-Black Marsh-
All amusement, all hints of laughter fade as the portal closes behind the three Argonians. Books looks around. This is Black Marsh, this is one of the many Argonian villages that lurk within. And yet there is nothing here but unnatural silence. With a small shake of her tail Books moves closer to Cheese. "The Hist is here," Books hisses. "But..." a frightened look on her face as she trails off.
"Bad things happened here," Cheese solemnly says. He can feel it in his spine. It almost reminds him of during the war. The times when one arrived too late to stop the undead from their horrific path.
Lick's eyes narrow and his claws clench and he stalks past them toward the Hist, toward where Straos Firn perches from one of the branches, and as his eyes find the mad Breton's he slowly opens his mouth, fangs shimmering.
"Speak and the butterflies will fall," Stratos Firn says. "Speak, and you know what follows."
Lick's mouth snaps shut and his tail twitches wildly as his eyes demand answers. Why here, why this Hist of all places. Why...
"What other place would have mad creatures such as us?" Stratos says as he stares right back. The fierce anger of the Argonian battling with the madness with a strange purpose of the Breton.
"What happened here?" Books says, breaking the tense exchange.
Licks looks back at her, unfathomable regret and sorrow in his eyes. A long moment passes before he looks away and sits before the Hist, head bowed and claws pressing against the dirt.
"Our curses hurt," Cheese says as he moves past Books to sit beside Licks. "Not just us. Never just us."
A look of panic crosses Book's eyes. A flash of memory she pushes away as she creeps closer to the Hist to join them.
As Licks glances at her Cheese blinks before bowing his head. "She knows...I hoped she would not know..." Cheese hisses.
An angry hiss from Books as she stares up at Stratos. "Why?" she demands. Why dredge up such...pain and regret. Why?
The Breton lifts a bottle, filled with the Sap of the silent Hist. "Why?" he echoes as he tilts his head. "Why do the butterflies scream? Why must blue balls float through time and space? Why must we be here, and know all?" The three stare up at him and he tosses the jar down to Licks, who catches it. "Something threatens what must not be threatened. Heros are called through light and dark. But something interferes with fate itself. They need what is cursed. They need us." The Breton lifts four fingers. "Four villains. Four heroes, and four cursed. Why we must not be divided, so we can save them when they are."
Silence descends at the Breton's solemn words until Licks brings the jar to his mouth and drinks, then passes it to Cheese who does the same, and finally Books who stares at it for long moments before drinking as well. Stratos stands up on the branch and holds up a finger, dripping with Hist sap. "This is a very bad idea," he says with a strange smile on his face before licking his finger and then pressing his palm against the Hist. Glowing energy flows down the Hist and all around the Argonians as the world goes black around them.
