to whatever his dagger had administered to the girl. The only thing she didn't pick up on was that subtle shadow that the man summoned and sent slithering into the darkness.

With the glow of light initiated by the Ylian's fire, Mariana was able to see the rock coming for her head. She only had to shift it a bit, however, to avoid the oncoming rush. The Diaboli may have been good, but aiming at a moving target in the dark was no small feat. Some fleeting confidence was acknowledged when the overbearingly muscled man charged towards her. He had taken the bait, eaten her overly

flamboyant bravado hook, line and sinker. Just as the Ylian had just illustrated with his comment, they had underestimated her, and assumed her nothing but a random bystander. A meddler.

This was no meddler. This was a friend, and a friend that did not take kindly to others assaulting those she cared about. Their flippant display of power enraged her. Her emotion welled up within her the instant before the Diaboli's blade began to move, while he was still a pace away from her, poised to swing. The magma roiling before her feet heated with that righteous rage, and her lips curled back in a menacing scowl. Part of her didn't want to do this. There was no pain quite like the agony she was about to inflict on this man, and somewhere in the back of her head her conscience rebelled against the action. He had made his choice, however. Allied himself with dark deeds and despicable decisions. Ultimately, this was his fault, not hers.

In one swift movement, Mariana jumped backwards. Just as his dark shoes hit the core of where she'd generated the spell, the ground exploded, concentrating upon him, the lava erupting from a sudden pore that had formed in the earth. The tunnel flashed with this harsh orange light now, once again visibility brightening to shocking clarity. The heat was overbearing and, because she was so close, stole her breath away with its intensity. It reflected in her shimmering metal armor and made it appear as though she, too, were being ravaged by the searing liquid. She stumbled another step back, paw still hitched in a way to keep the spell going, sabre held at the ready.

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Callie's face exhibited the torturous agony that the deadly poison was inflicting on her arm. Beads of cold sweat formed on her brow, as did a bump on the back of her head from hitting the ground. The ylian's dagger cut her just below the wrist, and in the orange light it looked like a very minor cut. The poison was a very thick black tar that would be familiar to anyone who wanted to inflict true death. Now, the poison had coursed through her right forearm, and the veins in it showed through her skin, black as the tunnel had been. Callie blinked a few times and wanted to stand, but the knock on her noggin kept her dazed. Instead she just lay there feeling Armara's warm, soft fur, and being reminded of Miomo. It brought a brief smile to her face and she hoped she would find him soon.

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You cursed ylian, you blew my surprise attack with that damned bonfire. Druk didn't change his plan, much to his misfortune, though he did compensate as Mariana leapt back and swung his sword wide, hoping to catch her where she landed. That ultimately did nothing to rescue him from his fate. In the same instant his boots touched ground, the ground melted. The plume of lava engulfed him. He imagined his homeworld must be something like this, but that thought only lasted for the briefest second before the excruciating pain overrode any other thoughts. His clothing caught on fire and then melted to his flesh, which itself started melting, his blood literally boiled in his veins, and his guts baked inside the diaboli-shaped oven. His skin sloughed off of him, and he was flayed alive, though just barely. His only saving grace was that the intense heat killed him in only a few seconds. In a few more seconds he was turned into a smouldering pile of ash. Dakkru would have fun putting him back together again.

Already the lava spell was starting to fill this portion of the tunnel with superheated, and noxious gasses. Though the gas was wafting out both ends of the tunnel, that action wasn't nearly as fast as the production of it. In addition, the ground started shaking and rumbling, causing bits of dirt and debris to dislodge from the ceiling in a soft rain.

The ylian merchant turned around from his dealings with the shadeling just in time to see Aramara knocking the arrow. Defenseless, he spun around and ran after the familiar. He didn't make it very far though, and fell over just past his still-unconscious rivnak as the flaming arrow tore into his right leg, cauterizing at the same time. He hollered profanities from the pain, and cursed the whole lot of them. His dagger came in handy again, this time to cut into the arrow so that he could snap it off cleanly. Not one to stick around in a dangerous situation, he crawled to the wall and used it to help himself back up onto his good leg. While sliding along the wall into the shadows he threatened, "Anyone who gets near me will be as dead as that girl!" and to back up his words, he kept a tight hold on the dagger.

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The shadeling sped through the stone labyrinths, through cramped corridors, across precarious bridges, and along narrow ledges without hesitation. It was sure-footed and unseen. Anyone following who was unfamiliar with the labyrinths would never have found their way back out. Finally, its destination made itself visible around a corner. The entrance was guarded by two gobbles, and illuminated with sconces. They nodded to the shadeling and he entered a hall with a very high ceiling. The walls on either side were stepped back every five feet up, forming ledges. all along the walls were alcoves, side-by-side and on each level and all hidden in shadow. All manner of races of gobbles were gathered here, some just resting outside an alcove, some climbing the ladders placed around, and those on the ground were training with swords. There must have been nearly one thousand gobbles, or at least enough room to house that many. At the far end of the hall was a throne, and sitting on the thrown was the Gobble King, a xacha man with a flamboyant horned helmet, and a long cloak.

The shadeling whispered a few words to the xacha, who responded, "I see. It appears my choice of expendable merchant was not the best one. I'm glad I only paid half the tria." If he was angered by this news, he did not let it show. He stood up and one gobble in fancy clothing indicative of a high military rank approached him. He said, in fluent gobble, "Gather a dozen of my best fighters and follow Shiff back to my merchandise. Take bowls, spoons, mugs, anything you can in order to capture all of it. Don't leave a single drop, do you understand?" The gobble nodded in understanding and saluted, "Oh, and kill anyone you may find there," and with a wave of his hand he dismissed the gobble to carry out his command.

[Aramara Meibi]

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BAAAAWWOOOOVMSH!!!

The driving force of hot air and sulfuric gases blasted past Aramara and Callie as the lava plume erupted from Mariana's well laid trap. The fenki crouched down over the Nolthrir girl's suffering body, shielding her from the caloric tempest. From there, she observed the girl's condition. She was no expert on mortal toxins, but if the viscous black liquid was the same substance Shadow once had painted on his claws, Callie hadn't much time. If Mariana could not control her summoned volcanic fissure, the girl would have to be moved to safety, but the most pressing matter was to find a cure. It was beyond Aramara's skill and knowledge, and the answer was slowly sneaking away in the shadows.

A quick glance towards her akkaio friend revealed her to be of good condition, a red glow reflecting in her eyes and off her armor, her unarmed paw twisting in menacing gestures, undulating with the pulse of the earth. Aramara found her self in sudden astonishment of Mariana's powers, a sense of frightening awe quickly replaced by the comfort of having her on her side. Finding strength in her image, Aramara pulled another arrow from her quiver and nocked it on her bow. Standing straight, she forcefully paced across the stone hall towards the retreating Ylian scoundrel.

Before she closed half the distance to him, Aramara took aim for the shoulder of his knife wielding arm, pulled the bowstring taught and released. "Give me the antidote!" she ordered. Her earlier attempt at diplomacy failed, she was in no mood for negotiations. Determination was driving her actions now, determination not to lose Callie, not to lose Miomo, not to lose her sister, not to lose anyone else in her life. She was acting in discord to the moral teachings of her faith. It was not her will which determined the course of her or any one's fate, but she could not accept this for now. She only saw two options, she would get the cure from this wretched man, or she would stick him like a pincushion full of arrows trying.

Before she finished speaking, she had another arrow aimed for the man's other leg, "GIVE IT TO ME!"

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The heat burned Mariana's eyes and sealed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It sucked nearly all of the moisture from her, grabbed at it with groping, greedy fingers and pulling it into itself as though this could satisfy and quench its own fiery inferno. Dragging herself back a step, still mortified from the scene of watching that Diaboli melt inward and literally collapse upon himself, she raised her paws and began to channel the lava back into the pit from whence it had come. The lava that had eagerly lapped at her to do her bidding now obediently found its way back down into the depths of the earth, and the subtle shaking of the ground ceased. Dirt from the ceiling dropped on her head and merged with her sweat, making her look a very haggard and ragged form indeed as it traced muddy lines down her face. She stood panting for a moment, sweating anew now inside of her metal, ever-present chrysalis, saturating her fur with salt water. It ran down between her eyes even as the air in the tunnel began to cool in reaction to the dismissal of the fire, and the fumes had scorched her throat to the point of uncomfortable dryness. To alleviate this, she wound her fingers in a circle, sending a cooling subtle breeze softly blowing past her and carrying most of the remaining fumes out with it. The scent of burnt hair, flesh and bone marrow was enough to inspire her to vomit, sticking inside her nasal cavities with a rather disconcerting persistence, even after the air had removed most of the remnants still clinging to her. Despite this, she was satisfied with the results. One threat neutralized. One more to go.

What she did not notice until she looked down was the gaping hole torn asunder in her armor. A flesh wound was bleeding across her upper abdomen, weeping vibrant red rivers of blood. She scowled at the sight, realizing that before he had greeted his rather unsavory demise, the thug had managed to catch her with the tip of his blade. It wasn't enough to kill her, but in these tunnels, infection would set in quickly if she didn't look to it later. The pain flashed in sharp relief upon the recognition, but she smothered it behind a chilling iron padlocked door, too numbed to the sensation of her nerve cells firing angry messages at her brain to really care. She'd had worse. She'd had far, far worse.

Deciding that now was not the time to waste magic reserves on so superficial an injury and knowing that only extraneous exercise would invoke a faint, Mariana shifted her attention now to the Ylian who had foolishly resorted to panic. He was swinging his dagger about as a common moron would, believing that the threat ought to save him. The knife glinted an unusual tint in the fire-light, and for the first time the thought that the poison he'd administered might be more than simply a one-way ticket to the death realm ticked between her ears. Those gold-flecked eyes moved across the tunnel and observed the nolthrir girl, Callie, making out the faint hair-line capillaries and veins that stood in black contrast to her arm. This was no regular death this man had administered. This was something else entirely.

The dire truth of the situation set in. Mariana's breath caught in her lungs, and despite her exhaustion, she could feel that same fury roil and foam inside her heart. Kill the defenseless. What gives you the right to decide to completely wipe her from existence? What gives you the right to make such a choice? The contents of that broken keg that was still resting against the wall and leaking slowly suddenly took on a much more sinister appeal, and the akkaio warrior made a mental note to cremate its remains as soon as she was finished with this blasted butcher.

Her fingers twitched and she let out a steady hum, a melodic sort of chant that sounded freakishly like a lullaby. No one would carry around the means to deliver permanent death without an antidote. In case of an unfortunate accident, you were gambling with the very vestiges of oblivion. This man was cold, he was callous, and he was calculating. He would have such an antidote.

First the arm, then the hand, raised horizontally in front of her in an almost accusatory fashion. The melody continued as she summoned her spell, a ball of flame forming in front of her, then congealing and hissing in the space before her. It took shape, became almost corporeal, shifting and moving precisely with the jerks and flicks of her paw. Her fingers fell inwards towards her palm in a cascading fashion, and the fiery image did the same, spinning in the air, ready to be given flight. This was merely fire, for she did not want to risk flooding the valuable oxygen in this constricted place with those volcanic fumes again. Even though its substance was considerably less intimidating, it would still serve its purpose for what she wanted to do.

As Aramara spoke, she caught some of the hysteria in her tone. She turned her head and something inside her quivered, quaked with the other woman's words, winding up her wrath as she heard them. The other fenki was tired, pushed to the point of keeling over, but still she was fighting, and Mariana's heart throbbed with admiration at that truth. Her gaze shifted back to the Ylian that was surely already being pushed to the brink of falling apart, and prepared to shove him full-brunt over the edge. Look at what you have done, her thoughts continued, spurred further by her akkaio friend. You've driven her to such violence, tainted my peace-minded friend. You'll pay for that. You and all the others like you, who force violence to be a necessity in this gods damned pit of a place.

"Listen closely to me. If you deliver the antidote, we will let you go. But you see, I don't have to get anywhere near you to blow your head off. No...far too quick. Maybe, maybe I'll start with your legs. Or your arm. Do you truly appreciate what fire can do? It makes your blood boil inside your skin. It raises the temperature so that the synapses in your brain fire and die as they are baked from it. It's usually a quick death. However, you've made me very angry with what you've done here today. I could draw it out. Trace lovely patterns on your skin. Mold it like so much earth, leave you with a pretty pattern up your back and down your chest. My friend here could compound it with some more of her acupuncture. Would you like that? No. I don't think so. Antidote, or you suffer a fate worse than death. Your choice."

Her violent and vehement tirade completed, Mariana waited to see if she had successfully messed with the cornered, injured Ylian's psyche. The arrows had already driven him to a panic. Let's see if she could drive him over the edge.

[Aramara Meibi]

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The normally quiet and unassuming tunnel quickly erupted in chaos, and now the remnants of it cluttered the scene. At one end, the molten rock was still cooling, and crystallizing in a different way than it had been in originally. There's no telling how that might effect the stability of the ground around it. Then there was the bonfire made up of the canvas tarp and some wooden chunks of the cart. Laying beside it was the dead body of ylian guard that had unceremoniously been chucked off the end of the cart when the rivnak reared. He was still in his heavy armor, and his face was turned towards the fire. If he could be seen, every vein under his skin was visible, a black tattooed design resembling bare tree branches against a pale dome in winter. Even the fine capillaries in his eyes were jet black and only enhanced the eeriness of his lifeless stare.

Beyond that, the rivnak and cart were a twisted mess. That poor beast of burden was starting to regain consciousness, and crying out in pain and fright. It tried to stand up, instinctively knowing that laying down was a vulnerable position for it, but it failed. The animal was caught up in its harness, and had part of its tow resting on top. The cart itself was useless now. Both wheels had broken spokes, and the left wheel was missing a part of the rim, now providing light in this part of the stone labyrinths. As for the contents, the keg that was under the tarp had bounced out and rested further in the tunnel against the wall, slowly leaking its viscous tar-like liquid. That substance looked exactly like the dark smear on Callie's arm. Finally, under the wreckage was the body of another guard, but only a gauntlet could be seen.

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Callie managed to sit herself up straight now, and despite the searing pain, she did her best not to show it. The two fenki before her were tough, proud women, and they quickly became role models for the nolthrir. It was difficult to keep from crying, that pain was nearly unbearable, winding its way through her arm. Her veins were black half-way past her elbow now, and her hand was cold to the touch. She tried to flex her webbed fingers, but the muscles where difficult to control, and that only made the pain worse. She winced and stopped fussing with it. Instead she focused one the rest of the goings-on in the tunnel doing her best to beat down those feelings of pain.

The foolish merchant attempted to deflect the arrow with his dagger while dodging, but he was no fighter. The arrow lodged in his shoulder with a loud "thunk," and he reacted with a loud, "Gah!" at the pain. He dropped his dagger and grabbed at the arrow wound with his other hand, wincing in anguish.

You screwed up Alron. He thought to himself. You knew there would be dangers with this shipment, and yet you took it on. Greedy for the money again. No one is here to help you now. Druk has been vaporised, and you're next. You never should have accepted this job, and you never should have opened the keg when they told you not to.

What a poor, wretched ylian he was. Just trying to earn enough tria to retire early in life, and now he might not need that retirement fund. He rapidly thought of any way to extricate himself from this situation, "P-Please, don't kill me!" he pleaded with the both of them, "I'm just a merchant doing a job. Please, I have a wife...and a kid." he hesitated at the end, almost forgetting the child. Alron looked intently at both Aramara and Mariana, and the fear was evident in his eyes. "The antidote...It's over with the cart, somewhere. I don't have it with me." His voice quivered, and he looked over at the cart while talking. The two arrow wounds were bleeding and staining his clothing crimson, but that was the least of his worries. That he would be caught in a lie was much more of a concern to him now.

".'.'.-<>-<>-<>-.'.'."[/|/+=+\|\]".'.'.-<>-<>-<>-.'.'."

The shadeling and head gobble were inspecting the soldiers that had lined up in the hall. The pair walked down the aisle, and the guard would point and say, "You," as they went along until they made up a party of one dozen. Each gobble stepped forward as he was called to action. The gobble gave them their duty, "Find any containers you can, gather your weapons, and follow us." At the far end of the row of gobbles one piped up, "There's that mostly empty keg." The gobble commander smiled and ordered, "Bring it here." While the other gobble was going after it with a partner, the commander scanned the row for one individual. His eyes stopped on one eagle gobble who was known as the chronic drunk. He pointed at the creature and said, "You, step forward." The keg was brought over and drunkard hobbled forward. "Finish the rest of this beer now."

The two gobbles who brought the keg over looked at the commander incredulously for an instant, but his seriousness was evident. They uncorked the top and heaved it onto their shoulders. The drunk wanted to plead, but knew it was of no use. He stepped under the keg and opened his mouth wide. The beer flowed into his mouth, down his chin and all over the ground. Significantly more beer was consumed than his poor little liver could filter. Shortly after the remains of the beer had been poured onto the gobble, he grew sick, and his stomach heaved its contents onto the floor. The sad creature stumbled a bit and then fell face first into the alcohol, vomit mixture. "Let him die there," the commander order to the rest of the gobbles, "And then clean up the mess." He waived to the rest of the gobbles, "Get your weapons now, we're heading out."

The Shadeling and one dozen gobbles with short swords marched out of the hall, following the path back to the tunnel from whence the shadeling was summoned. The return trip would be slower, since the gobbles would be slow to meander through the passages, and they could very well break one of the worn rope bridges.