RP:Dust and Bone

Part of the The Whisperer In Darkness Arc

Summary: After Encara and Khitti meet up with Meri in Craughmoyle, the three continue westward into Venturil's dusty wilderness, where Val'thyrion scouts Thom and Kren are waiting for them. Tasked by Encara with tracking down remaining wraiths in the area, the duo take the women first to a point of interest: a hallowed grove atop a misty barrow where all the priests lie dead. Khitti surmises the scene may well be a trap intended to lure more victims to the wraiths - when Encara finds a small charm from her bracelet left lying on the altar, she can't help but feel Khitti is at least half right. At risk of being cornered, the group flees north into the Dead Forest, reaching the bubbling tar pits where the wraiths appear to gather frequently. There, things escalate and while Khitti, Meri, and her scouts engage the others, Encara confronts one of the wraiths, who catches her by her scarred wrist and gives an ominous warning.

Desolate Lands, Northern Venturil

Travelling with a drow can be troublesome enough, but travelling with three is just asking for calamity— especially when two of the trio are young, talkative, and eager to explore. Encara made the tactful decision to warn Meri and Khitti in advance that they'd be picking up company, likely unwelcome, though she'd also assured them that the Val'thyrion scouts would not be foolish enough to attack her allies. "They're idiots," she'd said back in Craughmoyle over a quick breakfast, as blunt as ever, "but they're good trackers and we'll need them to find these wraiths. You don't have to like them, just… try not to kill them."

That was over half a day ago now. Currently, Encara, Khitti, and Meri speed over the dry and dusty foothills of Venturil's northern wastelands, the templar's Tikifhlee carrying them with quiet, assured swiftness across a sand-blasted plateau where all the normal sounds of wildlife are absent and an eerie silence reigns in their place. Miles pass with every hour… yet somehow everything looks the same. Trails of red dust swirl listlessly on the hot wind and Craughmoyle's western door, the great arch cut into the Xalious mountainside, has long since vanished into the distance - their journey takes them through one vast, endless landscape of broken ground, withered shrubs, and desolation bordered by far-off peaks. The dust whispers, telling its secrets to the sharp-eyed drow. Her gaze remains fixed on the horizon where hulking shapes begin to rise, stray rocks and cairns dotted across the desert as though placed by an unseen hand and the first noticeable change to the surroundings since leaving the Xalious foothills. It's a sign they're heading in the right direction; not long after, Encara spots the meeting place mentioned in the scouts' note.

As the Tikifhlee slows to a skidding stop, the ranger dismounts, raising one hand to protect her mouth against the dust cloud the beast kicks up and the other to wave in greeting to the pair of drow awaiting their arrival. They skulk in the shadow of an enormous boulder in a vain attempt to escape the heat, their horses whickering nervously at the sight of the great black cat - Encara quickly moves to join them in the shade, welcoming even the tiniest shred of relief from the afternoon sun. For a moment, the three stare one another down in silence before the scouts' attentions shift to the women arriving with Encara, the weight of their shrouded gaze heavy, appraising. Val'thyrion drow in name but not in blood, Krenrys and Thomellien normally serve in the upper Underdark but were recently tasked with their new mission to track wraiths in Venturil. Unfortunately, the initial excitement soon soured when they discovered the surface wasn't all it was cracked up to be: dry mountains and badlands that haven't seen rain in months, dead forests, barrows and mist and bogs— Venturil is not for the faint-hearted. Luckily, no one here is a coward.

"Caraaaa," the taller dark elf begins, surprisingly informal. He's of practically equal height to Encara herself, garbed in a hooded cloak of a tan colour that helps disguise him against the barren backdrop. His shorter companion is dressed similarly, face mostly veiled by a strip of cloth drawn up over his nose and mouth. Both are kitted out with hunting bows across their backs and several daggers on their belts, while the one speaking also carries a cruel mace at his hip and a buckler strapped to his arm. "When you said, 'hey, want to make your first surface mission a really fun time?' I didn't think you'd be sending us into -hell-," the man continues, drawing back his hood to reveal brows knitted in a frown over down-turned, jade green eyes - an odd colour for a drow. Encara snorts at him and shakes her head and gives his arm a little shove that's more affectionate than anything. "You're starting to sound like Tarhae, Kren." Turning, she gestures between the four, playing mediator and making the necessary introductions. "Kren and Thom— Khitti and Meri." A barbed-wire smirk is flashed toward the other women. "If they do anything untoward I'll kill them myself… but with that in mind, there shouldn't be any problems."

Khitti wasn’t concerned about more drow. She’d only ever met two (one of them riding that big cat with Khitti and Meri) and at least one of them were alright. Much like with the rest of the races, Khitti knew that not all drow were the same, so it stood a good chance that if Encara kept these two in her company, that they’d probably be alright too. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, Encara.” is all Khitti had said on the matter. Her mind was elsewhere. Wearing dark leathers, her head hooded by the same, she mostly kept to herself on the back of the Tikifhlee during the duration of the journey. If they couldn’t see her, they couldn’t see how off she was feeling, how emotionally exhausted she was. One hand idly played with the lapis lazuli pendant on her neck, the very same that Onyx and Facilier had been sucked into thanks to Onyx’s magic. It was a constant reminder of Onyx’s sacrifice, a reminder of their absence.

Diamond Dust, the black ice recurve bow, her quiver and a satchel found their homes on Khitti’s person, Tenbatsu Kaji hidden within the bag. This was a mistake. Just as Celaeno had asked when they met by chance in Xalious on Khitti’s way to the meeting place in Craughmoyle, Khitti knew that the way she was feeling would make her abilities fail somewhat. But, she’d made a promise. Help for help. And Meri needed better practice as well. Khitti’d had a bow sent to Craughmoyle--nothing too fancy for she’d save that for when Meri’s training was complete--and had shown the blonde a few things during their time in the dwarven town. It wasn’t going to be enough though and Khitti knew it. Khitti needed to be in her best form to compensate for Meri’s lack of training and this weighed heavily on the redhead’s mind as the Tikifhlee skidded to a stop and the three dismounted. “Hi,” she said to the two when introduced. “I’m sure they won’t need to be killed.” Okay, maybe Encara was -a little- like Gevurah.

'They're idiots' says Cara, which made Meri skeptical right off the bat. Did they -really- need them? The blonde woman did not fully understand drow politics or the different houses to be considered. She would have to trust Encara's word on her assurances, but again...did they really need them? Meri would keep her skeptical concerns to herself. Breakfast was finished and off the group would go, using the Tikifhlee as a mode of travel. Meri would be okay with leaving her own beast of burden back in Craughmoyle's stables, Kadence has repeatedly demonstrated that she was the skittish sort and if they were going near wraiths it would be best to leave her behind rather than risk being unintentionally thrown.

When the Tikifhlee comes to a halt, Meri is one of the last to dismount and she is not quick to join the party. The woman has needing to have a mental like chat with herself, behave herself and mind her manners. Don't be racist to the drow, in the middle of a mission was not the time to be starting things. Just because she has come around and decided Encara was 'cool peoples' does not mean that she was okay with every drow she would meet from here on out. It would take a miracle. Khitti might be trying to mask her emotional exhaustion by hoods and dark leathers, but Meri knew better. Just like Meri also knew that this was still not the time or the place to try and discern what is upsetting her sister. Khitti would be left to try and make nice with the two new arrivals to their party, while Meri got her head on straight. Fake it til she makes it so to speak.

Given that Meri was warned this was a wraith hunting adventure, the woman has seen fit to done her armor. Both Khitti and Encara have seen this getup before, not too much about her armor preferences have changed since the last time either of them have done any amount of battling and adventuring with the blonde. Meri might swap a piece out here and there as they become too damaged for use, but she has still made her selection of heavily armored black boots, sturdy black bracers to help protect her colorful tattoos, and a black armored vest. Her shield is present, as well as that metal scabbard and her precious bastard sword. The only new addition is the bow, quiver and arrows. The blonde finally approaches the group, coming to a stand right next to Khitti. A smile finds its way to her lips, but it is hardly a genuine one. "I'm sure," Meri says, as though she were agreeing with Khitti. There is a hint of salt to her voice though, again suggestion she is not entirely being sincere with her statement.

Encara has appearances to maintain, more than anything, but it isn't an empty remark and there's an underlying edge in her voice - a silent reminder to her scouts that she has not been softened by her time spent on the surface. Easy targets die quickly in Trist'oth. She needs them committed and most importantly, she needs them to understand the price of getting on her bad side. Kren and Thom acknowledge this unspoken assurance while Encara purses her lips, aware of the tension crouched over the group like the boulder's shadow. The drow's expression is unreadable as she slants Khitti a brief glance, having also picked up on the way she's intentionally distanced herself for the entirety of the journey, hiding behind her armour and a faraway look. While Encara can't say she knows the woman particularly well, she remembers their last conversation in Lionel's office. Are those thoughts and fears still weighing on her? Meri gets a smile that's equal parts pained and apologetic as Encara fusses with her hair, pulling it back from her face and redoing the dishevelled bun that'd been blown away by the wind during their travel. She's wearing her usual armour and travelling gear, bladed ironwood bow slung across her body, quiver at her hip, and she's pleased to see Meri carrying her own bow, too.

Shoving Krenrys aside in a manner that is far less affectionate than Encara's prior gesture, Thom steps forward with practiced grace, head held high and proud. Long golden earrings inscribed with Delishan symbols jingle softly every time he moves. His rich voice contains strong notes of the euphonious drow accent as he chooses to make his own introduction, evidently unsatisfied with the simple exchange of names. "Thomellien Rehalyae, of House Val'thyrion. But call me Thom, please - it's faster and much less painful than listening to surfacers try to pronounce my name." Either he's doing his best to be polite and failing or this is merely drow civility at its finest; contradictory and insulting. "I can predict the weather and change it if I wish. You can imagine how useful that power is in the Underdark." Those final words are poisonously sardonic and partially drowned out by Kren's weary groan. "Call us up a thunderstorm; I've never been this warm in my life." Before his companion can make a snappy retort, however, he turns to Encara and says, "Y'know, we've picked up some strange bits and pieces of info out here, in between looking for wraiths and baking alive. A Kuronii tribe we ran across the other day mentioned strange folk about - said they'd had someone 'like us' who'd come asking for shelter and food one night. You can gather how that went: one less weirdo in the world and the tribe's head got himself a new coat. But it doesn't sound like something a drow would do if you ask me, begging and all that from a bunch of horse-herding humans."

Encara casts Khitti another sidelong look, this one sharper than the last. "Greydusk, maybe? Wandering up from the south…"

"The heck is a greydusk," Kren mutters under his breath.

Khitti actually managed a smirk with Thom’s own personal introduction. These drow though. Red brows knitted together when the mention of Greydusk is mentioned, to which Khitti nodded. “Perhaps, yes. Whatever befell all of them on that island with their leaders, maybe not all of them are up to no good in the south. Which, frankly, I’d be a little thankful for. I don’t want to kill these people if I can help it. They’re no different than I was when I came here--alone, far away from their home, struggling to make ends meet.” She paused briefly, a thought crossing her mind, Khitti’s line of sight soon shifting to Encara, “Maybe if not all of them are creating the mess down there--or even if they are and they can be saved--maybe they could go to Trist’oth if they wanted. They’d fit in the best down there. Or at the very least we could shift them either further north or to the east, to the forest or Rynvale, where more elves in general are.” That was a decision to be left up to Encara though. While the drow was neither matron of her house nor of the city itself, the Underdark was still more her place than Khitti’s. “And if they’ve come this far north, I’m going to have to check in on the other byrgs as well. If they’re as bad as Aedrebyrg, I’m going to have to pull in more help from the Paladin’s Guild.” Khitti shifted her stance somewhat, her back straightening a bit, the thought of more work and being able to do some good giving her something better to focus on then Onyx and her troubles. “Let’s move on soon. Someone is always watching, even if you can’t sense it. It’s best not to dawdle here for too long and bring attention to ourselves anymore than three drow, two humans, and a giant cat from the Shadow Plane already do.”

Meri flashes Encara a smile in return, and the one that she receives is far more genuine than what was cast toward Thom or Kren but Meri was hard pressed to let it linger for long. There was a lot weighing on her mind, but they were more in-the-moment things, like her mistrust for the other drow that are present and her concern for Khitti. Thom's introduction is met with a lofted brow and a simple and to the point response, "Charmed." News flash: she wasn't. "And I am quite aware." There was no explanation as to why she would be aware of this and it does not seem either drow happen to be interested in discovering why. Which is fine by Meri. Thom and Kren banter back and forth a bit and Meri rolls her eyes, thankfully the idea of a thunderstorm is not taken seriously. That brow barely had a chance to rest before Meri was lifting it again. Greydusk. The blonde did not have much to contribute to this portion of the conversation. Where to move the Greydusk to was not really of major concern to her, especially if Trist'oth was on the table. Spoiler: Meri isn't going to do with Trist'oth. Rynvale was a different story, but she'd like the two women hash out those details. "Yeah. Onward. Let's go find some wraiths to shoot at....Or are we seeing what is up with these maybe-Greydusk's now? Whichever option, one thing I have learned about Venturil is that these lands are wild enough that it is not good to stay put out in the open like this for too long."

"Dark elves from Delisha's realm," Encara murmurs to Kren, only succeeding in confusing him further, but her focus has already returned to Khitti and the scout is left to make bemused faces at her back. Listening intently to Khitti's words, Encara stifles a snort at the idea of resituating greydusk in Trist'oth. "Drow are highly xenophobic - if you know Gevurah then you must be aware of that. Even if these greydusk look similar, if their society isn't like ours they may have a hard time fitting in. But Trist'oth is one of the more likely places where they might find refuge, you're right. I would offer that my House could take them in… but I wouldn't send Kahran himself to Eresandria, let alone innocents." Behind her, the Val'thyrion scouts share a brief, almost imperceptible glance, but Encara's mind is on the message she sent to her brother, the lack of reply, and on the plight of the greydusk and other people who lived on the nameless isle off Chartsend's shores. With a shake of the head, the drow turns to Kren and Thom. "Seen anything wrong with the other byrgs?" she asks. Thom fiddles with an earring, looking thoughtful. "We've kept to the north. Something stinks down in the south near… Ay… Aderburg? Pits, I hate these surface names. Berendebyrg looked all right; Denubyrg as well, but we've kept our distance. It's not our business what goes on in human towns and I highly doubt we'd find any wraiths hiding out there. Anyway, your red-haired friend," he smiles at Khitti, all teeth, before stepping over to untie his horse, "is right. We should move."

Encara rolls her eyes at the mage. "If it's spreading to other byrgs then it -is- our business." With a look to Khitti and Meri, and the Tikifhlee's permission, she mounts the great beast once more and the party sets out across the plateau, moving ever westward. In the east, the great causeway slices like a knife through dry earth - the white stone road is one of the few trustworthy landmarks and an ever-present reassurance that civilisation can still be found somewhere in this barren wasteland. With Thom taking point and Kren bringing up the rear, the scouts use the road to navigate through the wilderness, keeping it always to their left but never getting too close. It snakes in and out of view in the distance, a waving white banner in the heat haze.

A Desecrated Shrine

Gradually, the air thickens. It's an uncomfortable, cloying humidity and it forces Encara to strip off her jacket and secure it around her waist instead, but there's a dread chill intermixed with the mist; the bone-deep cold of a graveyard. This place is not suited to the living. Venturil's flat landscape begins to rise here and there, barrows blistering from the ground and sprouting ancient headstones and cairns, locked doorways offering a possible entrance into their depths. Thom pulls his horse up alongside the Tikifhlee, its hooves echoing dully against the dirt. "Up ahead, we found something… well, I thought it'd be of note." With a nod he canters off, soon to dismount - Encara follows suit, intrigue outweighing the sense of foreboding coiling in the pit of her stomach. Something is off, here. They're led up a narrow pathway that winds to the top of a circular barrow, where a grove of small trees provides some shelter and cover on the otherwise exposed hilltop. The grove is clearly hallowed and a place of active worship if the carefully tended altars are anything to go by. However, the ashes in the fire pit nestled in the centre of the space are cold and the sickly-sweet scent of decay permeates the air, a pungent aroma that makes Encara's nose itch. White-robed men lie on the ground like discarded dolls, face-down, with the exception of one. His back to the group, a priest leans over the altar as if communing with whatever gods he worships, completely still and strangely oblivious to the corpses of his fellows scattered about the grove. Upon careful approach, stepping round the altar to take a peek at his face, an uneasy Encara discovers the reason for his stillness. Pale, dead eyes in hollow sockets stare without seeing into the waters pooling in the altar. His lips are dry and cracked, his skin paper-thin and wrinkled, almost translucent, but he does not have the body of an old man - it's as if the life was sucked out of him, leaving a dead man standing in eternally unanswered prayer. Every other body shares the same look, skeletal faces and hands with skin drawn taut over the bones, lifeless. Giving the dead a wide berth, Krenrys circles the altar and comes to stand at Encara's shoulder. "Either those wraiths got them or whatever's going on in Aderborough is, uh, not contained."

Khitti merely shrugged at Encara’s point about the drow being xenophobic. “It was a thought, nothing more. I -have- dealt with enough xenophobic people in this land for the time being though. I don’t particularly want a similar repeat of the war with the frost giants anytime soon.” Khitti had enough on her plate already as it was. “The various forests might be better suited for them anyway, considering how they live in the Shadow Plane. I’ll find them shelter if and when it comes to that.” She squinted somewhat at that toothy smile, quite unsure of how to take it--whether it was genuine or not would ever be a mystery to Khitti--and was definitely welcoming of their leaving the area to head to where Thom and Kren had thoroughly scouted.

The feel of the cemetery was not unknown to Khitti and despite no longer being a necromancer, she’d still welcome its solitude and silence were she to frequent Vailkrin more. She almost seemed at ease now, despite the thickened air and the area itself feeling off--she was a very strange templar indeed. But, this was familiar to her. This type of scenario made her feel at home, especially when her own home did not feel as such lately, and Khitti quickly shook off whatever reservations she might’ve had about coming. The urge to grab Tenbatsu Kaji was there, but Diamond Dust was plucked from her back instead, and an arrow nocked as she followed the drow to the altar. “No. This is different. Their veins would be blackened. They would’ve been vomiting black blood before the end.” The certainty in Khitti’s voice only cemented the fact that she’d seen it before--so much so that perhaps she’d even experienced it before firsthand. “Gods, this entire region is due for a cleansing fire.” She was joking… mostly. “I don’t expect those wraiths have gone far. These people are now missing amongst their village, so someone’s sure to come looking for them. That means more life for the undead to take. Which makes me wonder if it’s a trap.”

Gevurah. That is a name that Meri is familiar with and after their little encounter at the Red Skull Trophy Ring? Meri spits upon hearing the very drow's name. It's a good thing they are outside. "Why wouldn't you send Kahran? Please send Kahran. It would make all of our lives easier?" Meri shrugs. To Khitti, "If not Trist'oth, then I am sure Rynvale, Cenril, or Gualon would all be fine options." Meri has known all three to house all shapes and sizes. Up onto the giant they cat they go, traversing the lands of Venturil again in search of a wraith. Meri listens to what they are talking about regarding Berendebyrg and Denubyrg, but she does say anything. A look is sent Khitti's way but focus is kept on the scouting, this was not the first time Meri has been this way and there were dangers aplenty outside of any nasty business with said byrgs or with wraiths. The air gradually thickens and Meri was suddenly wishing she could shed a layer or two herself, but while she was not armored in full plated suite of armor, it still was not easy to shed in the moment. The group dismounts their rides and finds their way into an unusual scene, one that Meri cannot make heads or tails of. The blonde was also secretly wishing that Khitti was still a necromancer at this exact point in time, but it seems that she still has insights without that particular form of magic. "Hm." A trap. Meri had the same temptations as Khitti, Meri was more comfortable with her not-so-cool firesword, swinging and hacking about...but it was her bow that she readied. For now. She realizes that an ordinary bow will not do much damage to a wraith.

"No one deserves an end at Eresandria's hands, not even Kahran," Encara had said to Meri, wryly, before her features had darkened, storm-grey, with a look that was heavy with unease and, almost, fear. "That and I worry what could happen if they were ever to meet. Life is not easier wherever my aunt is involved." Now, she stands beside the altar looking at a scene of death and desecration, and finds herself wondering if her House is behind it. While the ranger wrestles with her thoughts, trying to untangle the truth from what evidence she can see, Thom straightens from where he'd been knelt by one of the bodies. "That sounds disgusting," he says to Khitti, features wrinkling with a grimace. "And rather like magical poisoning. Dark magic." His eyes flick toward Encara, briefly. She doesn't notice, for something glittering faintly in the altar's waters has caught her eye instead - fishing it out, she blinks at the tiny, golden triangle charm lying in her palm and frowns, her gaze then shifting to her bracelet. Identical charms dangle from it, catching what little light filters through the mists, and there's a gap where one has come free. A chill prickles the hairs on the back of Encara's neck. When did she lose it? Did it fall off back when she and Lionel fought those wraiths before? Who picked it up and left it in this grove, then? These are not Delishan priests - for a moment, the fear that Eresandria has somehow lured her here rises again before reason squashes it down. It's clear this is the work of wraiths, as few creatures could drain the very life from these men and leave their corpses intact, even standing, but why they're choosing to taunt her is another mystery. "I think you're halfway right." She turns to Khitti, charm in hand. "But I don't think villagers are their target."

Suddenly, the veil of silence descended over the grove snaps. A chorus of unearthly screams and shrieks erupts from the mists surrounding the barrow, causing Encara and both scouts to flinch and reach for their weapons in alarm. "Well those are -definitely- wraiths," Kren mutters, cursing. Encara doesn't spare him a glance, scarlet eyes flicking wildly about in search of movement, but her efforts are futile as she strains to see through the thick mist. This isn't good. While having the high ground is usually an advantage, it isn't so much use when your enemies can teleport. Right now, they're simply exposed to attack from below. "They might be trying to corner us up here. That can't happen— Kren!" Her shout comes just as the heavy air flickers behind the scout, shadows seeming to peel away and coalesce in the shape of the wraith that blinks into view. Cackling cruelly, its scythe lashes out but Kren, for all his idiosyncrasies, has exceptional reaction skills and manages to block the weapon, catching it on his buckler with a screech of metal on metal. Encara takes advantage of the momentarily displaced wraith to stick an arrow in its eye socket. The creature crumples in a heap atop the altar but before its remains have even stopped twitching, Encara is on the move. "Down the hill!" the drow calls, already racing down the twisting path that will take her back to the scouts' horses and (probably) the Tikifhlee. "We tracked them north, into the forest." Kren is at her side, wild-eyed and matching Encara's frantic pace. "North it is!" she snaps back, loud enough for Khitti and Meri to hopefully hear. Around them, the haunting cries continue to grow.

Khitti narrowed her eyes at Encara, brows knitted together in a not-so-happy way, “Have you even seen the things Kahran has done? The things he’s done with the help of others?” ‘The help of others’ having come from Facilier, of course. The drow had hit quite the sore spot. Her attention shifted towards to Thom, her demeanor softening somewhat, for he was not the source of her ire, “It is exactly that.” Encara wanders off and dawdles by the pool, finding something within. Khitti goes to ask what it even is, for she can’t quite see it from where she is, but she’s quickly interrupted by the shrieks and Encara’s running off with her scouts. “Frakking hell. Come on, we better keep up.” She doesn’t quite run at the same pace as the drow, allowing herself to say over her shoulder to Meri, “Do your best to hit what you can--use your other abilities with it if you must to keep the arrows on the right path towards their targets. The arrow tips are made of silver and iron and iron works wonders on ghosts of all sorts.” Booted feet brought Khitti down that path, following after the drow. She was pissed, and while it was at Encara and not the wraiths, it helped because it meant she could focus on killing things better.

Meri and Encara were going to have to agree to disagree on that point, Kahran deserved no mercy in his end as far as Meri was concerned. Oh well. Meri at least could agree that it is often better when family is not involved. The family that you are born into, that is, not the family that one chooses to surround themselves with as they grow in life. Like Khitti. There was a small amount of wondering spared for the bracelet Cara fished out of the water but those thoughts are pushed to the back of her mind and saved for a calmer point in this journey. The screams identify the wraiths for what they are and only a brief look is spared to her comrades to discern their reactions. Small talk and conversation comes to an abrupt end, at least on Meri's part. Khitti's advice is acknowledged with a stern nod, heeding it quite seriously. The blonde was soon focused on the ambush they seem to have fallen into, at least it seemed to Meri like Khitti was correct in her prediction of a trap. With the thick mist making it hard to spot the wraiths until they are ready to launch of an assault of their own, Meri is quick to abandon her efforts with the bow. If she was shooting blindly with an arrow, it was likely wasted effort. For the sake of the group, she was quick to fall back to methods she was more adept with, her sword is not drawn though. Not yet. The psion would send bursts of telekinetic energy into the mists surrounding the group, disturbing both the mists and the wraiths that are hiding within it. None of these psionic blasts were enough to eliminate a wraith with a single hit, but it helped. When Meri had clear shots to take with her bow and arrow, she would take them but she was otherwise not reckless with them. She would not have a chance to take many of them, not at this point. Encara is calling for them to progress northward and Meri would not ignore this command. Her path would take her after Kren and Encara, fighting her way as she moves if she must.

"There goes our element of surprise," sighs Thom as he swings up into the saddle, while Encara hops up behind Kren and glances across at Khitti, aware of her anger but not that it's directed at her. "I've seen enough," she says finally, answering the redhead's earlier words while she scans the nearby mists, "and that's why I would never send him to Eresandria. She is weak to two things: flattery and the lure of power. I wouldn't be stupid enough to put them in the same room." Her eyes narrow somewhat, a frown furrowing her brow as she fires off an arrow at a wraith revealed by Meri's psionic blasts, then scowling when it flies wide. "Don't mistake it for mercy. If I was looking for a way to kill Kahran, I wouldn't look to find it within my House." The words are tinged with bitterness - Encara's feelings toward her own family are complicated at best, but there is a part of her that wishes things were different, even now. The sentiment doesn't quite extend to Eresandria, though, who herself has been a source of nothing but pain and trouble for the drow for almost two centuries. That kind of rift isn't easily mended. Kren puts his heels to the horse and the beast kicks off into a run, racing ahead to the fore of the party and leading them on a zig-zagging path away from the grove.

North of the barrows, the mist begins to disperse slightly as twisted roots break the surface of the dry earth, giving rickety foundations to the thin, sparse groups trees that mark the beginnings of the Dead Forest. Brittle boughs stretch out above, reaching toward a faded sky as if begging for the touch of rain, and the ground underfoot is littered with debris. A soft breeze winds its way through the trees, the rattle of their spindly limbs like the final breath of a dying man. When it appears as though they've left most of their assailants behind for the moment, granting them a brief reprieve, Kren slows his horse to an agitated canter while Encara looks between her scouts and asks, "How many?" Thom and Kren exchange a doubtful glance. "Hard to say when they all look the same. About six or seven. We've noticed them congregating at a certain spot in this forest - whether it's their lair or they gather for other reasons, I don't know. I don't speak wraith." Satisfied with that for now, Encara turns her focus to Meri and Khitti, expanding on the information given by the redhead before and offering some further advice. "Aim for the eye sockets if you use your bow and see an opening. Snapping their necks or ripping their bodies in half won't kill them, but they'll be incapacitated enough for you to deliver the final blow. They're resistant to most magic— divine energy, I'm not so sure about. And they're fond of teleporting, trying to cause confusion and catch you off-guard. Try and stay a step ahead - look for them where you don't expect to find them and they'll be there." She pauses, swallows, then adds, "Last time I encountered them, one tried to possess me. Watch out for that too - it isn't… pleasant."

"Seika, gimme a little help,” Khitti whispered to the sword in her bag. With Meri’s psionic blasts parting the way to see their quarry, Khitti too loosed her own arrows as they ran along, the arrowheads shining brightly with that same holy fire her sword produced, the redhead hoping that it’d be enough mixed with the ice her arrows produced on impact. The wraiths managed to teleport out of the way but still let out its banshee shriek, letting Khitti know that even that close proximity to the holy fire hurt it somewhat. She caught up to the drow finally, her weapon lowered, but the redhead still on her guard, “It’s a good thing these aren’t like the ghosts I’ve encountered here before with Lionel. -Those ones- had a death touch ability.” Khitti winced at the thought of that day. She was fried to a crisp by Rorin’s own holy magic then. -That- was something she didn’t miss about being a vampire. “What the hell was that in the water anyway?” Her olive-green line of sight shifted towards Encara briefly, before scanning the area again for the wraiths’ reappearance.

Six or seven wraiths, the numbers were not exactly on their side and yet she has been in many parties that have had worse odds but still found success. Again Meri is trying to put any discussion of Kahran behind her, it was better she keep a cool head in the moment. The mists begin to disperse as the group approaches what Kren and Thom have identified to be a wraith lair, or at least that is their best guess. They don't speak wraith, come on Encara. Encara's instructions are heard, not ending up possessed was pretty high on top of Meri's list of things to not do, thanks. With the chance of a wraith being able to teleport into the area at any given moment, Meri was not keen on this area even if the mists were thinning out. Forward they go, and while they seem to have a brief moment of silence in the battle, Meri is not quick to put her guard down either. Her own stance was identical to Khitti's, her bow was lowered part-way but still readied so that an arrow can be loosed a moment's notice. And if the psion felt that she could not get an arrow off in time? She always had her telekinetic abilities, controlled with just a thought. In her typical fashion during tense moments like these, Meri does not partake in the conversation. She tries to keep ear on what they are saying, but that was an ear that was not being kept on their surroundings.

Dead Forest Depths

The further north they travel, the thicker the trees begin to cluster around, barricading the rest of the world from view and enveloping the group in the claustrophobic confines of the forest. Even the sky is almost lost within a canopy of dead boughs and rotting leaves rustling above, the faint, sickly sweet smell of them filling the stagnant air. Once again there is almost total silence, broken only by the snap of twigs beneath the horse's hooves and the occasional ghostly wail in the distance. Shadows and silhouettes dance through the fog, teasing and taunting the darkest parts of the imagination to twist them into monstrous designs - paranoid creatures to begin with, the trio of drow are clearly on edge. Encara levels an arrow at a row of whispering, skeletal shapes gathered together like the ranks of an army, but when the mist parts, she sees only a group of stunted trees. It would be easy to lose your mind here. The horses pick their way along a makeshift path that is far from natural, trees and logs broken and pushed aside as though something powerful charged through, but eventually, near what seems to be one of the deepest, darkest parts of the forest, Encara's nose picks up an acrid, burning smell over the aroma of rotting foliage. She blinks, frowns across at Thom in silent question as the horses slow and she dismounts with the others. The mage glances back before gesturing wordlessly ahead, where dead bushes obscure a view down into some kind of pit.

Keeping quiet, Encara moves to peer beyond - what she sees makes her freeze for a second in a rare moment of sheer terror, breath catching in her throat. She stares; a black pool of steaming, bubbling liquid stares back, and Encara is briefly transported to the day she and Mithras tried to open House Val'thyrion's portal at Eresandria's behest, the flash of fire and then the burn of ice-cold shadow in her veins drowning out most of the memory. Her brother's scream had echoed in her ears for months after the failed ritual and she thinks she hears him now, but it's just another ghost in the trees. Encara gives a sharp shake of the head, cursing at herself for getting caught off-guard. There's no time for weakness. The tar pit — not a portal, not a sacrificial altar — gets another look. Its banks are high on most sides and marred by the attempts of animals trying to scramble out, but the bones and stench of decay suggests they were not successful. A flatter stretch of bare land lies below and on the far side of the pool, several wraiths swirl inches above the ground - six in total, five armed with scythes and the last wielding a heavy long-sword, the hooded horrors speak in a strange, grating tongue, the sound blasphemous. They're waiting.

Encara turns away and says to Khitti at last, her voice little more than a whisper, "A piece of my bracelet was left on the altar." She's still holding the tiny charm and shows it to the redhead, her expression unreadable, before tucking it into a pocket for safe-keeping. "I don't know what they want from me, but I'm going to go down there and draw their attention. Thom, Kren— stay up here, out of the way. Back us up however you can." At this, Kren opens his mouth as if to protest but Encara cuts him off with a snarl. "I sent you to track these things down; not to go leaping to your deaths. Stay out of the way." They're still young, inexperienced— not quite innocent but not entirely awful, either. Her fondness for these scouts is uncharacteristic of her kind, she knows, but she refuses to acknowledge both it and Kren's surprised, unguarded blink, looking to Meri and Khitti once more. "I'm not a commander and you aren't my soldiers, so I'm not about to give you orders, but… whatever you do, you should stay together - watch each other's backs. Stay safe."

Looming over the area with that fog was also a sense of dread. It felt familiar to Khitti, like a memory, still perhaps covered by a fog in her own mind. There were things she’d forced herself to forget, even from the past 2 years, even after her amnesia had cleared. What was the point in looking back when she’d had so much to look forward to? But, now, she’d wished she hadn’t, for this feeling felt… almost like home. Like Dhavislaav. But why? What was this thing she was not quite getting just yet? It didn’t unnerve Khitti, like the drow were put off by the goings-on in the area. Instead, it confused her. Frustrated her. Made her all the more irritated. Encara dealt with her scouts and Meri likely dealt with her own inner self at the moment, but Khitti was focused on the need to take out these wraiths. Or maybe try to interrogate them. Find out why they’re here. Why they want Encara. Was it something more than just than just wanting the drow’s own dark magic for themselves? But… how could she do that without her necromancy to control them?

Khitti would only nod to Encara’s instructions, and said nothing to Meri--she knew the psion would keep close if she needed to. Finally settling back into that undead huntress frame of mind she had to have so long ago, Khitti withdrew two more arrows, nocking them back with the first that’d been waiting and ready this entire time. The arrow tips glowed once more and when Khitti was ready, she let them fly. Her aim, however, was not on the wraiths themselves, but the ground beneath them, the arrows exploding on impact, sending shards of ice here and there in an attempt to freeze the undead to the ground as the holy fire sought to distract and incapacitate them. Whether it worked or not, it was also Encara and Meri’s cue to get to work as well--things would not be in their favor for too much longer with this many wraiths to contend with.

Meri was not actually consumed and lost with her thoughts as they travel through the fog like Khitti. The psion was fairly well able to keep her focus on listening in on the surroundings for signs of anything approaching. Or perhaps teleporting behind them in another surprise attack. Encara gives her instructions, Meri is paying attention but does not bother acknowledging it with a nod. Hopefully Kren and Thom manage to find a relatively safe place to take cover before Khitti looses her first shots, but Meri does not particularly care at this point. She is about ready to get out of this forest, she has had enough of the doom and the gloom. It's not really her style. Meri also takes aim and fires arrow after arrow at the wraiths while she has the advantage of distance. Unlike Khitti she is not aiming for the ground but trying to take him for head/neck/shoulders. The eye was a hard target to make, even with the psion was able to cheat and influence the arrow's direction. When the advantage of distance is lost, bow would be abandoned for her fire sword, dealing what damage she could when she could, wherever she could. And she could run her blade through an eye socket in the process? All the better.

Encara offers Meri and Khitti a small smile and pats Kren's arm before he and Thom slink off around the edge of the pool. They stick to the cover of the trees as they search for a good vantage point that'll keep them out of harm's way but give them an unobstructed view of the battle and all its players. In another time, another place, Encara would have kept to the shadows along with her scouts and fought a long war of attrition with these wraiths, avoiding direct confrontation until her arrows finally brought them down. It's where she belongs - out of sight and out of mind until the exact moment she makes her first, and often final, strike. As she moves now, she remembers the casual confidence in Lionel's steps as he'd engaged the wraiths and decides to blame her own brazen, sure-footed approach on him. Fool of a man… but more fool her, she knows.

Sliding down the embankment, Encara lands close to the pit's edge, dislodged soil and gravel clattering behind her. Chunks of ice explode across the tar pit as Khitti's arrows fly and Encara stands poised on the far side of the chaos, a pretty target to lure the wraiths in, her bow at her side but no arrow nocked. The swordsman wraith and his fellows whirl and scream at the shattering ice, pushing themselves higher into the air in an attempt to avoid the brunt of the attack, though one is not so lucky - its half-frozen body topples into the tar pit and quickly sinks. When the remaining wraiths catch sight of the drow in the open, their eerie whispers increase, almost with excitement. Brittle boned fingers tap the grips of their scythes and their skeletal jaws chatter in anticipation of a fight, of impending death… maybe something more? Encara scowls at them and gives a sharp shake of her arm as though to dislodge something— or perhaps to strike the match. The air around her flickers like dry heat rising from baked desert sands. Without warning, a plume of darkness surges from the drow's palm, engulfing her entire right arm in roiling shadow that seems caught between a liquid, gaseous, and solid state all at once - in one moment it's a cloud of black fire surrounding a red-hot star burning at Encara's shoulder but in the next, it's flowed into the appearance of jagged armour, making it appear as if she's wearing two spiked gauntlets instead of her usual sole one. Dark magic bleeds from her palms, adding to the acrid stench that blankets the clearing. Like moths to flame the wraiths converge upon the drow, the swordsman leading the pack - from his ragged mouth a single intelligible word escapes, echoing over and over in a foul mantra: "Soon." He swings his blade with a whistling scream, blighted steel cutting through the air, and despite being momentarily startled by the wraith's speech, Encara snatches out at the sword in time and brings it to a screeching stop, shadow-coated arm shaking with the effort of holding it back. "Not this time," she snarls, and snaps the blade.

The swordsman hisses back. Enraged and fearful shrieks follow as the other wraiths peel away suddenly - perhaps their apparent leader gave the order. One of them is caught in a blast from Diamond Dust and screams as its cloak and body are frozen solid, causing it to fall to the ground, trembling and writhing while holy fire ripples across its form. Another two bear down on Khitti, approaching from either side and ready to guillotine the redhead with cruel scythes. The area begins to darken as clouds called by Thomellien's magic gather rapidly above, the rolling thunder preceding a lightning strike that sets a third wraith on fire and sends it careening, panicking, straight into the steel of Meri's sword. Remaining wraiths swirl higher off the ground, scythes held before them. They start to barrel into the trees, tearing up everything in their path in their search for the Val'thyrion scouts - rotten logs fly and trees topple with deep, mournful groans, filling the air with dust. And Encara is engaged in a fierce battle with the swordsman wraith, who continues to wield his jagged, broken blade. The two trade blows before breaking apart - blinking out of existence, the wraith reappears behind her and brings his sword down, repeating the same word. "Soon." Encara knows what to expect, drawing on her previous encounter with these creatures. She deflects another blow, lashes out with her bow and is parried in turn. "Soon," the wraith utters and the drow roars back, frustrated, "Soon what?!" Just like that, her left arm is caught by the wrist, bow falling from nerveless fingers as an unnatural chill seeps through the metal of her gauntlet, and Encara suppresses a shiver. The chill reaches bone-deep when the wraith twists her arm, palm upturned, and declares pointedly while she stares wide-eyed, "Soon."

'Soon’ rattled around in Khitti’s head as she ducked scythes and pulling Tenbatsu Kaji free from within her satchel, and brandishing the katana in one hand while she used the bow in the other, like a shield, to block the wraiths’ attacks. Holy fire erupted from the blade, its aura’s hue quickly shifting from that somber gold to the much more potent red. ‘Soon’. It reminded Khitti of the Shadowseers from the Lake of Echoed Screams, Larket’s mirror in the Shadow Plane. They’d taunted Khitti the day she found out she was a part of their prophecies--the harbinger of doom, the one that would help bring their realm to dust--and she had, or nearly so. With another swipe of a scythe, Khitti hooked it with her bow and jerked the wraith close, “You know. I used to be like you. Cold. Angry. Undead. Until I met a fiery end. Now I’m just angry. Let’s see if it works on -you-.” Tenbatsu Kaji was then thrust into the wraith’s skull and its power cranked up to eleven with the help of Seika, the fire pouring from its eye sockets and mouth as it shrieked its last shriek. The other wraith had not been forgotten though; it’d shied away as Khitti dispatched of its companion with that divine magic of Cyris. ‘Soon’. The swordsman wraith continued his work with Encara as Khitti dodged blows from the last scythe and returned them, soon ridding Venturil of yet another undead. Too far away--and without that wonderful vampiric speed--Khitti looked to where Encara was, with that wraith looming over her and with a few whispered words, a rose gold tiara made itself known on Khitti’s forehead. She pulled it from beneath her hood, and much like the sword, it too sparked to life before it was sent flying to aid the drow. When it reached her, it surrounded her like a cyclone, shielding her from further harm and slicing right through the arm of the wraith to free her entirely. ‘Soon’ wasn’t going to happen--not while Khitti was here and still drew breath.

It was by sheer misfortune that one of the wraiths tasted the steel of her blade but Meri did not let any amount of victory swell her pride in the heat of the moment. Two wraiths were descending upon Khitti and the psion was not going to have it. She was prepared to come to the redhead's aid by unleashing a blast of energy to force one of the wraith's backward some distance away from Khitti, but she was glad to see that the redhead had the situation well under control. Not that she doubted Khitti's abilities, but friend's looked out for one another, aye? Encara is in a bit of a spot of her own and Meri is sorely tempted to come to her aid, but Khitti is quick on the draw, even from a distance. Meri counts that friend as safe, or at least close to being saved. Sometimes looking after friends also means looking after friends of friends. Okay, maybe Encara would not be so quick to call them friends but she did seem to have a soft spot for them. Rather than dart off toward Encara, Meri races off into the forests that are now being torn but by several wraiths in search of two slippery drow. Meri was about to use their destruction to her advantage as she has so many times on so many other battles, usually in a more contained manner than what she was going to display now. As the wraiths tear the forest up, the branches broken in their attempts begin to levitate through the air and are propelled right at the wraiths at astonishing speeds. There is less containment on this assault because Meri does not have to consider her friends in this space, not in the air. The wraiths hunting those two drow in the forests now have to navigate an aerial field of projectiles flying about at rapid speeds, looking to impale without mercy. A skull shot would be nice, but Meri will take what she can gets, until they're all dead.

Encara stammers, "No." It tumbles out almost unintentionally, a plea, soon followed by another, "no," and then more, until she's repeating herself just like the wraith. How could it know about the scar? Is it even talking about that? There has to be more time left. Her blood runs cold with the fear of what lies ahead, what has always awaited her - not death, but certainly the absence of life. To exist as little more than a shadow of herself, to be hollowed out over centuries of limbo where she's forced to do nothing but watch as the world spins and everything she once knew turns to dust. Encara does not fear death because it is inevitable and also because, to her, it would be salvation; a final end. It wouldn't be difficult for a drow to find death if she truly wanted it, and that'd always been the plan if a cure could not be found in time - Encara would die before she let this magic consume her, even if she had to orchestrate it herself. Those thoughts are shattered when Khitti's tiara tears through the wraith's leathery flesh and it breaks off in the middle of another 'soon' with a shrill, crackling cry that almost bursts Encara's eardrums. She stumbles in pain, both from the assaulting scream and as the tiara surrounds her in a protective whirlwind. The divine energy causes her dark magic gauntlet to sputter and her scarred hand erupts with nerve-tingling agony - snarling, the drow lashes out, though not at the holy artefact. Claws of jagged shadow rip across the swordsman wraith's hooded face and grab him by the throat before Encara grabs an arrow from her quiver, holding it in her free hand, and drives it into the creature's empty eye socket.

The two go down together but Encara's back on her feet in moments, her gait a little unsteady as she snatches up her bow and looses an arrow at a wraith following Meri, who appears to be using deforestation to murder several wraiths. She's glad to see her holding her own just fine, though, and Khitti seems to be all right as well - Encara will just have to assume that because she can't actually look in the templar's direction, the blaze of holy fire far too bright for the drow's sensitive eyes. Another wraith meets its end through one of the sharpshooter's well-placed arrows before the forest begins to calm and Encara approaches the only remaining monster, who still lies smoking upon the ground. One of the wraiths caught in Diamond Dust's blasts, the combination of ice and fire has left the creature ruined and too weak to move. For only a moment, Encara considers the possibility of trying to talk to it, wring some information out maybe, but her anger and her fear are driving her. She won't hear another word from these things. An arrow fired at close-range takes care of it quickly enough. As the dust settles and the grave-quiet returns to the Dead Forest, Kren and Thom emerge from the trees near Meri, a little shaken and covered in mud and debris, but otherwise intact. "Wow," is Kren's first word, his expression open and practically starry-eyed, "are you an angel?" With a groan, Thom elbows him in the ribs.

Khitti knew, unfortunately, the risk she was taking as she threw that tiara at not only a dark magic user, but someone who was sensitive to light in general. She hadn’t felt like she’d much of a choice in the matter, but once the danger has passed the tiara is called back immediately and its flames--as well as Tenbatsu Kaji’s--is snuffed out. Diamond Dust is snatched up off the ground from where she’d left it, her attention still fixed on Encara as she dealt the final blow to the wraith that had been taunting her and then makes her way to the one that’d been trapped in the ice. A frown formed on Khitti’s lips as Encara ultimately decides to put that one down as well, but Khitti kept her thoughts to herself about it--there’d been a time where she would’ve done the same thing. Hell, she might’ve done the same thing today if she were in the drow’s place. Leaving the drow, Khitti made her way towards Meri, just barely making it there in time to hear Kren’s question. “An angel? That’s much different that what Cal calls you, isn’t it, Meri?” She smirked, then shook her head at the pair of male drow and went about resheathing her sword and fixing her bow to her back, her tiara having long since disappeared after it returned to her. “What did it mean by ‘soon’, Encara?”, the redhead’s question pointed, as if the interrogation she’d thought about doing on the wraith was now being given to the drow instead. “I’ve had creatures from the Shadow Plane speak to me that way before and I can assure you, it wasn’t meant to be ‘soon’ as in an invite to afternoon tea and cake.”

Meri misses the bulk of what is transpiring between Khitti, Encara, and the wraiths that they have on their plate. Her focus is on Kren and Thom. It is not until she is confident that the wraiths harassing them have been dealt with that she is able to dedicate any amount of attention to Khitti and Encara. Her eyes find focus on the two other women just in time to see Encara putting an end to the wraith. Those blue eyes take a moment to scan the surroundings, half-expecting one more wraith to emerge from the shadows...but none does. They finally have silence. Silence that is broken by a cheeky question by Kren, to which Meri smirks. An angel. "Please. I have it on pretty good-authority that I am a she-devil," she responds in jest, reaffirming Khitti's statement. "Just ask Cal." But she would not linger near the forest line, no. She would come closer to Khitti and Encara and inspect the both of them from head to toe for injury. When she was satisfied that neither of them were gravely injured, she motioned back up the path they traveled down. "Let's go." And of course, because it could not be ignored. Even Khitti was not ignoring it. "Soon." She repeats, despite that Khitti had just done so. She was really trying to drive this point home with Encara. The point being that it was noticed by both women, two very stubborn women who do not let things go easily. "It seems they had it out for you, Cara. What the hell?"

Encara jerks her head around at Khitti's question, her gaze sharp as knives. "I don't know," she snaps back, casting a tentative glance around them before the magic sheathing her arm flickers out entirely and she slings her bow over her body. Carefully she steps over to the corpse of the sword-wielding wraith and bends down to snatch up its broken blade, which she stares at for far too long. Avoidance isn't typically Encara's style, but neither is revealing her weaknesses. "No," she says again, shaking her head. "I didn't even know they could speak Common." Or that they possessed the intelligence to set up traps. The sword is brought down unceremoniously at the wraith's shoulder joint and with a couple of vicious swings, the arm is shorn off completely - tucking the sword into her belt, Encara lifts the skeletal limb but looks up at Meri's approach, noting Kren and Thom following behind the psion. All alive and well, she's glad to see. "Battle trophy," she explains quickly, wiggling the arm around like a macabre toy. "I've been needing a new bow." Still reluctant to open up, the drow pivots sharply on her heel, using the shadow of a looming tree to shadow-step out of the shallow pit and save herself the climb. How the others get out is up to them, but Encara intends on leaving them behind for the moment. She needs time, silence, and to be alone with difficult thoughts. Her scouts exchange knowing looks but will stubbornly keep to their silence if questioned, though they'll accompany Meri and Khitti back to Venturil, where Encara will be found— still closed up tighter than a merchant's purse and sharpening her knives.