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Post by Warsmith Wolf on Nov 9, 2022 5:09:05 GMT -5
Elthariel would find her cloak thrown up once more as Ponti dashed for cover under it behind her back. The sudden addition of a Ponti-shaped bulge to the Ranger’s cloak does not seem to perturb her overmuch. “I believe that is to be your answer, lady seer.” And with that, she gives another curt bow, then cranes her neck to look under her arm at the newly returned wanderer. She quickly threw out her arms either side of the ranger, sporadically giving a message in sign speak. "Help. Evil. Outside." That is rather a concern. In tracking the newcomer’s haphazard arrival, has something else stolen into their fastness unnoticed? In grasping the branch, one will miss the forest. Whole fields can hide behind a single reed. Giving a very simple gesture indeed – stay still – Elthariel wraps herself in her camo garb and balances a cluster of plasma grenades in her other hand, ready to throw, her long rifle still disassembled in its all-weather shroud. She is no longer in the ideal position to survey the situation from outside the cave, so this will have to do. |
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Post by LaxKnight on Nov 10, 2022 20:53:18 GMT -5
Wyvara watched unmoving as events moved around her. Though she didn't see it, she knew how the wanderer's encounter went as she felt the spike of fear from them and surprise from the Kabalites. Given she didn't hear any gunfire... perhaps she should commend them on their trigger discipline later. The Farseer turned her sense back inward as she opened her eyes to see the wanderer speed under the Ranger's cloak, her arms flailing frantically as she tried to sign. She didn't need to know what she said to understand what she was thinking. With that, Maebh started approaching the door poised to engage threats. Meanwhile, the Ranger handled her new hanger-on as well as expected. When she started to pull out grenades she knew it was time to say something to prevent unnecessary bloodshed.
"There won't be a need for those," Wyvara said so both the Ranger and Maebh could hear, "I don't think my bodyguard would take too kindly to that."
She then turned her head so her helmet's eyes can look at the wanderer. "I apologize for their intimidating demeanor but I'm afraid that is part of their charm; and job," she said.
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Post by hobbsy on Nov 11, 2022 4:05:59 GMT -5
Giving a very simple gesture indeed – stay still – Elthariel wraps herself in her camo garb and balances a cluster of plasma grenades in her other hand, ready to throw, her long rifle still disassembled in its all-weather shroud. She is no longer in the ideal position to survey the situation from outside the cave, so this will have to do. Ponti simply nods her head. She was hating everything about this terrifying ordeal, but at least she wasn't alone in facing this threat. What are these accursed warriors even doing here? What twisted and vile figurehead had summoned them to the planet? Ponti mind imploded at the words of the Farseer. The warriors were with her. She was the leader of the warriors. They followed her commands and she most likely knew her every thought. It was simply too much. Ponti went limp and slowly descended, like a falling leaf, to the ground. Her thoughts replaced by dreams and nightmares as she fainted from shock. |
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Post by Warsmith Wolf on Nov 11, 2022 4:09:44 GMT -5
"There won't be a need for those," Wyvara said so both the Ranger and Maebh could hear, "I don't think my bodyguard would take too kindly to that." She then turned her head so her helmet's eyes can look at the wanderer. "I apologize for their intimidating demeanor but I'm afraid that is part of their charm; and job," she said. Not without some degree of reticence does Elthariel set the grenades back in their pouch. Yvraine’s cultists and their bizarre tastes, one supposes.“I am not of the belief that a coterie of the Dark Kin will do anything but imperil our need for utmost secrecy here, lady seer.” Nor is it wise that Commorrites know anything of our fastness’ location, she does not add. “They are an impatient, covetous breed. Even if I could teach them subtlety, I doubt they would listen.” This sanctuary will be a slave pen by the moon’s next rise, she muses bitterly. All hope of stealth is lost to us.Ponti went limp and slowly descended, like a falling leaf, to the ground. Her thoughts replaced by dreams and nightmares as she fainted from shock. The Ranger goes back into her half-crouch, covering the wanderer with much of her cloak. Give the poor thing a little decorum. |
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Post by LaxKnight on Nov 12, 2022 3:47:07 GMT -5
This response was expected for the most part. Wyvara was aware that her Dark Kin bodyguard were a very bitter pill to swallow, but it must be done if the Ynnari hope to unite the Aeldari to defeat the Great Enemy. At least, that's what she told herself when Yvraine assigned them to her. It would certainly be a test, but their competence so far have proven to make the burden more bearable until now. Though the Ranger spoke about her concern for stealth, she wasn't blind to the underlying (and likely justified) distrust and venom toward the Drukhari. Hopefully they might move past it, but given the state of the wanderer that seems to be much harder. Now here she was, put in the unenviable position of defending a group that at one point likely kidnapped, tortured, and killed others in sadistic fashion. Mocking laughter echoed in her mind but she let out a sigh to silence it.
"I understand your misgivings, but the Ynnari accept all Aeldari. That invitation extends to Drukhari as well which acceptance comes death; both as the god they now serve and from their former Dark City masters when given the chance. That being said, we don't always have the luxury of choosing our allies. Sometimes others and even fate are uncaring to our wants and intentions. Even in matters of stealth," she said.
She tilted her head slightly to the hidden and cowering mass behind the Ranger who blew the Ranger's cover moments ago.
"Their abilities in stealth are comparable to my own, but we're nothing compared to an experienced Ranger," she admitted as she gave a nod of respect to said Ranger, "I will give you that they probably won't care to listen to what you have to say, but they do listen to me, and I am listening to you."
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Post by theredauthar on Nov 13, 2022 1:09:34 GMT -5
Bodyguards? Of course the Farseer would have Bodyguards. Perhaps the sudden appearance of them would startle one who did not expect them.
Maebh relaxes for but a moment before…
Druhkari. Of course being of the Ynnari now, Maebh should have expected it. However she has never fought nor interacted with these dark cousins before. She had seen a few during her first taste of combat, fighting in friendly colors and heraldry, but her squad had its own tasks to accomplish so her focus was elsewhere. There were other traumas to deal with after as well.
But this was a non-combat situation. One of exploration, discovery, and hopefully recovery, possibly in multiple ways. While any Asyurian would know caution around the Druhkari, Maebh cannot help but feel curious. What strange inspirations could be discovered if she were to talk to those who have joined the Ynnari, like herself? Afterall if they are comrades now, introducing herself should not be a problem.
Specifically since she was not on the mission originally.
Maebh allows the Farseer to handle negotiating with the Ranger and the other while she continues towards the stone entrance, though she now takes a less confronting approach. She walks as if she was introducing herself to a fellow Craftworlder whom she had never spoken to before, with perhaps a hair more caution, keeping her hands away from her weapons to appear more harmless.
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Post by hobbsy on Nov 13, 2022 15:05:49 GMT -5
Ponti remained still and unconscious under the clock which managed to cover the majority of her body. She would most likely be thankful for this if she was able to be aware of the gesture.
Her thoughts, if the Farseer so wish to observe, start to form into something of a fevered nightmare. An eerie green fills the background with an ominous glow as smokey shadow figures, similar to the figures outside, stand looming in the foreground. Suddenly a new shadowy figure, larger and more disturbing that the others appears. It rises up behind them, distorting the entire scene.
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Post by Warsmith Wolf on Nov 14, 2022 8:13:37 GMT -5
"I understand your misgivings, but the Ynnari accept all Aeldari. That invitation extends to Drukhari as well..." "I will give you that they probably won't care to listen to what you have to say, but they do listen to me, and I am listening to you." , Elthariel muses. Still, her offer is not one to be scorned outright. One hopes they are not empty platitudes... "By your will, lady seer." And with a light bow, the Ranger returns to her own matters. She produces a small device from her cloak – an oval, taper-ended thing of half-arm’s length, three spindly feet telescoping from its sides as she sets it to the ground in sight of the webway gate. Fingers dance across inlaid gemstones, and though the great gate’s aperture does not open, the crystals set into its wraithbone arcs pulse softly in concordance with the device’s own. A psychotelemetic receiver – a long-ranging communications and webway far-sighting device, oft carried by the adherents to the Outcast Path. Placing a hand upon the receiver’s top, the Ranger sits in silent repose, eyes closed in a fugue state between concentration and relaxation. Whatever words pass between her and the device – and, presumably, the other end of the communique – are seemingly for them alone to know. |
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Post by Fate's End on Nov 15, 2022 2:12:22 GMT -5
As if by magic, or perhaps the skeins of fate, the Webway gate opens briefly for a moment. Brilliant light flaring throughout the area for split seconds before disappearing again. It might be wondered if the Ranger caused this disruption with her communication device. But the faintest hints of mocking laughter perhaps put an end to such a thought.
Standing in front of the Ranger, looking only slightly out of place is the tall, dark-skinned form of Ralpheal Llywelyn. Dressed in his deepest black trenchcoat; a long barreled and wicked looking weapon casually slung under his right arm, supported by a barely seen mechanical apparatus hidden just barely under his coat. Over his left shoulder rests a surprisingly mundane (and to one of the Aeldari, perhaps a travesty of fashion) duffel bag that would look more at home upon a human soldier than anything else. At the moment as well, as he stands and surveys the Ranger, his left hand is halfway to his mouth, holding within his graceful digits a . . . cookie of some design. A cracker, perhaps. Round and with a hollow recess, the barest hint of a piece of simple paper spied sticking out of one end.
There is but a brief pause as the Harlequin Death Jester glances at the Ranger, a slightly puzzled look upon his chiseled, handsome features. Finally he takes a bite of his cracker, and through a half mouthful of crumbling debris he speaks with no small amount of amusement. "I was not expecting this to be such a popular vacation destination."
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Post by LaxKnight on Nov 15, 2022 4:18:50 GMT -5
With the Ranger starting her own thing now, Wyvara turned her attention to the poor wanderer who was still unconscious on the ground. She was not one who practiced telepathy but like all psykers she can see the aura of those around her through witch-sight. The wanderer had waves of fear and trauma rippling from her tinged with ghastly greens. The waves then seemed to swell as something significant seemed to be happening in whatever was going through her mind. Taking steps toward her, the Farseer would crouch down next to her then take off her helmet to reveal a pale, slightly soft face with concern in her bright blue eyes framed with straight blonde hair with steaks of wraithbone white. The only features marring it was a frown and the scar going down her right cheek. As if by magic, or perhaps the skeins of fate, the Webway gate opens briefly for a moment. Brilliant light flaring throughout the area for split seconds before disappearing again. It might be wondered if the Ranger caused this disruption with her communication device. But the faintest hints of mocking laughter perhaps put an end to such a thought. ... There is but a brief pause as the Harlequin Death Jester glances at the Ranger, a slightly puzzled look upon his chiseled, handsome features. Finally he takes a bite of his cracker, and through a half mouthful of crumbling debris he speaks with no small amount of amusement. "I was not expecting this to be such a popular vacation destination." Before she could do much else the webway gate activated and out stepped the form of what one could assume to be a Death Jester, sans mask. He seemed bemused as he remarked on how this seemed to be a popular vacation spot. Wyvara... wasn't quite sure to make of it. Death Jesters were known to be sinister figures whos cruelty can rival a Drukhari's, but given he wasn't wearing his mask, the casualness of his pose, and the cookie it seemed almost comical. Perhaps it was like the Asuryani donning their warmasks? Or, like most Harlequins, he was being a good actor? She decided to greet him with a little wit of her own. "A little bird told me this was the place to be to see some wonderful sights along with learn a bit of history," she gave him a small smile before saying, "If you'll excuse me, there is something I need to attend to." She returned her focus to the wanderer. The poor girl needed help. Perhaps there was something she could do for her, given she indirectly caused this. She grabbed one of her pendants, a Tear of Isha, and closed her eyes to help clear her mind to summon thoughts and feelings she held long ago. She then began to sing. It was a soft lullaby for she hoped it'd help sooth the wanderer's troubled mind. ---- ... But this was a non-combat situation. One of exploration, discovery, and hopefully recovery, possibly in multiple ways. While any Asyurian would know caution around the Druhkari, Maebh cannot help but feel curious. What strange inspirations could be discovered if she were to talk to those who have joined the Ynnari, like herself? Afterall if they are comrades now, introducing herself should not be a problem. Specifically since she was not on the mission originally. Maebh allows the Farseer to handle negotiating with the Ranger and the other while she continues towards the stone entrance, though she now takes a less confronting approach. She walks as if she was introducing herself to a fellow Craftworlder whom she had never spoken to before, with perhaps a hair more caution, keeping her hands away from her weapons to appear more harmless. Peering into the cave, Maehb would see some quick motion that'd draw her eyes to a gun pointed at her. A few moments later the gun was lowered and she could see the dim red lenses of the wielder's helmet. As her eyes adjusted she could see the spikey silhouette of perhaps the most dreaded of Aeldari. She'd count around 10 of them, and as she looked more closely she could see splashes of color that one associated with the Ynnari often wear. The one who pointed their Splinter Rifle continued to stare but said nothing. |
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Post by theredauthar on Nov 15, 2022 16:33:10 GMT -5
This was a mistake, she thinks to herself.
Maebh keeps her hands up, using slow movements to show she’s non-aggressive. She makes no effort however to hide that she’s scared from her so-called allies here, but she still tries to be friendly, or at least tolerating.
“Greeting my dark cousins. I thought it might be polite to introduce myself to you since we are allies after all,” she says. Again she doesn’t hide her fear but tries instead to show it isn’t going to control her, “My name is Maebh. I walk the path of the artist, or at least I did. I now walk the path of Ynnead, just like all of you."
She slowly reaches into her pouch to reveal a small sculpture she's working on.
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Post by hobbsy on Nov 15, 2022 17:39:31 GMT -5
Just as the fever dream seems to be reaching it's horrifying crescendo, the tide of the darkness is turned. A sensation of being embraced, as if she was being gently cupped in an enormous pair of hands, overcame Ponti. The shadow figures begin to recede and dissipate as the eerie green glow is blended into a warm brown. The comfort of the sensation is unfamiliar, but all the same a welcome change.
On the outside, Ponti appears become more calm as her body relaxes. Her lower torso seems to almost unfold out beneath the long robe as a limp limb becomes visible as it flops out. Though oddly enough, what should be a foot doesn't quite appear as a foot should as it seems to be missing toes.
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Post by Warsmith Wolf on Nov 16, 2022 4:54:17 GMT -5
As if by magic, or perhaps the skeins of fate, the Webway gate opens briefly for a moment. Brilliant light flaring throughout the area for split seconds before disappearing again. It might be wondered if the Ranger caused this disruption with her communication device. But the faintest hints of mocking laughter perhaps put an end to such a thought. Standing in front of the Ranger, looking only slightly out of place is the tall, dark-skinned form of Ralpheal Llywelyn. There is but a brief pause as the Harlequin Death Jester glances at the Ranger, a slightly puzzled look upon his chiseled, handsome features. "I was not expecting this to be such a popular vacation destination." Communion with the Laughing Kin was not, as it turns out, the Ranger’s intent, who remains focused on the psychotelemetric receiver. This is mostly because whatever task she was seeking to achieve is not yet done, but also because long years spent on the Path of the Outcast have given her much wisdom in relation to the Harlequins – namely, not to have relations at all. Japering, fickle beings even for their wider species, pointedly ignoring them is perhaps the best approach if one feels that they have quite enough doom and portent in their life, thank you very much. The Laughing God cannot trick you if you never hear his joke. |
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Post by Fate's End on Nov 18, 2022 1:17:43 GMT -5
Ralpheal chuckled softly as the Ranger steadfastly ignored him. No sharing of the cookies with her, he decided. Cookies were for team players.
But of course, it was not an entirely unexpected response, he reasoned. His kind were not always greeted warmly, and even amongst the Harlequins his Masque was seen as---aberrant.
It mattered little, though. He was off duty, and frankly it had been something of a surprise to see anyone here on this little vaguely unimportant world. "Suit yourself." He said with a polite ducking of his head directed to the ranger. A moment later he made sure the dull green strap of his duffle bag was secure on his shoulder and then headed towards the bridge and the exit beyond. He passed carefully by the Farseer and--- was that one collapsed or sleeping? A moment's inspection revealed the singing Farseer was caring for the sleeper, and that seemed---fine, yes, that would be fine. Not his circus, not his performers, such was the line of thinking he sometimes tried to employ. More people than he had expected here, that was for sure.
The off-duty Death Jester strolled past the Farseer and her sleeping companion, towards the exit unseen around the bend. He felt a jaunty tune on his lips, beginning a cheerful whistle as he pursued his destination.
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Post by LaxKnight on Nov 20, 2022 3:36:33 GMT -5
Just as the fever dream seems to be reaching it's horrifying crescendo, the tide of the darkness is turned. A sensation of being embraced, as if she was being gently cupped in an enormous pair of hands, overcame Ponti. The shadow figures begin to recede and dissipate as the eerie green glow is blended into a warm brown. The comfort of the sensation is unfamiliar, but all the same a welcome change. On the outside, Ponti appears become more calm as her body relaxes. Her lower torso seems to almost unfold out beneath the long robe as a limp limb becomes visible as it flops out. Though oddly enough, what should be a foot doesn't quite appear as a foot should as it seems to be missing toes. Wyvara could both see and feel her song working, causing a smile to start to form and allowing herself to feel a bit of pride. As her lullaby came to an end she saw a... limb fall out of the stranger's robes. It was not feet like it should be. She pulled the wanderer's robe down a bit to try and cover it before patting her arm gently, putting her helmet back on, then standing up. Things were making a lot more sense now. Perhaps she should take some time to look to the past. However, there was something a bit more pressing. A unprompted Harlequin, while not always bad, was something that was unwise to ignore. Plus they perhaps might know something about the planet she hasn't discovered yet. Plus one of her charges forgot something. Picking up Maebh's helmet, she'd send a message to her retinue's commander before catching up to the Harlequin. "Excuse me, Harlequin," she called, "You called this a 'vacation spot'. Is this a place you frequent?" ---- This was a mistake, she thinks to herself. Maebh keeps her hands up, using slow movements to show she’s non-aggressive. She makes no effort however to hide that she’s scared from her so-called allies here, but she still tries to be friendly, or at least tolerating. “Greeting my dark cousins. I thought it might be polite to introduce myself to you since we are allies after all,” she says. Again she doesn’t hide her fear but tries instead to show it isn’t going to control her, “My name is Maebh. I walk the path of the artist, or at least I did. I now walk the path of Ynnead, just like all of you." She slowly reaches into her pouch to reveal a small sculpture she's working on. One of the figures stepped forward to Maebh. She immediately stood out because, unlike the rest, she didn't have any visible two-handed guns. Just a pistol that looked similar to a Fusion Pistol and a blade in a scabbard on her hips. Said black scabbard had a sickly green jewel near the top and a few runes. On the cloth hanging from her red cloth belt Maebh would identify the rune of Ynnead; both having a dull chain wrapped over with a hook on one end. Her helmet had red lensed eyes and blood red hair streaming from the top. "Just like us," there was a small pause with each word like she was tasting each one, "Huh." She'd take off her own helmet to reveal a face that was almost like marble: white, hard, slightly angular, yet one could consider it beautiful if it wasn't for the crooked, amused, and predatory smile. Her amber eyes were slightly bloodshot and her hair was the same color as that streaming from her helmet. She'd hang the helmet on her waist hook then ask, "What do you have there, Maebh?" |
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