𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟.

i am the storm and i am coming for you

[veseniya-tqd]

who: @celayawitcher where: by courier, then in Ankhuria when: Arriving to Celaya roughly a week after The Living Prison notes: letter as your starter, but if you want me to do more and set the scene just let me know and I'll do so.

Celaya,

By the time this letter reaches you, someone will have told you of all that passed at Amon-Sûl. Life has given you many reasons to question news so lifting as the dead of a god. I would not believe it if I did not witness it. It is true. Like all things, it comes with a price.

I would like you to meet me in Ankhuria. Please see the marked spot on the map enclosed. It is critical you come within a fortnight. Please come armed. If I am not there when you arrive, please wait. I will come when I regain lucidity. If your instincts alert you that something is wrong when we find one another, you must trust them. You must act on them. If I never come, speak to any member of the Legion. They will confirm what you already suspect this far into this letter.

If you are able, please bring with you a sleeping potion and a sharpened blade. The blade alone will do.

If the Weave wills, I will see you soon.

Veseniya

[celayawitcher]

It does not take long into reading the letter to comprehend what Death stains its pages. Celaya's current reaction is tempered, stern and resolute considering what losses she has faced - yet those are tangible, not entirely marred by Death, but something that promises a return. What Veseniya spoke of here, it reeked of permanence and Celaya knew time was waning thin for her beloved friend.

Ankhuria was some place she'd never been, peaks and valleys shrouded with the deafening silence of a desert; it was a place that was unkind to any, but would be especially unkind to one born of frost and antimagic. Still, Celaya made haste after the letter had been read; there were no loose ends to tie up, no one to wonder where she would be gone to. Perhaps once before that would make her feel so harrowingly empty, but on the fringes of this letter, such loneliness comes with acceptance. Not everyone could face their fate, whatever muddled and fractured version said Fates granted to them, but Celaya was vexed by fighting against it any longer. She was a warrior, a brave woman, and sometimes - often times - that came with the realization that she was to bear such cross alone.

Celaya held the letter close as though she could smell the faint familiarity of her friend as Veseniya had been writing it - as though she would be hugging her one last time if the witcher could not locate her in time. It was said that those who fought at Amon-Sûl were already conscribed as living heroes, but it seemed her friend had paid the ultimate price for their heroic missive and Celaya did not fault her for that.

The transition from Lysaran borders to Ankurkian realms was stark, the cooler air transitioned quickly to the remnants of stifling heat. The sun was looming on the horizon and Celaya did not know what would await her in the darkness but she did not fear. She walked forward, a woman with a mission, a friend with a favor. She came with no armor bogging her down, just her respected equipment - her sword and shield, the ingredients of a potion tucked away in her rucksack. Her hair was wound tightly, intricate braids telling of what reverence was found for her friend, what respect and dignity Veseniya would be met with when the end came to pass.

Celaya mustered a smile of relief as a fire seemed to breech the horizon, off on the other side of the dune. Based on the map Veseniya had provided, the location was correct, but the smile faded as quickly as it was conjured. There was no telling if the vestiges of her friend would greet her or the strong embrace of it. She would not let memory delude her into hope. Celaya let out a whistle, the sound may have been slightly deafened by the wind but Veseniya was always perceptive enough where - if lucidity granted her this - she would hear Celaya's hint of arrival.

Such call was also given on the wonder if there were any others hiding within the crevices and dips of the dunes; Celaya would not let them stifle her mission, but she would end any who came to cross her before it was complete. After several moments pause, Celaya finally drifted towards the source of the fire to see what awaited her next.

[whiskeycat991]

[veseniya-tqd]

She stared at Celaya when she spoke of the hierarchy, or lack thereof, that the order of Witchers adopted. Far out in the dunes of Ankhuria, Witchers were not heard of, not a threat. But even so, it seemed strange to her that they would operate on such loose terms given the purpose they were made for. But that problem seemed to wash away with the fall of Iskaldrik. “Surprising to hear you say something nice about where you came from,” Veseniya finally said as she read Celaya’s explanation as complimentary and positive. 

“Better…” Veseniya said after a moment. “That margin is thin.” It wouldn’t take much to be doing better than one had in the custody of the Kossith. 

“I was not there.” Celaya would already know this. “I came after.” Would a few days have made a difference? If she had finally faced the trial of the third arch head on and been reborn to a world a century past her time, what could a fledgling dream druid really offer in the face of the carefully laid out plan of centuries old genasi? “I think you and the sea–no more. Too much already.”

[celayawitcher]

Celaya almost withered as Veseniya pointed out the more positive incline where her words were concerned, but Celaya braced it, shrugging after a pause, "There is a lot of bad that turned me into this, but there was a lot of good that came after." She hadn't seen Veseniya to have yet explained this; the aasimar, the celestial tether, and what witchers were supposed to be before they were transitioned into these monster hunters that inflicted more harm than good. "It turns out being a witcher wasn't supposed to be so terrible," but Celaya doesn't elaborate further on that; it would be many lifetimes before a witcher could be painted in a positive light again without being rife with the atrocities their kind once committed and were instilled with.

Celaya snorted, something genuine and borderline happy, nudging Veseniya in retort, "I can agree to that." She had always appreciated the candor of the druid, but Celaya hadn't realized how much she had genuinely missed it while aboard the Kossith ship within her suffering.

[akanisxingrid]

"Celaya, I'm a queensguard. My whole job is dangerous, you being you makes it less dangerous as some of the biggest threats are witches." realistically Ingrid was just a normal human amongst a court of the supernatural. "You know more than me," she threw her hands up in defence. What Celaya was saying made sense, and it's not like she knew anything to say otherwise.

"Tell him a queensguard is here to see him." Ingrid even went to the extent of flashing her own ring. As the teen ran off, Ingrid broke her imposing visage "I only use it to skip the waiting, I bleed for them, the least they can do is not make me wait." It wasn't like she abused her privilege greatly to get free wears but if compared to Akanis it was an indiscretion. "There have to be perks, Celaya. And while having you as squire is one of them, there has to be more."

[celayawitcher]

Celaya understood Ingrid's intent with bringing up such information but the truth of what she was at her very core still stung to be reminded of. She nodded simply, curtly even, "You are strong without any magic or alchemy within you, that has always been a feat I've respected of you." The witcher knew that Ingrid could handle even the cruelest of witches and their magic in spite of what Ingrid currently claimed here.

She tried to remain stern as Ingrid used her scant privileges as a queensguard to grant expedited access., but somehow, for Celaya, it was incredibly humorous to witness. She bit back the laughter, a rare grin finding itself on her visage as it was tempered mildly but Ingrid's statement, "I feel I've brought you more trouble than perks, but I appreciate what you're trying to say." Celaya had always been confident in her abilities, her brutality, but so often she betrayed her proficiencies with the blade when feeling she clashed so heavily with what the queensguard stood for and represented.

[shesalowlife]

[amazingyoungwomen]

[chroniclerelris]

This was news to him, it being able to influence before it was worn. The surprise was written across his face “did anyone else that was close experience the same thing? Did it target you?” He wasn’t sure what it meant fully that the rings had chosen three out of a group, did it just happen to be that they were the closest or was it more malicious than that? “This might be too personal but do you have ties to the dark that it might have sought?” He knew nothing about her bar her name so he needed some context as to who she was. “Hmmm, so tricky to get to but not impossible.” As long as it was possible Elris would find a way to contact them. “And the other?”

[celayawitcher]

"I don't know the answer to that," curt, if not laden with disappointment at herself. Celaya had actively shut down any assistance Alessia had towards the rings, considering she had been gifted hers long before Celaya and the other two had been given theirs. "I could have been targeted, but I don't have any ties to this Dark One you speak of so frivolously. It's quite the opposite actually," she had discovered, in recent times, that she was leaning more towards light, both with her celestial connection and the band of the Red Hand. "She's... an elvhen, like you, I believe."

[veseniya-tqd]

Veseniya’s head canted to the side when Celaya asked, but her expression did not change at all. Finally, after a long pause Veseniya responded. “Commander? No. But a superior.” Perhaps the ranks of the Legionnaires was not bound in seniority, but the Harbringers had been and the notion that length of tenure held water was not one that Veseniya abandoned easily. Aside from this, she did not suspect any harm or misguiding on Nurcan’s part. If she had gone to Haven, she would have had reason. Veseniya merely wished she might have been asked to go with her, if only to sort through the survivors sooner as she still wondered where Etienne might be and how he had fared. 

“Tell me how you have been,” Veseniya requested, rather than reading further into Celaya’s comment on dedication. If Celaya was angry or upset, Veseniya thought it would be warranted and made no attempt to talk herself out of any corner she might be in. 

Another beat of silence passed, and just when it had become questionable whether Veseniya had forgotten the question or if she was still in deep consternation, the druid spoke. “It is just as likely they advance without us knowing. Like Nornwatch Tower,” she suggested, turning her distant gaze back to Celaya. The affair in Nornwatch had occurred in lockstep with her long awaited escape from the Arches, but she had heard much about the chaos and consequences of what had happened there. “And now you are her. To push them back. Wherever they wait to meet you.”

[celayawitcher]

Celaya stood there in ominous thought, before nodding slowly at the thought of superiors, "All witchers were created equal, whether they were established a decade ago or the day prior. We had all only answered to the First," she did not appreciate the idea of some line of authority that extended down to who was last to join, but it was apart of why the legion was not entirely her cup of tea.

"I'm.... not sure," she loathed the idea of talking about herself, but what Celaya loathed more was that she indeed was unsure of how to answer the question. Some days had proved easier than others, but the witcher had felt greatly ill at the reminder of how easy it was for her to slip back into the cyclical violence of being branded as on oppressor. "Better now," she inevitably conceded, finding great comfort in the druid's presence.

"I don't know much about Nornwatch Tower," she tried not to appear amused as she clarified this, for Celaya knew at a baseline that a great injustice and horrors abound had occurred there. "I am Iskaran, yes, but I think the sea favors me above anything else. I was not there when darkspawn trampled into the Legion's Iskaran bastion."

[jovethebarbarian]

Being a werewolf, Jove knew the scent of wet dog would always follow him from place to place. However, finding himself floating amongst debris of a shipwreck yet again, Jove had hoped for the expression to remain figuratively. Though the stench of wet fur seemed to cling to the inside of his nose, the salty lick of the sea managed to wake him as he felt the warm hands of another on him. The pressure and subsequent sting of sea water on his open wound brought the werewolf to attention. A low groan escapes his mouth as he tries not to thrash around too much, his grip too preoccupied on the floating debris keeping him afloat to mindlessly flail about the open sea.

"Who-Who is this--? Celaya?" Jove wonders aloud, his grip on the floating debris inadvertently leading the werewolf's head to sink under the water again, interrupting his thoughts. Readjusting while panicked, Jove brought himself above the water again, coughing up a bit of the sea water.

[celayawitcher]

"Yes," hissed more at their predicament and not entirely at the werewolf, sweat clung to her tanned skin as the sun offered no relief above their heads. Jove seemed to scramble as he came to, head bobbing under the water despite any efforts from Celaya. "An island is not far off, but I can't imagine you can swim to it in your condition," she did not doubt the strengths of any werewolf but it was clear that Jove had been hit rather hard from the implosion of the ship and his advanced healing was still seemingly rebooting.

[akanisxingrid]

"Travelling with you isn't so bad when we aren't in danger, so if you want to give it a try, I'll follow." The Queen's Guard wasn't used to handing out compliments; she hoped the other would recognise she was somewhat under-selling how she feels travelling with the other.

Lighter? By how much? it must be significant if spellbreakers used it for their armour and weapons. "Sounds like there are a lot of advantages to it, is that why it's rare? A lot of it has been used already?" It would make sense that it would be that, and due to the location it is found in.

The forge was open for those who walked past to see, "Follow me." there had to be some perks guarding the queen, the ring on her finger was one of them. But as she approached, an apprentice ran up to her, halting her entry "Hey, Lady, you can't just walk in..." his sentence was cut short as the teen looked upon her face. "You... you have to wait till he's done."

[celayawitcher]

"I can't promise you any trip without it's share of danger," often Celaya felt she was to be regarded as a liability; if one recognized a witcher, often she was not welcomed so easily, no matter how much time lapsed on from when Iskaldrik had fallen.

"You think because I wield it, I am an expert on it," Celaya smiled at that, however, before offering a shrug. "I would imagine that's why. I have to figure that it was mined and collected to a degree that made it impossible to salvage anymore today." Not a lie, but a simple assumption of the truth.

Celaya nudged Ingrid as she so brazenly entered the forge, "I don't imagine you tend to use your affiliations to grant entry to places like these." She teased Ingrid, but smiled as the other seemed to defect from what typical rules she followed for herself.

[celayawitcher]

"In due time," Celaya clarified further, making no attempts to step aside for Araceli. Their interactions had always been rife with conflict, but Celaya heavily assumed, at the moment, that Araceli pre-memory loss would have not given such haste to join in on the interrogations without sitting and thinking of various methods first. "Your mind is one of your most important assets, Lady Araceli, sit and ponder with it a little longer."

[theportaraceli]

“We don’t have much of that,” Araceli comments idly as she settles back down on the floor and begins tapping her finger against the ship’s floor. She wants to move, the urge to be useful surging now that she has been confronted on her inaction, but she cannot trust her own instincts when she doesn’t know herself, so rather than challenging Celaya once more, she sighs and rests her head against the wall. “But very well, I will take my time to sift through the options.”

[celayawitcher]

end.

[chroniclerelris]

“Was thier a compulsion to wear such an item?” He’d liked to think that most had common sense to not immediately put on such an item. He had pervious accounts that it wasn’t exactly a choice, that before they knew it, it was on their finger. He wanted to make sure it was the case in this instance. “Three liches? Are you sure? Just one is a very rare occurrence itself.” Three in one place wasn’t a coincidence, though one Lich wouldn’t be a coincidence either, what they was with purpose. “Who else obtained a similar item?” He could add them to his list of those he needed to cross reference.

[celayawitcher]

"You could say that," Celaya seemed blissfully fine with putting the ring on until such feeling faded and she was stuck with the truth; her grayed and foreign hand. "I worry more about whatever compulsion hit me before. It wanted me to strike her, to twist my blade deeper until I was certain she was dead," Celaya's goal had been to kill the lich either way but the witcher could not forget how she seemed so suddenly overcome with this insatiable need to do so. "One's a pirate, so good luck," Celaya hesitated on the second person, she seemed to owe a lot to Nylathria through what both faced within the Kossith ship and she wasn't sure she wanted to send this one her way just yet.

[ruyaceres]

Akanis or Ingrid? Ghosts, the both of them, though only one was dead.

"I was Akanis' friend," Rüya answered at last, though the word felt too small for what they were. "And no, I'm not Queensguard. I'm a member of the Court." It felt strange, discussing titles in the epicentre of this mundane chaos. Olympian, advisor, witch, prodigy, disgrace, healer, rahaat…

She shook her head, recalling the night Akanis first spoke of Celaya. It was the last time she saw him alive. Her reaction had been far from pleasant. In the Olympian's experience, the Witchers of Iskaldrik were ruthless—blunt instruments forged to carve through magic. From her time in the Kingdom, she remembered how mere whispers were enough to summon them. How the bravest rushed to protect their families, only to be found strewn in pieces the next morning.

I'm going to help her, cause I’ll be damned if I stand in the way of someone trying to make changes for the better.

Akanis' words rolled through her mind. "He told me you can't remember your past, is that true?" With every fibre of her being, Rüya wished she could erase their last weeks aboard the dreadnaught.

[celayawitcher]

Celaya sighed as though angry at Akanis, throughout the months following his death she only wished he could be here in the flesh so her anger could reveal itself for what it truly lurked as; grief, perpetual and cruel. "I don't know the horrible things I've done, but I know that I have done them," her hand reached for her braid, how much Celaya's hair had grown since the Kossith had captured her; it had been recognized as a sacrifice towards the tether of her old life when she'd cut it off, and Celaya had only been captured days after committing such act.

"But I know of good things too," she tried not to scoff contemptuously as she stated this, "Before this life, I was a warrior, a hero to fight against the dark," she wasn't sure why her memories of this current life remained fractured, but she felt somewhat soothed to have been given the vestige of her participation within the Red Hand to be enamored by. "Do you know of the Red Hand?" She wasn't sure how far the knowledge of the Queen's court went, what cultures it sought to understand, but she hoped she wouldn't have to explain much for Celaya had never been a willing speaker.

[chroniclerelris]

Witcher or not it didn’t matter when it came to these rings they were a grave threat and maybe one being on the hand of a Witcher was more threatening then anything else as all it took was Witcher influenced by the ring to cause devastation. He wasn’t going to deny her information just because of that difference alone. “Sadly I am not. I’m gathering information regarding the rings. Like how they came to be on your fingers, what you have experienced with them. I intend to change the lack of information there is by talking to as many of the wears as possible, as a collective there might be a pattern we can’t see as individual occurrence.”

[celayawitcher]

Celaya stared at the other for quite some time before nodding after a moment. She'd little reason nor interest to trust them, but also found the information to be somewhat meaningless towards affecting her if this Elris was privy to it. "There was three of us attuned to these things in one evening, near the end of one battle." The witcher tried to remain somewhat detached from her explanation for the reminder of how she seemed to fall into the violence, enjoy it and be pushed to strike deeper against the lich was something that caused a striking bout of inquietude within her. "Three liches, three rings."

[akanisxingrid]

“Well if not we best make sure we don’t buy to much that we won’t be able to swim on the way back.” Joking aside she wasn’t eager that the thought of having to be in the sea. “Oh your definitely cursed, we should take you to be spiritually cleansed, maybe pick up some sage.”

“Mithril? That’s rare right?” It made Ingrid’s queens guards armour seem mundane. But she was sure it was going to be damn expensive even the small chunk, especially due to the fact of Iskaldrik being invaded. But hey even if they could find Celaya the smallest chunk it of be something at the very least. They needed every scrap of hope they could get right now. “Wanna try something?” Ingrid heard the unmistakable sound of a hammer and anvil, if anyone would have info regarding that surely it would be those who could work it.

[celayawitcher]

"I've heard there's another isle which deals with exactly that, so don't make too many jokes of it or I'll make the travel plans," snarked easily, she knew that even something of a spiritual cleansing would be of little worth in comparison to the antimagic and alchemy within her veins; a true shame.

Celaya nodded at the question as they walked along the port, "Rarer than most, the appeal is how much lighter it feels within your hand or on your person in comparison to other metals." She felt a bit of grief as she thought of her weaponry and shield, how long she'd wanted for it, how soon she'd lost it again; Celaya could only look towards the future and hope for something new to wield at her side. A brow raised at Ingrid, though Celaya could hear the sound of the anvil being struck, it didn't stick out to her as anything out of the ordinary, so curiosity overtook the witcher, "I'm listening.."

[veseniya-tqd]

Southreach felt like Aventia’s history on replay, Conditions had not deteriorated as quickly as the former city’s fall, but it felt like another impossible task. Regardless, the Legion was dispatched to lead the charge in pushing back the blighted forces of the Dark One thus Veseniya found herself in such endangered territory. While she did not necessarily mind heeding the orders of her commander, her mind often wandered to those imprisoned upon the Kossith’s vessel and what miserable fate they were left to. Upon their recent rescue Veseniya’s wonderings shifted toward how the witcher she had come to befriend was faring as she knew the world at large was an unfriendly place for Celaya’s kind.

All of this was banished from her mind as she stood outside of her tent. Despite the activity and noise from a busy camp filled with sell swords, Legionnaires, and do-gooders Veseniya’s mind was elsewhere. Her consciousness tethered to the mycelium in the area listening to what it heard, sensing what it felt, and comparing how widely it had spread the night before to where it mapped off to now. The blight would choke out the delicate networks, and significant changes to the network might help determine a Darkspawn stronghold.  Veseniya did not make it far in her work tonight before a familiar voice pulled her out of her state of trance-like concentration.  Her large eyes had glowed green as she communed with the mold colonies in the area, but returned to their normal state as she looked at Celaya. “Without much to show for it,” Veseniya admitted. She stared at the woman across from her and decided she looked fine, and knew Celaya would not approve of any degree of coddling. “I had hoped to go to Haven. Another Legionnaire said this was our place.” She paused, her expression and voice as flat as it had ever been. “And then she went to Haven.”

[celayawitcher]

The acidic smell of darkspawn blood reached her sharp senses even this far off from whatever battlefield tended to rage here. Her nose curled and Celaya walked on as though within her own inspired missive, looking for a particular legionnaire that had to be within this very encampment based on Celaya's own investigations. Any cruel or displeased expression evaporated on the witcher the moment Veseniya stood and made eye contact with Celaya.

"Is she your Commander?" A brow quirked as Celaya used this buzzword, she knew little about the intricacies of the Legion but had fought alongside quite a few in Aventia to know this key term. "You're dedicated to your cause much like a witcher once was," there was a layer of understanding as she said this, where once Celaya could find a healthy dose of rage at the thought of not being looked for or even yearned for, the witcher could instead come to a place of understanding; how much she'd changed in a mere year.

Her hair was swirled in a braided bun atop her head, the hair having grown significantly again since her capture and release from the Kossith. "You're able to show that they've not been able to advance, no? I'd say that is good news." That alone told of the hold the Legion and Olympians had on the border and that there was strength in their preservation and eradication efforts, even if it was a slow moving trickle whereas Veseniya wanted an efficient and fast flowing river.

[chroniclerelris]

Who: Open (Ring bearers 3 max) Where: Wherever your character is as he is travelling around Notes: He will use his nightingale contact to hunt you down if needed ❤️

Elris had taken a small amount of time for himself recently but while he had been enjoying his time in Avalon, darkness didn't rest. While the rings weren't active, they were still a problem. One that he might be able to get ahead of now if he continued his research. He had put out feelers for those who wore or tried to research these rings. He had drafted more letters the he cared to admit trying to invite the recipient correctly to meet with him. He hadn’t got a reply from all of them but a few had agreed. He sat waiting at the agree upon location rubbing a leg that had become tender from his travels. “I hope you don’t mind if I remain seated. Elris Dalathor, we exchange letters” a hand was extended in greeting to the other.

[celayawitcher]

If it wasn't for Ingrid, Celaya likely would have never bothered to respond to the letters she had received regarding the ring of the damned still stuck upon her finger; dormant yet a constant elephant within the room. She loathed looking at it, loathed the influence it had on her, despite how brief such influence had been before something happened which made it grow quiet. In some respect, Celaya found the silence more unbearable than the cruel thoughts it once instilled upon her. "Celaya," she looked down at the hand, raising a brow as most of his kind would find her reprehensible and lesser than them. "I hope you've asked to meet to spread good fortune," instead of shaking Elris' hand, she held up the one attuned to the ring, wiggling her fingers with a frustration expression on her face.