Forgotten Progress

Log Info

• Title: Forgotten Progress
• Emitter: Skielstregar
• Characters: Skielstregar, Vaera, Un'eth
• Place: Mictlan
• Time: October 8th, 2021
• Summary: Skielstregar and Vaera return from an adventuring trip, them running into Un'eth along their way back to camp. The shaman knew something was up as Skiel reflexively defended their snout, and the half-dead sith-makar admits he tapped into his Forgotten aspects once more. Though, he asserts that he did not partake of himself, and Vaera backs his claim. The three abscond to the forest so he can show the shaman what it is like. Taking a moment to focus, Skielstregar transforms into a likeness of the Forgotten kin, yet retains his clarity of mind. Vaera stifles her rising fear and Un'eth inspects him, coming to the conclusion that he was gaining more control, as well as finding out that he was creating the phenomena on his own. Eventually, the effects wear off, and he tires. They return to Mictlan.

Mictlan, Afternoon.

The bright and brilliant sky beams down on all, the central fire warding off the faint chill that the Heartlands brings in. The influx of makari making the space busy for all.

So none truly pay attention to those arriving or leaving, especially to that of a tall, hooded and cloaked bronzescale. Him using his halberd as a walking stick, he is mid conversation with one beside him, speaking in his native tongue.

"This one is glad that those unseen creations didn't harm you further. The softskins did good work. And when did you have such a contraption? This one was not aware you dabbled in the softskin's metal magics," Skielstregar motions casually to the redscale.

The redscale in question was walking next to them, still in their coat from their travels. She walked slowly, and chuffs once at the observation.

"This one was more worried about you, seeing you get slashed and battered so badly by them."

She pats a small block hidden in the side of her coat. "I have had this for some time now. It is, much easier to fire, compared to the strength needed to draw a bow effectively. I hope it was not too much of a surprise, Skielstregar."

Typically, it would be no surprise to find, or have Un'eth arrive, here in Mictlan. As of late, however, she had been rather absent. Less so, now, as she enters the clearing from the southern edge. She pauses once she is within the clear, familiar, and more comfortable grounds. There she inhales deeply.

Skiel waves a dismissive hand, him chuckling as little puffs of frozen vapor from him. "It is nothing, that is part of this one's duties. Besides, softskin magics mended this one hale."

He shakes his head. "It was surprising, but this one cannot fault it's effectiveness. Your aim is as true as it is with your bow."

He passes by Un'eth without realizing it, as Mictlan was quite busy with newblood. With the fresh air Un'eth gets in, as does the rancid smell of decay and death filter in.

The man slows, him sniffing the air as well before stopping and turning. His back straightens, and he blinks. "S-Shaman Un'eth! Peace on your nest," he greets, a hand pausing half-way to block his snout.

As he was finally still and no longer downwind, one could note his scent was diluted in it's intensity.

"It was not nothing, Skielstregar. Duties or not, you need to be careful."The red makari chuffs. "This one does not like seeing you hurt so."

She catches the black scaled makari as they pass by, with a rumble of aknowledgement and a thump of her tail. "Peace on your nest, shaman. It has been some time since our journey, but it is good to be back amongst kin."

Rather unceremoniously she reaches to pull the hood off the bronzescales head.

Un'eth inhales the air and scents all the same. She then turns to the greetsing, her tail thumping the ground. "Peace on your nests, and, ssa, it is good to be back..." Her eyes narrow at the bronze and his hand lifting defensively... and/or the tugging off of his hood.

"Tell me what happened."

Skiel makes a sort of an 'ack' noise in his throat as his hood is yanked off. Aside from a few healing bruises from where the scales failed to cover his hide, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Except...

He looks away briefly, then holds both his hands up in front of him as a surrender. "This one did not partake, they promise," he prefaces, glancing to Vaera with his dead, silver eyes. "This one was on a trip with Vaera to far lands with softskins. Needed to get a shaman to attend some meeting. A monster broke out, and attacked Vaera."

The man shifts on his feet uncomfortably. "... this one is not sure how it happened, but they changed as if they Partook. But they did not partake."

He shows his scarred forearms, no new fresh wounds among them.

Vaera nods, patting the bronzescale on the shoulder. The hood wasn't pulled for some dramatic reveal, merely so he would not hide himself in the village.

"He speaks true, Shaman Un'eth, I would not hide so from you if it were not the case for his sake." She says. "It was strange. He was still capable of speech and understanding, it was different from the last time. Though this one worries what effect it may have on his mana."

Un'eth's head tilts as she studies him, from nearer, even, as she steps closer to facilitate the inspection. "Changed how?" While awaiting that answer, or perhaps to assuage concerns, she looks to Vaera, then back between them. "I do not doubt that your words are true."

Skielstregar stands still as the shaman grows close to inspect him. Even the slight waving of his armored tail goes rigid. He didn't seem too terribly different: scales still missing in spots, talons too long, fangs still present, even his scent-

Wait. His scent. It's been nigh impossible to pick up on it. The deathly aura seemed to have abated ever so slightly.

The man rumbles quietly, tapping his talons together. "Right... you have not seen this one change. When this one partakes- or, rather, doesn't now, they suppose-, they gain the strength and resilience of our Forgotten kin."

There's a pause. "... this one could show you, if you truly wished. This one's mind was... much more clear when it happened with Vaera."

"Then you do not need to do so to change, this is good. You can uphold your promise." Vaera chuffs, stilling the tapping of claws by taking a hand. Though she looks between the two at the offer, and sighs. "If it is, truly necessary, and would help, then perhaps. And if my presence would be needed, then, this one can be there."

Un'eth completes a small circuit around the bronze before stopping where she can see both. "So... a change as before... yet without feeding your hunger?" She makes a low thrumming sound in her throat; a thoughful one, her posture and tail suggest.

"You gain power over this, and it loses power over you. This is good. As is your protection of her, and others," her snout dips towards Vaera before eyes snap back to Skielstregar. Her tail slaps the ground firmly. "You -are- a warrior, are you not?"

The call to his duties makes him stand up straighter and his brows knit. "Of course this one is," Skiel firmly replies without a moment of hesitation. "This one would do everything they can to protect his kin."

Dead eyes, despite their lifelessness to them, grow steeled.

That little flare of pride settles as his talons are silenced by the hand atop them. "Yes. Without feeding. This one thinks... they can do it again. Perhaps you might have some insight, shaman. And you as well, Vaera. To see it without being in... stressful conditions."

He glances over his shoulder. "Though, if we did, this one would prefer we go someplace secluded. They would not want to scare the People. It is... not a subtle thing."

"If me being there had something to do with it, and I may be able to find out some way to help you, then this one will be there, somewhere more secluded." She offers in reply, though the redscale looks genuinely nervous and worried despite the lack of scent.

"Your insight would be valuable as well, Un'eth, as it has been before."

"You do your caste proud, Skielstregar," Un'eth affirms to him, "I have no doubts you would do so." Her snout bobs in further agreement and confidence before it turns to Vaera.

"You aid him as much as him you. I see that your strength is his. Ssa, you should go if you wish, the both of you. Learn more of what is, or is not. " Noting Vaera's unease, she adds, "He would not harm his kin, of this I am certain. If he loses his way, or stumbles, you will aid him with path and burden."

Skiel can't help but have a proud smile pull at his face and his scent at the praise. "Thank you, shaman," he bows his head deeply. Though, he shifts on his feet. "... this one appreciates your trust in their kin to keep their head on straight. But... this one would not want to invoke fear in Vaera without due cause, and was hoping for your insight."

"Yes, Un'eth speaks true. You were strong and dependable back in the forests, holding off the beast we faced." Vaera adds, relaxing from the reassurances and how Skielstregar seemed so proud. "If you were not there, things would have been much more difficult and dangerous."

She turns to Un'eth, and chuffs. "You offered insight none other could when we saw you last. If there are any changes, what you could learn may help even further in determining how to help Skielstregar with what is going on."

Un'eth looks between the two at their words, considered a moment. Her tail then accentuates her decision upon the ground, albeit lightly. "Ssa, as you both wish it, I will accompany. To observe, assure, advise."

Skiel gives a light sigh, and dips his head. Nerves mingling in with his slightly abated decay. "Come," is all he requests, stepping off.

With that, he leads them off in a random direction into the woods. Going no where in particular, aside from gaining distance from the central gathering place. As he goes, talons work on unstrapping armor and hide, each piece going into a bundle under his arm until they get to a secluded place.

The tarnished bronzescale sets his armor down, along with his weapons. "This one promises to be in control," he mentions somberly. "But if they do any harm, this one gives permission to use any means necessary to stop them."

The man steps away in nothing more than a loose fitting tabard, an old iron symbol of the Dragonfather dangling from his neck, and a slightly nervous scent about him.

Vaera follows along with the small group into the woods, close at hand and watching the area, her bow strung in case any game was encountered, but the lands were fairly quiet as they went.

The redscale waits when he steps away, and she nods to the half-dead sith-makar. "This one will hold you to that. You will be fine, as this one trusts you to do so."

Her tail flicks a few times nervously, and she looks at their arms, and their mouth, before she settles down and waits.

Un'eth follows the bronze's lead, quietly stepping after. Whether nerves or decay, the scents don't appear to bother her; at the least, she does not display such. "You will not harm your kin, warrior." Assurance? Ultimatum? Perhaps both.

Skielstregar notes the glance to his arms, and he folds his hands in front of him. He gives a small nod in acknowledgement at their words. Silver eyes glance between the two. The two people he perhaps respected the most out of everyone. Vaera had seen the changes before, and still he remembers the fear in her eyes. The reflection that he sees in himself.

His eyes close with a snick. And he breathes in deep. Remember that burst of anger at seeing the redscale battered. How it called him to action to defend his kin. An eye brow twitches, his lip curling. A growl begins in his chest.

The rolling scent of decay halts for a moment. Then receeds, going, going, going... gone. His eyes open, and the empty eyes gain a crimson hue. Increasing in vibrancy with every beat of his heart, until-

"... grrrr...." a gristly, primal, wet growl rolls in his throat.

The scent of death and decay roils out in tenfold as a blast of dread, fangs grow into a double set, talons lengthing to be razors. Mana infused ichor drips from his maw, ghastly black miasma wafting from them. He staggers a bit before falling to all fours, his frame tense and looking filled with energy to unleash whatever if fueling him.

Skiel looks, smells, and acts almost exactly like the Forgotten kin. Except for-

"Thissss issss what it looksss like," he snarls. Despite the tone, his eyes show clarity.

There was no mistaking that Vaera was on edge, from what exactly, it was not certain. She waits patiently, pausing as the scent went away, only for it to make the redscale cough from the sudden overwhelming miasma. And when she regains her senses, there was no massive tentacled abomination to draw her attention away.

There was the fear again, as Vaera takes a step back, and another, until finally they spoke, and she stops.

"This is, yes, what it looked like." She tells Un'eth, trying to keep her attention on the makari in front of her.

Un'eth observes the change with interest and some curiosity, though does not immediately comment. Her head tilts, then turns to and fro so that she can observe from differing angles; a step or two taken amidst the peering. Finally, she straightens and offers words.

"You bring forth traits of your state, yet you remain yourself. Strength, claws... these are good for a warrior. This..." she lifts a hand high, above and near his doubly-fang-filled maw and near his snout...

... and taps him above the eyes with a finger (not claw) "is better. Many may judge you on form; it is both boon and bane. I do not. You use this part of you for your ends. -That- is what I find most impressive."

The Forgotten Skielstregar sniffs the air, his head settling on Vaera. Were it not for the clearness of his eyes, he'd be poised to barrel on all fours towards her. The eyes close, him closing his mouth to try and seem less intimidating, but that only succeeds in steady rivulets spilling out near his fangs, making it way worse.

His attention hones in on Un'eth as she strides forth, pupils dilated like a predator about to pounce.

And then his head is poked. A hidden tension releases as there's a wet, sickening laughter that rumbles from him. "Isss that ssso...? Thisss one thanksss you..." he lowly growls, snout following the hand near him for the briefest of moments before his mind reins his body back in. "The Hunger issss ssstrong like thisss. Thisss one can smell both of you exceptionally well," he admits, but looks towards Vaera with his crimson gaze. "But thisss one will not do anything about it. They promisssed."

"This one, yes, you promised, Skielstregar." The red makari chuffs after listening, trying to relax, and take a few steps back forward as well.

She looks at the blood dripping, and sighs. "Is there any way to deal with your mouth?" She asks finally. "This one worries about losing so much in a short period of time. Can you sense anything different in this form, Shaman Un'eth?"

Then she sighs. "Apologies, Un'eth is correct. It should not be a bad thing in entirety."

Un'eth's hand does not withdraw far. It remains present, and outstretched; a measure of trust or possibly a dangled morsel of temptation. "Aside from the clearly sensed?" she asks Vaera, somewhat rhetorically. "Change of form is a thing easier experienced than explained. He is both himself, and different than he was. He was one way, now another, yet still also the same."

Skiel dips his leaking maw in acknowledgement, clacking his jaw, almost getting the morsel but refraining from actually getting a nibble. "It... isss certainly different than when thisss one Partakesss. Thisss one'sss mind isss... isss not hazy. Their body ssstill..."

His eyes hone in on Vaera's approach. He stands on his legs finally, him striding up to her as ichor splatters his shirt. Too long talons clack by his sides as he looks down at her. "... hasss urges. But they think ssstarving the beassst hasss done wonderss..."

There's a slight shrug, him holding a hand under his maw to catch some of it and then inspect the clear, if slightly bloody ichor he catches. Waves of dark energy waft from it, the decay smell from it strong. "Thisss one is not sure, Vaera. Does your mouth not water at the smell of bacon?"

"Un'eth, you seemed to have found something with magic the last time, so, ah, never mind." The red makari chuffs, leaving it be. "This one was simply hoping you could tell some manner of change."

She takes a step back on the approach, and looks up warily. She shakes her head. "No it does not, but that is not normal. Though this one likely understands what you are attempting to say by that."

"Then continue to starve the beast," Un'eth directs in response to one reason for improvement. "The most dire parts," she adds as a caveat. "Some instincts may serve you well."

Her attention shifts to Vaera. "The magics are involved; that much is known from the scent. What do you wish to know? What is your worry?"

With his ichorless hand, he brings up a taloned claw, and carefully places the pad of his hand on Vaera's shoulder. "... thisss one can smell your worriesss. They underssstand..." Skielstregar growls, him looking over his shoulder and turns slightly towards Un'eth.

He gives a slight nod. "That isss what thisss one thinksss as well. Sssome may be... ussseful."

There's a moment where his knees lock, then he takes a shaky step back, a hand reaching out to rest against a tree. The pooling ichor begins to slow. "... thisss one cannot do this forever... it... it isss tiring..."

The red makari shudders when they feel the elongated claw on her shoulder, but she reaches up with a hand to hold it there. Then she sighs, and turns back to the shaman. "We do not have much time Un'eth. You used magic to determine what was happening before, and something is different this time. This one is not shaman, but would it not stand to reason that something may have changed? Any insight would be invaluable, truly."

Then they step away, and Vaera sighs. She joins him by the tree, looping an arm underneath their far shoulder to support them.

Un'eth may have misunderstood the nature of their requests, before, though she certainly catches Vaera's worries (or perhaps more their context) now. She offers a brief "Ssa," before adding to Skielstregar, "do not exhaust yourself." At Vaera's urging, she eyes him in more detail, calling upon Ea to peer at the magic about and within him as well.

She makes a low warble in her throat as she does so, only noting after a time, "You are wise, Vaera, and speak true..."

Ea shows the shaman that once again, foul necromancies swath from Skielstregar, tenfold so in this state. But unlike before, where he was simply leaking it, this time it pulsed with every beat of his heart. Clearly, he was creating this on his volition, either inadvertently, or knowingly.

But such energies begin to wane, as Skiel is propped up by Vaera. His frame slackens, the fangs receeding, talons shrinking and the crimson in his eyes return to their dead luster. He sags heavily, exhaustion prevalent in his features as he wraps an arm around Vaera. "... sorry to scare you..." he mumbles. For a minute, the deathly scent was absent. Until it slowly crept back in, weaker than before.

Seems like he was spent on whatever that well of energy was.

"This one is not wise, they just wish to know if there is anything to be done." Vaera sighs. "Apologies for being so persistent, but this one did not wish to waste the chance."

She struggles slightly to keep them upright, but barely manages. "Are you feeling alright, Skielstregar? This one saw last time how much it took out of you."

"Rest, now," Un'eth steps up to assist her with him. "There was something different from before. You sensed, you knew this in some way. You may need my insight less than you believe."

Skielstregar leans upon the two makari. "Just... tired," he answers Vaera before nodding to Un'eth. "Yes... it is always tiring to do that. But thisss one usually never lets it run on for so long."

He glances back the way they came. "Might we return home? Thisss one could use a nap..."

"Your insight was valuable, Un'eth. Knowing it was not a reaction is, good to know. Which, may mean it can be controlled further." Vaera offers, unsure, but just a touch hopeful as she helps Skielstregar down the path they came. "Perhaps there is something there now, that may lead to you being able to control the scent? It seems to come and grow with the source, which this one still does not understand."

"Ssa," Un'eth answers them both, and even shifts her position to try and turn the trio to a tangible trajectory. "It was his to control, truly, not controlling of him. Tiring to do this." The last part requires little insight to recognize, admittedly.

The thoughts and ideas leave Skielstregar worried, yet... oddly hopeful? "Perhaps... instead of fighting it. This one needs to... tame it," he infers, pensive in his tone.

An inhale, then exhale. "... thank you, both. For your help. We have People to house and rest for the weary," he mentions, get a bit more strength back, but still lethargic as they return back to Mictlan proper.

-End Scene-