30th of Frost, Year 119
His mind was caught in the void that was the Vesj'vakar's home. Since being introduced to it, Taelian had found it to be his sole fixation, consuming every ounce of his focus without relent. He pictured the form of the Hira'lotha, and also, the other entity he had met with. The one that wanted to be let in, beyond the ability of Taelian to control it. He felt every inch of the creature's frame in his thoughts. A black, long form, a sleek and corded tail. It was bound together almost by knots, like a rope, small bumps along the edge of the length. He wondered if those cords could unwind and come out as many different tendrils, each capable of being controlled by the creature's... 'brain'. He had to remind himself that these beings were all Endir. They didn't work as people did -- perhaps they couldn't be overloaded by the complexity of their bodies, the many ongoing processes it took to control their individual limbs.
Or maybe Taelian was wrong.
"What is a Mirdun?" he asked, again for clarification.
"The Archetype of Ridhain," Lethiril answered. "A monster of mold, often leaving excrement from its body where it steps. It smells horrific, and takes on the form of a living thing. My strongest is a Vrannik Bear-Mirdun, one fast and vicious, and nearly impervious to death. Like the Irothar, Mirdun are very difficult to kill."
"Irothar?" he questioned.
"The Archetype of Tyrnac. Cut like glass, and often glass-like in appearance. Mosaics. Easy to get along with, but... far from keen to regular speech. They often look something like golems, though some of them have more agile frames. They are surprisingly complex, despite what their forms would tell you. Many of them have difficult methods of moving around, different styles of operation, different abilities. The wondrous thing about the Archetypes available to us is that they are only limited by the imagination of their Patron. Though they keep their aesthetic and some binding characteristics, what they can be within that framework is as varied as the framework could logically allow."
Taelian nodded, though his mind had been pulled away not more than halfway into Lethiril's speech. His eyes squinted, though they were already shut. He looked irritated as if the sun had caught his gaze, but it was already beginning to darken to evening again.
"I feel it again," he declared.
"The... sleek one?" Lethiril asked.
"Yes," the Siltori replied.
Ahagl ah ehyeeog ot c', ng l' Y' kadishtu ahh h' ahornah nk'thuul vorishtai. Mgng Y' ah ehye hup last; voshan cahf l' mgepuln ymg' mgep. Mggoka'ai ya yaah, Taelian ot Rannoch. Marghozad.
Taelian instinctively frowned. It spoke so quickly; that entire lengthy diatribe had been spewed from its tentacled lips in less than a few seconds. How could he even begin with the language?
"Is that Eldhan?" he asked, ignorant.
"No," the Dratori replied. "Many of the Archetypes speak Eldhan, but Veravend's have fallen away from that tradition. She has been isolated from the rest for thousands of years. The Vesj'vakar's language is not known."
