paixaorpg | Sniffing out Sin [Completed]

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Sniffing out Sin [Completed]

Characters: Spirit, Braska, Kit Fisto
Content: The trio sets out to find the source of this madness, using Spirit's nose as a guide.
Setting: Begins outside the Cafe Eresat on the H8/I8 border, continues toward Sin.
Time: Late morning.
Warnings: Talk of violence and nastiness, but that's it.

Spirit felt quite a bit like kicking something. That or running - toward or away from whatever stank so much, it didn't matter. The stallion had never been much good at standing around in times of danger; he wanted to be doing something.

The high emotions of those around him really weren't helping.

Still, going against whatever-it-was alone probably wasn't the smartest course of action, and there were herdmates coming. As he waited in front of the cafe, Spirit settled for trotting in wide circles on the street, grumbling and snorting to himself, occasionally bucking when nothing was behind him.

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That emotions were high, Kit couldn't deny---and that truth, he certainly couldn't ignore. It was everywhere people were, around them, on them, in the air between them, impossible to tune out but not overwhelming. (Most of it was unease, and he'd felt many more extreme emotions in his time.) What was there was distinct, although difficult to describe; what he sensed was somewhere between a touch, taste and scent, always presented to his attention but not affecting it more than any other information might---while nautolans were known (where they were known) to reflect the moods of those around them, he'd trained to resist the tendency.

He was representing the Order, after all.

There is emotion, yet there is calm.

"Spirit!" He approached, aware of the stallion's impatience and of his own. People were suffering and scared and subdued---regardless of the cause, he wanted to do what he could to preserve public safety. There was nothing to do but to try.

It was disturbing. All of this was disturbing. He had felt someone try to rip the pyreflies from him, and then these monsters had appeared. Only a summoner had such control over pyreflies, and Braska had no reason to use his own for any reason other than keeping himself together.

Auron had already set out to find the source of the attacks, but he couldn't simply sit by and do nothing. Searching through the journals wasn't getting him far enough and he just had to know. Surely it couldn't be here... Sin had been defeated. Why would anyone want to bring sorrow to this place? True, it had its downsides and terrors, but there was no reason to punish everyone for one group's doings!

Braska took a deep breath. No, he shouldn't think on this so much. Answers would come to him in due time. He approached the restaurant, nodding to the other two and putting on a smile. He seemed to form a habit of ending up with the most unlikely of groups, didn't he?

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

Kit's call came from behind Spirit - the stallion looked sharply over his withers, then, registering who it was, trotted over to meet the Jedi halfway. He managed a "Hey, Kit" before Braska also arrived from a different direction.

"Nah, you didn't." He moved so he could see the both of his companions and got straight to business, pointing down a street with a head motion. "The smell's coming from some ways thataway - the big one, I mean, the mother. There's lots of smaller ones along the way, too." He stomped a hindfoot impatiently. "Whenever you guys are ready."

Here he paused for a moment, then looked at Braska, raising his ears for an introduction. "By the way, name's Spirit Who Could Not Be Broken. You can shorten it to Spirit."

"Not at all, although it is nice to meet you face-to-face." The Jedi nodded back to Braska and smiled in return, leaving the greeting at that as Spirit started to speak. His silence was thoughtful; he could not help but wonder when he would be within range of the creatures----range for feeling what they felt, as he was aware of their presence in the Force.

That presence was anything but pleasant, but Kit's expression held. He was in a position to help, he had most agreeable allies, and it was only very rarely that trouble increased at a smile.

"Shall we?"

Braska smiled (it didn't reach his eyes) and nodded. "That is good to know," he said, bowing to the two respectfully in greeting. "It is good to meet you both."

In order to ignore his worries he thought once again on the strange group the three made. He had never seen anyone like Kit before, but the man was amiable enough, and Braska had never been one to judge based on appearance. And Braska had never seen anything like Spirit before, either. It was odd. He was reminded somewhat of Ixion, but Spirit had neither lightning nor the looks of the aeon. He really didn't feel like one, either. He piqued Braska's curiosity, at least, but many things in this city seemed to o that.

"Oh, yes, we should go. We shouldn't keep this waiting," Braska replied. The longer these creatures remained in the city, the more people would be hurt.

"Then let's get to it," Spirit said brusquely. Wheeling to his left, the Mustang set out at a trot - if his companions needed it he would slow down, but for him at least the pace was comfortable, faster than walking but not terribly energy intensive. Head and tail up with ears forward, the stallion was clearly alert and, at least in theory, ready for anything.

"Alright, then..." Kit moved forward, taking advantage of his stride to stay near Spirit's pace, glancing back to Braska. He was aware of the curiousity, and felt it an appropriate emotion to return---he had his own, after all, and there was no point to being tense too soon. "Braska...you've some healing abilities, I've heard. Would you be kind enough to describe what you might do? Since the techniques we're familiar with probably involve very different training schedules, I'd like a rough idea."

Braska kept pace behind Spirit, only slightly lagging behind Kit due to his heavy robes. It was a bit on the quick side, but it wasn't enough to tire him.

He looked to Kit when asked and nodded. "I do. They are mainly spells--white magic--such as Cure, Esuna, and various other defensive spells," he said before realizing he should probably elaborate a little further. Not everyone had the same system of magic that he had on Spira, after all. "Cure is a basic healing spell. Depending on the power put into it, one can heal a variety of wounds, from a simple cut to a large gash. Esuna's curative abilities lie more in ailments--not always sickness, but poison, petrification, and other such things."

It was a lengthy explanation already, so he decided to leave out the descriptions of the protective spells. What they were was apparent enough already, after all. "You are acquainted with similar forms of magic?"

For the next question, Braska turned to Spirit, his curiosity finally getting the best of him. "And... forgive me for asking this, but I have never seen an animal on my world that looks quite like you. What species might you be?"

Spirit had turned an ear to listen to the conversation, and when addressed gave Braska a sidelong grin. "I'm a horse."

As if leaving it at that, he looked forward again for a few more steps, but then looked back. "You know, if Paixao had brought me here two or three years ago, I could have said the same thing about your kind." The stallion shook his mane a bit, his attitude suggesting a shrug. "Maybe there are horses where you come from and they just haven't met you two-leggeds yet."

Kit listened quietly, thoughtful, but started to smile again at the question. "Magic? Not exactly... While techniques vary among practitioners, there are a fair number of skills Force-users can develop to aid allies maintain their own well-being. Someone's recovery from illness or injury could be sped, or that someone could be stabilized until help arrived, if whatever they were suffering was too severe and required medical attention. The Force can be drawn on for energy--as strength or stamina---for warmth in cold, improving morale..."

He glanced downwards---or seemed to---and shrugged a little, smiling wistfully now. "I'm afraid I can do very little along those lines---I'm capable of some health basics, but my specialties are negotiation and combat."

"A horse..." Braska echoed. "It may be possible. I have seen an aeon in a similar shape, but it could be entirely possible that it was a vision from another world? The only ones who could tell you how the fayth dream are the fayth themselves." It was an interesting prospect. The fayth could dream up a world, but could they dream of other worlds?

The High Summoner snapped out of his reverie once Kit began to speak, listening attentively. How fascinating! It sounded almost like magic, but with a few differences. He would have to ask for more information in less urgent times. "Negotiation is still a vital skill," Braska stated with a nod. "I'd rather a dispute end without bloodshed than be soaked in it.

Spirit gave an inquisitive squeak at Braska's response, but held his comment until after he and Kit had exchanged words. "I never saw two-leggeds use healing magic where I come from, but they could all do things like conjure fire and control things called ropes. Us horses don't use magic like the two-leggeds that I know of..." And here he grinned. "But we can mess up their spells sometimes.

"So, uh... what's an aeon and what are fayth?"

"Oh, I've got to agree---the order's primary duties are protection and peacekeeping, and I'm pleased to be acting as a diplomat more often than I'm deployed to a battlefront." Kit smiled and seemed ready to make some reply to Spirit's remarks, but instead stopped suddenly---almost mid-step---expression fading as his attention was drawn immediately and entirely elsewhere.

A moment passed.

"I suspect," he stated, speaking softly, "that there isn't any negotiating to be done. ...It's not near even our options."

[ooc: if this is too soon for the KIWFHAET vibes from sinspawn, let me know and I'll rewrite. also, I finally got to use my icon of win]

((Nah. But I think we should start closing it up here to get to the Boss thread. Or maybe backlog this'n?))

It seemed as though Spirit had a different definition of magic than what Braska had. The use of fire was no real magic trick (save for the use of the spell), though he supposed that those who were unused to it would find it fantastical. Then again, it was entirely possible that the "two-leggeds" of Spirit's world could use some of the magic he knew of as well. And maybe Spirit new some sort of skill that could Silence others? Or maybe he was speculating too much.

"Aeons are created from the dreams of the fayth, and the fayth are those who have had their souls willingly taken from their bodies to be bound in stone, where they dream for eternity. Summoners are able to bring those dreams, the aeons, into reality," Braska explained, about to go into more detail before Kit spoke.

The fiends' wrath... Braska quickened his pace. "They will not rest until all that surrounds them is as themselves," the High Summoner stated. "They seek destruction and little else. Death is the only answer to their pain and hate," he said sadly. "And denied rest, their hate consumes and twists them until they can be sent. Such are the fiends of Spira."

((OOC: Closing and getting to the boss battle would be fine with me. I could remove the Sin-stuff from the tags and so forth?))

Spirit pinned both ears back to listen to his companions, sniffing at the air as they spoke. They were getting pretty close - the stallion could feel it in his skin as well as smell it. Abruptly turning a corner with a quickening of his trot, he called back, "This way - there's fewer little ones!"

Kit kept close behind Spirit, lightsaber in hand, now ignited, and Braska's words in mind. He spared a glance to the summoner, aware he spoke from experience, and nodded. "As life and death exist expecting the other, pain and comfort are never independent; it's unfortunate, but perhaps we can offer the latter, after the former---after the fight."

They had the hope of it, at least.

[Sounds good.]

Braska nodded distractedly, following in body while his mind drifted other places. Why? He still couldn't understand Seymour's motives. What good could would meaningless death do? Braska was sure Auron may have once told him the maester's opinion, but that memory was lost in the jumble of thoughts streaming through his head.

So much death and destruction... Why here? Why punish those who didn't deserve it? The people had done nothing to deserve this. Nothing.

[Right, if everyone's cool, I think that looks like a good stopping point. See you guys at the boss?]

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Sniffing out Sin [Completed]

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