10-12-2016, 01:33 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-13-2016, 04:03 AM by Creatia.
Edit Reason: Revised for clarity and lack of description.
)
After an hour or so of traveling speckled with various pauses --some for Michael to bark at the others to catch up with his pace, others to round up a straggler that wandered off, and one actual break filled with friendly song and chatter-- Creatia had gotten a bit more used to the wayward elves and their talkative diva of a leader. Along the way, she had learned some rather useful and... questionable tidbits about the red-eyed elf himself: he was a remarkably sharp archer, had a side job as an apothecary's aide in Yggdrasil (which he described as a giant tree city filled with elves), and came from a place called the Vasty Deep. That particular fact warranted another long-winded tale about true love between his mother and a pirate, eloping, and being born on a cold December eve.
"And I met these lazy ones during a trek to gather healing herbs around the World Tree. Their old leader had died of the gout, you see, and were looking for a new head to help them with the Grove. I had a very, very busy schedule, you see, but I was kind enough to take the reins! And thus here I am to this day," he said.
One member interjected, "More like ye begged us to tag along!"
"Yeah, we didn't need a leader at first..." Another one remarked. Hearing this, Creatia blinked. Then why would they still listen to him?
"Is that so?" Michael huffed, "Were you lot not saying I ran this group much better than your old leader did?"
A small murmur of agreement and nodding heads trailed cautiously through the procession. He held his head higher in response as he addressed the others. "Then I don't see what the problem is."
"The problem here is your attitude, Michael," a new voice spoke a few feet ahead of them. Everyone's attention turned to the source of the defiant tone before kneeling in respect. The man in question paused before bowing his own head in reverence to a tall older woman a few steps ahead of them.
Her faintly wrinkled expression was vague with a strange combination of serenity and stoicism. Smoky eyes shielded by lengthy silver hair and thick elderly frames locked onto the bespectacled blonde elf. Based on her cold greeting, she was none too pleased to see him.
"Enchantress Melody," he muttered solemnly to the new face. Was she that important to silence his mouth so quickly?
"You've yet to change since you've started working under me, Michael," she mused aloud before approaching the small group. Her loose white robes rustling against her form, tied in place with a red sash. Some of her hair fell from the confines of her green hood as she scolded him again.
"Be grateful your work ethic is bar none, or this would be your last trip to the Grove. I need all the hands I can get." He shuddered and tensed under her harsh words, but said nothing. Her glance then carried over to the newcomer struggling with the books, some interest glowing in her wizened eyes. "And who is this one?" She motioned to Creatia.
"Oh! Uh, I'm..."
"A Miss Creatia Weatherly, Miss Melody. She's a new Prime," Michael intruded unabashedly before raising his posture to its usual vain and pompous stance.
A simple tch clicked from the enchantress's lips before moving towards the mage; with a graceful swoop of her robed arms, she relieved her of the tomes and scrolls. "A new Prime? I see... Tell me child, what do you know about this world?"
Glad of the heavy cargo being lifted from her arms at last, she spoke with some initial awkwardness, trying to remember what she had learned so far, "Well, I know that... There are, there are 8 verses... And uhm... Oh, I c-can create anything that I, uh, I wish! And... Om... Omni d-dropped me here..."
Melody merely nodded along to the witch's explanation. "Base knowledge then. Things all Primes should know. Very well," She gave a moment's thought to her next few words, giving Creatia a calm but scrutinizing gaze beneath her glasses, "...As you can see, the fields far ahead of you are barren of any life other than floating ash and soot. Clearly it wasn't like that before, yet..."
Her vocal range took on hints of something more ominous and foreboding: "Months have passed, and not a single root has budded with new growth. I felt that more... unearthly powers have come into play here. So I chose to investigate."
Turning to face the depressing scenery far in the distance, she continued, "Many more fortnights of research, examination, and attempts to revive the Grove... And nothing except a growing theory came from my efforts. I fear that... Blight may have taken root in the soil."
A dense and worrying silence fell over the caravan of volunteers and the enchantress. Creatia was the first to break it with a question.
"W-what's blight, uh, exactly?" She asked. She had an idea of what blight could mean in other worlds. But here in the Omniverse, the same word could mean a very different thing: monsters, magic, or simply a deadly virus or a strange sort of fungi.
The arcane user confirmed one of those many possibilities. "The blight is a corrupted and virulent disease... Settling its spores into flora sees them wasting away, and once docile creatures mutate into vile and mindless beasts.
"Nowadays, the virus is located far off from here in an area called the Blighted Dell. But after a fire burned down this bit of the Green, traces of old Blight were found in the soil. I believe that may be why new greenery will not grow in the Grove. It's a less venomous strain than the usual, so the tainted soil may be healed with the right materials."
As she faced Creatia, Michael, and the rest of the elves with weary eyes, she finished her story. "Which is why I've employed these people and many others as volunteers to help gather them for me. But... Only so much can be done before we have to reach out to Camelot once more for aid."
The prideful male in green chimed in at last, his voice bitter and sputtering, "M-My lady, Camelot is not needed, I assure you! The Tangled Green has always held our own without them, and, and-"
"Hush, child, you are still young and clueless!" Melody snapped, "No younger than this wee one at best. The ties between Camelot and the Greens are decent enough to keep us alive. If not for their aid, we'd be a lawless jungle canopy!"
Creatia kept a short snicker between her teeth, yet a bit miffed that she was still mistaken as a young child. It was kind of ironic to see the haughty male being dismissed and talked down to so easily. But when Michael lowered his head in defeat, she held her tongue out of kindness.
She assumed the situation as a typical supply mission: something she could do in no time. All she needed was her potions- Wait. It struck Creatia that she didn't have her bag containing her potions and grimoire; it was dropped along with her headphones when she fell from her homeworld. And I still don't have a weapon... But these people need help. And I need something to do.
Going on without her usual protection warrented suicide, but... she was in a forest. Herbs for her potionwork could be easily obtained here and remade, and the basics of her grimoire rewritten from scratch as well. What better way to start her work anew than by helping Melody with her own tasks?
"So, uh... M-miss Melody?" Creatia started, "W-What do you, do you need in terms of m-materials? ...M-maybe I can... I can help!"
Melody looked down to the hopeful mage, a bit taken aback by her offer but pleased nonetheless. "Are you sure?"
A cheerful smile broke on her cheeks as she replied, "O-of course I'm sure! I used to be a... A potion mage back home. I'm a pretty g-good gatherer!" This new information brought Michael's eyes to the witch with renewed intrigue. Standing up straighter, he listened carefully to the conversation between the two arcane users.
"So you say. Hmm...." A thin and calloused hand rose to reach into her robes, rummaging for something as she spoke, "I'll be the judge of that. Ah." With a quick motion, a scroll was taken from the folds and opened to reveal its written contents. Scanning the parchment, she shook her head once in approval.
"These are the materials that I need," Melody explained, flipping the sheet around so Creatia could read it, "Seeing as most of the items on this list are already covered by your acquaintance there..." An unamused glance was briefly shot to Micheal, who smirked with pride, "I only need one item. Your choice."
Leaning closer to the piece of paper for a better look, Creatia noted each item to herself. Parchment, Malefax Beetle, Acorns... Hmm? Then one item caught her eye. "W-what about this... Dark W-Water?"
"Ah, a difficult one. Dark Water is found only in the more remote areas of the Animus River... Naturally darker than the usual brilliant blues of the river, it's claimed to have many nutrients the rest of the Animus doesn't have." She rolled up the scroll. "If you mean to try for that one, I wouldn't expect to finish the task in a mere day..."
"Good." Her initial answer confused the enchantress. "It, uhm... gives me time to... To.. get used to the Green... And g-gather herbs for my potions..."
"Understood... However, it'd be unwise to travel now. It's late afternoon; by the time you near a part of the Animus, it will be nightfall. And the orcs are more... Primal during the night."
Orcs? Creatia gulped at the thought, earning a short chuckle from the elder mage. "Worry not, dear child. You..." She forced the next name out, "Michael, and his group can rest at my home for the night. No charge for volunteers."
The potion magus sighed in relief at the news, before Micheal snaked his arm around her shoulder again. "Dear Miss Creatia, it's a rarity to be accepted so readily by Lady Melody..." He sang with high praise in his tone, "I knew I saw something in you when we first met, hmm?"
"Meep," was Creatia's only response, her hat tumbled over half of her face to hide her embarrassed look. Was he always this forward? She hoped not for her own sake.
"Micheal. Release the girl, gather your crew, and follow me," Melody ordered, an apologetic gaze given to the shy witch as he reluctantly complied to her request. She motioned the girl to walk closer to her side and away from the elf before leading the small crowd through the greenery.
She could only smile back in gratitude. Maybe when they've settled for the night, she could ask her how exactly to keep Michael under control if he still meant to travel with her. She's definitely more experienced with him than I am... Or at least I hope so.
"And I met these lazy ones during a trek to gather healing herbs around the World Tree. Their old leader had died of the gout, you see, and were looking for a new head to help them with the Grove. I had a very, very busy schedule, you see, but I was kind enough to take the reins! And thus here I am to this day," he said.
One member interjected, "More like ye begged us to tag along!"
"Yeah, we didn't need a leader at first..." Another one remarked. Hearing this, Creatia blinked. Then why would they still listen to him?
"Is that so?" Michael huffed, "Were you lot not saying I ran this group much better than your old leader did?"
A small murmur of agreement and nodding heads trailed cautiously through the procession. He held his head higher in response as he addressed the others. "Then I don't see what the problem is."
"The problem here is your attitude, Michael," a new voice spoke a few feet ahead of them. Everyone's attention turned to the source of the defiant tone before kneeling in respect. The man in question paused before bowing his own head in reverence to a tall older woman a few steps ahead of them.
Her faintly wrinkled expression was vague with a strange combination of serenity and stoicism. Smoky eyes shielded by lengthy silver hair and thick elderly frames locked onto the bespectacled blonde elf. Based on her cold greeting, she was none too pleased to see him.
"Enchantress Melody," he muttered solemnly to the new face. Was she that important to silence his mouth so quickly?
"You've yet to change since you've started working under me, Michael," she mused aloud before approaching the small group. Her loose white robes rustling against her form, tied in place with a red sash. Some of her hair fell from the confines of her green hood as she scolded him again.
"Be grateful your work ethic is bar none, or this would be your last trip to the Grove. I need all the hands I can get." He shuddered and tensed under her harsh words, but said nothing. Her glance then carried over to the newcomer struggling with the books, some interest glowing in her wizened eyes. "And who is this one?" She motioned to Creatia.
"Oh! Uh, I'm..."
"A Miss Creatia Weatherly, Miss Melody. She's a new Prime," Michael intruded unabashedly before raising his posture to its usual vain and pompous stance.
A simple tch clicked from the enchantress's lips before moving towards the mage; with a graceful swoop of her robed arms, she relieved her of the tomes and scrolls. "A new Prime? I see... Tell me child, what do you know about this world?"
Glad of the heavy cargo being lifted from her arms at last, she spoke with some initial awkwardness, trying to remember what she had learned so far, "Well, I know that... There are, there are 8 verses... And uhm... Oh, I c-can create anything that I, uh, I wish! And... Om... Omni d-dropped me here..."
Melody merely nodded along to the witch's explanation. "Base knowledge then. Things all Primes should know. Very well," She gave a moment's thought to her next few words, giving Creatia a calm but scrutinizing gaze beneath her glasses, "...As you can see, the fields far ahead of you are barren of any life other than floating ash and soot. Clearly it wasn't like that before, yet..."
Her vocal range took on hints of something more ominous and foreboding: "Months have passed, and not a single root has budded with new growth. I felt that more... unearthly powers have come into play here. So I chose to investigate."
Turning to face the depressing scenery far in the distance, she continued, "Many more fortnights of research, examination, and attempts to revive the Grove... And nothing except a growing theory came from my efforts. I fear that... Blight may have taken root in the soil."
A dense and worrying silence fell over the caravan of volunteers and the enchantress. Creatia was the first to break it with a question.
"W-what's blight, uh, exactly?" She asked. She had an idea of what blight could mean in other worlds. But here in the Omniverse, the same word could mean a very different thing: monsters, magic, or simply a deadly virus or a strange sort of fungi.
The arcane user confirmed one of those many possibilities. "The blight is a corrupted and virulent disease... Settling its spores into flora sees them wasting away, and once docile creatures mutate into vile and mindless beasts.
"Nowadays, the virus is located far off from here in an area called the Blighted Dell. But after a fire burned down this bit of the Green, traces of old Blight were found in the soil. I believe that may be why new greenery will not grow in the Grove. It's a less venomous strain than the usual, so the tainted soil may be healed with the right materials."
As she faced Creatia, Michael, and the rest of the elves with weary eyes, she finished her story. "Which is why I've employed these people and many others as volunteers to help gather them for me. But... Only so much can be done before we have to reach out to Camelot once more for aid."
The prideful male in green chimed in at last, his voice bitter and sputtering, "M-My lady, Camelot is not needed, I assure you! The Tangled Green has always held our own without them, and, and-"
"Hush, child, you are still young and clueless!" Melody snapped, "No younger than this wee one at best. The ties between Camelot and the Greens are decent enough to keep us alive. If not for their aid, we'd be a lawless jungle canopy!"
Creatia kept a short snicker between her teeth, yet a bit miffed that she was still mistaken as a young child. It was kind of ironic to see the haughty male being dismissed and talked down to so easily. But when Michael lowered his head in defeat, she held her tongue out of kindness.
She assumed the situation as a typical supply mission: something she could do in no time. All she needed was her potions- Wait. It struck Creatia that she didn't have her bag containing her potions and grimoire; it was dropped along with her headphones when she fell from her homeworld. And I still don't have a weapon... But these people need help. And I need something to do.
Going on without her usual protection warrented suicide, but... she was in a forest. Herbs for her potionwork could be easily obtained here and remade, and the basics of her grimoire rewritten from scratch as well. What better way to start her work anew than by helping Melody with her own tasks?
"So, uh... M-miss Melody?" Creatia started, "W-What do you, do you need in terms of m-materials? ...M-maybe I can... I can help!"
Melody looked down to the hopeful mage, a bit taken aback by her offer but pleased nonetheless. "Are you sure?"
A cheerful smile broke on her cheeks as she replied, "O-of course I'm sure! I used to be a... A potion mage back home. I'm a pretty g-good gatherer!" This new information brought Michael's eyes to the witch with renewed intrigue. Standing up straighter, he listened carefully to the conversation between the two arcane users.
"So you say. Hmm...." A thin and calloused hand rose to reach into her robes, rummaging for something as she spoke, "I'll be the judge of that. Ah." With a quick motion, a scroll was taken from the folds and opened to reveal its written contents. Scanning the parchment, she shook her head once in approval.
"These are the materials that I need," Melody explained, flipping the sheet around so Creatia could read it, "Seeing as most of the items on this list are already covered by your acquaintance there..." An unamused glance was briefly shot to Micheal, who smirked with pride, "I only need one item. Your choice."
Leaning closer to the piece of paper for a better look, Creatia noted each item to herself. Parchment, Malefax Beetle, Acorns... Hmm? Then one item caught her eye. "W-what about this... Dark W-Water?"
"Ah, a difficult one. Dark Water is found only in the more remote areas of the Animus River... Naturally darker than the usual brilliant blues of the river, it's claimed to have many nutrients the rest of the Animus doesn't have." She rolled up the scroll. "If you mean to try for that one, I wouldn't expect to finish the task in a mere day..."
"Good." Her initial answer confused the enchantress. "It, uhm... gives me time to... To.. get used to the Green... And g-gather herbs for my potions..."
"Understood... However, it'd be unwise to travel now. It's late afternoon; by the time you near a part of the Animus, it will be nightfall. And the orcs are more... Primal during the night."
Orcs? Creatia gulped at the thought, earning a short chuckle from the elder mage. "Worry not, dear child. You..." She forced the next name out, "Michael, and his group can rest at my home for the night. No charge for volunteers."
The potion magus sighed in relief at the news, before Micheal snaked his arm around her shoulder again. "Dear Miss Creatia, it's a rarity to be accepted so readily by Lady Melody..." He sang with high praise in his tone, "I knew I saw something in you when we first met, hmm?"
"Meep," was Creatia's only response, her hat tumbled over half of her face to hide her embarrassed look. Was he always this forward? She hoped not for her own sake.
"Micheal. Release the girl, gather your crew, and follow me," Melody ordered, an apologetic gaze given to the shy witch as he reluctantly complied to her request. She motioned the girl to walk closer to her side and away from the elf before leading the small crowd through the greenery.
She could only smile back in gratitude. Maybe when they've settled for the night, she could ask her how exactly to keep Michael under control if he still meant to travel with her. She's definitely more experienced with him than I am... Or at least I hope so.
Quote:[Today 08:58 AM] Creatia Weatherly : That is all I want to see in my life: dinosaurs with sniper rifles.
[Today 08:58 AM] Kalli : Creatia knows whats up
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