The World is Gone, Let Us Go With It

[Woe]

63rd of Ymiden 720

The Dragoons had charged out several days ago. Meanwhile, all the magi conscripted for the defense of Quacia were left behind, as a last line of defense against a final encroachment of the Creep. Woe wasn't happy about much, but least of all the fact that he was a prisoner in this city when he could be helping to rally troops. He wanted to see the Creep for himself. But as it was, he was left to wallow in his estate.

So, a strange mood fell on Woe one night, and he had an urge to go and get blasted at some ambrosia den or tavern. It didn't often happen, but at times his arcane parasites rattling around in his soul urged him to get high if only to assuage the echo of the Thirst. Replacing one Thirst with another kind.

So Woe brought Balthazar along with him. Fleaface was out on his own business, as usual, so he had to go without his favorite drinking buddy. He wondered if Balthazar was good for holding his liquor. He certainly looked and proved himself tough, but that wasn't always an indicator of constitution.

So they entered a den in the Lair without a name. Woe looked a bit like a gazelle, a bit lost in the mix of the rabble infesting the place. It was noisy with music playing, the scents of smoke and beer and vomit thick in the air. Perfect atmosphere for getting drunk. Woe sat himself down at a central table. Almost as quickly as he took a seat, a drink was set in front of him without asking. He looked around for the potential benefactor but saw nobody.

"Well, Balthazar, what kind of drink does the mage take?"

[Balthazar Black]

63 Ymiden 720

Every night since Woe had gifted him with a sword he was hoping to have and to cherish for arcs to come, Balthazar had been training in his dreamscape. There were only so many hours in the trial and those had to be divided between efforts to prepare for the battle and efforts to prepare and explosive to use against the Creep. Balthazar had almost no time for sword lessons other than those he and Nimue had in the dream land. He'd never found the blind swordsman again. He'd never had a real chance to test himself against that one-time figment of his mind... yet Balthazar was growing closer and closer to looking like that dreamy swordsman every trial. When Woe said he wanted to go out and get drinks, Balthazar thought it was a great idea.

Balthazar was always a fan of drinking with company. Most of his favorite memories had been created while he was drunk with someone and Woe seemed an interesting individual so Balthazar certainly wanted to see him under some strange influence. The mage knew he'd have to pace himself though because for all his practice he wasn't really getting any better at the drinking. He was actually happy about that but he'd never admit it. Nimue insisted on going with Balthazar and Balthazar insisted she come with him. While the mage was more than willing to honor his agreement not to explore the forbidden sections of Woe's home, Nimue had made no such promise. Balthazar feared, because he knew, if she was left alone she'd explore places she was not meant to go.

So she traveled with them a less than silent passenger. She'd materialized because Balthazar insisted it would be rude to lurk around Woe and after the brief introductions Nimue had been rather silent as she traveled behind them. Balthazar had explained that Nimue was an echo bound to a dagger in his possession who had agreed to protect him in return for help protecting her dagger. There was obviously a deeper desire within Nimue but if pressed Balthazar would admit she'd never told him. If Woe pressed Nimue, she'd be equally reluctant to share.

When they arrived in the den with no name Nimue seemed a little more excited than Balthazar but that was only because the mage was better at concealing his emotions. He really liked that the place didn't have a name. Mysterious. Probably illegal. Probably amazing drinks. Why were all the good things illegal? The smell wasn't great but it foretold of a good time. Balthazar was partial to tables in the corner so he could watch the rest of the bar but he wouldn't argue with Woe's decision to sit in a central table. He took a seat across from Woe while Nimue sat beside Balthazar- her "drink" for the evening. Theirs was a strange arrangement. Balthazar's brow raised curiously when the drink was presented to Woe.

Hey, Fuego? Balthazar reached out with his thoughts to the diri he knew would likely be on his foot if he looked down. Fuego had a habit of following at a distance and then crawling behind something or crawling onto Balthazar to hide. They both knew it couldn't be seen by anyone other than the other Fire Forged, but Fuego was plagued by a fear of what if? And maybe, just maybe, a small part of Fuego liked hiding.

Yeah? The spirits little smouldering voice squeaked in Balthazar's mind.

Can you- But before Balthazar could finish his thought, Woe had asked him a question about what he wanted to drink.

"Whatever hits him quickly and doesn't taste horrible." Nimue answered for Balthazar who gave her a stern look for answering a question posed to him. She didn't seem to get why he was upset. "What?" Balthazar sighed and moved on.

"She isn't wrong." He admit. "What's good in Quacia?"

[Woe]

Woe didn't know the place they arrived at. It was just another dive, run by one Viceman or another. One was shut down or raided by the Theocratum, one after another, and then another sprung up the very next night. They cycled all the time, and the struggle against corruption was indelible.

He was surprised at Balthazar's forthrightness about the nature of his companion, like a ghost. "You know... I'm not without my own ghosts. I'd not choose them as my preferred company, however... Half of the reason why I keep some copper nel on me at all times." Woe reached into his coat pocket, and twirled the handful of nels in his hand, wary of the ghost.

Woe began quilting his tangle, overlaying gray emotion over gray, until he was well protected against outbursts he was prone to when getting wasted. Soon enough, however, they brought a strange concoction before the two, setting it on the center of the table. Woe nodded to the server, a surly barrel gutted man with sweat stains on his shirt. The man grunted wordlessly, and then went off to serve the next table.

All three of the companions had three mugs, with which they were expected to scoop out the pray soup.

Woe quirked a brow at the strange concoction, which had a variety of mushrooms floating on the surface, and the liquid glowed with an iridescent red light. Possibly with some blood grape essence or other alchemical enhancements. "I've heard of this concoction. It's called Pray soup. Very strong stuff, are you ready to go on a bender? There's no telling how it'll affect a person... it's said it's either enhanced by alchemists or transmuters. A real mage's drink... But I suppose I can call for some purple whiskey if you would rather?"

Woe slapped down some silver nel on the table and gestured for the server. "Algo especial de Yaralon ultimamente?" Woe asked him in vahanic, so he would understand.

"Nerr..." The man grumbled. Woe tapped his fingers against the table. For a few bits, he fidgeted, watching the two companions with a thin smile on his face. Finally, after what seemed like a bit stretched into an age, the surly server came back with a cask of watered down purple whiskey. As he poured it into the mugs on hand, Balthazar would note the lack of quality by the fluid's transparency. It was far too light compared to the real thing.

Woe shrugged apologetically, then took a sip of the purple whiskey. It was still quite strong, even for him. But he was very much looking forward to the main course of pray soup.

He overlaid another layer of quilting over his tangle, to protect himself from emotional outbursts, as he watched Balthazar and Nimue.

[Balthazar Black]

63 Ymiden 720

Balthazar had met ghosts both benevolent and malicious so when Woe said he had a few ghosts of his own, the mage's curiosity was piqued. What sort of ghosts? Where did he keep their anchors? Did they really allow Woe just to leave them at home? Balthazar assumed the more he left Nimue on her own, the worse she would get. He knew ghosts deteriorated but he didn't know how it happened. Perhaps he should have looked into it if he wanted to keep Nimue around? He was growing quite fond of her unusual ways after all. Nimue did not seem to appreciate the mention of copper nels. Her eyes narrowed on Woe when his hand slipped into his pocket but she didn't lash out at him because she knew Balthazar would be furious if she did.

When the strange bowl of pray soup was brought out, Balthazar examined it curiously. It didn't look great so it must have been amazing... that was how alcohol worked right? Thought it looked as if there was a little more than booze in the bowl. The only thing really giving Balthazar pause was the name of the concoction."There was a drug in Yaralon called Pray, not exactly something I'd want to try again but if you think the soup is the best bet, I'll try it." Balthazar explained. Part of him was upset he hadn't brought any ether-dust from Scalvoris because he was certain Woe would enjoy a little of it. As an Element, technically Balthazar shouldn't have had any in his possession... but Isabella was a smuggler and a great friend who always gave wonderful gifts. "None of the transmuters I know told me they could make drinks." Balthazar added when the watered down purple whiskey was brought to him

Well... that was disappointing. Balthazar took a sip and noticed the overtone of water immediately, but only because he was so familiar with the real thing. It was still a strong drink and Balthazar would have to nurse it slowly if he was also going to dive into this Pray soup. "Well... we aren't in Yaralon." Balthazar reminded himself aloud as he set his cup back down on the table. Nimue had already filled her mug with Pray soup and was pushing it towards Balthazar.

"Here, hurry up and try this." Nimue urged before setting back into her seat to watch Balthazar. He picked up the mug Nimue had given him and then looked towards Woe.

"Cheers?" Balthazar held the mug up to Woe with a small grin on his face. Whatever this was, it was going to be either very interesting or very disappointing.

[Woe]

"I'm surprised you haven't more ghosts about you." Woe said, sensing in Balthazar's tapestry of emotions a hint of confusion. He took it to be confusion over his mention of ghosts, but then it could've been anything. Perhaps his mind was elsewhere. Empathy did not impart an ability to read minds, and reading emotions was hard enough on its own.

"With you being a soldier and mercenary of sorts... I would've thought you'd killed many people." Woe smirked as he took a sip of the Pray soup, raising it to the air as Balthazar did. "I suppose you gave them a reason to want to stay down then. Such brutality bodes well for our cause."

Woe drank more deeply of the soup the more he had, every sip tasting better than the last. It hadn't hit him yet. "The Creep will only suffer if we commit mortal blows to it. Changelings are squishy enough, but the Trees? Those will require considerable firepower to get to their hearts."

Woe found the drink very pleasant, cloying sweetness with the earthy undertones of the fungi. Pray was a specialty of Quacia, but perhaps it had chanced to spread as far as Yaralon. Or the other way around. He wasn't sure. It was hard to tell with such different cities. He'd actually heard that Yaralon was among the first cities of men. Upon sighting the grand structures of Quacia and ancient stonework, he had to disagree, at least insofar as appearances went. Quacia was a true civilization. Yaralon was little more than a mudpile.

As he took more of the pray soup, it warmed his stomach. Eventually, however, he began to perceive distortions in his sight. Not only that, but his magical senses began to betray him. He saw threads where there shouldn't be any. How could a chair be angry? And how could he imagine a color that had never existed?! He heard voices on the air. Could've almost sworn, one of them sounded like Magpie. "Magpie?" He whispered as he turned around, "Is that you?"

Emma Heen? Are you there? He thought into the ether. But no answer. Yet he knew they would not be far away from him. Heen was always with him, as was Erastus, although his impression upon the world of the living faded with everyday. He suspected quite that Heen was feeding upon Erastus when Woe wasn't watching...

"Are you there, Balthazar?" Woe said, trying to see through the thick spread of threads and tangles. It seemed his arcane senses were betraying him... He attempted to conjure his abrogative spark, to mute the Empathy... That seemed to help for a moment, but then Woe was blown right off his chair by the force of an abrogative barrier... Into the lap of a large burly brawler type.

The burly man looked down at Woe, and glowered deeply. "Sorry honey, not my type, herhehrher." And he threw Woe to the side, easily knocking him to the ground.

[Balthazar Black]

63 Ymiden 720

Woe raised an interesting point, Balthazar had to admit. He had killed quite a few people and so it would have made sense that there were more ghosts lingering around and/or stalking him. He considered those who he'd killed in his trials but none of them seemed the particularly vengeful sort. Assassins, duelists, mage hunters, mercenaries, criminals... Maybe it was a good thing that Balthazar had Nimue around to keep a look out for other vengeful ghosts? "I suppose I'm more frightening to those I kill than I thought." Balthazar admit before taking a sip of his Pray soup. A unique taste that Balthazar didn't quite enjoy at first but there was a certain warmth that washed down with the drink. "The Creep will burn the same as everything else." Balthazar said a little more flippantly than he meant to before taking another sip from his soup.

Nimue watched Balthazar as he continued to take small drinks from his strange drink. She'd never have drank anything with fungi floating on the top of it but the benefit of Balthazar was that he could endure the disgusting drink and she'd be able to syphon the best part of it. Only Nimue notices something that was not good at all. Whatever this drink was, it was strong. Balthazar swayed slightly and his eyes widened as he realized he shouldn't have tried it. Woe was saying something but Balthazar couldn't hear him over the sound of the frequencies in the room. Nimue placed a hand on Balthazar's when he set his drink down and she began syphoning off his emotional energy to try and keep him calm and to keep her... buzzed.

It helped some but not nearly enough to offset how seriously Balthazar was beginning to trip out. The benefit of Defiance was that it was not simply Balthazar manifesting and bending the elements to his will, it was a conversation with his friends. As Balthazar became more and more intoxicated, his friends, the elements couldn't quite understand what he wanted from them. A movement of the hand came with a gust of wind every once in a while but nothing incredibly destructive happened. The real problem came from Balthazar's other two magics. Rupturing and Attunement. Balthazar had always been able to perceive all motion around his body due to his Rupturing spark but suddenly that perception became muddled. Was he moving or was the chair moving. Why was Nimue walking away from the table? Wait was he walking away?

Where are you going? Fuego asked as he floated up from the ground to Balthazar's shoulder. The mage panicked, thinking someone had hurled a hot rock at him for a second before Nimue closed in and grabbed Balthazar's arms.

"Sit back down, Balthazar." Nimue insisted.

"What do you mean? I am sitting." Balthazar argued for a moment before realizing that he had indeed stood up and walked from the table. He looked around slowly. "Woe! Woe where are you? I can't find my cup!"

[Woe]

"Interesting company you keep. Maybe try harder, finding someone who can hold their toxins." Came the voice of Heen to Woe's head. He shook his head. "The woman looks particularly tempting. It's unfortunate that she appears to be dead."

Woe squinted, his vision beginning to return after the jolt that the barman gave him, throwing him off of his lap. "Hold on... Black, try suppressing your magic. This stuff is making my sparks go haywire..."

Heen hummed as Woe toiled on the ground, trying to get his bearings. He sought some clarity amidst the confusion, reducing his thoughts to nothing. Once that was done, all that was left were the false visions and voices, and Heen's voice of course which purred little nothings into Woe's ear. He grumbled at that.

Even so, he began a systematic muting of each of his sparks, starting with attunement, then empathy, and finally hone. At that point, he tried establishing a field of magical inertia at least around his frontal space. At that point, he felt still quite buzzed, but the hallucinations stopped. He attempted to extend the field as best he could to Balthazar's, but didn't have much confidence he'd succeed at dampening the much more powerful mage's energies. Still worth a try.

He walked over toward Balthazar, and laid a hand on his shoulder. Woe jumped slightly as the touch shocked him with a zap of static energy. As he spoke, his hair began to stand on end. "Listen to your friend, Balthazar, take a seat and calm it with the magic? I don't think it helps matters... But in the meantime, maybe some drink less, uh, potent."

After saying that, his hand slipped from the mage's shoulder, and he took his seat again. Emma Heen still hovered about, not yet materialized, but watching the proceedings with great interest. Woe lifted a hand to get the barman's attention. "Maybe some beer, if we have any left."

In the distance, the sounds of battle could be heard outside Quacia's wall as the Dragoons continued to sally out to meet the Creep. The drink couldn't come fast enough, in Woe's opinion as he continued to put his sparks in abrogative shackles, so to speak.

To Balthazar, if the mage calmed down and saw fit to join them, "I wish we were out there, with the Dragoons. I fear those who are left in the city will prove far less lucky in the end."

[Balthazar Black]

63 Ymiden 720

"Boo." Balthazar protested as he was corralled back into his seat by Nimue and Woe. Once he was sitting again he did as Woe had said and with a deep breath and quickly faded into giggles followed by a deep breath that did not, Balthazar soothed his Defiance spark (he was already soothing the other one). As he did, his skin began to dull slightly and grew a little colder to the touch. The familiar shocks of electricity that came every time someone or something touched him ceased and his hair laid just a little flatter around his head. But his eyes glowed a little more brightly now than they had a few trills before. Then Balthazar laughed softly again. "That felt funny." He mumbled before looking toward Woe. "Hey! When did you get back?" Nimue scooted her chair a little closer to Balthazar's and placed a hand on his shoulder before her form softened slightly and she began syphoning emotional energy from Balthazar. It was... good stuff to put it simply. A grin spread over her ghostly face and she settled back slightly into her chair.

It didn't occur to Balthazar to try and take things a step further to jam his own magics. It certainly didn't occur to him to try and jam Woe's magics until he felt something strange happening to his sparks. He felt as if some invasive ether was trying to turn them down... to weaken or mute them. Pushing his focus into Woe's frequency was the knee-jerk reaction to the feeling of invasion but in the end he didn't do anything simply because he forgot why he was listening in when he started doing it. Woe's lament about missing the battle more than occupied Balthazar's thoughts while he drank more of his watered down purple whiskey.

"I understand wanting to fight more than most but we'll have our time." Unusual patience from the rather intoxicated Yari. He'd been around Quacia long enough now to know the Creep was not a simple foe. Some places had wolves but Quacia had plant life that learned from every loss. They were going to have to be creative and to hit hard if they wanted to put the Creep down and even then... how long until it came back? "We should take it as a good sign that we haven't seen a lot of battle." Balthazar said optimistically. After all, why not make the Defier fight on the front lines all the time? They were valuable to a degree and the fact that they hadn't been used to a fuller extent yet proved that there were still other resources for the Dragoons to rely on... hopefully. "Or it could be a very, very bad one."

[Woe]

As he tried to keep his magic under abrogative lock and key, he could feel the Arachnid stirring within him, clawing and feeling with its pincers. Yet the Abrogative Gaoler was well accustomed to that particular entity's ministrations and was able to make a prison of its own threads. Slowly, Woe began to calm down again, the pray soup beginning to wane and fade in effect with the less arcane power he exerted. Abrogation wasn't an art he'd learned much of in the aftermath of Stoll's death. It'd taught him of its capabilities largely by dint of being imparted to him.

Thus Woe sat, sipping and nursing his purple whiskey, as he listened vaguely to what Balthazar said about the fighting. As if on cue, they received a sign just then.

A dragoon trooper came in, panting and out of breath as he searched the common room of the tavern with his gaze. Finally, his eyes landed on Woe and Balthazar, and he stiffened.

"Trooper Black, Trooper Morandi! We have need of you on the lines, the Creep... they are making a push for the walls. It won't be long before they reach them!"

Woe gave a look to Balthazar, as if to chastise the mage for tempting faith with his prior words. But then shrugged. He stood. As it happened, he was wearing his armor. A strange choice of garment, given the setting and the rudeness of wearing armor in a crowded tavern. Yet nobody seemed the mind the others who did so. He had to be ready for war, so he took it with him on the way to the tavern.

Well, nevermind the convenience of it. He knew the call would come any day or break for the magi to join the fight against the Creep. He stood from his chair, and nodded to Balthazar, "I suppose it's our time to shine then. Are you ready to meet the enemy head-on?" Woe asked.

In the distance, siege machinery and the artillery blasts of rocks on the landscape could be heard and felt. This might be their last night on Idalos, but for Sintra Woe would mark it well.

[Balthazar Black]

63 Ymiden 720

When the Dragoon burst onto the scene, short of breath and with eyes darting around in search of his quarry, Balthazar had a bad feeling that he had come for the mystic duo. He wasn't in the best condition but Nimue's syphoning had done more than enough to help level Balthazar out. He was confident that by the time they reached wherever it was they were to go, he would feel perfectly fine... or at least fine enough. Balthazar stood as the Dragoon addressed them and told them where they were needed. The Creep had made it to the wall? Then they'd stop it there with fire and blood.

"Well you said you wanted to fight." Balthazar remarked to Woe as they began moving with the Dragoon back to where he'd come from. Nimue was probably ecstatic that they'd be seeing some combat but now that the time had come Balthazar had to admit he was more nervous than eager. He'd get his chance to try and attune to the Creep but at what cost? Like Woe, Balthazar wore his armor with him as he moved around Quacia. He hadn't in his first few trials there but he'd learned rather quickly that danger lurked around every corner. He didn't wear the full suit, only the pieces that protected him the most without getting in his way. "So let's go fight."