Quakernuts
The Mighty Q
Lilean Beauchamp
"Suffering and Madness, what that could we lose ourselves in the clutches of compulsion"
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"Suffering and Madness, what that could we lose ourselves in the clutches of compulsion"
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The illusion of a happy group of carefree adventurers would not repeat itself along the next couple days of the trek it would seem. As they approached ever closer to their target, the thought of combat began to cross the minds of all of them. For some, it was a stoic reaction of impending violence that would require discipline and courage. For others, a fearful affair to be avoided if at all possible, and for yet more it was exciting, a froth at the mouth ordeal that promised adrenaline fuelled pleasure. Lilean's head hung a bit low as the horse trotted forward, his eyes closed as the world around shuddered in his mind's eye. It wasn't impossible to read what was around him while on a horse, but it was a different affair. He had to blot out the Horse's sensations, it's powerful heart beat and muscles reacting to movement. At this point, it was hard to differentiate where he ended and the horse began in some sense of the word, hence why he normally travelled on foot if possible.
Even with this handicap in regards to his abilities, it wasn't hard to feel the impending sense of death and destruction that started filling his senses. Burnt soil and buildings, ashes flirting with the ground, flames licking at the air. The village, in his mind's eye, was clear to him even before they arrived in front of the sign to the small destroyed hamlet. Dunn Bridge, the water splashed across the sand and rocks on the far side of the village, the overwhelming sensation of slaughter forced its way into Lilean's head unbidden, like a mocking laughter as his eyes remained shut. He didn't need to see to understand what was in front of him. As everyone approached the village, he hopped off his horse and tied it to a pole. He would need to be himself, as much as possible, for what came next.
"Looks more than a little fucked, can't help but wonder if they put up a fight at all." Kalista moaned, hopping off her horse with a thud as she donned her helmet. "Still, death and fire, standard demon fuckery. Poet, we got any of them dickless twits to stomp into the ground with their victims?" Lilean lowered his hood, removing one glove from his hand and kneeling to the ground without a word. His shoulder length hair flowed behind him for a moment as his eyes opened, splitting the red tattoos over them in half. His bare hand touched the ground, and like a pulse, he saw so much more.
Blood, death, destruction, sorrow, sadness, anger, guilt, grief, disappointment. They were all there, in some manner. To pull emotions from static and lifeless objects, a gift he didn't want to have, as lingering wishes often left one empty. Corpses littered the path into town, burned and eviscerated, collapsed into shattered homes and shops. People, horses, a distinct lack of demons and, importantly, very few women and children. A horrifying revelation, even if Lily's face did not betray his thoughts. He had seen this before, a commonplace event for one such as him, an equally horrifying revelation.
The path in front of them lay bare with the bones and flesh of those who tried to run, what little remained of their rotted faces twisted in agony and terror as death had overcome them rather slowly it would seem. Collapsed roofs produced protruding limbs, like a fungal infection. The road, once brown and muddy, now lay within grey and red, a mixture relying too heavily on a product produced by the living. Lily stretched himself, the wave of sensations going farther as every tiny vibration that hit the ground filtered back up to him, every windswept rock, every fluttering cloth, every footstep...
Footstep?
Again again again again, a limping gait, a small smear into the ground, a flutter of a heartbeat. A child, floating among the wreckage, light of foot and weight it would seem. They were far, on the edge of Lily's senses, but they were there. Before long, they stepped outside his current sensory range. He removed his hand from the ground, replacing the glove on it and donning his hood once more. The world around him becoming slightly more muted once again. "A village of silence, save the footsteps of one, they echo in the hall of the dead." Lily stated, looking back towards the group.
"Eh? Does that mean survivor or demon? I can't tell with you most days." Kalista stated, absent-mindedly rubbing her forearm, her itch for a fight palpable to everyone.
Nelle even struggled with the clarity on Lily this turn. But judging by the sensor's lack of action, it likely was not a threat to them. The magnifier stepped a decent distance from the group, as a courtesy.
Nelle inhaled deeply, switching on her magnifying ability for her voice and called out,
"Come out, come out... wherever you are!" In a sing song, and somewhat creepy voice that boomed over the smouldering wreckage like cannons. At least, Nelle assumed it did, as she would go deaf while using this ability. Likely for the best. She looked to the rest of the group to gauge if they could hear a response to her call.
There were sounds of clumsy, staggering footsteps through the rubble. Rushed, desperate. A crack of splintering wood beneath someone’s boots. It was certain that whoever was stumbling in their direction was not attempting to sneak up on them, or was doing a very poor job at doing so. A ragged cry wailed over the echo of Nelle’s voice cutting through the ruins of the village, as if the owner hadn’t spoken in awhile, or run itself down to little more than a hoarse moan. Whoever it was... sounded fairly young and human. At least, no Demoni they’d ever encountered sounded so morose, so broken as this one did.
Lip’s hand drifted over the handle of his axe, head tilted towards the direction of the off-putting wail. His eyes were half-shuttered into slits, occasionally glancing towards Lil, and then, Nica. Scour noted her demeanour, and how she stood in the wreckage of an ashen building. The commander’s countenance was unlike anything he’d ever seen since he’d begun travelling with her. Her shoulders were bunched, appearing far more statuesque than she normally did. Her face was pinched, eyes staring further away, as Lil often did when he searched with senses he could not see, but rather, feel. It did little to put him at ease.
It took a moment before the form revealed itself to be a boy no more than thirteen years old. Half of his clothes were scorched. It hung from his body like peeled flesh in ragged ribbons, and it was only upon closer inspection that his back had been scorched by fire, puckered and freshly scabbed along his shoulder blades. The pinch of his cheeks, and hollow of his eyes, bespoke that he hadn’t eaten for days. Ash covered his features, making the blues of his eyes contrast sharply. Two gems, peeping out beneath black and splotches of mottled skin. Another moan hissed out from chapped lips, and he nearly tripped over his own feet, before catching himself on a bit of fallen wood that may have been part of a barn.
No longer.
“Help,” a rasp, before he finally sank down to his hands and knees, exhausted. There was a moment of silence among the group, before Kalista cleared her throat.
"Right...ok, little brat makes it..." Lilean was already moving forward, not waiting for anyone to give him orders or anything of the sort. The back, it burned and ache in such a way that numbness was the only comfort one could give. The eyes, bloodshot and dry as all that was moisture had already left the boy. His shallow breaths, the burnt yet clammy skin, blood and gore, blood and gore, blood and gore...He was scared, but too tired to care.
Lilean closed his eyes again, the boy's condition had overlapped with Lily's own for a moment, an unpleasant sensation as it took a slight roll of the shoulders to shed what amounted to a phantom pain. He knelt down, looking the boy over closer with every sense he could achieve. His glove came off once more as he placed his hand on the back of the child's head. From there, everything was laid bare. Lungs filled with soot and smoke, heart barely beating, nerve endings that had been torched, skin that would never fully heal, eyes that had lost some of their sight from the flame, blistered and ripped hands and feet. The kid, in no uncertain terms, was a mess. Lily pulled his hand back, and reached into his pouch. He was by no means an accomplished healer, but in his line of work and with his particular set of abilities, he had learned certain things in order to numb pain.
With the heartbeat so low though, he couldn't chance painkillers. Not that he had that many left, he never carried more than a handful and had already given some to Nelle a few days prior. Finding the herbs for such things was not uncommon, but required effort. Effort he hadn't yet been able to put in. Instead, he pulled out a small container, and opened it with a pop. Inside was a greenish cream, which he immediately started to apply to the child's back. A salve, nothing more, a soothing mixture meant to ease with some medicinal properties. It wouldn't be enough to save him, and considering his condition, it was unlikely anything would be.
As Lilean applied what first aid he could, digging into his pack to retrieve water and some nuts he had managed to scavenge, Kalista stomped by both of them, paying no heed. Her weapons were sheathed for the moment, but her stride indicated a willingness to fight. "Don't tell me we came all this way just to see some burnt kid collapse in front of us." Kalista stated, wandering from body to body, picking them up to inspect them slightly before tossing them away to move on to the next one.
It appeared as if it’d taken all of the young boys energy to remain on his feet. As soon as Lilean’s hand touched his back and began to spread the cooling herbs over charred flesh, his knees buckled like a clumsy colt, and he sunk against him. Soot-stained hands clutched at Lil’s cloak to prevent himself from falling entirely. Seeing how haggard and thin the boy was, it was unlikely he’d pose as much of a weight for the ranger. His chapped lips worked for words, opening and closing as bright eyes feverishly watched Kalista snatching up crumpled corpses, before turning them over and tossing them carelessly off to the side.
Above the din of numbness was a growing sense of grief. A freckle of dismay. Rage. It lapped at the edges of a vase, threatening to spill over, and drown everything else around it. He stared at her, pupils drawn into large circles. The quiver of his lips steadied off into an angry, chewing bite, grinding into the sides of his hollow cheeks. “Don’tchu touch them, don'tchu touch them!” his voice hitched high and broke. His body was shaking like a leaf. A small pup, snapping at a much larger beast was all it was. A pathetic display to anyone, not that the boy cared. It was likely that he’d lost everything.
Scour stood off to the side, looking every bit uncomfortable since they’d first set foot in this awful place, claws twining over and over again in front of him. He looked off to the side, tail twitching. Though, he was watching the boy intently. His heart went out to him... this wasn’t something he’d often seen. Razed villages? Sure. It wasn’t often, however, that anyone survived these sorts of attacks, certainly not when Demoni were involved. Children and women alike were usually taken alive, elsewhere. He’d wanted to tell Kalista to stop, because touching the dead, even in his culture, was rude, offensive, a slight to dead themselves, but he couldn’t find his tongue, and doubted she’d listen or care.
Nelle felt frozen. The boy to her was like a mirror. This village, like an echo from her past. Her old burns felt suddenly fresh. Her old heartaches, open and raw. She shoved her abilities back into the mental box she imagined them kept in, her hearing returned, and she wished it hadn’t. The boy's cries brought further ache. She felt nearly gagged by her relation to his grief, wondering briefly if this was how Lily often felt. Nelle moved to Kalista’s side as she rummaged and put a small hand on the large woman's wrist, it wasn't an aggressive touch, just a small, shaken squeeze.
"Kalista... please... can you leave the dead until later? Please?" Nelle said in her soft voice. She looked to the woman with unusual sanity in her eyes, a firm clarity. Nelle did not like the elf, usually. But she liked the sounds of the boy's familiar despair even less, it seemed. If Kalista had heard the child, she made no motion of it. She continued picking up the dead, giving them a once over, then tossing them aside. It wasn't until Nelle touched Kalista's hand that she paused even for a moment and looked down at the girl. She brusquely shook her hand off hers.
"Dead don't give a shit what happens to 'em, it's only the living that seem to have a fucking problem with it." Kalista stated, wandering farther in and still inspecting the corpses. "And no, I can't little firebomb, because I'd rather not stay in the burnt toast tasting area any longer than I have to." Kalista very clearly did not care for the boy's cries or Nelle's request, but upon further inspection, it was clear she was looking at the bodies with purpose. She was scouring them, inspecting every nook and cranny, and pausing on the weapon wounds.
The boy struggled against Lilean for a moment as if he wanted to jettison forward, hands curled into tiny, ineffectual fists, as if it would do anything to the thick armour Kalista wore. Even without it, she was a force to behold. Instead, his breath hitched and suddenly, he inhaled a harsh-bellied breath, nearly tumbling forward, shoulders wracked on a sob he was holding in, “You beast! You filthy monster, you’re just like them—just like them!” it was only then that the brief spurt of energy brought on by the bubbling rage was extinguished, sizzling out for there was little left in his vase to spill over, and as much as he wished to do more, to tear indignantly into the one who befouled his friends, his family, he could not. The despair he felt over that was palpable.
It took Scour aback and he felt even more poorly that he hadn’t been able to stop Kalista... or rather, he hadn’t approached her as Nelle had. Hadn’t even attempted. That the woman balked at the simple request was unsurprising. What little heart the woman had was not reserved for other people, only herself. The revelation was clear since he’d first met her, even if she had stories to tell. Even those, he doubted were told for anyone but herself, for her ears to hear, her voice to ring out. He knuckled at his nose, and lowered his gaze to the ground, inhaling deeply through his nose, trying to cipher any smells from the wreckage.
This, at least, was something he could do.
"Only familiar heart beats remain." Lily stated, gently placing his hand on the boy's chin and directing his gaze away from the elf. Tear-tracks ran down ash-stained cheeks, uncontrolled, for the choking rage had gone, and he knew the truth of it. If he had qualms with how she was acting, it was impossible to tell. His entire focus seemed to be on the boy as he started digging out what little medical supplies he had. A bit more cream, some spare herbs, bandages and clean water. Lily placed a hand on the child's head, giving a soft smile. "Shhhh, don't bark at the wolves, lest we invite demons." Lily applied cream to the boy's burns, bandaged them up, and once they were somewhat covered, went to work on grinding the herbs up into a fine powder. Kalista looked back at Lily with a bit of a huff.
"Right, well while you do what you can for that sad sack, I'm going to go find something worthwhile." Kalista mentioned, once again callously tossing another body to the side, pausing only briefly to lift a collapsed roof and take a peer inside, apparently dissatisfied with what she found, letting it drop with a crash. She spit once, before turning and heading further into the town.
Nelle watched the elf, feeling an ember of anger alight in her belly. Nelle was angry with herself more than the elf, really. She should have known better than to expect consideration or compassion to be within that hulking wench. She was ashamed for hoping otherwise.
Nelle pulled up the mask of instability again, singing bawdily,
"There once was large lady tank
Whose attitude definitely stank
She's an oversized elf
Who thought high of herself
But her mind was completely a blank."
She blew a raspberry in the tank's retreating direction for good measure before turning back to the group. Specifically, she looked to Nica for guidance while trying not to gawp at the child. He was like a ghost of her past, and it hurt to look at him. He was in good hands with Lily, though.
Nica crossed her arms over her chest and sighed softly through her nose. Disappointment marred her stony features, though the nuances there were as subtle as footprints in dry dirt. It was there if one knew where to look—but she certainly was no open book and spoke even fewer words to express her distaste for Kalista’s behaviour. Unfitting of a Redeemer. What redemption was there, in cruelty? She flexed her fingers, and gave their surroundings another cursory look before she took a step towards the boy and bent down on one armoured knee, joins creaking against one another. She settled one of her hands on the boy’s unmarred shoulders and spoke softly, “We are the Redeemer’s, tasked to aid any that need it.”
The boy rubbed at his eyes and seemed to come into focus. Having his wounds tended to, and a shoulder to lean on, seemed to revive him, if only a little. The look on his face twisted, as if he remembered something he’d rather forget. “They... they took them back there, to the caves,” he pointed a shaky finger off into the distance, past the smouldering skeleton remains of his village, “Ma and the others, I was—I was too scared to see,” his shoulders shook and another sob seemed on the rise. He tore his gaze away and grabbed what remained of the front of his shirt, crumpling his fingers into the fabric.
Lip swore from where he was standing and shook his head. It seemed as if he knew where this was going. Scour did not. He couldn’t separate the distinct smells here, but he swore, beneath the sway of trees, and the wind billowing through them that he could hear something unnatural. Screams? Howls? Something awful.
A moment later, and Nica drew herself up once more, looking around. “He cannot come with us,” a statement, though it appeared as if she were looking for something more substantial than that, an answer to her unspoken question, “We should find a place to tie up the horses, and have him stay there, until we’ve finished.” Lilean finished doing what he could for the child, letting him rest for a moment before getting slightly closer to Nica and bringing his voice down low.
"Bleeding and broken, a soul with no home may wish for a vessel soon...he has needs outside our ability to provide." Lily stated, pulling away slightly and looking towards the cave. What he could feel from it was unpleasant at best and nauseating at worst. It was like looking into the gaping mouth of a hungry beast and knowing exactly what its intentions were. He looked away from it for a moment, peering towards where Kalista had taken off, only to find she had wandered some distance from them already. She was performing her own investigation, one that Lily couldn't follow in method.
The others, their feelings towards her were clear, even Nica, but he read something else that had stopped his normal intervention. It was brief, but there was a moment of outright fear from the Elf before she had crushed it like a bug. He didn't believe her attitude or personality to be a front or a shield, at least not like Nelle's was, but it was...something. Some people turned to insanity to avoid reality, some turned to escapism, and for some... some turned to cruelty or indifference. Lilean looked back towards Scour, the pulsing anxiety coming from him bleeding into Lilean like an open wound.
"Scour." Lilean stated. "Tis not a moment in time where regrets are not made, the child requires the assistance of caring hands, bear with him." Lily took a moment to look at Nica, seemingly to request her approval that Scour stay with the child while they look in the cave.
Nica looked at Scour over her shoulder, blinking owlishly at him. Her eyes had always made him feel uncomfortable, strange as they were, and he was never sure if she was truly looking at him or straight through him. Her mouth was set into a line, though she tilted her head to the side, as if she awaited his response, to know that this suggestion was suitable for him.
“A—ah, yes, that’s fine with me,” Scour was glad, actually. He didn’t want to go to the caves for fear of what they might find there. The smells that graced his nostrils were troubling enough and the sounds that so subtly found his ears... were even worse. He took a step forward and held his hands out wide, as if to beckon the boy to his side, and when the boy initially took a step back behind Lilean, he felt his shoulders droop.
Of course.
“It’s fine, you’ll be safe here. We’ll see to the horses, if you’d like,” he kept his voice low and averted his gaze, staring somewhere between the boy’s feet and Lilean’s boots. No matter what he did, he couldn’t make himself appear less unpleasant. The boy’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he stepped around Lilean and made his way closer to Scour, but not too close, he maintained his distance, and held his arms around his own body.
Lip bobbed her head in a nod and gave a soft whistle in their tank’s direction and pointed off in the distance, where the boy had indicated the cave was, “Oii, we’ve got something to check out.”
Nelle wandered over toward the boy in her strangely graceful way, kneeling so she was not towering over the already unnerved child. With one hand, she brushed her hair behind her right ear, peering at the boy with a curious expression. She wondered if Stormy would have been about his age now, if he had lived.
"Scour is soft and gentle..." she told the boy in her whispery voice. "Never judge solely on looks... the prettiest snakes... are often the most venomous, and it's true of people too. Don't forget that." Nelle narrowed her eyes at the boy meaningfully, looking hard into his eyes before standing straight again. She looked to Scour with a crooked grin before following Lip towards the caves. "A fight... a fight... this little snake can bite," she sang to herself hauntingly, unsheathing a dagger in each hand as she walked toward the sounds in the distance.
Not surprisingly, Kalista had been relatively quick to wander back upon having something else to look at, and anticipating a fight. "Good, getting tired of looking at corpses anyways." Kalista looked at the cave, and while her helmet hid her features, the sneer was clear. She briefly turned towards Nelle for a moment as she was walking away, lowering her voice as if almost to talk to herself. "Oh joy, yet another collapsable fuckshit with the madness queen." Kalista rolled her shoulders, before drawing her sword and shield, walking forwards towards the cave of the mouth. "Stay behind me and keep out of my way. Watch cave ins, natural or...otherwise." She said, seemingly glaring in Nelle's direction.
Lily watched as the group started to pace forward, their bodies prepping for combat and anticipating a potential bloodbath, not to mention the horrors that lay within. Lily's senses could reach out to the cave but it was a bit too sporadic to outright say what the danger was at the moment. He knew something was in there, but he would need a closer look. He looked to Nica with a smile, before a flash of insight hit him and he looked back at Lip, who had yet to leave Nica's side. "So it would seem..." Lily whispered, giving a nod to the woman. "To the fore." Lily stated softly, retrieving his bow from his back, running to catch up to Kalista and walking beside her. The Tank looked down at him for a moment, but didn't say anything as they continued towards the gaping maw.