Jonathan Tillman, Level 23 Son of Flame
They departed along with the Sanguine Order shortly after receiving their enchanted pendants. The whole host shared the road, and Tilly’s group rode up front with the Queen on their new mounts until the first town, where they split off to head further north. From there Sir Michael and Hilbert led them through the rest of the day, only emerging back in the Dead Planes as daylight faded.
Not that concepts like night and day had much meaning in these lands. The obscured sun and moon painted everything in similar shades of dusk and dawn. The difference in the time of day was more marked by yellow, orange, and silver hues than any increase or decrease in actual light.
As the soft pink and orange coloration of evening started to bleed across the cloud-covered sky, they passed by another of the Order’s forts, one that was now manned by a skeleton crew. They did not hail the gate, but the Guardsmen atop the wall gave them a salute as they galloped by.
Tilly gratefully took in the momentary distraction of the fort keeping his eyes on it for as long as possible before they eventually were dragged back down in morbid fascination to the forms his party’s Nightmare mounts had taken.
Two were harmless enough, following logical lines that Tilly could easily parse out. Franklin’s mount had taken on the form of an emaciated, skeletal creature, who seemed to be more a husk than anything living. It gave off the feeling of living jerky, and Tilly took it to mean Franklin feared being without water. Ichiro’s mount was covered in chains that seemed to wrap it tightly, and with his history of being held against his will by the Corrupted tree, that made perfect sense.
Even Tilly's own mount, while gruesome and nausea-inducing, did not depart too much from the pattern. It showed veiny Corrupted infection all over its equine body, even producing several tentacles that undulated slowly with its galloping stride. The Corruption however was just an imitation. Sitting on the mount caused no reactions from the growing Seed within him.
Amelia’s was the first of the mounts that he didn't understand. It was covered in an intentional pattern of thin cuts that always seemed to be bleeding, but never left any trail behind the mount. He didn’t know what it meant and felt like it was invasive to ponder it too deeply. At times he felt like they were warming up to each other. Then at some point, he would run head-first into what felt like this huge invisible wall... Whatever her mount meant, he doubted it would be a good idea to ask.
That left the final member of their party. Almost against his will, his gaze swung back to Gorock, who rode what was easily the most horrifying of the Nightmares. The creature's body was sleek and muscular. Unlike his last mount, this summon was proportionally sized, almost twice as big as the other mounts. In fact, it was the picture of anatomical perfection.
The Nightmares head, however, was where it slipped from a bodybuilder's wet dream to something out of a bizarre European horror film. At the neck, it abruptly shifted into a ghastly caricature of a human head with the mane fusing into a shaggy head of hair and a terrified scream frozen on its face. Worse of all, It seemed to be able to feel whenever Tilly looked in its direction. Unable to look away, Tilly watched as it once again turned and leered over at him, bobbing along with the galloping motion of its body.
Unsuccessfully suppressing a crawling sensation that climbed up his back, Tilly whipped his head forward, feeling dirty for some reason. Each of them had steeled themselves as their mounts had manifested before them for the first time, but Gorock had squealed in fright when the summoned shadow coalesced into a human-headed horse.
The particular part of the memory brought a smile to Tilly’s face, and he replied to the sound in his head a few times before the awful urge to look back over at the creature returned. It was going to be a long ride...
...
Sir Michael raised his hand in a ‘halt’ motion an hour or two later bringing his mount to a stop and jumping down turning toward the rest of the group. Hilbert followed suit pulling out his device and scanning the area in front of him, before gesturing for them to come in closer and setting wards around the group.
“The way ahead is choked with enemies, which is not surprising considering we are almost through the hills. A little farther and we will clear them and have a full view of the Forgotten Plain and the mountain fortress known as Requiem. However, if we continue any further, we will be unable to avoid encountering any scouts. How do you want to proceed?” The Wizard Apprentice asked as he finished circumnavigating the group and establishing the ward.
Tilly turned towards Ichiro, who nodded for him to go ahead,
“As it stands, the plan is for me to spirit walk into the city and hopefully make contact with an ally. We don't know how we are going to get in, or out, for that matter, but our priority is to make contact with the Facet and figure out how to obtain its ‘Patronage’” Tilly said, attempting to sound more confident than he felt at how vague it all sounded. With so little information it's not like they could come up with much more. They would just have to stay flexible and hold onto the hope that this quest would be achievable.
“Uh, about that… I do have some news I can share on the escape front.” Franklin added, speaking for the first time in quite a while. He had been quiet almost the entire trip, and while they didn't really have many opportunities to chat, something had felt off. Tilly didn't know him well enough to peg if that was just his personality around groups or something more but he had worried about the honu's silence more than once.
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The honu readjusted his scarf and reached into his sleeve, pulling out a Conche shell covered with tiny glowing runes.
“The elders gave this to me on my way out but cautioned that it might not be ready in time for us to use. I have checked it every few hours and now from the look of the spell link, it seems that they have succeeded. They have successfully tied it back to the platform in the village square and now we will be able to activate it.”
Hilbert's eyes widened and a slow smile of relief crossed his face, “Ha! I told Mallytza this wasn’t a suicide mission! Someone among your Faction must be very talented in Teleportation.”
“Any chance I can get the child's version of what you just said?” Tilly added dryly.
“Sorry, it’s a teleport anchor keyed to our home platform. If I infuse the spell with my mana and break the anchor, every being within 10 paces of my location will be pulled back to the platform instantaneously. It is the main way those without the use of a dedicated teleportation mage travel via the platforms. But with our platform broken, the elders didn’t know such a thing would be possible in such a short timeframe. But with their new Wayfinder classes, they seemed to have been able to bridge the gap.” He explained, stowing the precious object back in the folds of his robe. Even delivering the good news, there was something distracted about his tone. The timing was terrible, but Tilly was afraid it would only get worse from here,
“Hey guys, would you mind giving us a moment?” Tilly asked, drawing away the Honu until they were at the edge of the ward. He knew almost everyone would still be able to hear them, but it was the best he could do.
“Hey man, are you ok? Something seems off...”
The Honu returned his concerned gaze with a look of guilt, which slowly morphed into a reluctant acceptance.
“I am sorry Tilly. You are right to ask. You are not the only one who is wrestling internally on this journey. I am sure you have noticed I am the only Honu with such a clothing item,” Franklin said, plucking at the blue scarf wrapped around his neck absently.
"Honestly, I just thought you were the best dresser of the bunch." Tilly quipped evoking a ghost of a smile from the honu.
“That may be the case, but this isn’t just any cloth… It was a gift from the oldest mage in the Minotaur caravans. She said she was entrusting its care to me, and that when the time came, I would know when to let it go.”
“Let it go? Go where?”
“That is just it, I do not know… But it is an Epic quality item that has increased my Wisdom stat by 50% when I channel water Mana. There is a real possibility that this item may be the only reason I got selected to go on this quest. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that it is trying to speak to me, urging me to move in the very same direction you have been leading. It... wants something. Something that lies just over these hills. But, I fear if I give it up, I will become a liability to the mission. Our people are depending on us... On me to be strong.”
“I see what you mean. I sure as hell wouldn’t be in a rush to give up something that increased any of my stats by that much… Well, there isn’t anything we can do about it until we know for sure. But, I can say this: even without that scarf, you're not a liability. I trust you to make the right call when the time comes. You have been nothing but dependable since I met you. Hell, you should be doubting me! I'm the one-”
The Honu began to shake his head firmly, “No, we will proceed as you say, but if you can choose to trust me, then I have the privilege to do the same, agreed?” He asked, with an unexpected intensity gleaming in his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m clear on that.” Tilly smiled roguishly, happy to receive the spirited rebuke from the reticent mage. He clapped the Honu on the shell and turned back to the others, who all had the good sense to be looking in another direction. Except for Gorock and his horrifying mount, who both watched them speak with bored expressions on their very different faces.
“... Alright Hilbert.” Tilly stuttered, put-off by the pair, “What can you tell me about this city and the siege it is under before I head out? I’m hoping I will be undetectable to the forces on the ground, but a little context about what I am going into won’t hurt.“
The Wizard Apprentice perked up at his name but didn't answer right away, instead choosing to look over at Sir Michael for a long moment. The Knight slowly nodded in ascent and Hilbert turned to Tilly, releasing a long sigh.
“Yes, well the short version is that very few have ever been within the city and everything I know is secondhand. It is a place of the dead, or more specifically a place for Whytes to exist in a state of rest, pursuing whatever it is they pursue in their semi-eternal state.”
“And what exactly are Whytes? …Ghosts?” Tilly asked, ready to finally get some clarification on this point.
“Not exactly. Ghosts are more like tortured fragments of a soul, they do not exist outside of the pain they are constantly forced to relive. A Whyte on the other hand is something much more complete. It is a memory construct, formed from the impression that remarkable individuals can make upon the pattern of Nephesh itself. For that reason, they are often very powerful, but also extremely limited.”
“So they are made of memories?”
“Yes, especially someone who has some unresolved desire or duty. If a person of considerable power or impact bent themselves toward a certain task for long enough, they have a much higher chance of leaving behind a Whyte. They can think, feel, and often are indistinguishable from the originator, but they cannot gain levels. Every action they take is empowered by a certain memory from their originator, and therefore finite. Once all the memories are used up of a kind of action, they are unable to perform that action ever again. For this reason, they are known to spend months if not years in quiet stillness and are very uncomfortable amongst the living.
“They are also rumored to hold one of the greatest libraries on the Plane, a collection of all the knowledge of their past lives. My master even visited the city once, paying in their currency for the knowledge to help create the very items you were gifted.“
At this, Amelia spoke up, “Their currency? Is that code for more blood?
Hilbert’s mouth flicked up in a smile, revealing the points of his fangs in amusement, “No madam, nothing so replaceable as that. They sometimes accept Guild Standard, but their currency of choice is Memory. They trade for what they do not have, to extend their agency on this Plane. They trade with each other, and in times past, outsiders.” Hilbert finished, his tone meandering as he looked back at his companion and waved him forward.
At this, Sir Michael cleared his throat and moved forward, slowly pulling off his helm.