Link: https://www.sylestia.com/forums/?thread=99346&page=8#80 Author: Aphelion Time Posted: 9/2/2021 at 10:45 AM "I know you are Falcon," she says matter-of-factly. "And nothing else. Of course I don't believe you are some long-lost hero; you are simply lost here in an unfamiliar environment. I offer you hospitality because it is a good thing to do, and you will find that most others in Seraphys are no different on this point. You do not need to deserve care in order for others to offer it. All it comes down to is whether or not you will accept this care." Her mouth is set straight, the slightest bit tenser than the gentle curve it forms when her face is relaxed. It seems she is almost offended at your question. There is a bit of silence after that as she continues walking, now no longer stopping to pick any grasses or herbs. Until, she says, "Please understand I don't mean to be harsh. I know you are still trying to grasp your surroundings, this was my mistake." After some more walking, the two of you come upon a structure. The path opens up into a stony circle wide enough for you to lay down ten times from end to end. Around the circle at intervals are spikes, curved inward to form a domed shape like a cage. You cross the circle and step onto the path that is a continuation of the previous path which had been broken up by the smooth stones. A few moments later, something bursts out of the forest down the path on one side of the road and plunges into the brush on the other side - it is so fast you only see a dark blur, but you can be sure that it is something large. "You really are good luck!" Chantille exclaims at that. "Come, quickly." She picks up the pace.

Falcon's eyes fall to the ground. "Right."

At least that means being part of some kind of self-fulfulling prophecy is off the cards.

She makes it sound simple, but he doesn't understand such kindness... verging on charity. He knew she was wrong though, no matter which world he was in now - if he didn't earn something, it wasn't worth having. That was his first and most important rule.

He clenches his fists as he realises he's getting himself dragged into an almighty debt to this stranger if he goes along with all of her offers of hospitality. At the same time though... wasn't he just looking for answers?

He begrudgingly decides to tag along for now. He reckons after being thrown into some alternate universe or whatnot he's owed a guide through a forest, at the very least. The last thing he'll do is push that point, though.

Looking around the strange space, he's about to ask what the structure is for when he stops, raising his makeshift weapon as he senses looming danger. Realising Chantille is speeding up, he runs after her.

"Good luck?" he asks incredulously. She has to be kidding. "If that was an example of one of the 'monsters' you were talking about, shouldn't we be retreating in the other direction? Or is this how things work around here?"

"If there is a monster, that must mean a Chaser is not far behind. I recall you asked about them; what better way to find out than to meet one yourself?" Chantille is excited, hair floating behind her in a colourful streak, wing feathers ruffling as she moves.

Soon, the two of you arrive at the place where you'd last seen the shape blur past, only a few seconds after the event. You nearly crash into Chantille with how suddenly she stops, snapping her wings out to slow herself, the pearly down feathers puffing up. She is watching intently into the woods where the creature had come from.

You almost don't hear it until it's too late. Fortunately you do, because rustling in the other direction piques your interest and you turn to see a pair of eyes glare out from the shade between some bushes. The next thing you know, something springs out, a massive feline animal with long fangs jutting out of its jaws. It has a mottled, dark brown pelt with stripes of black running through. A tail of feathers streams out from behind it as it launches toward you.

Link: https://www.sylestia.com/forums/?thread=99346&page=8#78 Author: Aphelion Time Posted: 9/2/2021 at 10:07 AM The curtains of rain part as the source of the sound comes through. What had first started off as a small smudge of darker darkness against an already darkened background grows larger as it comes closer. The clicking grows louder, too, and it seems to be directed toward you. Soon, you begin to make out features of this mysterious creature. It has to be taller than the trees you hide under, at least. It has long, gangly limbs with far too many joints, and its arms are connected to wings which it folds and stabs into the ground to walk. A thin, whip-like tail lashes behind it, cutting through the rain and shearing grass off the ground as it whips down. Its eyes are a dull white, pupil-less, but with a chilling feeling you realise it is looking toward you. Almost as if it is looking at you.

Crystal was beginning to regret her decision to come to this tree more and more. She holds still knowing that movement would give her away. The creature scared her. Crsyatl wonders how she's going to get out of this situation without being eaten as she holds as still as possible.

It does not see you, you realise. It hears you, feels you with the waves of sound it dispenses over its surroundings with its clicking, receiving feedback of distance and texture with sensitive hearing organs. It lopes closer to you, each step thudding and squelching into the wet earth. It is so close now you can see the details of its pelt, a leathery, saggy skin that is muddy green. It reaches out a long arm, ending in razor sharp claws, toward your face.

"Oi!" Someone calls, and an arrow wizzes past the trees, tipped in flame. It sinks into the creature's chest and it screams, a hollow, high pitched wheeze of a scream, and staggers back, clawing at the flame at its chest. You hear people behind you through the rain, and muffled words. You catch 'cavewalker' amongst the conversation.

Link: https://www.sylestia.com/forums/?thread=99346&page=9#84 Author: Aphelion Time Posted: 9/2/2021 at 2:45 PM It does not see you, you realise. It hears you, feels you with the waves of sound it dispenses over its surroundings with its clicking, receiving feedback of distance and texture with sensitive hearing organs. It lopes closer to you, each step thudding and squelching into the wet earth. It is so close now you can see the details of its pelt, a leathery, saggy skin that is muddy green. It reaches out a long arm, ending in razor sharp claws, toward your face. "Oi!" Someone calls, and an arrow wizzes past the trees, tipped in flame. It sinks into the creature's chest and it screams, a hollow, high pitched wheeze of a scream, and staggers back, clawing at the flame at its chest. You hear people behind you through the rain, and muffled words. You catch 'cavewalker' amongst the conversation.

Crystal trembles uncontrollably knowing how close she had come to death. She felt soory for the 'cavewalker' as it had been called but at the same time glad that it was leaving her alone. She quickly and carefully tries to move away from the creature while trying to avoid being in the archer's way. Crystal hoped the people were friendly because she didn't think she could handle another adreline rush. Especially as frozen as she had been.
"Thank you," Crystal speaks her voice trambling.

Link: https://www.sylestia.com/forums/?thread=99346&page=9#82 Author: Aphelion Time Posted: 9/2/2021 at 2:15 PM "If there is a monster, that must mean a Chaser is not far behind. I recall you asked about them; what better way to find out than to meet one yourself?" Chantille is excited, hair floating behind her in a colourful streak, wing feathers ruffling as she moves. Soon, the two of you arrive at the place where you'd last seen the shape blur past, only a few seconds after the event. You nearly crash into Chantille with how suddenly she stops, snapping her wings out to slow herself, the pearly down feathers puffing up. She is watching intently into the woods where the creature had come from. You almost don't hear it until it's too late. Fortunately you do, because rustling in the other direction piques your interest and you turn to see a pair of eyes glare out from the shade between some bushes. The next thing you know, something springs out, a massive feline animal with long fangs jutting out of its jaws. It has a mottled, dark brown pelt with stripes of black running through. A tail of feathers streams out from behind it as it launches toward you.

Falcon decides that Chantille has no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. But it's a realisation made in vain - before he can stop and backtrack he has the beast bearing down on him. Viscious fangs and murderous eyes are exactly the opposite of what he needs right now, but is seems he ran out of luck a long time ago.

It's too early yet to thank his intuition - he's in trouble.

He hasn't got the raw strength to fight it with brute force. Nor has he the agility required to dodge it, or run. He stumbles back and falls on his rear, and in the split seconds he has a single idea springs to his mind.

Bracing his stick against the ground, aiming it up and towards the leaping arc of his attacker, he's going to use the monster's own momentum to impale it. It's not sharp, but with luck the big cat's velocity will make up for it. He's aiming for something vital - those teeth will be his downfall, so its head or throat would inflict the most damage and save his skin in turn. At the same time he can't afford to miss - he has one shot at this. The underbelly should be another weak point, and easier to hit, perhaps making it the bigger target.

He can only hope that Chantille at least has the common sense to make a run for it. If she could attract the attention of one of those insane 'Chasers' then they could fix this fatal problem they caused in the first place.

Link: https://www.sylestia.com/forums/?thread=99346&page=8#79 Author: Aphelion Time Posted: 9/2/2021 at 10:11 AM "So the last thing you remember is falling out of the sky. Huh." Baje roughly finishes bandaging you up, and rolls everything back into the small sack of medical equipment, tying it all with a length of cord. "I guess I can get you to the nearest civilisation," she says, though you can sense some sort of hesitance as she looks at her plane. "Come on up, then." Without saying more, she clambers up into the cockpit, which has been flipped open. For something small climbing on what seems to be smooth metal, she is surprisingly deft at moving and not slipping off the sides, especially when the wings were higher than her head. For you, the wings are an inch or so above your hair.

He winced as the bandage tightened around his arm, silently admiting to himself that his pain tolerence was less then what he would have originaly expected. Baje's hesitation didnt go unnoticed by Oris, tho he didn't, coudn't realy, say anything on that matter, he didnt knew the world he was in and trying to go anywhere on his own could end badly at the moment.

He smiled as he followed Baje in, realy with everything that had happened so far she shoudnt have been able to surprise him that easily but she seemed to be able too, granted the amnesia probably didnt helped in the slightest. " Hey, Baje ? Thank you, i realy owe you one by now." He said playfully tho he was realy greatfull to have meet her."

More arrows fly, slamming the cavewalker back, and even under the curtains of water, its body goes up in an inferno, flames exploding outward and licking up to the sky, rapidly hissing and turning into smoke as it meets the rain. The creature topples backward into a pile on the ground, still burning, its skin bubbling and popping as if its melting.

When you speak, a startled cry goes up. Footsteps near you, and soon you find someone peeking over a bush between the trunk of the trees at you. It's a boy with cropped black hair woven through with feathers at the ends, a golden hoop dangling from one ear. His eyes are amber, though the light in them has been swallowed by the darkness brought about by the rain. He stares at you for a few seconds, as if he can't believe you're here, then shakes himself and runs away.

You can't see anyone else, but you hear, "there's a person here!"

Soon, more people come into view, led by the boy. They wear woven cloaks of bright colours, tassels dangling off each edge, their hair similarly woven through with feathers. You are pinned down by the stares of around six or seven people, most of them bearing fully drawn bows with flaming arrows nocked. The others hold curved knives that glint with unnatural light. The weapons are pointed at you.

You drive your stick into the ground, try to aim it, and brace for the worst. The worst doesn't come. No claws tear through your flesh, no mass slams into your body, and no teeth sink to your bones. There is a resounding, muffled thud, and the creature halts mid-air as if slamming into an invisible wall. Then, it falls to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Its tail twitches once and its claws spasm. An agonised roar later, it goes still.

There is a sleek, silver arrow struck into its head through one of its eyes, buried so deep you can only see the fletching, although the fletching doesn't look like it's made of feathers.

Behind you, something rustles, and Chantille gasps, making a light squee-ing noise. You turn to see someone has swung out from the trees, landing lightly in a crouch before standing up. This newcomer looks... normal, for lack of a better word. Definitely not something like Chantille - he is tall and slim with a messy head of dark brown hair tied back into a short ponytail that bounces when he moves. Strands of it fall over his face, contrasting sharply against his eyes the colour of opals, silver grey save for the flecks of iridescent colour. He wears a grey-green cloak that ripples around him, hood down, and in his hand he has a contraption that looks like a bow yet isn't. The contraption is smaller, made of metal, and folds in half when he taps the centre, the bowstring winding around the object in perfectly-made notches.

"Advette," he says in greeting, and bows deeply. His voice is smooth with a husky quality to it.

"Lord Chaser!" Chantille clasps her hands together, face brimming with admiration. She turns to you, gently jostling you in the side with her elbows. "That's one of them," she whispers. "A Chaser!"

The Chaser straightens, tossing his hair back with a flick of his head. He has an expression that can be described only as exasperated, yet held back due to respect. "Mein Advette," he says. "With all due respect, it is not safe to travel in areas where a Hunt is in session."

"It is a Paired Hunt today, so I know I am in no real danger," Chantille replies with a flutter of her hand. "You are here, after all."

The Chaser looks like he wants to roll his eyes, or sigh, but instead his gaze turns to you. "And this is?"

The plane wing is high above you so you have trouble getting up. It's slippery to your grip and your muscles are still aching from the whole fiasco in the canyon. After a few frustrated tries, you have to give up and sulkily stand under the wing, hoping Baje would notice a distinct lack of Oris in the plane.

After a few beats, she does. Her head pops out the side of the cockpit and she stares down at you. "Oops!" She says. "Couldn't get up? Sorry!" She disappears, then something unrolls down to you, and you see it is a ladder. It's made of rough wood rungs worn smooth with use, strung together with coarse rope looking like splinters waiting to happen. You manage to make your way up with little problem, and find yourself in a cockpit that is carrying way more than it looks able to.

There is a seat in front with a panel of buttons, levers, and sticks before it. Baje sits in this seat. Behind it is another seat, a cracked leather seat that could have been some dark colour though it has long since been bleached white by the sun. You can barely sit down with all the stuff crammed into the back, beams of metal, loose screws, and mismatched nuts and bolts. A lot of it looks dusty or dirty, out of commission and lacking oil. Aside from that, there are rolls of paper, some blank, others with intricate notes or designs drawn on to them.