Active [Eastern Border of the Fae See - M’lynra Village] - One Last Push

[Giftvi]

Point Booster: Attentive Student
Languages: Common | <Bestial>
Mentions: Elvario

Watching nodded and seemed a bit solemn as it thought about how to even answer in particular the first two questions. Comparatively, the third just would have made it a little flustered as its mouth did not exist, but its nose breathed in and out for just a second faster as it heaved in some capacity through such. Though, nothing could be compared to actual laughter in such a sense. “<Not only the people that died here. Not only the soldiers, nor the people who lived in that corpse of a village. Not just the trees, the animals, and the people who suffer from these bugs. These bugs which don't know right from wrong… Probably… They are too big, maybe they have as much a right to life as I do, but they just eat and eat, to no end. Is it right for me to judge them? I don't know if it's only for survival, or more. But I want to protect these things, the things could be destroyed in the future. Because that feels right to me.>” Indeed, it was very strange to write this all out in such a small wooden board, Watching had to be very particular in how it wrote these sentences. Nor could it properly emote like otherwise with its body. So Almeida had to struggle discerning each of these letters in a language she had only just recently learned and/or mastered to some degree. Even if she was quick on the uptake. But Watching seemed very outspoken in what was important to it, and didn't seem to be doing it for the simple sake of justice in that sense. That didn't seem to be what fuelled its perseverance at all. It was a bit of a mess of emotions, as it seemed frustrated and angry to it all, but also very happy with the patience Almeida gave it as it needed time to properly convey itself, unlike most. “<As for how I got my name… It's, well, nothing too special. I had no words, or anything to convey myself with. But I could convey myself through my body, and that will always be enough with my family. But when the idea of a name came up, all I could recall is how often I looked into those puddles of water, at my own face, and thought: 'so this is who I am'. It felt… Right? I'm happy to be who I saw. But yes, you should just smuggle me in. I haven't really felt much embarrassment or else looking at people. And uhm… It's complicated.” It would finish with, as it looked down to itself, obviously referring to the lack of clothing. Though at this point, it certainly was making the Satyr wait for plenty long, waiting to hear if Almeida had any response to its words, before then finally heading towards the satyr to finish what it wanted to say.

 

[Irihi]

Fae See Message Runner
{“We’d feared as much.”} The satyr replied to the Almeida. He had been told to expect See regulars and not this mishmash of irregular forces. That there was only one (silent) See recent recruit present--and that a random bombardment seemed to be falling on the village--indicated that the mission had failed.

The satyr introduced himself as [private Bramble] when Watching of Reflection approached. He squinted at the common the creature scribbled upon its slate. “I see.” Corporal Glimmerleaf had been far down the list of persons to whom he was supposed to deliver his message. “Who is in charge here, then?” He asked, and found himself eventually pointed to Flare, asking Watching to join him as he delivered his message, sticking to common so that WoR could understand.

”Company Charlie is being folded into Bravo at the fort north of here.” The Satyr pointed the way he had come. “However, they’re only taking regulars, not recruits or contractors. You are to report to the nearest See command post for orders.” The Satyr said to Watching. Though no other See forces were around, he lowered his voice. ”Honestly, the whole front is a mess, and you’ll be sitting around for weeks if you do. If you want, I can report that you were KIA with your squad; your pay will go to whomever you listed as your next-of-kin, but you also won’t have any more orders. Otherwise I can tell them that I didn’t find anyone other than the mercenaries, so you’ll stay on the rolls, but not have any orders. Let me know what you prefer.” The Satyr offered. The desperate bug-bait scheme of Charlie company was clearly not the only place along the front where the organization of the See forces was in disarray.

”You mercenaries are discharged.” He said to Flare. ”Your pay will be rendered to the guild, which will dispense it to survivors or next-of-kin.” He paused a moment. “Honestly, I’m a little surprised to find you here. Did you not join in the attack, as planned?” The Satyr seemed to realize what he was saying a little too late. He was not one of the planners of the merciless way in which the contractors had been misled, but he was aware of the scuttlebutt about sacrifice plays made with irregular forces, and it jived with what he’d been told to expect. That the “bait” was alive and the regulars were dead made it seem like the mercenaries had figured out they were being betrayed and sat out the fight. He raised his hands. “Not that I blame you--some crazy shit has been going down all along the front--but I need to make a report to my superiors.”

Realizing that the mercenaries might be none-to-happy with a negative report, he made them an offer similar to the one he’d made Watching. ”I can, ah, report that you’re all deceased or missing, if it helps.” After all, he reasoned, a partial report was better than no report--because the messenger had been killed.

”I have to report back that the mission failed. I can’t help you with burials.” The Satyr said to Watching. ”But… ah--how to put this--I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. The bugs… eat the dead--theirs and ours.” The Satyr grimaced and waved to the explosions marching back and forth over the ruins of M’lyrna. ”That might slow down their advance, but it’s not going to do anything to the Tank Bug, so trying to collect anyone else’s remains is a suicide mission at this point.” Private Bramble opined, not realizing that the mercenaries, themselves, had succeeded in defeating the tank and plugging the gap. “If you want me to tell my superiors that you are here and that you have the Corporal’s and Private’s remains, I can say you’re asking for dustoff… but I wouldn’t hold my breath. Even rescue missions are on hold, and recovery missions… well, good luck. Maybe the strategic situation will change in the next few weeks,” the Satyr reported. The area was likely to fall under bug control and stay that way indefinitely. It was gruesome and sad, but the mercenaries best bet was just to leave the bodies behind so they would not slow down their retreat.

The lot of them seemed to be in a pretty good mood; and he supposed that was to be expected from mercenaries that hadn’t participated in the fighting. He didn’t blame them. He did overhear some chatter about resurrection spas and the like. He assumed it was just bravado bullshitting--but who knew?--so, he decided to interject his opinion into Almeida and Yunaesa’s side conversation. ”Honestly, if you’ve got any way of bringing back the dead, I would forget protocall and try it. Nobody else has the resources to help them.”

Summary;
The Satyr introduces himself as Private Bramble
He does not realize the mission was a success.
He asks for some details
He offers to make a report that allows everyone to be released from duty/orders

@Speed TheTimePiece @Karcen @Develius Elvario Giftvi

 

[Elvario]

Almeida

Spoiler: full image and source

From: Almeida

Mentions: Irihi
Languages: Common | [Terran] | %Analog% | <Beastial> | {Sylvan}

She'd nod at Purpler, ah, Watching of Reflection, now, she should try remember that. Its reasons to fight were noble. “<I'll wish you all the best, then.>” Its name was obtained in an interesting manner for sure. “<I wonder if my name would be Debating my Existence in that case, cause I did that a lot at first.>” It also didn't deny it was a nudist, but that was tertiary to the story.

“{Yeah, it's a shame. We got the big bug one though. Valerius here hammered right through it after it burned up in glorious Valkanite.}” She'd reply to the Satyr. Sadly enough, the rest of the conversation went entirely over hear head. Staring as the Common was spoken. In the end it seemed like he did try to tell them, something, but she just turned her head and looked puzzled. “{I'm sorry buddy, I got no clue what you've been saying. I don't speak Common. I speak Beastial, Terran, Analog or Sylvan. Yuna here also speaks Terran and Analog.}” She'd point to Yuna. “{So anyhow, do you know if there's resurrection bathhouses somewhere?}”

 

[Giftvi]

Point Booster: Attentive Student
Languages: Common | <Bestial>
Mentions: Elvario

Watching could not stammer in response to this satyr's forthright advise, or perhaps commentary of his own opinion upon the army, which Bramble was a part of. But it understood the helping hand on the offer from the man before it. But it shook its head sideways.

Watching was thankful for this man to care even a little, even the slightest of sympathy. It had learned today that perhaps this would not be the end for those poor souls who had fought till such a bitter end for themselves, and others. But yet it could not stop itself from having such a bitter look on its face. Not one which seemed to emphasize how it felt towards the man in front of it, but rather in a different way, for other thoughts. Though how much the satyr understood that fact before it even had the time to write out what it wanted to say could be questioned, after all, it was such a hard person to read.

It began to slowly but surely write down its response for the satyr who stood in front of it. The small little fairy was still within its care after all, "I see, I think you misunderstand, the tank bug was killed in the conflict. But that is unfortunate, neither does it mean I'll sit idly by. I'll bring their bodies to the command post myself if they're the ones who can still bring them back. I don't want to lie to anyone I went missing or killed. I'll go directly to command, and report things as they happened. Just, the bodies of team Alpha weren't eaten, but blown up. So I may still find anything at all." Its fingers clenched after it had written down what it wanted to say on the board. Giving the satyr in front of it the time it needed to properly read, and await his reply. Hopefully to learn where it should go next.

Watching looked once more towards Almeida who it had left a moment before, whether nobody else cared enough to give the dead the respect they deserved, it would give them such. As it had learned from Katsuko. Walking up to Almeida one final time, and briefly writing on its wooden board, "See you soon again, okay?" With below such, drawn in a crude fashion the following:

Holding out a fist bump for her, before beginning to walk off towards the site of where Team Alpha has perished, to give any attempt of finding whatever could still remain of the explosion had left the area with soot, and splattered with indistinguishable gore. Putting in an endeavour to give every member of the team a burial, as it began to pick up chunks of wood and bark that had scattered off to paint upon each of them the name of a team member. Which it had taken to diligently remember. To write down the names of each and every one of them. Even if this scene was only for itself, knowing it would only be a brief moment before the rain would wash it all away again.

 

[Irihi]

Fae See Message Runner
{“What?!.”} The satyr exclaimed when Almeida, and then Watching, revealed that the tank bug had been destroyed. {“Amazing! This will be the first good news I’ve delivered in a week!”} He said, excitedly. {“I suppose you’re all still discharged, but as heroes instead of MIA or KIA!”}

{“I’ve only heard of such a thing in myth or legend.”} He blinked at Almeida’s question. {“But, before the war, I kept to my family’s lands. Perhaps such places exist, but I do not know of any.”} He shrugged.

”I’ve got to get news of your victory back to headquarters! He said to Watching. “Your nearest reporting station is going to be either north at the Kirkwall fort or south at Ferrydeep.” He said in common. ”I’m headed to the fort. I’ll bring word to them to watch out for you if you decide to come that way.” The Satyr was not going to be persuaded to delay his departure, so Watching was left to lay the dead to rest--as best he could--by himself, as private Bramble was anxious to get the information back to his superiors.

Summary;
Private Bramble is surprised to hear of their victory.
He is in a hurry to report to his superiors.
He is not able to help with locating a resurrection spa.

[/B]

Irihi Spokelse

​

The sad small corpse was likely to surprise Almeida. Irihi, in death, was not the sallow-skinned svelte sinister beauty she presented to the world. Though the magic that had struck her down had dealt her no physical injury, without her glamors, her body was a tome of past abuses. What was left was wasted, broken, and marred by scar upon scar. The corpse had paper-thin skin pulled over broken bones. The witch had barely an unbroken limb, for she did not heal--she had given up any true life-giving or life-restoring power long ago in trade for her necromancy. When injured, she only welded herself back together with white-hot ire, papering over her injuries and pressing on.

Two great scars rippled across her face where her eyes had been clawed out long ago. Her neck and arms were broken. Her skin was scarred with dozens of old defensive wounds, and a great gaping hole was rent in her belly where something had once been torn out. Without the magic that sustained and armored them, her sorceress robes were little more than rags.

She weighed very little and would have been easy to carry were it not for the sickening miasma that seemed to hang around her devastated corpse. Any who drew near or touched her would feel an enervating influence. Even death could not wholly dispel reality-warping echoes of her malicious presence.

…

Irihi, herself, was not in that empty vessel. Instead, her spirit sat--barely visible in the fading afternoon light--on the edge of a crater where Alpha Squad had met their violent ends.

{{“Hello, creature.”}} She greeted Watching of Reflection as the voiceless being scampered up beside her. Irihi doubted its mortal ears could hear her--perhaps watching could not even see her ghostly presence at all. For a few moments, she watched WoR collect what it could find of markers for their comrades. It was a touching gesture.

{{“Pointless, but touching nonetheless.”}} She said, pushing herself to her spectral feet.

There were many other spirits besides Irihi’s, here. Most of C company had spent their lives on this battlefield, and before them more See warriors and the inhabitants of the village. What remained were not coherent spirits, as Irihi was, but rather flickers of attachment; ephemeral ghostly echos of souls rended from their mortal coils in violence. Some were not ready to move on to the next world, and some were--none more than the phantasmal sorceress in their midst. Yet she was the only one bound here.

{{“Death is a doorway. Let me walk you through it.”}} She said to the miasma of departed souls, speaking to none of them in particular.

Irihi’s athane, knocked over by the fire magic blasting M’lyrna vanished from where it lay, and a ghostly phantom of the dread scythe appeared in her transparent hand. As Watching finished writing the first of the long litany of names, Irihi swung the scythe through the pyrrhic soul light that had drifted near--drawn by this tenuous connection to what they once had been. Corpsmourn cleanly severed the soul’s connection to the world of the living, and the fairy light dispersed with an unheard sigh.

Many of the other coalescing spirits drew back--wafting away from this shedding of the world they had known. Whether they had some errand they thought left undone or whether they feared the unknown step into the next life, none wanted to be near the ghostly reaper with the power to send them on.

Irihi sighed, the sound of her breathless exhalation echoing, as if in a sepulcher, rather than out in a late autumn field. Her sigh became a hum, and her hum a soft woeful song in archaic proto-sylvan. She did not like to dirge-dance, though she was quite skilled at it; the act cooled her ire and the melancholy kindness of it poisoned her malice.

Still, though she told herself she despised these mortal fools who had died in the town and on these blood-soaked fields, she found that she could not stand idly by while Watching made his gesture of respect to the dead. The little purple creature did not want this to become a haunted place of lost souls and residual terror, and it--for what it was worth--had been Irihi’s ally when she was alive, so she danced, and sang her dirge, gathering the remnants of souls and then laying their cares to rest in concert with Watching.

The restless spirits followed the dance of the dead sorceress, slowly spiraling inward until they were within reach of her reaping. When Watching ran out of the names of soldiers to paint, Irihi bent her steps toward him, weaving into her dirge the names of the dead of the village that the See recruit had not known, until he heard or somehow sensed the names he should include in his dismal registry.

At last, there was only one spirit left unsent; that of the sorceress, herself. With a last sweep and turn of her dance, Irihi came to stand beside the small violet creature, regarding the name it had written upon a field stone.

Her lips pressed together into a thin line as she looked down at the marker bearing the sound of her name in the common tongue. {{“I would that it were so easy for me.”}} Irihi said, neither knowing nor caring if Watching could hear her. Her athane faded into nothingness and she turned her wrists over, looking at the bone shackles slowly fading into existence around them.

{{“Goodbye, creature. I do not think we shall meet again.”}} Irihi said. Then, with a rippling snap--like the sound of a sail filling with air, what little of her that remained in the world of the living vanished. She was not in her gloomy corpse. She was not lurking behind fencerow or haunting the deepening shadows of the nearby forest.

She was just gone.

Giftvi
Elvario

 

[Elvario]

Almeida

Spoiler: full image and source

From: Almeida

Mentions: Irihi | Yuna TheTimePiece
Languages: Common | [Terran] | %Analog% | <Beastial> | {Sylvan}

“<Awwww.... see you again soon indeed!>” She'd call after her buddy, upon seeing what it drew her as a 'goodbye' note. “[Isn't Watching of Reflection the best Purpler ever?]” She asked Yuna.

“{Pfft.}” She exhaled. “{As if we'd have left the mission unfinished.}” How outrageous to think the bloody goat-legs had assumed as much. “{Of course we're heroes! Yuna, Zjorn, Valerius and me are going to be famous all over the world!}” She'd proclaim her tag-teams intentions. The four of there were definitely gonna make it far.

“{If there's a chance, that's good enough. We'll just have to find it for sure!}” She'd nod to herself. “{Ah, tell those bomber folk Valerius and I said hi if you meet them, that was pretty cool, even if it nearly killed us!}” She'd tell the Satyr as well.

One thing did indeed surprise her. “[Hey Yuna, did I go mad or did the Elf just shrink or something?]” She'd nod to herself. “[We're gonna need a real proper resurrection bathhouse to fix this one for sure.]” She sniffed a bit. “[Gods... and give her a proper wash.]” Yucky. They definitely had another challenging task cut out for them.