Difference between revisions of "5329/One Survivor to Another"

Latest revision as of 01:03, 22 June 2017

Sarah (316) has posed:
Although she had been travelling with her companion, the Runebearer Sarah had not left herself unreachable. There were still some contacts within the multiverse that she set great store by. Those whom she had endured the suffering of Annu with were at the top of that list.

So, when she had received a message asking for a personal favour from the King of Knights and a set of coordinates, she had quietly excused herself from her companion, taken up her greatstaff, and teleported to the closest warpgate to Dun Realtai.

Unfortunately, she had never been to that place herself, and so she couldn't go directly there. She had to take the indirect route, which saw her abusing her phenomenal cosmic power to make her way through snowdrifts waist-high. Being placed in the midst of a multiversal tundra, she reasoned, must have made for excellent defenses. Who would ever want to invade a place like that?

It had been to her surprise that snow gave way to copses of old-growth forest and summer wheatfields, as the territory of Dun Realtai slowly established itself over the multiverse around it. After an hour or so of walking she had finally found a road, and made her way towards the only landmark on the hilly plains – the citadel rising on its dramatic spire of stone, village clung to its base like moss at the base of a tree.

Sarah picks up her pace, affecting a businesslike stride. She is a rare sight in this place, much as she is a rare sight anywhere. Her colour is enough to turn heads, or rather the lack of it. She is pale, so pale as to suggest something close to albinism, with hair such a pale shade of blonde that only the direct sun can show the colour for what it is. Her eyes are blue, but only barely; closer to colourless. She wears a multi-layered dress, flowing and elegant, trimmed in white and detailed with subtly metallic bronze embroidery. In her hand, she carries something that radiates power as surely as a Servant – a greatstaff carved of ebony, with a silver tower and a perfect crystal sphere clutched at its top, a spike shod on the end, which rings out at every other step over the cobblestones.

No matter how important it is to her to maintain the appearance of someone of importance, though, the weather is quite warm. The air is also quite smoky, she realises a moment later, face setting into grim lines.

Perhaps that's what the King of Knights had wanted to ask of her. She can certainly see how fire would be a terrifying threat in this place. It's like the Grasslands; only a shade less dry. This place will burn out of control in the presence of fire.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah makes her way onward, climbing the hill with some effort. The pale woman is just as delicate as she looks, and the thick air and uncomfortably warm sun are beginning to take their toll. Her pace is a bit slower than it was when she had finally found the road, some miles back.

Maybe she should think about a horse...

...Perish the thought, she decides, with a bit of a shudder. Horses make her uncomfortable with their bulk and their sudden movements. Her own two feet haven't failed her yet, and they're not about to start today...

Saber (346) has posed:
The heat was terribly out of place for a piece of the Multiverse tucked away beyond the Tundra, though the lands around Dun Realtai themselves would have otherwise been quite hospitible in the summer months. At least, when it was plagued with neither a neverending, magic-induced winter more brutal than even its natural one nor wildfires similarly magical in nature. The otherwise well-tended fields were a reliable testament to a land at least capable of supporting life. Still, the people have as much to do with that, being hardy and too stubborn to simply give in to both nature itself or magical forces. But when it came to the latter, a little bit of similar help was in order, if only to even the odds.

Fortunately, the lady of these lands knew where to go for help in that regard.

Saber stood in the village's centre, tending to local matters as she waited for the True-Runebearer. Like Sarah, she had survived Annu, both physically and mentally, though the metaphorical and literal scars remained even after all this time. Perhaps this – tending to a small village and defending it – was one way to make up for that, as unavoidable as Annu's destruction had been.

Upon Sarah's arrival, Arturia excused herself from the small group of miners who had begun to establish a small network of mines in low, rocky hills beyond the village. Dressed in the clothing which was only slightly more decorative than that of the villagers, she approched her old comrade.

"Greetings, Lady Sarah," the flaxen-haired knight hailed. "I am most grateful that you were able to come. We have tea in the castle, at the very least, if you would like."

After all, she might have called her there to ask a favour, but proper hospitality demanded that she be a respectable hostess first.

Sarah (316) has posed:
Unfortunately, heat has never agreed with Sarah. When she had been in the Grasslands, she had been miserable. There had been a few days where she had skirted dangerously close to dehydration, and more than a few where she had retired for the evening with a case of heat exhaustion. This place feels only slightly less inhospitable to her sensibilities.

The smoke isn't helping. She's coughing a little by the time she reaches the village commons, and there's a not-inconsiderable dusting of ash in her hair and on her dress. It's more visible against her dark skirt, hemmed with its white and bronze thread, than the top or the pale blonde of her hair. She's even paler than the steward – maybe that's why more than a few of the villagers are staring at her.

Sarah ignores them. She has no business with them.

"Lady Arturia." Her voice is just as whispery and quiet as ever, although it's a little rough from the smoke, coughing when ash tickles at the back of her throat. "I came as quickly as I was able. I have not been to this place before, so I'm afraid I could not teleport. May we go inside? I would be appreciative. This smoke—" Right on cue, she coughs into a hand, flinching. "I presume this is why you called me here. The smoke is appalling." She can only imagine the fire that caused it.

Saber (346) has posed:
"Indeed, it is," Arturia acknowledged before quietly leading Sarah to the castle. Pausing only to open the heavy oak doors, she continued into the hall where the servants already knew to prepare tea and scones. It would seem that hospitality was only the second reason to retreat indoors for the moment.

The grand fireplace in the centre of the hall was unsurprisingly bare – having been cleaned and swept out for the summer – but chairs and tables remained scattered around it. As it was, the slightly cool draft was a welcome relief for many; cool air had rarely been a problem to the point that the lord and lady chose to forego modern air conditioning. Perhaps they should look into a cooling system, after all...

"I do apologise, however," Arturia continued as she found a seat by the empty fireplace. A servant soon brought much-needed refreshment; curiously, rather than the usual set of hot tea, the iced variety was brought in a pitcher with two glasses, though the usual cream and sugar were present along with cream scones.

"The fires from which this smoke comes, we suspect, were caused by magical means."

Sarah (316) has posed:
Once they're inside, Sarah lets herself double over and cough. It's not very loud, but it's respectably loud for her. Even her speaking voice is quiet and whispery. Yet in Annu, Arturia had heard her at her loudest – her heartrending scream of pain as the True Rune had consumed her; one of the only times she's ever shown pain at all.

Clearing her throat, she's somewhat flushed by the time she allows the lady to lead her to a seat, collapsing into it with a grateful sigh. "It's hardly your fault," she adds. "This sounds like an unexpected situation."

Sarah rubs at her throat, eyeing with silent approval as iced tea is brought. She even allows herself with a scone, but her tea is taken straight.

"Is it? That would explain its size, although this land looks ripe to burn." Sarah fixes those eerily colourless eyes on the King of Knights. There is intelligence in them, and a preternatural calm; but there is also something else in their oddly-coloured shadows – a hint of the monstrous presence of the True Rune; of a power far beyond the limits of this fragile, pale woman. "It is dry, very dry. I can feel the lack of water in this place, and it feels primed for a wildfire. Fortunately for you, of all the Runebearers I am one of the two best suited to fire control."

"Earth would have suited," she muses, finishing her scone and sipping at her blessedly cold tea, "but water is better. I do not speak with arrogance when I say that I am a master of my craft, Lady Arturia. You have seen what I am capable of, though perhaps that is at the extreme limits of my talent." She smiles a soft, crooked little smile; sardonic, a little, and also a little sorrowful. "Perhaps that is an unfair example, though. It is not every day that a Runebearer will sacrifice their lives to fuel a True Rune Incarnation. I did not expect to survive the ordeal."

"Now, then." Sarah clears her throat softly, all business once more. "What is it you wish me to do, here, Lady Arturia? I am ready to assist."

Saber (346) has posed:
"It was most unexpected," Arturia admitted. "We are far more accustomed to bitter cold here. All of our preparations are for that...I fear we have little in the way of preventing the fires from reaching here. Were this a natural fire, the lakes and the earth might have sufficed, however..."

Sarah's power was not entirely unlike that of a Servant, a sort of power that some would say is not for humankind to wield. Yet, their circumstances were unique...and with good reason and great need. In Annu, all of their collective power had been needed...and their moral support afterward just as much.

"Though I have not inspected the source in person, I could feel the change of mana. There is something at work, though whether it means us ill or simply is, I cannot discern."

As a Heroic Spirit, sensing the magical nature of things was her lifesblood in more than the metaphorical sense. Magic was, in many ways, what kept her alive. Kept her anchored to the material plane, at least.

The jade-eyed knight-king nodded slightly. "There are creatures who were brought here – badgermoles – who have been directed to use the earth where they are able, yet that is merely one precaution."

She smiled slightly, knowingly. "Nevertheless, I had need of someone who could control water as if it was a part of her own body. I thought of no one else."

Sarah (316) has posed:
"Is there, now?" Sarah bows her head a little, and her eyes slip gradually out of focus. It might be disturbing if not for the similarity to a Master speaking remotely to their Servant. In her case, though, it's a chance to examine the land through an awareness much greater than her own senses.

Viewed through the unspeakably powerful lens of the True Water Rune, she is instantly made aware of every speck of water in a monstrous radius. No matter how faint, she can sense it, and in those places where the earth is truly dry, such as those ravaged by fire, she is blind to them.

She murmurs something. Whatever it is, the multiverse offers no translation – the liquid, quicksilver tones of Sindar, the ancient language of the magical wayfarers that had left behind so much magic and technology in her own world. There were none living, it was said... but many things can be said, and that doesn't make them true. She herself claims quite a bit of Sindar blood. Maybe that accounts for her peculiar complexion.

"Yes, I see them." Her voice slurs only slightly as she splits her atteniton between the True Rune's awareness and her own senses. It's an awkward balancing act. "There is more water in them than any of the earth they dig through. Heavens, this is dry. It is as though the water has been bled out of this land."

The pale woman manages a faint flicker of a smile at the praise. "Thank you, Lady Arturia." Sarah bows her head again, eyes screwing shut. Slowly, gradually, her eyes flutter open as she reaches up to rub at them. "This place is disorienting. There is powerful magic in these lands, I think."

Saber (346) has posed:
Sarah's assessment of the bizarre lack of almost any water in the air was met with a slight frown. "I had feared as much," Arturia admitted. "This drought and fire...it is too unnatural for there to be anything but a disruption of mana. Otherwise, there would have been something in the air, at the very least. Nevertheless, I had hoped you could make certain."

She returned the smaile, a faint one of her own before her expression became impassive. "Yes, we have had an unusual amount of contact with the Tylwyth Teg," she explained. "Whether they were here before or were drawn here to a source of power within the land itself, I cannot say. From what I have been told, neither do they."

She sighed softly. "Nor could they inform us about the source, else they would have acted already. It is troubling to them, as well."

Sarah (316) has posed:
The water mage inclines her head just a little, jewelled earrings clinking softly. Her eyes remain at half-mast, although only a fool would mistake her expression as sleepy. That air of preternatural calm, that absolute self-control, is a necessity. If she did not, she couldn't say what the True Rune would do. Emotional instability is a gift to a willful True Rune.

"I cannot tell you whether it is natural or unnatural, as I do not know what constitutes a normal influence in these lands. What I can tell you is that it is most assuredly supernatural in its nature." Sarah sips at the last of her iced tea. Her thoughtful frown is so faint, so subtle, that it could be missed. The king's marshal is a man of self-control, but this woman takes it to eleven. "That I cannot tell you, either."

She does mentally file away the term Tylwyth Teg as something to inquire about later. It's not a term that she recognises. "I will presume that the native spirits' inability to determin the source is a troubling detail." Sarah tilts her head slightly to the other side, studying the cold and empty hearth. "However, it is ultimately irrelevant to me. I doubt sincerely that there is any spirit that would threaten the True Water Rune if I were to assist you in stopping the blaze – I presume, by the smoke, that there are still fires burning."

"Master Luc and I are reluctant to involve ourselves in local affairs such as these, especially those pertaining to the weather and natural conditions of a land. To that end, if you have the worst of the fires turned away from this place, I would like to do a little research of my own, if I have your permission. I would be more comfortable communicating with the spirits of this place before asserting the True Water Rune's power. It is not a subtle presence," she adds, with a subtle little smile, "and it is not always taken to kindly when wielded as one would a bludgeon. It would take no more than two to three days, at the worst."

Saber (346) has posed:
Any passerby might wonder if the two women have any emotions at all, given their subtlety in expression. The servants were familiar enough with the mannerisms of their lord and lady, but their visitor is even more restrained. Such a thing might have drawn stares, but they are professional enough not to marvel that Arturia might have been openly emotional by comparison.

The flaxen-haired Servant sighed softly. "I had feared as much," she admitted. "We have no other choice but to take action...trace the fires back to their source. For now, however, the priority is protection of the village."

She smiled, but it was a rueful one. "It is regrettable, but yes...they burn still. I would imagine that the fae of the forests shall guard their home from it, as we must safeguard ours."

At the request, Saber nodded. "Of course," she replied easily. "The spirits – the Tylwyth Teg, as they are called in my homeland – are capricious, but their way is to not trouble us if we leave them be. Yet, this fire troubles them, as well...I would imagine they would be willing to co-operate in these circumstances."

With a slight smile, she added. "Naturally, the hospitality of our home is open to you for however long you have need of it."

Sarah (316) has posed:
"I will do that, once I have spoken to these Tylwyth Teg for myself." Sarah sets aside her empty cup, drawing to her feet and smoothing down her dark skirt. She takes up her greatstaff in delicate hands, resting it in the crook of an elbow and smiling that faint smile. "In the meantime, call upon me if there is an emergency, if the fires threaten the citadel and absolutely must be doused. I will use the True Rune to quench them if I must, but I would feel more comfortable speaking with the people of this land, first."

The True Water Rune is about as supernaturally subtle as a dump truck, made of dump trucks, wielding a dump truck. It's a blunt force solution to a problem, and one that some spiritual entities might not take kindly to. Its presence is somewhat... forceful.

She inclines her head, jewelled earrings clinking softly again. "For now, if you will excuse me, I am going to wait until the sun has set before I do my own investigation. I will return here later, when the sun has set and the air is cooler. In the meantime, be well, Lady Arturia, and please contact me if there is an emergency."

With that, provided the knight has nothing more to say to the pale woman, Sarah will take her leave, teleporting away with a bloom of blue-white light and the lingering sensation of fine mist.

Saber (346) has posed:
Arturia inclined her head in a nod of acknowledgement. "You have my gratitude, for speaking with them as well as coming to our aid," she replied. "They had been wary of my presence in particular, as a Servant, when we first settled here. Ours is a delicate balance, and any strife would only harm the people of the village."

Really, it's nice that Sarah had taken the initiative on that and Saber hadn't needed to explain the situation further.

"I shall do so," she replied solemnly before she smiled once more before the Runebearer teleported away. "Again, you have my gratitude."