Marandici Caravan: 6 Desnus, 4742
Autrey watched as Lavitz and his men entered the camp, a proud smile upon his face. But as eyes lingered on their retreating forms, the nature of that expression changed. What had once been pride twisted to become an angry scowl that soon gave way to a malicious sneer. "The pride of Lord Draxas, indeed!" His contempt-filled growl was kept low so that no one other than Autrey heard his own words.
The soldier stood by only a moment before walking a short distance away from the camp site where he dropped to a knee and with one hand drew a symbol in the dirt. A tongue of flame. The sign of the enemy.
The sign of Massif.
Autrey began a chant that was so intense that it caused him to tremble. And as this transpired, the symbol simmered and glowed like the flame it represented. But absent from the display was any sense of warmth. Only a profound coldness, and with it a malignancy that seemed to take on a life of its own.
"I-I can't do this anymore. Find someone else to be your vessel. I do not wish to bear the burden of you any longer."
Not yet, meatsack. Autrey felt himself diminish at the sound of the whispering voice that spoke to him from within. Not just yet. If even the smallest things I've heard about Kaisur and his crew are close enough to the truth, then they cannot be allowed to know who I am. So for now, meatsack, I cannot shed myself of this wretched form. No, for the time being I am here and I am here to stay.
The soldier began to sob uncontrollably. "No, please. I beg of you. Let me go." But the creature hiding within Autrey was not about to do anything of the sort. For as much as it pained him to admit, he was not even close to being able to handle either Lavitz or the mystic if a confrontation were to occur. The knight was too pure of heart to be a suitable vessel while the mystic was well versed in the Unseen Art of the mind to be of any use to him. And while the Chelish man was neither of those things, the runes that adorned his body made it clear that he was off-limits as well.
"Autrey?"
A female voice interrupted the creature's thoughts. His desire to know the speaker's identity caused the soldier to turn.
"Reise!"
The Spherewalker looked down at Autrey, concern apparent in her eyes. "Is everything all..." However, concern was replaced by caution. He quickly followed her gaze. She'd seen it! She had seen the sign! She could not be allowed to leave.
Get her!
Word became deed as Autrey rose up where knelt, lunging forward as he moved, right arm outstretched. The action was too fast for Reise to avoid and she felt Autrey's hand firmly grasp her by the throat before she could either back away or raise an alarm. There was an inhuman strength there and more. Held there as she was, Reise was unable to look away from Autrey's eyes. Eyes that seemed full of regret at what was happening. She forced herself to speak.
"Why?"
She will do. Yes, she will do nicely. Hold her for me.
"I am sorry, Spherewalker. Please forgive me."
And with those words, Autrey's eyes flared with an inner light. A light that sought to consume the Spherewalker's will as it left the soldier to take up residence within her body. Reise fought as hard as she could, bringing to bear everything that could be mustered against this threat that sought to inhabit her body.
A barrage of mental images came at her. And in all of them, Reise saw herself. But not just herself. There was her beloved Draxas. Her half-sister Gwyneth. The rogue Revan. The elven Champion Ein. The swordsage Roku. The Steel Fury Alster. All of her friends present in the thoughts of the creature trying to take control of body and mind. Was it somehow taking her knowledge to use against her?
Is it not yet obvious. These are not your memories. They are mine. Mine because I was there with you. Look closely and see the truth for yourself.
Against her better judgement, the Spherewalker continued to journey further into the mind of the creature, with the hope that in ferreting out its identity she would be able to keep her own. The memories were of younger times and brighter days.
Sandpoint. It had been home to them all. And there was something else. No. Not something. Someone. There was someone else. Hair of reddish-gold. Eyes of the lightest green. And the scent of strawberries.
Shayliss. The daughter of Ven and Solsta Vinder. Engaged to... No. It can't be?
Yes, dear Reise. It's me.
But the knowledge of her assailant's identity came with the loss of her own as the creature took full hold of her.
Body, mind, and soul.
Autrey looked frantically about, a confused look evident in his eyes. Soon confusion gave way to the realization that the creature inside of him was no longer there. He was free. And it was all thanks to the Spherewalker. "Luck of the Goddess! Lady Reise, you've freed me! How can I ever hope to repay you?"
Reise gently shushed the soldier, laying her index finger on his lips to prevent him from speaking any further. "Nothing more need be said of this, young Autrey. But I do have a price for your gratitude." And with that, she leaned in close to whisper in his ear. When she was done, Reise looked to him and asked "Think you can handle that for me?"
It was all that Autrey could do to keep himself from soiling his breeches as he nodded in response, fear evident in his eyes.
Reise smiled. "Go forth with the blessings of Desna, my son."
The soldier sped from her presence as fast he could manage without drawing too much attention to himself.
When he was gone, Reise turned her attention to retreating back of the knight. "Time I think to have some fun."
Lavitz approached the entrance of Lord Draxas' command tent, only to be brought short by Syeira. The knight looked down at the smaller warrior, those defiant eyes making it clear that there would be hells to pay should he attempt to bypass her. "Is everything alright?"
"My lord is not yet ready to receive you, Sir Lavitz." came the guard's terse reply. "I will inform him of your return, however, as he does wish to speak with you concerning your team's scouting mission to Sirathu."
A look of shock nearly stole across the knight's face. This was the most that Lavitz had ever heard Syeira speak at any one time, and she had done so to dismiss him?
He regained his composure quickly enough. With a nod, Lavitz smote his chest in salute to the guard and made his way from the command area, noting the mixed look of relief and gratitude on her face as he left.
Only one person here would have the answer to what was going on and it was to that person he made his way. Apparently more had transpired in his absence than the attack of an assassin and Lavitz was going to find out exactly what that was.
He did not have far to go.
"Reise!"
The Spherewalker stood not more than ten feet from him, her green eyes glittering dangerously in his direction.
"By all that is holy, what goes on here?"
Reise spoke not a word, but answered him nonetheless by dropping her hands so that they were facing outward, her fingers curled as though they were claws. She stood with knees bent, her feet slightly greater than shoulder width apart.
For the second time since he had entered the Varisian caravan's encampment, Lavitz nearly lost his composure. But he had no time to parlay further with Reise for she had closed the distance between them in less time than it took for his heart to beat once. Her clawlike strikes flashed quickly, leaving the knight little room for anything other than to backstep as fast he could to avoid her blows.
Naqam stood in a clearing not far from the caravan where there was a whirlwind of activity taking place. It had been too long since the mystic had engaged in battle meditation and after what had transpired previously in Sirathu during the encounter with the totenmaske, he could not deny that he needed it.
With his thoughts calm and his body relaxed, the bald Osirian produced the crystal hilt that formed the heart of his force-staff, presented it before him with both hands and bowed his head slightly forward, his eyes still focused on the space in front of him. Naqam then shifted his hands so that his left was low on the crystalline device, his right high. The grip he maintained was firm for now, but as always he knew that during the execution of this style, that would change. Naqam would often alternate between tight and loose grips to better facilitate the flow of his movements as there would be times when he would need to perform a hand change or even a reverse grip to complete the swirling strikes of E'erop, the Way of the Tentacled Beast.
From a distance, Xein watched as Naqam ignited the weapon and began to execute the attacks of his form. The young Chelaxian often watched the Lissalan warrior-mystic practice his art, hoping as he always did to glean something of use from what he saw. For the Osirian's force-staff was not unlike Xein's own spirit blades. And so he watched, and as always, Naqam's strikes seemed too fast for his eyes to follow completely.
The strikes were deceptive in their grace as they snapped from the whirling weapon, with both stunning celerity and accuracy. And as Naqam moved from one strike to the next, Xein could only stare in awe at the terrifying beauty of what he was witnessing. The ends of the force-staff were used to cover the mystic's wide movements. The maneuvers, thought by many to be "showy," had another purpose. The whirling weapon defended his body even as he made strikes that in any other form would otherwise be considered undefended or even overextended. Defense had already been incorporated into his movements so that even when Naqam was on the offense, he was still protecting himself from attack.
Naqam, in the meantime, had become a blur of constant motion, performing not only the staff strikes of E'erop but throwing kicks and punches into the routine as well. Xein could not fathom why, for as far he could determine, there was no real need to do so.
No, Xein. The Chelaxian was startled by the inner voice he now heard, but only for a moment. This voice did not always speak to him, but when it did, Xein was often offered a different view of things that he did not always catch at first. In this you are wrong. Look closer and see.
And so Xein looked again and as he did, the action before him seemed to slow down. There was...something to what his inner voice was telling him. He could almost see...
"Master Xein."
The young Chelish man spun, weapons forming instantly, to confront the one that had walked up on him without his knowledge.
Autrey's face struggled to remain composed. He reached up with a hand to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed on his brow. With the other Autrey drew his sword.
"What are you doing?"
"Following order's sir." And with those words, Autrey launched his attack.