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Fantasy Mountain Magic Mayhem (Luc/Sazz)

Iso heard Milianor's order, muffled with his cries. "D-Diger..." He clenched the wrist he held, ready to depart the wretched situation altogether. There wasn't much time for the scroll to hold open. Don't freeze up. Don't freeze up. His mantra motivated him. His fingers searched for the most safest places to grab Diger along the shoulder and back, careful to inflict any more damage already worse. The body was definitely lighter, unlike its living self. Iso's wobbly knees initially struggled, but then a few steps of urgency strengthened them.

"Need some help?" Vine went to the lad's side. "Ya'll go on ahead. I'll help carry 'em." The leader grabbed the lower part of the body with Iso up higher that the latter could stare into the dead face. Lier nodded to Milly and Erro, going ahead to the dimensional doorway. A serpentine eye watched him in his peripheral eye. A hard swallow passed over him.

The Aphotic Chamber gateway was ripe and wide with many of the dragons departing into it upon Lord Luiche's command. One by one they left their showering treasure and darkness upon the rocks and trees below. Guisinth, the leader saluted the group, and he propelled himself off the fracturing cliff, dived upside down to a gliding twist into the portal. It closed shut.
 
Milly waited until the the portal closed to finally give into her emotions. As soon as Luiche vanished, she sunk to her knees and clenched her hands so tight it hurt. A couple seconds later she hit the ground as hard as she could, ignoring the pain that came from punching solid rock. A howl of despair escaped her as she let herself be consumed by the grief. "It's not fair!" she screamed. "It's not! You didn't deserve this! Any of you! Why would someone throw away your lives just for... Just for their own needs?! Who can do that to their own people!?"
 
Lier and Erro slowed at the doorway's arch, hearing the hurting dragoness behind. Erro turned to face her sunken pose, saying, "For those who can apparently," shaking his head. He understood what it was like being desolate with a horrendous, ruthless tyrant. Memories immersed him of the flood of Ghobarian refugees, including himself, fleeing the desolation into Huujar's walls when he was young. Such struggle to survive past his own kind costed his empathy in this situation -- for anyone. He crossed his arms, failing to return a look to Milianor.

"Tchn!" Iso already was sniffling too hard, losing some of his grip on Diger. "N-N-N--!" Vine beside felt at fault for recruiting the team to the task, despite his subconscious desire to obtain all treasury there. He gave eye to Lier's withdrawn, avoidant demeanor, wondering what to do next.
 
Unable or unwilling to rouse herself into moving, Milly remained on the ground for nearly a minute. She said nothing else, instead silently fuming in her own way. She knew if she started up again, there'd be fire, and lots of it. The last thing she needed was to lose control. Eventually she felt the dimensional door reaching its limits, which prompted her to slowly rise and shuffle towards it. "Come on," she murmured to the others who remained, before vanishing through the light. On the other side she made it a few paces, before collapsing in a heap.

"Screw this entire day..."
 
The others followed behind, where the two carriers held Diger with a remorseful grip, seeing the dragonness, a stranger with a side of sympathy, lose her composure. Seeing this, especially Vine who seemed to bond with her experience more, the travelers held to their silence. Iso wept, keeping his hand on his loss. Erro still had his arms crossed, rolling his lips.

This experience indeed confirmed to Liernoine the seriousness of the Dragon Stone legend -- that of the Aphotic Stone, that is. Not only was its existence proven fact this day, but its ancestral feud was truly a war of malice. Diger. Blood Aura. No wonder he was so intelligent. And this mistake of a feud only ridded one who wished to stray from the old tradition. The knight rubbed his palm about the top of the blade's handle, contemplating.
 
Once the others were through the gate, the dragonborn severed her connection to it. Collapsing in on itself, the dimensional door vanished in a puff of blue smoke. Milly didn't bother getting off of the ground at first, choosing the cool embrace of the grass to ease her nerves. When she felt she could trust herself to speak, she sat up on an elbow and surveyed the group. "So, your village. How far is it from here?" she asked slowly, her voice hoarse from the tears earlier.
 
The four travelers held their silence for a while, exchanging looks to assign a speaker. Vine ousted his hesitation in the end. "'Bout 100 kilometers from here -- northeast-ish. Goes through a lot of this city's ranges and plateaus then into our valleys." He knew it would be a long ways back. Honestly, though, he almost wished the trek was longer; he did not want to face the Chief, let alone leave Milianor. "Takes about two to three days by foot -- one if you don't stop anywhere."

Iso dealt with the stench of the rotting shoulder at his chin, sniffling from leftover tears stopped with guilt. He still had his slight disdain for Lier, but ultimately the knight was the one who tried his best to protect Diger. Money couldn't revive the dead. Without money, the lad believed he was practically useless, helpless. But, it wasn't like he wouldn't give everything he had. Now that Diger was back in his arms, he summoned a healing spell upon the body in his fallacy to reality. He had to try despite the constant failure.
 
A groan escaped the exhausted dragonborn as she rolled onto her back. "So it's not an easy hike by any means... Damn it." She reached into her coat for her flask, pausing when she realized it wasn't there anymore. She frowned and went limp with another frustrated sigh. "That body's probably not going to make it back in any condition I'd say remotely resembled good. Not a cleric, so I can't preserve it now."

Weighing her options, Milly made a mental catalog of what she had left. There were a few ways of solving this, though none of them were pleasant. One in particular would help them more than anything else, but the cost was... Not something she was keen on paying.

But she had to propose it anyway, she owed them that much.

"Say... How religious are you guys?"
 
"Yeah, not so religious," Vine said. Erro agreed.

"Gotta have some spirit," Lier said. "Can't say I'm full-fledged religious praying under veils and all that, though." He looked to Iso.

"I-I-I'm..." The lad started. "I'm pretty religious. Servant of Yos."
 
"Now, I'm not saying this would work or anything, so don't go betting on it," Milly began as she propped herself up again. "But there's a way we might can... What's the word, uh... Ah, damn it. I know someone that might can help us. Don't know if it can do anything to solve the Diger problem, but at the very least she can make our lives a little easier. Only problem with this is, well, if I call in the favor we're never hearing the end of it. She'll also probably want something in return. Like, something valuable. Your soul possibly, valuable. You get me?"
 
"She?" Erro frowned. "What could 'she' help us with?"

"Hey, let 'er talk," Vine adjusted the charred legs on his shoulder. "I think I'm catching on," he fibbed. "Yeah."

The Servant of Yos held Diger closer, not fully accepting his fate just yet. There was a glint of hope still, that he at least could obtain peace.

"What's she trying to say, then?" Lier said. "I don't get it, to be honest."

"She's trying to say we're gonna make a deal with someone who can help us. Right?" He redirected his attention back to Milly, ignoring Lier's quick huff.
 
Her lips pursed as she thought of an answer. She eventually nodded. "Yeah, in a way. Though the deal's nothing like what you're imagining, probably. No blood pacts or any of that shit. I'd never mess with dark magic, even if it was my only answer. This one's a bit more of a... Promise? And like I said, I'm not even sure if it's what she'd ask for. Just a possibility."

She motioned to the sky.

"It's almost nighttime, could try and get in contact with her as soon as the moon's out, if you want."
 
Erro was skeptical with no answer. Should the night lead him, he sensed a light omen from their wandering, examining the pistol in his hands. Iso looked to Vine, whose eyes seemed to lighten up from the tragic scene.

"A promise..." Lier reminisced the day he swore to protect the Governor of Huujar. "Well, leader?"

"Taa. You don't have to say it like that really. But yeah, we can do that," Vine nodded. "But... what's this promise?" Definitely greed in his blood reawakened. He would finally get to see a portion of Milianor's origins in person, to have his hands all about it to beat the Chief. That serpent was going to pay for all of this.
 
Instead of answering Vine directly, the dragonborn glanced over at some nearby shrubs. "That's something she would be better off explaining," she said. "Like I said, I'm no cleric. I know a lot about magic, yeah, but works of faith are out of my area of expertise. Best thing to do would be to set up camp and let me get the ritual started. I'd appreciate it if we left it at that, for now."
 
"Oh yeah," Vine said. "A ritual. That's exactly what she was saying." He liked the idea -- a night with Milly! But, not in a way of infatuation, but rather, of fascination. Her routine and habits he could scrutinize for sure now.

Lier said, "I see. Don't really want to risk another walk into more 'sacred' territory."

So, we're staying here in the mountains, Erro thought. Action before thought; he had said it, too. He flashed a smile to Iso, only to receive no look back, so he shrugged to the matter. Their safety was a factor to remember too, according to Iso. Camping out there could mean a heap of trouble depending on where they are. In the end, though, he was glad Milianor was so willing to help someone like them with their situation. If the promise was to help her, he definitely could give even his life for her life-risking hospitality -- for perhaps he had little to return to after all.
 
"Just... Go ahead and find a good spot, I'll be back in a little bit," Milly said as she stood up with a huff. She dusted herself off and turned to head into the woods. "Try to stay safe in the meantime, okay?"
 
"W-Wait. Where are you going?" Iso asked.

"Give 'er some time," Vine said. "Don't worry. She can take care of herself." He noted Iso's worry of losing another comrade. But he also felt his faithlessness in their capacity. "Let's put 'em down here." They set Diger's body down, where Iso straightened up the tattered clothing.
 
Without a word the dragonborn nodded and set off into the forest, vanishing into the trees moments later. She was gone for several hours, long enough for the sun to set and stars to glitter in the sky. Clouds rolled in not long after, a light drizzle following in their wake as the humid summer night set in. Crickets and frogs filled the night with their song, mixed with the gentle tapping of raindrops on the canopy around them.

Milly made her return just as the clock struck eight, toting an armful of plants and stones, along with strips of bark and a tree branch. She made no explanation as to the use these things would serve, only that they were needed for the ritual to work. After discarding her jacket and boots in favor of a sleeveless undershirt, she set about preparing the site. Stones, each daubed with a luminescent green ink, were situated around a small pit filled with crushed twigs and vines.

Now the dragonborn stood beside her pit with the branch in hand, poking and prodding the waterlogged mixture every now and then. She ignored the drizzle and focused intently on her work, frowning as she waved a hand over the pit every now and then.
 
The four of them were not far from where they came out of the dimensional doorway, using Erro's spare bag and some thick branches to make a temporary tent right beside a large tree. A tiny fire burned under it. Vine was busy writing the letter to the Chief still, thinking up a decent explanation of their whereabouts as well as the situation. Lier had to provide some advice to his ill-tempered leader, trying his best to protect Milianor and her identity, as well as the order of dragons they met. Meanwhile, Erro finally got a grip of why Iso was so angry. He had a feeling what it was, but it was confessed plain and simple.

When Milly returned, Iso almost dashed into the darkness with her, but didn't. What was she doing? "Nmm... L-Lier."

"'Uh?" He almost choked. He had been eavesdropping.

"... Whatever happens, I can pay for it."

Money. That was all that Iso seemed to be good for, or so Lier thought. While he realized the lad wasn't trying to contend with him, his distaste for materialistic support subconsciously angered him. "Just gotta hope I don't get charged at all."

"Hey, hey," Vine nudged, "I'm writing that I'm take responsibility anyway." Or, it could had meant Iso was going to tell the whole truth -- that Lier was the one who cast the spell leading to Diger's demise. People would definitely believe the heir of the Huujar Banks, let alone the Freiche family. The leader shrugged it off. "No need to worry. Last time I got charged, I was able to pay it in five years."

"I don't think we want anyone to be charged," Lier concluded.

Iso returned his attention to Milianor, crouched close beside Diger's still, stiff body.
 
Milly was working the branch through the pit's contents when Iso looked back to her. She had a small bag in her hands, and paused to toss in some flakes of something every now and then. She was muttering quietly in her native tongue, causing the ink on the stones to pulse and flare in tune to her words. The mixture, now a honey yellow in color and thickness, began to bubble as she continued.
 
The Servant of Yos didn't quite understand Milianor's intention, but if he contributed a distant prayer, perhaps it would help. Mumbles of the sacred language passed through his dry lips, one of the only sounds outside of the cracking of the fire nearby or the warbling of nightfall's nature. Etches from Vine's passionate writing interrupted a few times.

Erro was tucked with his chin resting on his knees, watching the ritual unfold. "Should join 'er," he said. Alas, the prayer failed to hear him. Still, he said, "Hard to believe in something these days."

"Is it now?" Such words nearly struck Lier's agnosticism. Erro was certain, but Lier was not. "Hmm. Well, we've got what we have for many reasons. I don't think it was just placed here for nothing." Yet the former disagreed with a sigh.
 
"To the Heavens I offer the berries of a mulberry plant, crushed and blended with hemlock. For the messengers who bear this plea, I offer the bark of a spruce, spiced with sage," Milly intoned quietly in Common now, setting the branch aside. She knelt down beside the pit and scooped a handful of the honeyed substance up to her snout. Her free hand plucked a pinch of ground up crystal from the pouch and sprinkled it over the sweet, syrupy gel. "Stones placed as sentries watch and guide my request. To the north, all is clear. To the south, not a sound to hear. In the east all is well. In the west lies nothing to tell."
 
The writing stopped for a moment to hearken the declaration. The fire in the leader's eye shined as he pulled up his face to the ritual ceremony, studying each divine detail, memorizing such prayer that he could repeat for himself in his own time. The prayer of the lad seized his ears, noting he could help him replicate the performance. He returned to the letter, which could not write itself, with a plan in mind.

Shwing, the drawn blade went. Lier passed more of his time pondering the whereabouts of the Governor and his advisors with another inspection of the weapon. The education system in Huujar could use more starting weapons as these for first-time warlocks. With intense training, of course. He practiced his fire spell momentum, fluctuating the insulation levels.
Now. Fail.
Now. Fail.
Now. There we go!
And now again. Pfft, fail.
For a commoner from Huujar seeking to make a living outside of traveling without magic, practice between the physical and the spiritual was essential. Perhaps that would be why Erro wasn't the type to engage with magic. A distant, non-direct look to Iso, who struggled to stay awake in his tedious, yet devoted prayer, piqued the knight's desire to train a little harder despite his shallow belief in religion -- the arrangement thereof -- itself.
 
Standing up and reaching into her pouch once more, Milly produced a small silver bell. She smeared some of the honey on it and gave it a ring. "Peer through the world with this sweetened tune, hear my voice and give me your boon. Across the veil I call to you, in one voice, not two. Alone I call and offer you a reward, hear my call and grasp the chord." She rang the bell again. "One tune for prosperity." Another ring. "Two for charity." A third ring. "Three for clarity."

The mixture in the pit began to glow at this point, shapes moving beneath the crushed vines and leaves. The lines etched in the ground flared to life and the rocks began to chime and hum.
 
"Give your boon," Vine wrote, trying to memorize the prayer. "Veil I call..." Got it all wrong indeed.

"What the hell are you doing, Vine?" Erro asked.

"Prosperity. Charity. Um..." Multitasking had its price. "Oh. Clarity. Hmhm. Just trying to remember some spells for myself as all. Now what the hell are you doing?"

"Watching you act strange. Watching her act strange. Watching the weather act strange."

"Okay, a little drizzle's not strange. Just saying. And two, find something better to do." To his satisfaction, the historian resorted to his satchel with a history log inside. "There we go. Be productive." Lier couldn't hold his smirk from the conversation, knowing if he wasn't doing anything productive, he would join the critic heap as well. With a thought to Diger, though, his humor sizzled down with the fire suffocated out from the humid air.

"Shit," the leader said. No worries. He had other stripped twigs prepared in case this would happen. In short time, another fire burned bright again.
 

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