ProfetessaOscura
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Vespyr did not interrupt the two. In fact, it allowed Cruz to be blown up closer, to allow easier communication. It would be difficult for them to hear each other, otherwise. However, it looked as if their trip wouldn't be a particularly long one. Despite having only been airbourne a few minutes, they'd traversed the entire city, a significantly fast pace. Now, they sank down towards a rocky shore maybe half of a mile from the docks. The barren slope was steep and would be difficult to climb, making escape particularly difficult. For a moment, it looked as though the trio might slam face-first into the rock wall, but Vespyr touched down gently on a small outcropping about halfway down the cliffside. At an angle, the entrance to a cave was cut. It couldn't have been made naturally; it was almost like a doorway, perfectly human sized. Vespyr stepped sideways through the door, still holding Trace, and Cruz approached the ledge seconds later, the winds flagging and catching on his clothes, then disappearing into whispers. Trace was propped up on a thin bedroll near the entrance when he entered. If he squinted, he might have been able to make out Vespyr lifting the mask, its back to them, and upending a steel flask into its mouth. The mask was quickly and carefully replaced. This creature did not like turning its back on them. Did it... somehow consider the pair threatening?
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The winds billowed below them, and then they were slashing through the air on currents, like arrowshafts slicing through water. Usually, one might have been unable to see, eyes stinging from the velocity. There was something strange, as if there was a bubble of stagnant air around their heads. It was... masterful. This was a delicate and intricate display of power in a gorgeous balance. If it wasn’t devastatingly terrifying to him, he might have taken a moment to be impressed.
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Vespyr turned its head, staring at Cruz blankly with its no-eyed look. “There is little that anyone could do to get in my way,” it explained, almost with a strained sense of patience, “If you regret accompanying us, I can always let you go.” It didn’t sound like a very friendly offer.
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“There is nothing she could do to me,” Vespyr’s winds said. It could have been egoistic, blustering bluffs and ballooned pride. What little he could tell from Vespyr, that didn’t seem to be the case. The creature didn’t regard Lena or either of its captives with contempt. It just... didn’t regard them at all.
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The creature lowered its masked head, accepting his decision. "Know that, should you die, I will mourn for you." The voice was scratchy again, and the person -if it could even be called a person, clasped Cruz's hand with firm finality, holding his wrist respectfully. Then, it lifted alone into the air. He might have worried that he would be left behind, but he followed shortly after, carried into the air like a seed of dandelion fluff, about 50 feet behind. Even if this creature respected him, it did not trust him. In the air, it looked like a misty cloud, gray pennants and tassles of its robes swirling and slashing in the air around it. It moved instinctively, head first, clutching the injured girl tightly to its chest protectively, as if to keep her warm.
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The moment, as described by the DM, in all its glory.
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"You two humans care for each other," Vespyr's winds said impassively, but almost kindly. "You shall accompany us if you wish," the creature told Crux, "You will likely be imprisoned or even slain at the end of this path. I cannot guarantee your safety. What is your choice?" The creature extended a gloved hand at the same time the offer was extended.
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“Then heal her.” The voice was calm and steady. “This is the last time I’ll ask.” Vespyr started to ascend. “You can stay here and die, if your morals outweigh the action.” The creature spoke without the winds this time, the voice dry and scratchy, as though it wasn’t often used.
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“If you will not help her survive, I will find another. Her time is short.” The winds surged around Vespyr, agitated.
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Vespyr turned to him, and and the figure lowered Cruz with the delicate control of expertise. "You will assist me. In return, I will carry you from here," Vespyr said, the wind still, yet vibrating, resonant. Vespyr lifted Trace in their arms and brought the girl over to him. The creature's feet still never once touched the ground, suspended in the air by billowing winds, gentle and precise.
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There was sudden silence. The trees froze, their rustling leaves in the wind suddenly still, the air stagnant. Insects stopped their chirruping. The world seemed as though it had taken an extra step at the top of the stairs, lurched, and then righted itself. Cruz was falling, likely to his demise. Trace was bleeding out, left to die. Like an arrow, wind, so fast, so forceful it seemed visible, slammed up into Cruz, slowing his descent, then stopping it. He was suspended in a tunnel of wind, of air rushing and slashing upward. Vespyr sank from the sky, feet first, and stopped midair before Lena. The imposing figure was wreathed in gray robes, slashed, long and dangling, the linen wrappings seeming excessive. The hooded head wore a plain white mask, tapered at the forehead into a cruel crown. Not a single feature of the person was visible, but they stood tall, and when they spoke, the air moved again. The air spoke for them. It vibrated in a keening, strange cacophony, as though air were moving through ancient pillars and stones, grinding out the words for all to hear. "The Queen has need of her charge," the air hissed, "Killing you would waste my time. Do not get in my way." Cruz might have thought that the words were addressed to him, but... Vespyr was at face level with Lena, and slowly raised a draped arm, pointing a bony finger directly at the woman. The person seemed more like a creature, and the creature sank down to the bleeding Trace. Wordless, Vespyr stooped and pulled Trace up. Never once did the creature's feet touch the ground. It stared, as if it could somehow see through the mask, then pressed a hand to the wound. It did not heal the wound, but the blood coagulated, stopping the immense blood-loss. @Knight of Iron @Channelknight Fadran
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WWit's Chosen Family.jpg
ProfetessaOscura commented on ProfetessaOscura's gallery image in Stormlight Archive Art
Dalinar and Adolin. And I don't post the RoW comics because I don't want to inadvertently spoil even the little parts; those are all on reddit or my Ko-Fi gallery. -
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Thorn wheezed, panting, slashing at the apparition frantically. His eyes went wide, and his knees buckled. He slumped against the railing and turned, watching his Captain, a great man, sob, clutching the headless body of his 17 year old son. Above, the woman who’d taken the bullet wound in the arm, watched, frozen stiff. The Admital’s daughter had flown through the ranks. She was due her own ship any month now. And this... this tragedy... Thorn closed his eyes, pressing closed fists against his forehead. The little one. At least the little one survived, even if her spark of sunshine hadn’t. He let up a silent prayer to whatever deities there were. Curse those travellers. Curse them, and damn them, even if Thorn was damned himself for begging such a thing of a god. (And thus ends my NPC warmup! Let me know when Vespyr can come for Trace.)
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Thorn knew she was wrong. He’d seen Lloyd attack their ship, damaging it as he attempted to board it. When he was thrown away like the garbage he was, he’d damaged the ship again, boarded again, and hurt the girl and other crewmembers badly. Now his friends had slaughtered the passionate young man and his closest friend. And now they wanted to barter. Thorn slashed at Millie, seeing red. “Follow your companions! Flee like the sliming refuse of eels that you are!” The captain appeared, running, frantic, the composed giant of a man barreling to the top deck. “My- my son!” He cried, and his sobs were agonized, as though he’d been mauled, torn in two.
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Thorn was not the captain. "You mutilate the girl, you murder her brother, you damage the ship, and now you want to say it's a misunderstanding?" Thorn said, swinging his sword wildly in a arc. He wasn't particularly aiming for anyone, more keeping them away from the cabins, hold, and Captain's Quarters. The captain would be along shortly, guaranteed. Of the group, Lloyd knew best that they should fear what would happen when Captain Tiberius saw his son's headless corpse, after learning that the boy had been killed in front of his child sister. Talking would no longer be much of an option. They should run.
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