B2 Ch. 47 Mount Up

(Sorry about missing last Monday's post.  My whole house was falling apart.  But Ill get you another double soon enough.)

Jonathan Tillman, Level 23 Son of Flame

They departed along with the Sanguine Order shortly after receiving their enchanted pendants.  The whole host shared the road, and Tilly’s group rode up front with the queen on their new mounts until the first town, where they spit off to head further north. From there Sir Micheal and Hilbert led them through the night, only emerging back in the dead plans by the morning light.

Not that concepts like night and day had much meaning in these lands.  The obscured sun, and then full moon painted everything in similar shades of twilight, and the difference in the time of day was more marked by yellow, orange, and silver hues than any increase or decrease in actual light.

As the soft yellow and grey coloration of the morning started to bleed across the cloud-covered sky, they passed by another of the Order’s forts, one that was now manned by a skeleton crew.  They did not hail the gate, but the Guardsmen atop the wall gave them a solute as they galloped by.

Tilly gratefully took in the momentary distraction of the fort and kept his eyes on it for as long as possible before they eventually were dragged back down in morbid fascination to the forms his party’s Nightmare mounts had taken.

Two were harmless enough, following logical lines that Tilly could easily parse out.  Franklin’s mount had taken on the form of an emaciated, skeletal creature, who seemed to be more a husk, than anything living. It gave off the feeling of dried meat, and Tilly took it to mean Franklin feared being without water.  Ichiro’s mount was covered in chains that seemed to wrap it tight, and after his history of being held against his will by the Corrupted tree, that made perfect sense.

Even his mount, while gruesome and nausea-inducing, did not depart too much from the pattern.  It showed veiny Corrupted infection all over its form, even producing several tentacles that undulated slowly in time with its galloping stride.  The Corruption however was just an imitation.  Sitting on the mount caused no reactions from his own infection or the fire in his chest.

Amelia’s was the first of the mounts that he didn't really understand. It was covered in an intentional pattern of thin cuts that always seemed to be bleeding, but never actually left a trail behind the mount.  He didn’t know what it meant and felt like it was invasive to even think about it too much.

That left the final member of their party. Almost against his will, his head turned back to Gorock, who road what was easily the most horrifying of the Nightmares.  The body was sleek and muscular and unlike the last mount, proportionally sized.  It was the picture of anatomical perfection. The head however was a shocking departure from this form.  It abruptly changed into a ghastly caricature of a human head with the mane fusing into a shaggy head of hair and a terrified scream frozen on its face.  Worse of all, It seemed to be able to feel it whenever Tilly looked in its direction, and it turned its head, bobbing along with the galloping motion of its body, and leered at him.

Tilly once again suppressed a shiver and whipped his head forward, feeling dirty for some reason.  Each of them had steeled themselves as their mounts had manifested before them for the first time, but Gorock had squealed in fright when the shadow coalesced into a human head on a horse's body.

The memory once again brought a smile to Tilly’s face.

Sir Micheal raised his hand in a ‘halt’ motion an hour or two later and brought his mount to a stop before dismounting.  Hilbert followed suit pulling out his device and scanning the area in front of him, before gesturing for them to come in closer and beginning to set wards around the group.

“The way ahead is choked with enemies, which is not surprising considering we are almost through the hills.  A little farther and we will clear them and have a full view of the Forgotten Plains and the mountain fortress of Requiem. However, if we continue any further, we will be unable to avoid encountering any scouts.  How do you want to proceed?” He asked as he finished circumnavigating the group and establishing the ward.

Tilly turned towards Ichiro, who nodded for him to go ahead,

“As it stands, the plan is for me to spirit walk into the city and hopefully make contact with an ally.  We don't know how we are going to get in, or out for that matter, but our priority is to make contact with the Facet and figure out how to obtain its ‘Patronage’” Tilly said, attempting to sound more confident than he felt at how vague it all sounded. With so little information it's not like they could come up with much more.  They would just have to stay flexible in the hope that this quest would be achievable.

“Uh, about that… I do have some news I can share on the escape front.”  Franklin added, speaking for the first time in quite a while.  He had been quiet almost the entire trip, and while they didn't really have many opportunities to chat, something felt off.  Tilly didn't know him well enough to peg if that was just his personality around groups, but he worried it was more than that.

The honu readjusted his scarf and reached into his sleeve to pull out a Conche shell, one covered with tiny glowing runes.

“The elders gave this to me on my way out but cautioned that it might not be ready in time to use.  I have checked it every few hours and now from the look of the spell link, it seems that they have succeeded.  It is now tied back to the platform in the village and ready to be activated.”

Hilbert's eyes widened and a slow smile of relief crossed his face, “Ha! I told Mallytza this wasn’t a suicide mission! Someone among your Faction must be very talented in Teleportation.”

“So what are you saying exactly… for the rest of us?” TIlly added dryly.

“Sorry, it’s a teleport anchor keyed to our home platform.  If I infuse the spell with my mana and break the anchor, every being within 10 paces of my location will be pulled back to the platform instantaneously. It is the main way those without the use of a dedicated teleportation mage travel via the platforms.  But with ours broken, the elders didn’t know such a thing would be possible in the near future.  However, their new Wayfinder classes seemed to have helped them bridge the gap.”  He explained, stowing the precious object back in the folds of his robe. Even delivering the good news, there was something distracted about his tone.  The timing was terrible, but honestly, it would probably only get worse from here,

“He guys, would you mind giving us a moment?”  Tilly asked, drawing away the Honu until they were at the edge of the ward.  He knew almost everyone would still be able to hear them, but it was the best he could do.

“Hey man, are you ok?  Something seems off?”

The Honu returned his concerned gaze with a look of guilt, that slowly morphed into acceptance.

“I am sorry Tilly.  You are right to ask.  You are not the only one who is wrestling internally.  I am sure you have noticed I am the only Honu with such a clothing item,” Franklin said, plucking at the blue scarf wrapped around his neck absently, “This isn’t just any cloth… It was a gift from the oldest mage in the Minotaur caravans.  She said she was entrusting it to me, and that when the time came, I would know when to give it up.”

“What do you mean ‘give it up’? To who?”

“That is just it, I do not know… But it is an Epic quality item that increases my Wisdom stat by 50% when I am channeling water-related Mana.  In fact, this item may be the main reason I got selected to go on this quest.  Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that it is trying to speak to me, urging me to move in the very same direction you have been leading… But, to give it up would make me a liability to the mission.”

“I see what you mean. I sure as hell wouldn’t be in a rush to give up something that increased any of my stats by that much… Well, there isn’t anything we can do about it until we know more. But, I can say this: even without that scarf, you're not a liability. I trust you to make the right call when the time comes.  You have been nothing but dependable since I met you.  Hell, you all should be doubting me!  I'm the one-”

The Honu began to shake his head firmly, “No, we will proceed as you say, but if you have the ability to choose to trust me, then I have the privilege to do the same, agreed?”  He asked, somewhat more fiercely than was typically his nature.

“Ha! Yeah, I’m clear on that.”  Tilly smiled roguishly, happy to receive the spirited rebuke from the reticent mage. He clapped the Honu on the shell and turned back to the others, who all had the good sense to be looking away.  Except for Gorock and his horrifying mount, who both watched them speak with bored expressions on their very different faces.

“... Alright Hilbert.” Tilly stuttered, once against put-off by the pair, “What can you tell me about this city and the siege it is under before I head out?  I’m hoping I will be undetectable to the forces on the ground, but a little context about what I am going into won’t hurt.“

The Wizard's apprentice perked up at his name but didn't answer right away, instead choosing to look over at Sir Micheal for a long moment.  The Knight slowly nodded in ascent and Hilbert turned to Tilly, releasing a long sigh.

“Yes, well the short version is that very few have ever been within the city and everything I know is secondhand.  It is a place of the dead, or more specifically a place for Whytes to exist in a state of rest, pursuing whatever it is they pursue in their semi-eternal state.”

“And what exactly are Whytes? …Ghosts?” Tilly asked, happy to get some clarification on this point.

“Not exactly.  Ghosts are more like tortured fragments of a soul, they do not exist outside of the pain they are constantly forced to relive.  A Whyte on the other hand is something much more complete.  It is a memory construct, formed from the impression that remarkable individuals can make upon the pattern of Nephesh itself.  For that reason, they are often very powerful, but also extremely limited.”

“So they are made from the memory of a person?”

“Yes, especially someone who has some unresolved desire or duty.  If a person of considerable power or impact bent themselves toward a certain task for long enough, they have a much higher chance of leaving behind a Whyte.  They can think, feel, and often are indistinguishable from the originator, but they cannot gain levels.  Every action they take is empowered by a certain memory from their originator, and therefore finite.  Once all the memories are used up, they are unable to perform certain actions. For this reason, they are known to spend months if not years in quiet stillness and are very uncomfortable amongst the living.

“They are also rumored to hold one of the greatest libraries on the Plane, a collection of all the knowledge of their past lives.  My master even visited the city once, and paid in their currency for the knowledge to help create the very items you were gifted.“

At this, Amelia spoke up, “Thier currency?  Is that code for more blood?

Hilbert’s mouth flicked up in a smile, revealing the points of his fangs in amusement, “No madam, nothing so replaceable as that.  They sometimes accept Guild standard, but their currency of choice is Memory.  They trade for what they do not have, to extend their agency on this Plane.  They trade with each other, and in times past, outsiders.”  Hilbert finished, his tone wondering as he looked back at his companion.

At this, Sir Micheal cleared his throat and moved forward, slowly pulling off his helm.