Economies of Scale II

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: Frost ??, 122
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

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As dawn rose over the horizon, Hector, Vergil, and the aidolon within the boy’s shadow arrived along the road that Imogen had indicated. It would appear that they had either arrived first or that Imogen was somewhere out of sight– they weren’t sure if Luis would be arriving at all, given the danger of the mission and the fact that he was not a combatant. Granted, even if he did come along to help them track it, Vergil intended to tell him to fall back before they engaged to avoid unnecessary risk to his health…and theirs. If Luis got in trouble, they, too, could get hurt trying to defend him.

Hector looked similar to the day before. A loose, black cotton shirt tucked into tighter pants of more of a gray tone. Vergil wore studded leather, well crafted and dyed black as night. The lithe little elf was not armed, but his companion had a large, rather menacing looking polearm at his back. It was crafted well, and composed of a metal that was nearly black, but not quite– in direct sunlight, one could see reddish undertones reflected within.

The armament had been crafted by Hector prior since the metal he could bend was stronger than most one could easily come across. On top of that, it was a breeze to maintain a wicked degree of sharpness because, at any time, Hector could manipulate the metal which composed it– and sharp it was. To a layman, however, one would be hard pressed to tell what it was that the weapon was crafted from. It barely resembled blood at this point; it wasn’t any known metal, either; it was wholly unique by nature of the aetheric manipulation involved in its creation. As such, it would be extremely unlikely that any viewer would be able to recognize the material for what it really was unless they knew better.

- - -

Aidolon Speech

'Thoughts'

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

In her usual fashion, Imogen was a few minutes late.

If the two ex-Kindred knew her better, they would have understood that this was actually a marker of great enthusiasm for the undertaking. Though she was ever a diligent worker, the Ork's ability to get lost along the straightest of roads was once legendary among two covens, and so Imogen always left early for meetings, at times in advance in relationship to the importance of the rendezvous. Thus, the fact that she appeared among the sparse traffic on the road only twenty minutes after Vergil and Hector was, indeed, the fruit of an hour of frustrated wandering.

When she did arrive, however, she hailed the two cheerfully: "Hey, good morning! Sorry for the wait, I'll try to delay us no further."

In keeping with Vergil's own thoughts, Imogen had discouraged Luis from coming along. Doubtless, the alchemist's knowledge of the wild could be helpful, but she knew how to flag him down with a Window if the need arose. If the witches were to move throughout the wilds of the North with haste and care, having an extra body along would hardly be an asset.

Frankly, Luis had not been difficult to dissuade. He might be interested in seeing a great hydra, but it was an academic desire at best.

As Imogen reached her companions for the mission, she gave Vergil an expectant look. "So! What's your method, anyway? Are we traveling the road until you get a whiff?"

While she spoke, Imogen reached into the air beside her and removed her seven-foot long staff, tipped with Dawnstone. She twirled the staff once, then let it rest on the ground next to her. She'd gotten used to doing this since the first rise of the Great Eclipse, where she might otherwise have need of the illumite and find herself unable to access it. Thankfully, other than the large shard worked into the top of the pact weapon, a staff was not a particularly unusual sight while traveling the road.

It was, however, a quiet declaration of mastery. Even among the rare mages who studied Reaving, few had the skill to work a dragonshard into a pact weapon. Such knowledge wasn't common outside of the Sunsingers, but even if Vergil knew it, that merely affirmed that Imogen's reputation was not exaggerated.

"Interesting weapon," the Sunsinger acknowledged, nodding toward Hector's polearm, "and if I recall aright, you swing it like an unholy terror. Just make sure you don't stab me with it!" A thought crossed Imogen's face, like a rare wave across a placid lake. "And your spirit, as I remember, a thing like a dark cloud. Seemed quite strong. If it is listening, please ask it to keep some distance from my Pact Weapons. The nova fire can kill nearly anything, but it is especially dangerous to things of shadow and night, and it would shame me greatly to injure an ally."

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: Hector's aidolon can be found here

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Neither Hector nor Vergil knew Imogen well; they’d not worked with her before in any proper capacity, and as such, they had no real expectations when it came to how long they ought to wait for her past the appointed time. Vergil was, for the most part, a patient man. Hector, in the past, had limited patience, but…at times back in the Imperium, there was quite a bit of waiting, and so he’d reluctantly gotten used to such a thing.

Nevertheless, Imogen was not actually that late; only a few minutes. This was no offense to either of them. She was quite chipper in demeanor, too.

“It’s really no bother. We’ve not been here long!” Hector smiled and waved back.

When Imogen addressed Vergil, “...pretty much, aye. My senses are sharp, however, so it is not likely we’ll wander lost for long. Once we stray from the city’s light, I think, tracking will come.” Or so he imagined. He knew the beasts were rare, but a vampyr with mastery of his skills could hone their senses to heights greater than what the condition granted him by default.

Hector appeared enchanted by the staff Imogen pulled out of the air, and Vergil, though he did not move, arms crossed over his chest as they were, raised his brow at the sight. Of the two, only Hector had seen anything regarding her skills, and Hector while had sung her praises, beyond the boy’s firsthand accounts and rumors, Vergil wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Regardless, having a dragonshard that large embedded in one’s pact weapon was, by all accounts, an impressive feat.

Hector spoke first, “Ah! Convenient. We’ve brought along Lunicite, ourselves– good that we’ll all have something to ease our casting.”

But then he sighed, “...only problem is the light might garner unwanted attention…” he trailed off for a moment, before realizing something, “...but that’s not a big deal! Right? As a Sunsinger, I’d think you are quite adept at banishing shadows.”

His optimism regarding her abilities appeared to be correct, as when Imogen spoke again, her commentary regarded both the unusual nature of the weapon he had in his possession as well as affirming his assumptions regarding her ability to banish shadows.

“Oh-...” he started before moving to hand the polearm to Vergil, “I’d actually…made this for him; it’ssss…new!” And by new, he meant that he’d refined it earlier in the morning. He’d actually crafted the base of it awhile ago, but he was prone to taking it back to inspect, mend any flaws and sharpen it any time he thought Vergil would actually have to use it. This was one of the few things Hector was at all meticulous about. It was, consequently, ‘as good as’ new, but not quite new.

“My personal weapons I don’t carry around…though maybe I should?” He mused; the boy was no Reaver, either, so it wasn’t as if he had anything stored in that regard.

As Vergil took back the weapon from Hector, “...you will make something prior to engaging the hydra, though.” This wasn’t a request, nor was it stated as a demand; his words were delivered simply as if the assumption was that Hector would listen, with little force. And to that, the boy nodded.

During that exchange, if Imogen glanced at the void that was Hector’s shadow– noticeably more abyssal than anyone else’s– she’d see something like smoke begin to rise from it. Very quickly she would realize, however, it was not any sort of smoke. The tendrils of whatever it was would quickly increase in density into something more of a miasmatic slime, and then they would appear to layer over one another, slowly building, taking shape. That shape, she would soon realize, was that of a humanoid, and then when the form of a man had been made from that inky blackness, one around Vergil’s height but more lithe in build, the substance would appear to solidify further; much of the shadows would then bleach and the figure would end up a full gradient of white to gray to black as more details solidified, but he would remain entirely void of color. In the end, one could almost compare the appearance of his body to marble with tendrils of that same shadow roiling over the surface (the spirit had, certainly, modeled himself after the men one would expect to see composed of such a material, too.) He was entirely unclothed, but given the circumstance, he had felt no need to manifest anything that one would consider indecent.

“Wₑₗₗ–! ₜₕₐₜ ₛₒᵤₙdₛ ⱼᵤₛₜ ₐwfᵤₗ,” the spirit spoke, stepping back from Hector, a bit further away from Imogen. “ᵢ fᵢgᵤᵣₑ ₗᵢₖₑ ₜₕᵢₛ ᵢₜ’ₗₗ bₑ ₑₐₛᵢₑᵣ fₒᵣ yₒᵤ ₜₒ ₛₚₒₜ ₘₑ. Dₒ ₜₐₖₑ cₐᵣₑ ₙₒₜ ₜₒ ₛₜᵣᵢₖₑ ₘₑ wᵢₜₕ ₜₕₐₜ…ₙₒᵥₐ fᵢᵣₑ ₒf yₒᵤᵣₛ, ₐₙd ᵢ, ᵢₙ ₜᵤᵣₙ, wᵢₗₗ dₒ ₘy ₗₑᵥₑₗ bₑₛₜ ₜₒ ₛₜₐy fₐᵣ fᵣₒₘ yₒᵤᵣ wₐy.” His voice was musical, though otherworldly, composed of sibilant whispers and with an almost metallic ring to it. He did not speak in any one language, either, but an infinite amount at once; the listener's ears would perk to whatever was most decipherable to them.

It was abnormal for the aidolon to make his presence known without Hector’s direct prompting, but given the circumstances, he decided he did not care– like this, it would be easier, he thought, to avoid friendly fire. Hector, oblivious, turned to look when the spirit spoke, surprised, as the elf had not noticed the figure taking shape behind him at all, but he voiced no complaints. Vergil appeared unphased entirely.

“I-...yes, ah, that’s him. Isn’t he neat? He and I are bound, though, so if you smite him with a lick of that fire, that…bodes ill for me, too! Just…just a warning,” though Hector spoke with a smile, he was, evidently, unnerved to some degree.

Vergil shook his head. “I’ve faith in your precision, Imogen–” there was a subtle hardness to his tone there, “...but if there’s nothing else to add, shall we set forth, then?” and that hardness immediately faded upon the latter half of his words.

Assuming they would, after giving Imogen a chance to respond, travel north, Vergil would invoke Veracity to heighten his sense of smell further, and it wouldn’t be long until he detected a trace of a hydra, though he knew not any of the attributes thereof. Upon this recovery, he’d pause.

“There’s remnants of a hydra’s scent in higher volumes than I thought…but beyond remnants, I’ve only caught the trail of one. Know you the terrain ‘round here, Imogen? For us to pursue it, we must now leave the road behind.” He said this with some understanding that the Kalzasern wilderness held dangers, though he didn’t have much experience this far north.

- - -

Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

"Sure," responded Imogen, casual, "I can kill the damned things. You see something, call it out- I'll skewer it before we're in any danger."

The Ork watched the two interact with some interest, observing how Hector appeared broadly subservient to his fellow. Vergil had been the one Luis had approached, too. She wasn't particularly good at distinguishing between the features of humans, elves, and the other short races, but he did seem perhaps somewhat older. Could they be master and apprentice? Just friends? Lovers?

It wasn't really any of her business. If there was one thing Imogen was good at, it was leaving well enough alone.

The three got their journey underway as they talked. This close to Kalzasi, all the roads were in good repair--a joke Imogen had made many times to an annoyed Carina was that you wouldn't expect such from a winged people--but the witch imagined that this would only go so far. Once they reached the woods and the foothills of the northern ranges, the roads were apt to be little more than paths created by wagon-wheels and trampled mud.

Though the Sunsingers held little truck with spirits of shadow, it didn't particularly bother Imogen's sensibilities when Hector's Aidolon manifested. The umbral mist comprising the thing tickled the back of her memory, but she couldn't quite recall what, precisely, it was reminding her of. Something to do with the Grymalka? No, not quite, though there was a link. When that train of thought went nowhere fast, Imogen shrugged and banished the notion.

"Well! Nice to meet you, I suppose, and not to worry. I've yet to maim an associate." She didn't discount the possibility for the future, though.

The spirit's method of speech did surprise her, though. It wasn't just the odd, myriad quality, and it wasn't the strange not-a-language either. She'd encountered many strange methods of spirit-speech in the last two years. No, it was just that she'd thought every mage's Aidolon would be silent, after the fashion of Master Gerhard's own mysterious servitor. Perhaps that was a limit particular to that spirit. Maybe it had just been giving her the cold shoulder?

No, that couldn't be it. Imogen couldn't conceive of a reason anything that could talk wouldn't wish to converse with her.

As the day progressed, the ork was content to allow Vergil to lead the way up through the hills and into the high passes. She did not like the way the temperature plummeted from its already-unseasonable lows, but she'd long since come to grips with the harsh reality of the Kalzasaern winter and learned to dress well enough to ease the brunt of it. She'd even gone to visit the alchemist's shop for a few more doses of the warming liqueur, though sadly the charming young Mr. Sunrunner had been absent. Perhaps he'd finally escaped apprenticeship and become a journeyman, wandering the world to hone his craft?

This was the line of hypothetical nonsense Imogen was silently pursuing when Vergil suddenly stopped, bringing Hector to heel. The Ork immediately cast about for any threats, but nothing presented itself until the Kindred explained.

"A live one? You're sure?" She shouldn't be so excited by this; after all, from what Vergil had said earlier, there was no real guarantee that this was the centurial hydra the leather belonged to. They might merely be on the trail of an adolescent, which she did not expect would catch the sorceress Lyra's fancy well. At Vergil's question, she shook her head emphatically- but then she grinned, a great toothsome Orkhan smile.

"I don't know these mountains from any other, but I think I can assist us just the same. Observe the secret and potent witchcraft I have at my disposal, Master Vergil."

Imogen held up a hand for Vergil's inspection, fingers turned inward, and palm filled with a great streamer of silver nova-flame. She passed her other hand over the fire... and then reached into the pack she'd just laid aside and produced a hunk of bread. She took a moment to toast the bread on the flame, then opened her hand and the mystical fire extinguished. Carefully, she tore the bread apart and began to scatter it across the rocks. Then, she produced a wooden totem of strange design and began to twist it, producing a squeaking noises.

After a few moments of this inexplicable behavior, the sparse evergreens filled with sudden motion. Small birds were making their way towards the road, attracted by Imogen's call and the crumbs spread across the road. Imogen lowered herself to one knee near the feasting songbirds, making a number of soft, chirping noises.

The witch spent several full minutes chirping, listening to the birds' replies, and cocking her head. Soon enough, however, she rose suddenly to full height and clapped. The sudden noise scattered the birds anew, causing them to take to the high skies above the mountain trails or wing it towards the safety of the pines below.

"Greedy little fuckers." Imogen remarked, watching them go, "But I think I've got our lead. There's a deep lake to the northeast, in a shallow vale." The Ork pointed, somewhat uncertainly, towards two mountains. "Hours by wing, but longer by foot, I think. Still, if what Luis said about hydra lairs is to be believed--and everyone says he's the best--then a big one is going to want a deep body of water for its home."

"Couldn't get much else out of them, except that we should kill no wolves around here. Not sure what that's meant to mean, but easy enough."

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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Purely based on appearances alone, Vergil would look as he did when he was about thirty years old; this was by design, though, as he’d shed his mortality at age forty. That being said, Imogen might be able to guess his age a bit better if she’d heard much about him, but that part would depend on within which of the Coven’s many circles she walked. Vergil’s primary association was with the Grymalka, and he was a highly regarded Necrosurgeon thereof. Prior to Zaichaer’s fall, he had been enjoying a rather storied career, having possessed a gilded reputation to both his peers and clients for roughly a score and some change years at that point– therefore, if she knew this, then she could easily assume he had to be at least past forty-five.

Hector, though he’d been turned at sixteen, would still grow into what he would have been as a mortal adult– but his aging would stop there, and right now, just by looking at him, it would be ambiguous given the long youths enjoyed by Hytori. Further, she would likely have little to no idea who he was, but she might’ve known about his parents; the apothecary they ran was well known. Luis would’ve likely brought up the shop the day before if Imogen didn’t draw the connection on her own. And if she knew much about Hector’s parents, she might know that their only child had just reached adulthood in the recent past.

Lacking this context (or a semblance rune, minimum expert), and given Vergil’s visual ambiguity, as well as the length of time that elves spent looking quite young, guessing their accurate ages would be nigh impossible.

If, while they traveled, Imogen did make the joke about the quality of roads built by an avian species, Hector would be visibly amused at the thought, though Vergil would only say that he appreciated the consideration behind the infrastructure.

Hector’s Aidolon, Al’Kassis, had come to expect less than favorable responses from mortals to his presence, so when Imogen regarded him, unflustered and quite polite, the spirit’s strange, stony features appeared almost delighted.

“ₗₒᵥₑₗy ₜₒ ₘₑₑₜ yₒᵤ ₐₛ wₑₗₗ, ᵢₘₒgₑₙ₋” it would be ambiguous as for whether he’d learned her name through actually having paid attention to their conversations or simply having plucked it from Hector’s mind, “...yₒᵤ cₐₙ cₐₗₗ ₘₑ ₐₗ’ₖₐₛₛᵢₛ.” One would also not be able to tell if his notably friendly demeanor was genuine.

The spirit had, prior to gaining the requisite strength to manifest this corporeal form, only been able to communicate with mortals through its abilities Nightmare and Haunt. Like this, however? He could do anything the average mortal could and far more.

And as the group continued forth, one would notice that Al’Kassis did not walk– he held himself aloft, having never bothered to materialize proper feet, either. Rather, he floated along, presumably suspended in the air by some metric of miasma. This might be out of laziness, it might be out of pretension, or…it might be because he hasn’t actually walked in well over a thousand years and, perhaps, he’d forgotten how.

When Vergil, who’d been leading them, stopped, so too, did the others. Apparently, it would be here they’d part from the road, but prior to doing so, the older of the two vampyres paused to ask a question of Imogen. When she questioned whether he could accurately say whether it was alive, he nodded; that much he could tell. If it were dead, the thing’s scent would be far more infused with decay.

Her subsequent response, however, had all three parties simply staring at her, speechless, while she communed with the birds. This was, however, on par in display to Hector communing with nature spirits. Which he could also still do, but he wasn't sure he'd get anything that much more useful from them than the birds.

When Imogen recounted the results of whatever form of ‘conversation’ that was, Vergil nodded, doing his best to hide how bewildered he was. “Guess we’ll leave the wolves alone?” He spoke incredulously, but in general, he figured they ought to trust the wildlife. “That does happen to be the direction I intended to go, though, so what you’ve learned follows.”

Hector chimed in, “...that was Animus, no? I have that, although mine is…weird. I can only seem to take totems from other people, well…of them…since my initiation.” The boy shrugged; he had no explanation for this, it just…was.

He continued, “My one animal shape does fly, though, I could fly to scou-”

But before he could finish that sentence, “...Hector, no.” Vergil shook his head. “Your ability to sustain flight for any real length of time is…suspect at best.”

“Only choice is by foot unless Imogen could fly there and, coincidentally, also has Traversion.” Vergil may have said this as a bit of a joke, because the likelihood of that being the case in most circumstances, frankly, was not very high.

As the rest spoke, the Aidolon had little input, appearing still as stone aside from the hazy shadows flowing over his form; this was their problem to figure out, he was there, ostensibly, for the ride.

- - -

Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

"Animus with all but mortal totems?" Imogen inquired, her face a picture of bafflement. "Well, whatever catches your fancy, I suppose."

She'd amply alluded to it the prior day, but it was Imogen's conception of witchcraft that anomalies and distinctions in the practice of magic were perfectly ordinary. Granted, an occupation of the Rune of Animus which entirely ignored the animal kingdoms was particularly peculiar, but she'd seen plenty of strange practices in her time. She shrugged it off as another strange affectation of a strange young man.

Hell, she used Animus to transform herself into skeletons from time to time, and she very much hoped she would never have to explain how that worked.

"Flight and Traversion I have," the witch acknowledged, "Though I've yet to try combining them. Well, now's as good a time as another, I suppose. Fold my clothes up for me, would you? I shouldn't like them to get lost."

The Ork let that linger as her only warning before her entire body dissolved at once. Both of the ex-witches had certainly known users of Animus; it was a moderately popular Rune amongst hedge-witches, though often regarded as inferior to the cornerstones of the great Covens. A typical user, intending to undertake a full-body transformation, would seek privacy and time. It was a process which took a lot of thought and effort, the restructuring of one's entire body. Even skilled witches would have taken time to prepare, to gather their thoughts, their energy, to transition from one form to the next.

Imogen did not. Her skin tore apart like cheap linen and silvery light surged within as the witch near-instantly reshaped and compressed her entire body to fit a much smaller totem. Less than half a minute after her warning was given, the deed was done; the Ork's clothes lay scattered beneath the waddling feet of a great sea-bird, which shook itself to puff out its feathers before offering a few test flaps and lunging into the sky. The albatross gained altitude rapidly, though it looked altogether ungainly and forlorn so far from the shores and sands to which such birds were accustomed.

Truth be told, the witch wasn't gifted at flight herself, but the noble albatross' form was almost uniquely fashioned to require neither thought nor energy to remain aloft. After struggling mightily to beat up into the sky, the Orkhan seabird let her wings lock into a restive flight-angle and took in the foothills of the Astralar range.

The mountains were beautiful, of course, as striking from on high as from below, and the icy winds buffeted her thick coat of feathers in vain. They were dark and gloomy in the wan light of the Eclipse, and she wondered how they must sparkle under the true sunlight. Perhaps she'd get to see, soon. Or perhaps the endless night would let the ice here continue to fester and grow, until it slouched down from the high passes and into the fields, and killed off every living thing.

Needlessly gloomy thought, there. She refocused her birdy brain on the task at hand, scanning the land below for the sign of the shallow vale the birds had promised her. They'd described it as a long flight, but the tireless wings of the albatross were swifter over distance than any songbird's, their initial advantages rapidly ceding to the implacable advance of the motionless sea-courser. Yes, that was a fine way to describe a large wet bird which mostly liked to eat trash.

~~~

When Imogen returned to the two men, she did so on the wing rather than through a portal. Her rationale was simple- it would be faster to use slipspace, but she needed more time to build her interior map and align it properly when she was flying so high above the ground. It was really only a wait of a few hours in any event; nothing at all to an albatross' flight, and certainly not long enough to be much of an inconvenience to the whole effort.

As soon as she landed, Imogen hitched her clothes back. It would have been neat to resume her shape inside the clothes, to swell and fill as the silver light shone, and suddenly be an Orkhan woman back in her usual garb, but her previous attempts to perform that trick had left her with nothing but torn blouses and ruined pants. Much easier to simply drag them behind some brush and exchange flesh for flesh, her scale-studded skin tearing bodily out of the feathers as though she had teleported into a bag of wet bird parts. She tugged her garments back on while she enjoyed the light cover and made her way back to her two companions, tugging her woven mantle back on as she went.

(She dispensed with boots for the time being, simply hardening her feet until they were scaled claws, impervious to the rough ground. She'd put them back on later.)

"I've found the vale and the lake." the witch said, no-nonsense, "Vergil, you say that you are a Traverser yourself? I can open a Railway there with your assistance, I think, if you give me just a moment to catch my breath."

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

- - -

- - -

To Imogen’s inquiry about his Animus, Hector nodded, looking a combination of pleased and enthusiastic. “Yes! I’ve…honestly, it’s taken a minute to get used to much of the rune beyond the totem with which I was initiated. I’m…not sure why, but I’ve not taken to it as easily as I did Summoning.” …and Vitalis, but he was still nervous about announcing that one, even though Imogen had already seen him use it.

The conversation hadn’t the time to continue, as within short order, Imogen reshaped herself into a species of bird that struck the two vampyres as coastal, though neither were ornithologists enough to say precisely what she’d become. Nevertheless, off she flew in the distance, enacting the plan Vergil had suggested. He was, genuinely, relieved to hear that Imogen was capable of flying there and teleporting back, such that it made travel far easier for them all.

-
Imogen’s time away was a few hours total. The two vampyres and spirit weren’t much bothered by this, all things considered. Though they could not wander far from where they awaited Imogen’s return, it wasn’t too hard to find ways to entertain themselves.
-

When Imogen did return still in the shape of a bird, Hector pointed her towards her clothes, which he had folded for her, obliging her request. There was little to say, though, until the Orkhan had returned to them in both her original shape and dress.

At her inquiry regarding his own skills with Traversion, Vergil inclined his head. “I’m no master with it, but I should be able to help you create the Railway itself– you’ll just need to map it to the right place.”

And he would– once she was ready, he’d expend whatever aether was necessary to craft the spell, though all he could do was open it. Working together, the Railway was made in short order, and unless Imogen had an objections, there was little need to tarry.

Once they were all on the other side, the strength of the hydra’s scent definitely indicated one was within the vicinity. “Did you spot the beast, Imogen? How close do you think we can get to it?” Hector inquired, eyes glinting curiously. He wanted to see it.

- - -

Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

This was the first time that Imogen had created a proper portal, but she'd seen it done a hundred times. To the uninitiated, all Traversion might seem the same, but personal transit--blinks, vaults, all the other spells which led to being one place and then another--felt entirely different from the process of shaping a door.

And it wasn't really a door, was it? It was more like bending the veil inward and letting it fill Slipspace with reality until you had a funnel to your destination. If Imogen was familiar with balloon animals, or shaping glass, she might have described the process thus. Sadly, all of her analogies would be significantly less polite.

The Ork let Vergil do the heavy lifting, as it were, and focused on the topography of Slipspace. Having been to the shores of the lake where their estwhile prey slept (she hoped), it was child's play to devise a route through the formless form of the in-between realm. As Hector watched, the air dimpled in front of the witch, collapsing in on itself and stretching through a sudden hole in space. Light twisted and darkened as it became trapped in the spatial folds, and images of the ruined nothingness beyond became visible, snatches of eye-hurting infinity and strange shapes which seemed almost artificial.

As she worked, Imogen spoke- creating a Railway wasn't that hard, after all.

"It is interesting, really, how people take to different Runes differently. I spent a decade learning the art of the Sunsingers- took me years and years to get any good at it. But Animus? Came right away, hardly any effort at all. Then again, I haven't had that much time to explore the art. Could be there's a lot more to it than I know, eh?"

The pulling, swirling tunnel finally set as Imogen completed the spell. It wasn't all that dramatic; a Railway was not a stable portal, it took the Traverser's concentration and aether along the entire line to sustain it. Still, Imogen was confident in the magic. She could feel how it flowed through the Slipspace, and she was more than capable of sustaining it now that the two witches had carved it out.

Imogen led the three into the Railway. Though Vergil had aided her in casting the spell, the pathway through slipspace overwhelmingly bore the telltale signs of her magic. The three seemed as though they were walking within a hallway of glass, fractal lenses which let in glimpses of both the outside world--trees, rocks, icemelt streams--and little windows of worlds beyond, featuring rainbow stars, floating realms of fractured cities, strange alien landscapes of purple skies and unintelligible flora. As the three walked, their reflections in the Railway-glass around them melded and changed as though they were reflected in a funhouse mirror. Larger... smaller... fatter... thinner... paler... darker...

It would be misleading to keep describing the Railway at this point, though, because it ended as abruptly as it had begun. This was a relatively short-distance portal, after all; they spent maybe minutes in the Slipspace, if that. As the three emerged and Vergil picked up the smell of the beast, Imogen answered Hector's inquiry.

"I didn't get a look at it, but you'll spot spoor if you glance around the lake for a little while. It's got to be pretty big." That was the hope, anyway. Lyra wasn't going to pay much if they brought back a horse-sized monstrosity, after all. "Can't imagine it can see us while we're on the shore, either. It probably waits for prey to come for a drink or a fish, and that's if it's hunting and not sleeping."

The Sunsinger peered into the mountain lake. It wasn't a particularly murky lake, fed as it was by clear icemelt streams, but it was deep enough and overgrown with kelplike fronds and other floral detritus, such that the bottom wasn't really visible anywhere at all.

"Now unfortunately, I'm not so good underwater just yet- haven't had a chance to study the beasts of the sea, so on. Still, we should be able to get a better look at what we're dealing with before it's alerted. Here."

The witch stepped closer to the shore of the lake, craning her neck a bit as she sought for the patch of water with the best reflections. Once she found it, she held her hands out over the water--careful not to step in so far that it might alert their quarry--and opened a Window. Usually, these illusory portals only touched the surface of the water, but this one she sent deeper down. The Window produced a confusing series of kaledioscopic images for a moment as reflection and translucence merged, but then the images of freshwater plants filled the little portal, up-close and personal.

Imogen maneuvered the Window through the stalks and reeds. She piloted the spell deeper and deeper into the lake, deeper than it seemed the relatively small body of water should likely sustain. Near the bottom of the lake, amidst the sea of green plants, the onlookers caught tiny flashes of glowing rocks; dragonshards of some kind, though so small and flimsy that they'd never sell.

After a few minutes of searching, there was a flash of bone-white scale. A moment's reorientation, and the Window filled with a wall of such scales, looking for all the world like the skin of some great albino crocodile.

"There's the thing." said the witch, voice satisfied. "Let's see if we can get a better look."

Imogen pulled her spell back for a few seconds, revealing yet more unbroken scale. Then a few seconds more. Then more. As the Window retreated, oriented on the beast below, it slowly became evident that they were not looking at a yearling hydra. By the time the first of its heads and eyes appeared, it was evident that the monstrosity beneath the lake was larger than most buildings, and they still couldn't see where the thing began or ended.

"Ah." said Imogen Ward.

"Oh." she added.

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

- - -

- - -

Hector watched with interest as Vergil and Imogen worked together to open the portal. Vergil had only gained Traversion recently and, all things considered, had taken to weaving aether through that rune with exceptional quickness. The man wouldn’t admit the feat was remarkable, however, as his personality typically shied away from hubris. He’d made many a portal since learning the skill, because while he did make ample use of the magic for his own independent travels, most of the longer distances were traversed alongside Hector. As such, for him, tearing open the door was something he’d forced himself to become comfortable with quickly– the odd part was doing so without a destination in mind.

To Imogen’s words regarding runic aptitude, however, it was not Hector nor Vergil who responded, but the spirit, Al’kassis. “ᵢ, ₜₒₒ, wₐₛ ₛᵤᵣₚᵣᵢₛₑd wᵢₜₕ ₜₕₑ bₒy’ₛ ₘₐgᵢcₐₗ ₚᵣₒwₑₛₛ wₕₑₙ ᵢ fᵢᵣₛₜ ₕₐₚₚₑₙₑd ᵤₚₒₙ ₕᵢₘ– bᵤₜ ₕₑ wₐₛ wᵢₗd, ᵤₙcₒₙₜᵣₒₗₗₑd. ₜᵣᵤₑ ₘₐₛₜₑᵣy ₒf ₛᵤₘₘₒₙᵢₙg wₐₛ ₐcₕᵢₑᵥₑd bₑₙₑₐₜₕ ₘy gᵤᵢdₐₙcₑ.” It would appear that he was taking credit for tempering Hector’s innate talent into mastery, and though this was a boisterous claim, it was, certainly, a true one.

“...ₜₕₒᵤgₕ cᵣₑdᵢₜ wₕₑᵣₑ ᵢₜ’ₛ dᵤₑ, wᵢₜₕₒᵤₜ ₕₑcₜₒᵣ, ᵢ wₒᵤₗd ₛₜᵢₗₗ bₑ ₗᵢₜₜₗₑ ₘₒᵣₑ ₜₕₐₙ dᵤₛₜ, fₗₒₐₜᵢₙg ₚᵤᵣₚₒₛₑₗₑₛₛₗy ₜₕᵣₒᵤgₕ ₜₕₑ ᵥₒᵢd.” Their relationship was a symbiotic one, increasingly so the more time passed– though one would note that the two souls had yet to undertake their Revelation.

Hector laughed, because the spirit’s words echoed a sentiment he’d been told by every tutor he’d had thus far since arriving in the Imperium, Vergil, and, he imagined, anyone who’d mentored him in his past. “‘Tis true…I’ve been told repeatedly that my power over aether is immense, but wild…untempered, chaotic. I fail to see the issue with that, though,” the boy responded. “Although, I could see how having more control of myself would be beneficial? Perhaps I am underutilizing that which I possess…” he trailed off, appearing to recede into his own thoughts.

But by this point, the spell was complete and the most disturbing ‘empty’ that had sat within the portal had been filled. Walking through Slipspace using the path that Imogen had created was…interesting. There were similarities when it came to pathways carved by any Traversion mage, but the particularly funny ways in which they were reflected in crystal, for example, wasn’t present in, say, Vergil’s pathways. His were sleeker, and though there were reflections of myriad places just the same, anything that would mirror your image back at you was usually smooth, giving a more accurate image.

Once on the other side, the two vampyres listened as Imogen responded regarding where the hydra might lurk. They watched, wordless but clearly intrigued, as she created a window on the water’s surface to help locate the beast, and when she did, they looked pleased. However, that reaction quickly shifted to something more akin to trepidation as she tried to zoom out, further and further, revealing that the beast was truly a behemoth. This was both good and bad, for the amount of leather they could harvest and the price that Lyra would pay would both be handsome, but…it would be markedly more difficult to subdue.

Vergil pressed his lips into a hard line, thinking, while Hector looked delighted. Al’Kassis, still present in his strange, marbled form, bore an air of something akin to hunger on his stony features, though he was markedly more difficult to read.

The first to break the silence was the spirit. “ᵢ ₜₕᵢₙₖ ₒᵤᵣ ᵢₙᵢₜᵢₐₗ ₚₗₐₙ wᵢₗₗ ₛₜᵢₗₗ ₕₒₗd, wₑ’ᵥₑ ⱼᵤₛₜ ₐ ₙₑₑd ₜₒ ₗᵤᵣₑ ᵢₜ ₒᵤₜ wᵢₜₕₒᵤₜ dᵣₐggᵢₙg ₐₜₜₑₙₜᵢₒₙ ₒᵤᵣ wₐy– ᵢ’ₗₗ gₒ ₐfₜₑᵣ ᵢₜ ᵢₙᵢₜᵢₐₗₗy. ᵢ ₐₘ…ᵢₙₜₐₙgᵢbₗₑ, cₒₘₚₒₛₑd ₑₙₜᵢᵣₑₗy ₒf ₘᵢₐₛₘₐ, ₐₙd ᵢ cₐₙ cₕₐₙgₑ ₜₕₑ ₛₕₐₚₑ ₜₕₐₜ ₘᵢₐₛₘₐ ₜₐₖₑₛ ₐₜ wᵢₗₗ. ᵢ’ₗₗ ₗₒdgₑ ₘyₛₑₗf ᵢₙ ₜₕₑ bₑₐₛₜ ₐₙd dᵣₐᵢₙ ᵢₜₛ ᵥᵢₜₐₗᵢₜy ᵤₙₜᵢₗ ₜₕₑ ₜₕᵣₑₑ ₒf yₒᵤ ₛₑₑ ᵢₜ ₐₛ wₑₐₖ ₑₙₒᵤgₕ ₜₒ ₐₜₜₐcₖ yₒᵤᵣₛₑₗᵥₑₛ– ₜₕₐₜ, ₒᵣ ₛᵤffᵢcᵢₑₙₜₗy dᵢₛₜᵣₐcₜₑd, bᵤₜ wᵢₜₕ ₘy ₗᵢfₑ ₗₑₑcₕ ₐₙd ₜwₒ ᵥₐₘₚyᵣₑₛ ₜₕₐₜ cₐₙ ₕₐᵣᵥₑₛₜ fᵣₒₘ ᵢₜ…ₜₕₐₜ ₛₕₒᵤₗd ₘₐₖₑ ᵢₜ ₘₐᵣₖₑdₗy ₑₐₛᵢₑᵣ ₜₒ ₕₐₙdₗₑ, ₙₒ?
”

To that, Vergil nodded in agreement, adding, “...to lure it out, Hector and I can make something of a fleshy simulacrum of a beast and puppeteer the ‘creature’ out to the water’s surface with our magics. Something of, ah…fake prey, so to speak. The hydra’s focus should be on that initially, allowing the spirit to attack it first without giving away our location.”

Hector had no real input, finding that idea fine, but to Imogen he would ask, “...what say you?”

- - -

Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

It was surprisingly hard to work through what Al'kassis was saying, but Imogen was determined not to be rude to the spirit. She supposed that it was probably not adapted to mortal speech- her organs might work harmoniously to produce the sounds and syllables comprehensible to the ear, but a shadow which lived in the void? Probably it had been forced to mimic some process of its own, worked it out via trial and error. No, she would treat its efforts with the respect they were due.

"Well," the witch replied, musing on each word, "Yes, I suppose no matter how large it is, it cannot eat shadow."

Actually, she was less sure of that than she sounded. Luis had given her a primer on the hydra, and had emphasized that when it grew new heads, they often featured novel organs designed to aid it in whatever struggle it faced. Could the beast synthesize an organ which could harm the eidolon? It seemed questionable, but with a beast of that size you didn't want to take any chances.

"Hydras are great stores of vitality. Luis told me that each contains a specialized organ, like an artificial dragonshard, where it stores healing magic to power its famous regeneration. Simply siphoning life out of the beast may not quite suffice." Worse, if they managed to deplete its Gallstone, Imogen wondered if a creature of that size could even sustain its own life without magic. Another question for another day, she supposed.

"Still, the idea seems to hold continued merit. Instead of a prolonged battle, perhaps we can disable it quickly. Once you have lured the creature from the lake and it is distracted, I will deliver a comprehensive killing blow--or what would be one, anyway, were it just a big snake--and the two of you can take advantage of the opportunity to bind it."

Imogen sounded calm, her voice entirely confident despite the behemoth's unforeseen scale. Even her enormous sword would be little more than a toothpick compared to the monster, but she didn't doubt herself. Size alone only got you so far.

"If you two can keep it paralyzed for a time, well... we can proceed from there." Her original plan to take the monster's form and fight it herself was, sadly, infeasible- even if she could produce the aether for such a massive transformation, it would take far too long. That didn't mean that Animus couldn't still help resolve the problem. Actually, it seemed a little more useful, just now, than Traversion. How exactly were they going to produce a Railway large enough to take that fucking thing back with them?

Whatever. One miracle at a time, that was the way.

"Very well, Mr. Vergil. You two ready the bait, I'll find a vantage point to stage my attack. I'm ready when you're ready."