RP:Massacre of the Mind

Part of the The Seven Sins of Sagittae Arc

Summary: Continuing on from the start of their trek in "Chaos Unto the Natural Order," Seteth and Quintessa traverse dwarven caves and the rough plains of the western frontier on their way to meet Seteth's information contact and then find a wizard who may or may not possess the first of the seven legendary crystals. Quintessa frets over a massacre from her past, but she and the thief soon happen upon a brand new one. At the hamlet called Herenbyrg, all the townsfolk have been slain, and Seteth suddenly vanishes -- leaving Quintessa, her memories edited through a mysterious power, to believe that their mission was a failure and carry on with her attendance of an important Warrior's Guild meeting.

Departure

It wouldn’t have mattered if Quintessa and Seteth had set out from Vailkrin at dawn rather than dusk. Neither were the biggest fans of morning, but furthermore, the skies would still be dimly-lit even when other parts of Lithrydel were being blanketed in the sun’s first daily rays. The streets would have been as unwelcoming, and as filled with just as many drunkards and opportunistic vampires. The shrill sounds emanating from alleyways, sources unknown, would not have broken for any farmer’s breakfast. Still, even as nocturnal as he was, it felt odd somehow that Seteth was departing for distant Venturilian lands at so late an hour. He preferred to slink through shadows wherever people gathered, but out on the roads and open plains, it was best to see as far ahead of oneself as possible whilst remaining hidden among the flora and fauna. Seteth knew that Quintessa would be well-equipped to guide them, and she knew that her armored cockatrice – if she brought it for the journey – would be an early warning system for the pair, besides. Seteth preferred walking, though even he knew better than to make foolhardy promises to someone as powerful as Quintessa that his nimbleness and alacrity could rival her own. For that reason, he had sighed, swallowed pride, and rented a steed from the seedy Vailkrin stables. He was cloaked all in black with a hood to conceal half his face, and his horse had reddish undertones but was, for all intents and purposes, a matching grim shade. At city’s edge, he awaited the arrival of his mistress, his master, whatever it was that Quintessa had become.

Quintessa indeed brought Bloodbeak along, the plated armor of her three meter tall bird clinking lightly as his massive talons carry him and his rider down the road. The shifty eyes of vampires surveyed them, but they knew better than to trifle with Baroness Quintessa or her golden cockatrice. Her mismatched eyes share in the general shiftiness of the region, keeping a vigilant lookout for anyone more bold than simple cutthroats or highwaymen. As notorious as she was, the changeling still had a target on her back if she liked it or not and she made it a point to be ready for combat every since House Nasar tried to kill her. Lifting a lithe hand to the hilt of her blade to rest there idly, Quintessa gives one last glance at her onlookers before fixating her gaze upon Seteth. All things considered, the young mage was happy to get away from Vailkrin and Xailous and if she could do it while helping an ally it was all the better. "It's fortunate," Quintessa began, starting a conversation awkwardly out of nowhere, "I needed to head west anyway- it's good timing." The hex blade smirks, unsure if Seteth kept tabs on her activities or not. Quintessa certainly wasn't one to keep a low profile despite her less than reputable hobbies, and already her talent as dark spellcaster had caught the attention of a certain mysterious swordsman. "Assuming we're not waylaid by anything we should reach Venturil within a few hours."

The Land Resents

Seteth nodded in an exacting manner as he pushed forward in his saddle, telling his horse it was time to move. “It certainly is,” he replied, giving the changeling a strong indication that he was well aware of, at the very least, her surface-level wheelings and dealings. Something was astir in some castle or other, helmed and staffed by people far too famous for Seteth’s taste. Between them, Quintessa would be the one to maintain the higher profile so long as the thief could help it – and given her inclinations toward dramatic flair, it didn’t seem to Seteth that he would need to do very much at all in order to ensure that was the case. “That’s swift. Swifter than I’ve heard. Your cockatrice is truly a marvel, and this horse...” He broke off momentarily, studying the mare’s glistening red orbs for eyes. She had been infused with magics Seteth preferred not to think too deeply about, bolstering her speed to unrivaled levels. Without Quintessa’s backing, the Sagittaean could never have afforded such an impressive beast. “...won’t struggle overmuch to keep Bloodbeak within visual range.” He smirked and stretched his arms. Bloodbeak and Seteth’s nameless steed took to the hills at a gallop, leaving their riders to feel the full effects of the winds left in their animal companions’ wake. It felt lively. It felt freeing. It felt good. Half an hour had passed in a flurry of liberating motion when his horse slowed down and Seteth nearly stumbled in his saddle. Would Bloodbeak come to a stop as well? The thief certainly hoped so, for the travelers had come upon a steep gorge where once there was no gorge at all. “We can’t be more than twenty minutes’ ride out from the Southern Sage,” Seteth said in a tone which betrayed his bewilderment. “This looks like an earthquake’s making. It doesn’t seem too challenging simply to go around,” he said with a decisive finger-pointing toward the western side of the gorge – where it came to an end and passable land returned – “but all the same, what’s it doing here?”

Quintessa pulls hard on the reigns as she orders Bloodbeak to halt, startled at the new rift that had been torn into the earth. "Bleeding Xicotl." The strange woman can't help but utter, her lips peeling back slightly into a snarl. Quintessa had studied the patterns of the so-called god long enough to recognize his work. "It's getting worse." But this wasn't the type of thing she wanted to get Seteth mixed up in. He had his own problems to deal with without getting involved in world-threatening issues. Perhaps when his time wasn't so short, when they had collected the crystals and freed him of his bondage, she would ask his help in the matter, but for now Quintessa wanted to focus on the immediate threat of his shackles. "Do you really want to know?" The changeling couldn't help but talk about it, to share the many secrets she had discovered in search of an answer to the Xicotl problem. "It's caused by the vibrations of large rune stones placed tactically around the surface and in the underdark. A thing called Xicotl is preparing to invade the surface world and only the Warrior's Guild and a few other associates know about it." Quintessa scoffs, "I guess you can count yourself among those who know the truth behind the earthquakes now." The changeling tugs on the reigns, directing Bloodbeak to the new path around the chasm."But we are handling it... I think... I've hit a dead end in my research and I need a new tactic- a new perspective. I hope to speak about my frustrations with the Imperator in a couple of days."

Seteth leaned over and peered into the abyss, a task made somewhat comically useless given even moonlight was limited tonight. Still, something felt wrong about what lurked beneath the surface. “Wow,” he said after a pause. “I read a book once about a guy who thinks the planet shifts over time, causing chasms like these and eventually brand new continents. Nutty as it all was, I would have preferred his explanation to yours.” Heroes, eh? He didn’t verbalize it, but it gave him food for thought. Seteth was no hero, and he had no intentions of changing that anytime soon, but he couldn’t help feeling for the downtrodden of the world – even if only because he himself had once numbered among them. Even now, as a prisoner to the whims of faraway masters, there was room for empathy. “I suppose I’m honored to know the truth.” The thief kicked into the reins and led his horse in a careful trot alongside the gorge until they were fully cleared from it. “I knew you had ties with that gang,” he meant the Warrior’s Guild, “and more than a handful of tavern-dwellers have sung their praises.” A few had damned them, too, but who was counting? “Guess I ought to have suspected you were playing the savior card along with the rest of them. My condolences.” It was a gentle, teasing smirk which Seteth offered Quintessa, though a meaningful one nonetheless. Of course, he knew she was a free spirit at heart, and she likely knew that he knew, too. But this was a grander thing than he wanted any part of at present. Perhaps ever. What followed was a seasonally accurate traipse through fresh, spring meadows as the riders skirted the farthest reaches of the Xalious region en route to the Great Divide, where mountains yawned across the earth, separating the westerly lands from the central lands and those lands to the east. In the distance, hidden among the foliage, several creatures emitted loud croaking noises. Probably toads, Seteth figured, especially given their proximity to a crisscrossing network of streams.

Quintessa snaps her head to look at Seteth in astonishment, "Y-you've read Gildroy Silverdust's theory on Terra Migration?" That was a book reserved for advanced mages in the Xalious college. "That's not nutty- that's the basis of Terramancy. Rock changing forms, shifting between liquid and solid, movable and immovable. That stuff's real and I can prove it in my lab if you don't believe me." Quintessa can't help but snicker at Seteth's teasing, the young thief prodding at the changeling's secret desire to be a famed hero, to be the grand swordsman she had read about in books who slew dragons and recused princesses and concubines from savage warlords. He had no idea how close he was hitting a tender spot, but Quintessa wouldn't let that show. "I wouldn't call myself a savoir," she deflects, giving the lad a sheepish smile, "I just don't want to be genocided. I was in the Razurath War- I've seen what happens when a race goes extinct and it is not something I want to witness again, especially if I'm the target." The changeling didn't concern herself with the croaking of frogs, but Bloodbeak was different. His sharp ears pick up the sound of a favorite snack and potently dangerous threat if they were in large numbers; a group of giant frogs. The cockatrice begin to fluff up his feathers, his posture changing to one notably more aggressive. "What is it, Bloodbeak?" His rider inquires, mismatched eyes utilizing the darkvision she was born with. The only answer the bird can offer is a soft coo before his hisses into the darkness.

Seteth blinked several times at his mistress’ terramantic outburst. He genuinely had no idea. “The cover had been ripped off,” he said blankly. “Found the book in the trash back in the slums of Sagittae. Don’t know about any Gildroys or Silverdusts, but it sounds like the self-same book to me. And,” he paused for emphasis, “if it’s something you believe in, I bet it’s all well and true. Though if you want to bedazzle me with laboratory demonstrations, I’m all eyes on you.” As the frogs croaked, and Bloodbeak began to stir, Seteth – as yet unaware of the cockatrice’s clever realization – broke off into a sincere smile. “No, I wouldn’t want you a victim of genocide, either. Nor myself, perhaps most of all.” With a wink, he made to speed his horse anew, but when Quintessa inquired as to Bloodbeak’s sudden reaction the thief froze in place silently. He knew better than to interrupt. The air seemed stale now, staler than meadows and streams ought to be. The croaking stopped, which felt odd and left a hole in sound. At once, a frog the size of Seteth’s very own horse leaped out from thick brambles and wet fronds, extending its tongue toward would-be prey – namely, the thief, the changeling, the horse and the highly perceptive bird-beast. It was still at least 20 meters away, but another pair of leaps was all it would take for the creature to be upon them with that constricting tongue and a mouth which might have been full of poisonous saliva. Alone, it wasn’t the greatest threat Seteth had ever faced, and he spared a second to determine that there was simply no way it could rival whatever the girl to his left had dealt with in her own past. Still… “Where there’s one frog,” he prophesied, and then as if on cue three more danced out from the foliage in similar leaps to line up almost flawlessly alongside the first one, “there’s usually more.” Giant frogs hunted in packs, and though they typically feasted on smaller prey – lambs were a particular favorite – desperate times called for desperate tongue-lashings. Seteth drew his steely knives from their hidden holster beneath the black cloth over his wrists, flicking his fingers to catch them deftly after twirling his hands to unsheathe. Without hesitation, he rode straight into the fray… and then hard-left, hoping to befuddle at least a couple of the frogs and prevent them from setting their sights on Quintessa. One of his knives was thrown even as one of the frogs fell for the bait, lunging at him only to lose one of its yellowy eyes. It flinched, stumbled back, and hissed not unlike a cat.

Quintessa draws her sword as Bloodbeak prepares to charge, his large talons scraping at the dirt beneath his toes in aggravation. "Giant frogs?" Quintessa recognizes her foes immediately, "They shouldn't be this far north. This new chasm must have driven them from their natural environment." Disoriented and hungry, these massive amphibians would likely not back down even if the fight was lost. The changeling knows what she has to do. "Hyah!" With a sudden burst of speed Bloodbeak charges down upon them as Quintessa peels back the visor covering her mounts eyes, arcing around to hit them in the side with a ride-by attack. The frogs are too focused on Seteth to see it coming, so when the armored bird smashes into the side of one, his talons and razor sharp beak tearing into the soft flesh of its eyes, they are momentarily stunned by the assault. "Fight carefully," Quintessa says, raising her sword up to deliver the coup de grace on the foe already injured by her cockatrice. "These things spit acid, so make your movements quick." Right on cue, a giant frog lashes out with its sticky tongue, slapping Bloodbeak in his chest and leaving behind a thick, green residue that sizzled away at his protective plates. Bloodbeak hisses aggressively in response, dropping the dead from at his feet.

Seteth’s empathy extended to loyal animal companions, too. When he saw what had became of Bloodbeak’s armor, he winced and gritted his teeth, raising his cloak to conceal himself as he came to a complete stop not far from his now one-eyed foe. The monsters he and Quintessa faced had excellent night vision, but Seteth knew that their vision nevertheless diminished the closer someone was to them. That was where their sense of smell would come to the rescue – unless a Sagittaean lad were to twirl his second knife fancifully from his cloaked locale and then rise up fast, clothing billowing in the wind of its own making, skewering the frog at the nose and diminishing its perceptive capabilities significantly. In a perfect world, Seteth would have stopped there; the thing would have taken a hint, and it would scamper, and maybe its allies would do the same. Its nose might heal, or it might not heal, and its life expectancy would surely be reduced. But it would live, at least for a time. Seteth didn’t need to be told that he and Quintessa were not at present occupying a perfect world; the frog, sniffing through the sockets where its mangled nose dangled by fleshy threads, made a shortened leap toward Seteth and his cloak-covered horse. Deciding in that fateful instant that he wasn’t going to allow the horse to die, he jumped from his saddle in time for her to rush wayward of the ongoing action. Surprisingly, she held firm along the sidelines. Did she feel a sense of loyalty to Seteth already? Doubtful; he gauged that it was more likely she had the uncommon intellect to recognize he and his changeling friend were the mare’s best chance at survival out here. Seteth’s knives were lost in pockets of the frog’s flesh, but when he narrowly evaded the monster, he also managed to pluck one out from its eye socket. Blood burst out like a popped balloon. “Ew,” the lad observed simply. Afterward, he danced behind the frog and hopped aboard, leaving a trail of bloody gashes down its back until at last it slumped over, dead.

Quintessa releases the reigns as she swings from Bloodbeak's harness, pulling herself from the saddle and flipping before the three meter tall beast, severing the tongue attached to his armor with a swift flourish of her katana. The changeling lands on her feet as the tongue twitches behind her, the last signs of life escaping it as its previous owner recoils in pain. "It brings me no pleasure to kill you," Quintessa says as she brings her katana up high into a Kirioroshi stance, "But you are in my way- Streic rhew!" With her magic words spoken the young spellcaster snaps her blade downward as the temperature in the air drops, and a large spike impales through the frogs torso, lifting him up to weakly let out his last croak. With one frog down there are two to take its place,and Quintessa is forced to shift her magic defensively to shield herself from a similar fate that befell Bloodbeak's armor. A hemisphere of ice forms around them with a flick of her wrist, trapping them temporality away from her. "How many frogs can there be?!" The teenager shouts in protest, already over these huge amphibians.

“Too many by four, and two remain.” Seteth’s arm ached from his theatrical antics. Like as not, he was fully human, and humans seldom pulled off the stunts he could without straining something along the way. Even in prime youth, he would feel this tomorrow. Watching Quintessa in awe, he strafed beside the chilled frogs and withdrew two more knives from up past his wrists – too many by four, and two remained. “You’ve given them an icy reception, though.” The painful pun might have injured the frogs outright were they sentient, and Seteth might have used such puns as attacks in the past without realizing it. “Allow me to excavate the premises.” Chiseling away at the briefly-frozen creatures, the Sagittaean removed the eyes and ears of one before the both of them stirred to shatter their confines. It was enough of a rumble to knock Seteth off his feet like a fool, and that failure might have led to perilous trampling and a broken neck were it not for a quick hop out of harm’s way. His cloak was in tatters, revealing a blunt, bland leather tunic underneath, and a few scrapes drew blood on his cheek, nose, and forehead. There was no more time for wordplay, yet Seteth opted to play with words once more just the same. “Color me shocked.” He flicked a tiny, hidden lever beneath the hilt of one of his knives, and a bolt of electricity shot out seemingly from the steel itself; this was an elementally-charged weapon, and one which was now frying the eyeless frog to a crisp. With the full magical force of the knife expired, it grew hot in a literal flash, forcing Seteth to drop it or else burn his hand or worse. The final frog shivered as it broke free, too cold by far for comfort, and collapsed into a heap – not dead, but incapable of further combat. The battle was won.

The Blood She Would Remember

Quintessa breaths heavily under the strain of containing the frogs in her icy grip, pouring her mana into the spell to slow their progress as much as possible. As the spellcaster provides the de-buff, Seteth carves them up for her, leaving the last one to slowly wither under the effects of her cold magic. Quintessa refreshes her spell until the frog is frozen solid once more, slow steps closing the gap between them as Bloodbeak feasts on the remains of others behind her, his powerful gullet able to withstand the poisons and acids produced by them. "This is only the beginning," the hex blade mutters, giving her katana a flick before returning it to its sheath. "In the coming days the roads will become more and more dangerous as foul creatures from the wilderness and the underdark seek prey. We should get where we're going quickly before something bigger catches our scent." The changeling turns her back on Seteth before climbing back onto her mount, letting him get situated before directing Bloodbeak over to him. "You fought well out there," Quintessa notes, offering him a rare compliment, "I first started out with daggers and knives- If you ever want me to show you a few tricks I'd be willing to teach you. You've got the talent for it."

Seteth let the mood stew in his mind when Quintessa warned him of dire things to come. A thought came to him, and for the first time: perhaps this was all the more reason he needed to hurry and procure the crystals. If he could use their rumored power even once before his foreign masters stopped him in order to aid his true mistress and her awfully noble cause, it could save more lives than he dared to count. He had only seen one crystal as of yet, in a locked case like a trophy in a rich man’s Larket manse. He counted none among his own possession, but Seteth was already dreaming big, and those dreams were shades more altruistic than he had anticipated. He knew it was best to vanquish such thoughts, so he dimmed his mind’s fantasies until Quintessa complimented his form. “I’d relish the opportunity,” he spoke in earnest. Nothing Seteth could do was on par with the powers of the Lady of House Dragana, but that didn’t mean he would decline the invitation to share in a fraction of her abilities. For all he knew, such lessons could save them both one day. Only after Bloodbeak’s feast had ended did Seteth’s rented mare return. The thief petted her reassuringly and fed her a decent heft of milled corn before climbing back up and leading the way. The party made good time from there; the hillsides remained undisturbed despite the coming of Xicotl and whatever the hell that all meant. At the peaks of knolls, they maintained a crucial vigil, though nothing stirred to threaten them more than a few lost fruit flies in the loamy early-morning wilderness. Before long, the sun was rising over nearby mountains – the Xalious Range. All they needed to do now was to navigate the mountain path until they reached a dwarven cave, on the other side of which the vast Venturil region awaited. “I wanted to tell you something, before I forget.” Seteth straightened his back uncharacteristically after chugging from his water canteen. “I know you were headed out this way regardless, but in a very real sense this is still rather truly a detour. You didn’t have to help, yet here you are. You’re a curious sort, and I treasure that about you, but I detect a hint of real protectiveness at play here as well. It’s appreciated.”

Quintessa rides in silence as she listens to Seteth's confession, her pale fingers still dotted in blood tightening slightly around her reigns. For a second her brow furrows and she is prepared to deflect again but she hesitates, allowing the defensiveness to wash away instead of pretending it didn't exist. Why was Quintessa so self-conscious about seeming too compassionate? She mulls this question over for a moment, her eyes falling to the terrain as it moved past them. "It's true, I would have come out this way for you regardless." she begins, the honesty feeling strange in her throat. "I like you. You are my friend- perhaps something more... I treasure that." The changeling peels her blue and hazel gaze from the horizon to look Seteth in the eyes, surveying whatever emotion she could from within that green sea. "It might come as a surprise to you but I didn't have many friends growing up. I didn't have any, in fact, who weren't created in my head or read about in the books I stole during my childhood. I didn't know what it was like to have a friend until I joined the Mage's Guild and met Karasu, so I take that bond seriously. Nobody messes with my friends, Seteth. I will kill for them without hesitation and that promise extends to you."

Seteth wasn’t very good at masking the emotions evident in his eyes at the best of times, and he was more off-guard with Quintessa than anyone else he knew. There was something strong in the way he looked at her, something stronger than the physical and more sincere than the pride of a stolen prize. “And likewise, with equal rapidity,” he replied. His voice was kept even and coolly crisp. As ever, it was only in the eyes that Seteth of Sagittae betrayed the true depths of his conviction. The two of them now made their way through the network of surface-level caves extending from Xalious in the east all the way into the far Venturilite outskirts in the west. Even at this hour, a fair number of dwarves scurried about digging up ores. More than a few of them were drinking copiously – whether that meant they were still awake from a long night of debauchery or they’d chosen this as breakfast, Seteth could not say. He’d never admit it aloud, but most dwarves looked rather the same to him, and they were among the toughest whose true feelings he could discern. An oddity, perhaps; after all, many dwarves played into the stereotypes he saw on display here now. But many of these dwarves harbored unique grudges, or loved deeply, or listened to sonnets and wrote poetry, or had phobias most members of the other races could never comprehend. By the time Seteth had finished pondering what these dwarven folk were pondering, he and Quintesa were outside the humid confines of the caves and free to enjoy the soft winds portending a great stretch of land comprised of plains, canyons, rivers, saurians, and the abandoned ramshackle settlements of many a dead razurath. Yet it was beyond much of this, all the way into the outskirts of the largest forest in Lithrydel – larger still than the Sage, even – that they needed to travel. It would be a while yet before they arrived, and by then the purpling skies would no doubt be blue.

Quintessa gives Seteth a smile after hearing that his convictions were similar to hers and the changeling snaps Bloodbeak's reigns to order him to pick up the pace. They had reached the land of the dwarves and with this place lived the memories of the Red Skull Arena. Defeating Gevurah and punishing her for cheating had earned Quintessa a bit of popularity among the dwarves, but most of the common folk scurrying around didn't recognize her. Somehow Quintessa preferred it that way. The world had already become one massive distraction without thoughts of entertaining her fanbase getting in the way. Still lost in memories, the hex blade did not expect the sight of the former Razurath settlements to shake her the way it did. Just like it was yesterday the smell of he burning flesh tickled her nose along with the scent of fresh blood. The coppery taste lingered in her mouth long enough for her to start clicking her tongue, trying desperately to convince herself that his wasn't real, that it was simple a hollow memory, but it was no use. With a heavy sigh Quintessa slinks back into her saddle, mismatched eyes drifting back over to Seteth as her mount slows. "I remember now why I've been avoiding this place..." the changeling mutters, the jovial feeling from killing the giant frogs all but vanished as she was forced to confront something that had haunted her for almost an entire year. "They did it to themselves, y'know," Quintessa begins without being asked, "The Razurath couldn't even cast magic, so they enslaved necromancers, but they designed that spell themselves." A lithe finger points to the sky in the north-west. "That's where we were," The odd girls mannerisms revered back to the pseudo-militant posture that she adopted as a child solider. "Master Kasyr and I made our assault on the castle, but the Razurath had abandoned it, leaving the bodies of hundreds of sacrifices in their wake. When I headed north to meet with the armies I didn't expect the trap I walked right into…"

The Blood She Would Forget

Seteth lacked Lady Dragana’s excellent eyesight but even as a human he could see where she pointed and understand the words she spoke. He felt hollow just thinking about the disaster, as if the entire notion was just too big, too epic in scope, for a lad like him to wrap his head around. “Whatever happened out here,” he began, slowing his mare’s pace when Quintessa did and then speeding her up again when his companion hastened, “I know you had your reasons.” Was that enough? Should he have said more? Perhaps now was a time to comfort the girl, but he didn’t know how. Seteth was nearly as young as she was; and besides, like her, he didn’t exactly grow up in an environment prime for the learning of such things. “Had I been by your side, I would have joined you in the action.” An obvious statement, he knew, but one he felt needed saying all the same. “We’ll do what we came here to do and exit scene right as quickly as we can.” In the distance, four-legged sauropods roamed, reducing the nearest trees to branches. Maybe that was statement enough – there was a circle to the living, and the living did what they needed in order to go on living. Quintessa had done what she needed to do to survive, because she was there in the heat of the moment and might well have died otherwise. Herenbyrg, a hamlet within Venturil’s vast lands so small that it seldom appeared on any map, was upon them now. The road weaved through it, and it was here that Seteth intended to meet with his contact who had sent the letter concerning a mad wizard who wielded what may have been a crystal the thief needed to procure. He hopped off his horse at the stable and handed the reins to an overly thin stableboy with dusty, blond hair. Somehow he felt certain that Quintessa would not do the same with Bloodbeak. Not that it mattered overmuch; barely anyone was awake here at this hour, and Seteth’s contact was standing in the center of town by a simple stone well. He was a heavy-set, red-haired man with powerful biceps and a greatsword strapped to his back. “Hark,” the man said, and Seteth waved a finger casually in response. “Quintessa, this is Steiner. Steiner, this is Quintessa.”

Quintessa 's stare was in a different place, in a different time. Seteth was right in front of her but he felt transparent. Even his words felt muddled and distant until he said 'I know you had your reasons' and the changeling's eyes snapped up to look refocus on him. "It's better you didn't witness that," she said finally, remembering how high the piles stacked. "Yes, let's just move on. I'll need to get used to seeing Venturil again, like it or not. Perhaps some sense of closure will come from spending time here, who knows?" Always searching for that silver lining. Pushing her emotions back down again like she had done so many times before, Quintessa's blue and hazel eyes took in the small hamlet before her. Stopping a few meters short of the village proper, the changeling dismounted her cockatrice and gave him the command to linger nearby. Bloodbeak would comply, likely hunting or something, but never wandering too far away. Meanwhile, Quintessa rejoined Seteth. "Steiner," the baroness greeted, lowering the hood of her cloak before offering him a slight tilt of her cranium as her hand idly rested on the hilt of her sword. "Lovely weather, no?" The hex blade eyed the man carefully. After her fight with the frogs Quintessa wouldn't be caught off-guard so easily again, and while this man was Seteth's contact, the changeling had no personal reason to trust him. "Shall we get on with it then?" The woman added, addressing both of them this time.

Seteth || “We shall,” the stableboy shouted in all too formal a tongue for a young lad from Herenbyrg. Seteth turned around slowly, as perplexed as it seemed his contact Steiner felt as well. “This some brand of trick?” Seteth asked, immediately wondering whether the stableboy was in fact the mad wizard. “Because if so, you’ve saved us the trouble of finding you, which is really rather darling when you get right down to it.” The stableboy chuckled and appeared on the cusp of a confirmation. Seteth was prepared, with the hilts of two knives slipped down from their hiding place and grasped by nimble fingers. He trusted that Quintessa would be ready, too – more ready than he himself could be, in fact. And while he hadn’t known Steiner long, he’d seen what the big man could do, and in times like these that was frequently enough. “My heart says yes, but my mind… well, it doesn’t exist.” The stableboy did not offer much by way of time for the others to process his meaning, because as soon as he said the words he vanished into thin air, replaced by his own mangled corpse. In a vivid, traumatic flash, the entirety of Herenbyrg was aflame, its wooden houses in various states of collapse, its townsfolk charred to a crisp. It had the feeling of realness, the unmistakable smell of burning flesh not unlike what Quintessa recalled of the razurath. The dead seemed to have been here for hours, and the buildings, though their flames burned brightly, were all in danger of the complete kind of collapse that came with the passage of time. Even Steiner was gone; he had seemed earnestly perplexed by the stableboy, yet there was his corpse, twisted, neck snapped, his greatsword thrust down his own spine wickedly. Nothing was alive in Herenbyrg anymore, nothing but Quintessa and Seteth and Bloodbeak. Even the thief’s horse had met a cruel end, her stable having revealed itself to be in a state of inferno. “Now I have a Sagittaean,” a gleeful voice sounded all around them, followed by a chortle which became a sickening laugh. Seteth had long since drawn his blades, and he rushed in front of Quintessa protectively despite his relative weakness to her.

Seteth || “You don’t have a rat’s ass,” he quipped, “and you sure as hell won’t have us.” He smirked defiantly, but then he coughed. It was the smoke. It was filling the center area now, threatening to cut them off from oxygen entirely. “Quintessa,” Seteth suddenly said, his unsubtle eyes in fully panicked display. He hadn’t looked that way mere seconds ago. Why would he now? They could still run. They could be gone from this place, regroup, discuss what the hell had just transpired and plot their retaliation. Yet Seteth was in shock. “I...” He did not receive the privilege of finishing his sentence. He was gone, vanquished from here, his whereabouts unknown. Bloodbeak squawked in anger, and the perpetrator of this massacre laughed once more. “Away with you, then – I already have a changeling. Go on, shoo.” Why didn’t he simply attempt to kill Quintessa? There wasn’t any time to wonder. Abruptly, Lady Dragana was atop Bloodbeak. The sun had risen high and already it was falling. She wasn’t so terribly far from the smoldering ruins of Herenbyrg, but a certain canyon blocked her sight of it. She was almost at Vigilanti Semper now, here for a Warrior’s Guild meeting of the utmost importance. At that meeting, Imperator Lionel O’Connor would deliver her his urgent orders. The war with Xicotl was heating up now, and that was to be at the forefront of her mind. For Quintessa Dragana’s memory had been tampered with. As far as she recalled, she and Seteth were successful in bringing down a weak wizard whose crystal, it turned out, was but a mistakenly-identified snowglobe. Seteth had sighed, wrestled with his ineffectiveness, and asked to be left alone. He was gone, though she did not know quite where. She had other things on her mind – research into artifacts foremost among them. Perhaps there was an unshakable reminder within her of the massacre – no, surely it was the razurath. She had discussed that with Seteth on the way to the weak wizard, hadn’t she? Yet in the days to come, Bloodbeak might stir with fright in his sleep.

Quintessa furrowed her brows in frustration as a heavy haze hung in her mind's eye. Things were not right, her instincts told her so, but her mind could not fight against the magical influence effecting her memory. Quintessa's mother had done much since her 18th birthday in weakening her defenses to outside influences and unluckily for Seteth that had turned out to be horrible timing. "Seteth? I don't feel so good..." There is a moment of clarity the changeling has before the spell takes hold as she looks around at all the destruction. The fires. The smoke. The voice. Quintessa looks upward as if to address the wizard letting out the question, "Another changeling?" before her mismatched eyes flutter closed. She stands for a moment, arms outstretched before her eyes snap back open and the changeling relaxes. "Well, that's one rumor out of the way at least," Quintessa says, flashing a smile into thin air, "For now, though, I have other business to attend to." The hex blade remounts Bloodbeak, who is confused by this whole state of affairs, and stares into the empty space where she falsely remembered Seteth standing, her cheeks burning softly from the blush she tried hiding with the hood of her cloak. "And Seteth, thanks for listening to me during our journey out this way. It's nice to be able to talk about these things." Without wasting anymore time on sentiments, Quintessa snapped the reigns to drive Bloodbeak onward to Vigilanti Semper giving not-Seteth one last "Farwell," before she and her mount disappeared westward. Perhaps soon Quintessa would notice the gaps in her memory or the strange mood of her bird, but presently the hex blade would be distracted by an attractive cartographer named Jessie Raspberry, leaving Seteth to an uncertain fate.