Legend of Ransera

Lost in the Evening Mist
12th of Glade

Deep within the deep gloom of the ancient forest of the wildking, a group of travelers were settling down for the late afternoon. The sun would be setting soon and in the depths of the old growth of the forest the understory twilight had already arrived. Already the winter chill that had been momentarily been banished by the spring's sunny visage was starting to creep back into the forest. The party of scientists and their pair of attending guards had once more returned to the camp site they had picked out and quickly brought the banked coals of their morning meal's fire into a cheery fire, however dampened it might have been by the cool and damp of the ancient forest. Wood smoke permeated the air as dead wood was consumed. For whatever reason Huong Ming, their expedition's leader had forbidden their group to take blade to any of the nearby trees which brought titters of discontent to the more gossip minded. Superstition among scientists seemed... unseemly to these unhappy few despite the permeation of magic throughout the world. Hui Ming on the other hand merely shrugged and nodded. He could not say he minded the extra work to round up dead wood for their camp. His mind was on the events towards the beginning of their journey into the Wildkin's forge, and... there was a respect for the trees he hadn't had before.

The young alchemist peered up to the slowly darkening canopy as he prowled ever further from the heat and warmth of their fire. Light filtered down in strange ways, incandescing the air at times and swirling as motes of dust and pollen danced in great eddies and whirls. He turned his eyes down and spotted a likely branch. The leaf litter rustled and the far end of the forked stick had bits of mulch and soil stuck to it. He struck it against the floor of the forest to shake it loose before tucking the lichen covered object under and arm and moved on, his eyes drifting back up to the shifting rays of the setting sun.

The longer they stayed in this one place, the further afield they had to go get dead wood for the fire. Already Hui was out of sight from their little camp, though he could still see bits of the road through the tree. So far their little expedition had borne fruits, but not as much as his mother would have liked. They had gathered interesting new strains of plants. Strange ferns with a sinister black coloration with red highlights, a creeping vine that boasted cactus like spines instead of leaves, there was a bush that looked like nothing more then a simple boxwood, but which grew in perfectly cylindrical structures. All bontanicals that had never been witnessed before and were undoubtable mutated from a wave of dread mists. In a way Houng Ming's theory was likely to be correct. Or these species were natural and simply unseen and uncatalogued until now. Truthfully, Hui Ming suspected the former. They had their specimens carefully packed away and would hopefully have growing samples and ready to study. After all, if the dread mists could change plants, perhaps that chaos could be... directed and controlled. Perhaps change could be wrought on plants to the benefit of his parent's patrons, whoever they were.

As distracted as Hui was from both his thoughts and the canopy above it was perhaps of no surprise that he lost track of himself a bit. Which was unlikely to have been a problem if something unnerving wasn't rising from the cool ground. It started in the depressions and the lowest of lying ground, that mist. Easily unnoticed, the cooling air condensing the evaporating water of the understory around dust and pollen. It was gradual, of course, but steadily rising around the young man's ankles and then up his thighs. It was simple, normal mist. But from a society that feared the magic of the dread mists and the remnants of the Sundering far more then any natural and supernatural phenomena. The mundane mist that was forming was enough to make a grown man shake in his boots. Monsters were made in the dread mists. In the dread mists changes were wrought.

By the time Hui Ming realized what was happening, it was already too late. He looked down to grab the next piece of dead wood and his stomach dropped. Mist had engulfed him up to the waist. He stumbled backwards and fearfully looked about. Mist swirled about at the sudden movement and continued rising. He didn't know where he was, or how far away from the camp or road he was. He turned about, panicked, looking for familiar landmarks, but the more he moved, the less he was sure about what direction he was even facing. He forced himself to still. This couldn't be the dread mists. This was just... normal mists. The fact they hadn't seen any so far on their trip into the forest, doesn't matter. He was lost.. but not far from the camp. He just needed to... pick a direction and go. If he did not find the road or the camp in 300 paces, he would... come back to this spot. He pulled one of the sticks from his bundle and bent down in the soupy fog that at that point was already up to his chest and scrapped an X into the dirt after he cleared the leaf litter. Already he had a sinking feeling, there was no way he would be able to come back here if the mist was this thick. But he had no idea what else to do.

He hoped to the celestial heavens above that he was not about to be changed into some abomination by this mist.

With that same stick lightly pressed to the ground as he walked, he picked a direction and carefully set forth. He really missed his companion at this point. His thudding heart echoed in his ears, by now the mist thickly obscuring all things into indistinct shapes of quickly darkening shadow and shapes. Some the light in the canopy trickled down which only illuminated a field of harshly lit fog, making further identification of the obstacles in his path. At 100 paces he was optimistic, each muted crunch of leaves was roughly in a straight line. He carefully made note of trees blocking his path and going around them, attempting to do only 180 degree arcs around the trees and carefully moving forward. There was no movement, little sound as the evening buzz of insects settled down and small animals bedded down. Even the incidental sounds of him moving around was muted and echoed in the forest strangely. At 200 paces his heart was starting to sink, nothing looked familiar, nothing looked like it even remotely lead to the traveled paths of the roads. It did not even occur to him to start yelling until he was at pace 250. He grumbled at his own stupidity and shouted, #"Hey! Is anyone there!" He listened for a moment before his heart sank further. No response.

"HEEEELP!" He yelled into the pale void he was stumbling through. Darkness was falling, the light was leaving him. This was... not good. He would need to... head back. Yes, if he wasn't going to find the road or camp, then his best bet would be to go back to where he started and wait out the night, at least until the mist was lifted. Travelling through the darkness through ancient growth would that was largely untouched by man was not good. He could be lost for days, better to stay where he was for a night and find the road when visibility returned. With that plan in mind he focused on retracing his steps. He began counting out paces. Hui really hoped that the trees in his path where the same trees he detoured around. The mist was too thick to even see his feet, so naturally roots would catch his boots. He grumbled after the 4th time and realized he had lost track of his numbers. Oh no. What was he on? 170? or 190? Surely he could just use the lower number and at 270 he could bend down and check every couple steps for his marker. But the nagging doubt that he was going to far or not far enough plagued him. Every 20 steps he would call out to the mist for help, hoping to hear from someone. Each time, he got only the ever darkening mist.

He was at about what he hoped 250 when he heard something rustling in the vegetation. He froze, a survival instinct he did not know he even had kept him from making a noise as his veins turned icy with fear. He... didn't even have a belt knife. He couldn't protect himself from a predator. Why hadn't he thought of that before! The rustling came again, closer, and Hui, his plans far from his mind, began to back up. Something large was coming closer, the sounds were... strange. But he did not know if it was the mist or whatever was coming towards him. His back hit the bark of a large tree and made an abnormally loud scrape in the near silence. The sounds of rustling increased, coming closer and yet more closer.

Hui hefted the only thing he had available, the firewood he had been gathering, the rest of his tiny pile dropped to the ground. Fear gripped his heart as whatever monster's shape loomed in the mist, he pulled back his arm, readying an attack, but unsure whether he should defend himself solely, or do a preemptive, but purely defensive attack.

His indecision cost him.

The next few moments were a dazed blur of fear and violence, obscured in detail by the swirling mists. One moment he was preparing an attack as the beast drew closer. The next, an Avialae swooped down from the dense canopy above like an eagle taking down prey. The man was suddenly there, blocking yellow ivory teeth destined, no doubt, for Hui's throat. Even then, feet from the alchemist, Hui could not make out truly what this beast was. It was... quadrupedal, at the very least, and tall, at least as tall as Hui was at the shoulder. Which even though Hui was only 5 feet, it still made whatever it was easily several hundreds of pounds. Opaque white eyes gleamed in the meager light as the beast turned its attention to the newcomer.

Out of reflex, Hui might have struck out at his defender, if he had not frozen up. Surely not the best survival instinct, but alas the man was a city boy with zero combat experience. In either case, he did not attack the man before him. He did however drop his stick as his savior kicked the beast away and flung his great spear into the beast, ending the fight. Hui stood in wide eyed shock and amazement, looking from the mist rimed figure to the now slain beast. The fight only lasted mere seconds but this monster was expertly dispatched.

The winged figure loomed over Hui and the alchemist was ashamed to find himself flinching back as adrenaline caused him to shiver. Surely it was that, and not an instinctual trepidation of a powerful man. What was towering now came down to his level, diminishing the intimidating figure's aura of violence. Light eyes peered into Hui's eyes as a look of concern crossed the vision of masculine beauty's face. He peered down at the hand, momentarily at a loss. He gave a start and blushed with embarrassment, "O-oh, thank you." Hui said, taking the Avialae's hand.

He blinked and then bowed over their clasped palms, "This one thanks you, honored lord. Forgive this one's rudeness. You may call this lowly Hui Ming." He slowly raised himself from his bow and nervously looked to the great spear propping up the Avialaes kneel. The weapon was more then just a spear, looking closer to a sabre strapped to a pole. Where a spear might be used primarily for stabbing, this was clearly made to slash first and stab second. Blood dribbled along the tip and along its length. So little, it seemed, for a killing blow. His eyes turned down once more, "I am okay. Thank you again. I don't... think I would have made it if not for your help."

Hui gently took his hand back and peered around the chiseled statue of a man to peer through the mist and at his assailant. It was strange, a creature so full of violence and rage now brought low into the stillness of death. If anything Hui expected the creature to get up again and resume it's attack. However, the monster appeared to be truly dead, its sides did not rise and he could hear no sound. Its blind, milky eyes, stared lifelessly into the distance. Strange. Perhaps it was truly blind when it attacked? He edged closer to the beast and the mist gave way to it's massive form. There was no way it was natural. It appeared as if some mad sorcerer ripped the head off a wolf and transplanted it on the body of a massively enlarged cat. Where the neck started was a clean divide in patterns on its fur, from simple wolf coat to spotted fur which ended to a serpentine scaled tail starting from the base of the spine. There were perhaps more details but he could only see so much in the, admittedly thinning, murky mist.

He turned his head to his savior, "... What is this?"

So entranced was Hui Ming by the abomination before him that he was startled when the Avialae used his wings to blow away the mist in great wing beats. He looked over to man, his eyes travelling along the edges of the man's membranous wings. So caught up in the moment he hadn't noticed before, but he had never seen an Avialae with wings like a bat or a dragon before. He blinked, having caught himself staring. "Pardon. If it is not too much trouble, may I know your name?" he realized he was being to formal, it was awkward, sure, and he would kick himself later agonizing over the social interaction, but he could not help himself. He was in a situation no one could anticipate; better to default to formality. It was a structure that he could depend on, satisfying in it's rules and order.

"Ah", he had to blush in embarrassment about that last question. "I am not... well, I guess I am alone now. But I'm part of a group and sort of... lost my way." He looked about and spotted his discarded tinder, the mist was slowly inching back but he could see it among the leaf litter. He scooped up the firewood and offered it up as an explanation. "I was gathering firewood and the mist rose up." He trailed off as he sighed. He suppose he aught to hold onto the wood. He gave another surreptitious glance at the cooling corpse of the beast before he turned back to the man who had slain it.

"Uh... and why are you out here so late?" he said awkwardly, unsure of a way to put it. His eyes once again flicked to the unconscious flexing and movement of the Avialae's wings, the appendages no doubt counterbalancing his weight with every movement. Surely he was a blessed one. Birds were beautiful, and so were the Avialae with wings like birds. But this one had wings like the very gods, like those of dragons. He had never seen a dragon up close, but few could miss their forms in the sky and few would dismiss their importance. The pause went on for a beat too long before Hui blurted out, "Not that I'm ungrateful! Just seems a bit... late to be... uh, flying." He finished lamely.