Closed Happenstance

[Velho]

༺༉ ❁ spring 12 year 123 of the third age ❁ ༉༻
<notes>

Despite his general frailty and lethargy, Velho still did enjoy traveling around Ælheim from time to time and would often take excuses to do so– when convenient, at least. And so it was that he had agreed to make the journey to Græntún at a client's request. They'd approached him unsure if he'd be willing to make the trip, but it was…an interesting proposition. Supposedly, some Fælnir had failed to amicably solve a problem and it boiled over into violence resulting in a few deaths.

The profound emotionality of the matter left some lingering spirits behind in the form of Ghosts, and those Ghosts were proving to be more than a bit of a nuisance to any of the locals that headed out that way. It was an herbalist from Rømskog that had initially contacted Velho, notifying him of this predicament and requesting help because the area of the incident had been a place where some select few valuable plants were known to grow– having Ghosts there was hurting her business and that of others, and they had not a clue what to do about it other than contacting him.

In part due to his weakness, Velho didn't make this journey alone– the withered ælf had brought along his Fælnir assistant, Æhti, to do much of the heavier lifting. They'd utilized the services of an Exodii to travel from Thokkmyrr all the way to Rømskog, but had to make the rest of the journey through their own means. In this case, that meant rented horseback as Velho would've taken ages to walk out into the forests by himself. The ælf and his companion were dressed for travel, with durable, dark clothing of fine make and cloaks to stave off the cold– Ælheim didn't warm up much until the last month of spring.

Prior to departing, Velho did pay a visit to the families and friends of the deceased, gathering a few objects of sentiment for each person– there were three– as such things made the process of Ferriment far easier. They weren't given the most precise directions in the world, but detecting the presence of the undead was easy enough for Velho– their Ethos hung like ethereal ribbons to anything the Ghosts spent enough time near. After riding for a short time, he spotted numerous strips of the strange, miasmatic cloth and it was immediately evident why. Though the Ghosts were dormant for now, the bodies of the deceased had been very much left behind to rot, cocooned tightly in their Ethos.

"Æhti, tie the horses, will you…? I'm going to grow the basin and get started– I suppose this is as good a location as any…" Velho instructed, trailing off at the end as he dismounted.

"Aye, sure…suppose I'll keep an eye out for anything lurking 'round, too," the younger of the two replied before doing as he was told.

Afterwards, the human stepped away to look around, but he did not stray too far.

With the corpses some few feet away, the first step for Velho was to create the basin he'd use for Ferriment. Conveniently for him, he could easily just grow one out of the nearby plants using his Druidism– a process that would take a few minutes to complete.

 

[Abraia]

Gentle steps, light brushes against the foliage. Abraia was accustomed to being outside of the city. She couldn't help it. None in this world, save perhaps the wisps, knew the efforts she went through to keep the magnitude of what went on inside her basement a secret. She had to source much of what she used on her own or through other, more expensive means than strictly necessary.

She knew this area well enough. The exact herbs and plants were easy to spot after years of practice. She held a basket in her hand, divided into dozens of tiny sections with multiple layers to boot. She'd half filled it by the time she came face to face with another.

"G'day." She spoke politely to the human. Had it been an elf, she would have stayed silent and left. But they were only human. She doubted many humans would notice or care what she was doing.

Even the human she would pay little attention to unless he pressed or posed a danger. She knelt down to examine the stems of a plant then snipped it with a practiced flourish of a secateur.

 

[Velho]

༺༉ ❁ spring 12 year 123 of the third age ❁ ༉༻
<notes>

In truth, Æhti had not expected to run into anyone during the few laps he intended to take around what would become the ritual site. Realistically, he'd simply wanted to step away from Velho, tenuous as their relationship was. And yet, in this sweep, he'd found somebody.

A girl, a Fælnir, like him. Out here to gather herbs, perhaps? At least…that's what they'd been told people did in this area. Maybe she'd hoped to not run into the bodies, maybe she'd not been aware they were here…maybe she didn't care. Hard for him to say. Æhti was curious, though. He hadn't had much time to socialize since acquiring his most recent job.

"G'day…I'm surprised to see anyone out here. You not concerned about the restless undead rumored to be 'round these parts?" He'd ask, perhaps oddly nonchalant given the nature of the question.

With his skills, minor apparitions did not concern him.

As for Velho, he wasn't all that far away– but he was obscured by trees. Absorbed in his work, he wasn't paying enough attention to realize that Æhti had run into somebody. And, frankly, he wouldn't care what the boy did as long as he wasn't interrupted by some obnoxious intrusion or another.

With the basin of plant matter formed, he continued forth with his preparations; the next step being to fill it with Pathos. Even as a master, forming enough of it for this purpose could take a moment. Holding his hands over the basin, the slick, oily black fluid of Pathos dripped into it from his palms like a slow faucet.

 

[Abraia]

Abraia waved her hand. "I came here because of the rumors thinking I would not run into anyone. The rumors drive away the afraid. That leaves more for people like me."

She spoke logically, a simple recitation of what she told herself when she got scared. She hadn't been wrong if her basket's weight was any indication.

"What brings you here? Are YOU not concerned?" he did not look like he was there to pick herbs. He did not look like he was going to murder her either. He was momentarily a mystery and she liked those.

"You a hunter? Just passing by? A kind soul who stopped to warn me? Actually, I heard horses that didn't continue down the path. Multiple. I take it you're here with a group then." There were only so many reasons why he would be here especially with others. It drove her nuts not knowing.

 

[Velho]

༺༉ ❁ spring 12 year 123 of the third age ❁ ༉༻
<notes>

A small smile drew itself upon Æhti's lips.

"All fair questions," he began with a short nod. He then crossed his arms over his chest, albeit loosely enough that his posture didn't yet look too defensive.

"My employer and I are here to banish the restless dead. Well, that's his job…" the young man trailed off, thinking for a moment.

"I'm more of a guard if things go wrong–" he realized that, being unarmed and armored only with padded cloth, he certainly did not look like any guard.

She might not believe him, he thought…and not wanting to sow distrust, Æhti continued. "I, um…being in my master's employ allows me to practice magic freely. I've mastered Abation, and since his work almost always leaves him some few shades of distracted, he requires an extra set of eyes, preferring spellcaster to swordsman."

The young Aboteur blinked, an alertness suddenly appearing behind icy blue eyes. "Which, uh…speaking of, I ought to tarry a wee bit closer to him. I see you're an herbalist? You…you can stick around me if you'd like. He– well, I can help ward away the Ghosts, should they show themselves whilst you finish up," he offered somewhat awkwardly.

Æhti could see from her bag that it was almost full, but almost was often not good enough for most folks when venturing out into the woods like this.

He gestured in the general direction Velho was, but waited to move until she gave her answer. Meanwhile, the Ferrier had, at this point, finished filling the basin with what appeared to be shimmering black oil. By now, he did wonder where Æhti was…but wasn't yet concerned enough to shift away from his task. The next part was arguably what took the longest; gathering up all of the cold, gossamer cloth of Ethos that lingered 'round the scene and combining it with that which he could pull off of the items he'd collected from their families.

 

[Abraia]

She thought about what he had said. Several things stood out. "You have MASTERED ablation? That is a wild claim. I know better than any that the elves would have you sundered. Happened to both my parents. Unless your master is the most generous elf in all of Aelheim. I would not say that about the elf I work for. If he knew the things I were truly capable of…"

She lost herself in thought for some time. Then, "Herbalist? No. Alchemist, a damn good one at that. Alas, let us tarry. If you are as strong as you say then the threat must be more dire than I thought. I will accompany you. I have never witnessed warding before. Is it entertaining? Violent? Scary?"

Abraia was still not scared. If a ghost were to claim her life it would merely be releasing her from servitude under the elves. When she did leave this realm she only hoped it was quick and painless.

 

[Velho]

༺༉ ❁ spring 12 year 123 of the third age ❁ ༉༻
<notes>

Æhti smiled weakly, embarrassed, at the young lady's shock. He gave her a shrug with his palms held up in front of him, as if he didn't quite know what to say. "I-...both your parents? That's a terrible loss..I'm, ah, I'm sorry."

The boy was a bit awkward.

"You know, I thought I'd be killed for it too– that's why I kept my talents hidden for quite some time, but…my master's, ah…really? Weird? I don't know how to explain it," he attempted to inform her, but he was telling the truth: he really didn't understand why Velho was…the way he was.

Still, he continued, unsure if his answer was good enough, "he likes to claim that I'm 'too useful' to kill, but I don't know what that means and he won't ever elaborate. Alls' I can say is that he's got a lot of influence, being the son of Hespæria's founder n' all."

It was a bizarre position to be in, really, because he was well aware that many of his kin were killed for lesser skill than his own. "...downside is I'm beholden to his will. Dunno what the future holds, but if I can keep on his good side, I won't be made into some stupid trinket, at least…" he trailed off, blinking, sounding almost afraid.

When she responded with her profession, he looked curious. "Alchemist! Good choice. I've no talent with the crafts meself, just Galdr," Æhti sounded impressed.

"But the process– master calls it 'Ferriment' – is fascinating to behold. You can watch, I think…it's nothing secret. At least, all the ælves seem to know about it and there's been no pressure to keep me quiet on the subject. Come," he explained, walking a little ways through the trees behind him.

When they came across Velho, it might look like he was grasping at nothing at all at first, but when his hands made contact with the cloth-like substance that was Ethos, it would glow blue, visible to all. He appeared to be grabbing strands of it off of the bodies, tree branches and the like near to them, so on, and twisting it all up into a massive ball, not unlike yarn.

When Æhti arrived, guest in tow, he stopped for a moment. The tall, yet skeletal looking ælf paused, his tired, lavender gaze shifting onto the pair.

"You found a friend…?" He chuckled slightly, shrugged, and then went back about what he was doing. "I trust you warned her about the Ghosts…she can stay, but mind, 'tis not my responsibility to do anything but the sacrament."

"Yes, yes, master– she said she's fine with the risk. Wanted to see what you do. Won't be a bother, promise," Æhti replied.

And to the one accompanying him, "...um, if you have questions, you can ask me. I know…enough, I think."

'Enough' was accurate. Æhti knew exactly enough; no more, not everything.

Velho simply nodded, slowly meandering back to the basin of Pathos.

 

[Abraia]

"Quite alright, I don't mourn them any longer. It was their fault in the end. In a way I think they were happy to have died to help the elves. It sounds like your elf is one of the good ones. I wish I could explore my full potential so you are indeed lucky."

She followed along
and hummed a nice song
until they came across an elf who did not look the least bit strong.

His attitude was typical and she gave him a scowl
That was hidden quite well by her cowl

"A pleasant one to be around," she murmured to Aehti
"Tell me, is this process messy?"

She had not brought her book of spells, in fact it had gone empty.
Her materials all consumed up in experiments, in her wallet not a penny.

"Do you at least know what metaphor is in use?
As a student of magic I may be able to make use of this news."

 

[Velho]

༺༉ ❁ spring 12 year 123 of the third age ❁ ༉༻
<notes>

The young Galsterei did consider himself lucky, as much as his station made him anxious. Though he was at Velho's mercy, it was better to deal with a devil he knew than one he didn't– better to keep in Velho's good graces than be forced to live in hiding…or worse. He nodded solemnly at the girl's words regarding her parents, understanding that such was the way of things.

"He is…chaotic, eccentric; maybe 'good' somewhere deep inside, but…I know not from where his kindness comes. Still, I'll take strange over being a corpse," he responded with a small shrug.

From her tone and the way she seemed to bristle, Æhti could tell she'd picked up on the ubiquitous apathy– bordering on cruelty– every ælf held at minimum towards the Fælnir. Her comment pushed an amused sort of exhale out of him.

"Master's definitely a charmer, that's for sure," his soft voice amply sarcastic.

"...but messy? It…can be. It can agitate the Ghosts as he goes, and they will attack the living who linger nearby…which actually, is usually me over him. Perhaps because I, um…I possess a bit more vim and vigor than him?" His tone made it clear this was a guess more than anything. "Should be fine, though, these Ghosts are newly born, their corpses only just starting to decay. It's generally only risky when dealing with the ones who've had time to fester."

And when she inquired after the Metaphor his master utilized, Æhti paused for a second. "He weaves his spells with Miasmata in this case."

This was half true, but 'correct' if one asked anyone who wasn't themselves Blighted. Scourge was entrenched in the Ferrier role of Æld'Norai culture, introduced by one of their ancients long, long ago. He wove elaborate lies, and none who are not cursed as he knew the truth: that Scourge's power was derived from the Night Father's Absentia, and through that does it affect Miasmata.

Carrying the spooled Ethos was an inherently draining thing to Velho's Absentia, too, though with his mastery and the relatively small amount of it, he was faring fine. But the risks of this sacred sacrament finally made manifest as he stood over the basin of Pathos and gently began to lower the ball into it– the second the Ethos began to burn away within it, the apparitions of the three deceased made themselves known.

They were flickering, shimmering, abstractions of what each had been in life– and, even, as they had died. Their wounds lingered, and so too did the haunting expressions they bore when they were slain. The rage, the sorrow– all of it cut deep into their memories.

Their attack was not coordinated, with one of them attempting to Syphon Metaphor from the withering Ferrier and the remaining pair going after the two humans. But, Æhti had been correct; they were newly formed Ghosts, weak and fickle. Velho simply ignored them, lowering the ball of Ethos further into the Pathos; it glowed a bright, icy blue, shimmering and sizzling into a frigid mist before wafting away on the night's breeze.

On the other hand, Æhti was quick to react. He lifted his hands and held both out in front of him towards the aggressing apparitions, each of his palms taking on a gentle, opalescent glow. As he moved, he muttered a quick incantation, and immediately, it was as if time had stopped entirely for all of the Ghosts at once. Through Inermanteia, he'd rendered each entirely inert.

 

[Abraia]

"Miasmata, sounds about right." She took little interest in the dead and undead but a spell or two to handle them just in case was worth having. She studied what was happening as best as she could knowing that she would someday try her luck with a similar spell.

The crafter stood and watched not in the least bit worried because she was convinced this lot knew what they were doing. There was only one moment when things looked off but Aehti took care of that.

"What was that you said?" she inquired, interest piqued. "Sounded like an incantation, but Galdr magic does not require anything like that to my knowledge." She had heard of magic users throwing their hands around dramatically to be more effective but incantations did not ring a bell.

"Who's paying for all this by the way? Or does your elf make a habit of doing this for fun?"

 

[Velho]

༺༉ ❁ spring 12 year 123 of the third age ❁ ༉༻
<notes>

"Oh, the words exactly are hard to repeat after the fact…the syllables sort of just come to me as I'm channeling the spell. It's not a requirement to cast, no, but it makes the aether flow easier," Æhti explained.

Some Galsterei preferred to use one or the other, many both. It'd be rarer to see a caster forgo both entirely, however, as most spellweavers tend to be covetous of their spell reserves. Mageburn was, after all, something to be avoided– and for many personal Arcana, a fate much worse than death.

Æhti blinked at her phrasing– calling Velho his ælf– but to her second question, "...family of the deceased, I reckon; he said that they wanted their loved ones put to rest…though to be honest, he sometimes does do this sort of thing for his own personal amusement."

At this point, the ball of Ethos was fully submerged in the basin along with the Ferrier's hands. Velho stood still for a moment, waiting until the glacial mist faded away entirely. And when he withdrew his hands, the slick, oily substance of Pathos appeared to slide right off of his skin, leaving nary a trace. In tandem, the apparitions themselves, frozen in space as they were, had begun to rapidly deteriorate, eventually fading into nothing once all of the Ethos had been dissolved.

Velho exhaled something of a sigh; he always found Ferriment to be a thrilling process, but it nevertheless ate into his Absentia. Not moving from where he stood, he lifted a hand a ways into the air in front of him and closed his fingers into a fist, the motion accompanied by a warm, green glow. He might've muttered an incantation himself, but it was too quiet to have heard and difficult to have seen his lips move in the evening's dim light.

The effect of this spell wouldn't be immediately apparent, though if one directed their eyes to the three corpses on the floor, one would soon notice that the foliage around them had begun to stir.

 

[Abraia]

"Oh." She fidgeted with her basket. "you learn something every day. That is useful to know." She felt foolish for her gap in knowledge. Skilled though she was she had little practical experience dealing with magicians.

"Not exactly something I find amusing." She talked slowly while watching the ghosts disappear. It was an impressive display and she could tell the power the elf wielded. It was not something she could easily replicate in her spellbook, that much she was sure of.

She observed the elf and noticed he did not seem to think the process was done. She moved her eyes to seek what else he might be waiting for. This hadn't seemed so dangerous after all.

But then, she let out a squeak of fear when she saw the plants start moving. "Eep!" For a moment she thought the corpses were about to come to life. "What is happening?" she asked the human beside her.

 

[Velho]

༺༉ ❁ spring 12 year 123 of the third age ❁ ༉༻
<notes>

"Sure thing," Æhti answered with a wan smile. He was happy to answer people's questions– curious as he knew himself to be, he liked helping others learn, too.

"It takes a special sort to enjoy this sort of thing; I can appreciate it well enough, but…anything to do with the undead is an acquired taste, I'd imagine," he found Ferriment fascinating, if a bit disturbing.

The foliage around the bodies continued to grow for a moment, roots digging into the flesh.

"Oh– don't worry, he's just helping return them to the earth. Helps with decomposition, keeps predators from being attracted to this area," Æhti explained.

And after a few more moments, the corpses were completely covered with various grasses, flowers, and mosses. Velho himself didn't quite care about warding away predators, more that he did have a soft spot for nature and corpses made for a lovely fertilizer.

With the sacrament complete and the bodies disposed of, the withered ælf turned to Æhti and Abraia. "...this area's cleansed of ghostly disturbances, now. Should be however peaceful it was before once again," he said along with a short nod.

"Rømskog not having their own Ferrier is really a pain, but ah well…" he added.

While the human settlement did have a few Fælnir and one Æld'Norai in charge of handling funerals, none of them were Scourge, and therefore none of them were Ferriers– none capable of banishing unruly spirits.

 

[Abraia]

"PHEW!" she said none to subtly. "If those bodies had come to life I would have been gone in an instant."

She heard the sickly elf announce that he was done which seemed like a natural point for Abraia to get going.

"Thanks for letting me watch," she said with a slight bow. As much as she hated elves she would show forced respect. Better to not get on this one's bad side, she thought.

She looked at Aehti to say "My name is Abraia. I forget if I mentioned it or not. My home is in Græntún. I do not spend much of my time there anymore but if you wish to contact me I'm sure I will get the message. I am a damned good smith, ensorcelling, and alchemistry as well."

She debated bringing up Caelum and how she spent a lot of time working in his area up north but she did not want to linger. Feeling she may have earned a customer, or friend, or both, she nodded to Aehti.

 

[Vicissitude]

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Abraia

+12 XP (~1,200 words)

Velho + Æhti

+28 XP (~2,800 words)

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