The chaos of the crumbling Spires recedes as Arion and Sivanus step into the bustling heart of the Mesthelia market. The air, heavy with the sharp tang of turmeric, dried lavender, and ancient stone, offers a sensory reprieve from the ozone-drenched abyss. Arion walks with a measured, stiff gait, his host’s muscles pulling tight like taut wires, while faint teal veins of light pulse rhythmically beneath his pale skin.
Sivanus
He is drawing eyes. Every step he takes feels like a dissonance in this crowd, a shadow moving through a sunlit room. I must keep him focused, or the Council will find us before we even leave this district.
Arion Touvengard
Sivanus, stop scanning the rooftops. Draelik has withdrawn to attend to his own failures for the moment. We are safe enough here to procure what is required for the journey.
Sivanus
If you say so, Arion. But this city has a way of turning its back on those it deems unworthy. Stay close to the stalls.
Arion Touvengard
The host's heart beats too rapidly. I must exert more control over his physical responses, or the strain will consume him before I reach the ley-lines. I require supplies to tether my essence more securely to this vessel.
Quest Complete
Escape the collapsing Azure Spires
+ Story Quest Added
Procure supplies for the journey
“Arion begins calming his hosts body pulling back some energy allowing for more natural movement as the host is allowed more control and arion retreats into the blade to recover some expended energy.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled +0)
The unnatural, puppet-like tension leaves the host's muscles as Arion pulses his essence downward, retreating into the cold iron of the blade at his hip. The man’s posture softens, his shoulders dropping from their rigid perch. He exhales a long, shaky breath, color returning to his cheeks as the teal, hum-like radiance fades from his veins.
Sivanus
Your stride has lost that hollow sharpness. The silence from you is… unnerving. Are you still listening, Arion?
Arion Touvengard
The host’s heartbeat stabilizes. I must conserve what remains of my reach if I am to survive the coming trek. Let the flesh-bound inhabit his own cage for a moment.
The host stumbles slightly, catching his balance against a rack of dried spices. Sivanus, her eyes narrowing as she scans the shifting crowds of the market, pivots to block a hooded figure attempting to slip through the dense press of bodies. The stranger’s hand remains hidden beneath a tattered cloak, but the distinct, jagged hilt of a blackened ritual dagger catches the sunlight.
Sivanus
We are being trailed. They have found us already.
“Arions host, assuming control smoothly motions towards sivanus to disappear into the shadows as the host does the same.”
SUCCESS (Good Stealth, rolled +2)
Regil
The blade bites into my hip, a cold, biting frost that anchors me. This is not the time for the parasite to take the lead.
The host, Regil, moves with a fluid, organic grace that the sword entity cannot replicate. He catches the spice vendor's eye, offering a practiced, sheepish apology before swerving behind a hanging tapestry of woven silk.
Sivanus
Move, now.
Regil mirrors Sivanus, his boots silent against the uneven stones. They flow like oil into the murky intersection of an alleyway, disappearing just as the hooded stranger rounds the corner, the ritual dagger held aloft to strike. The attacker pauses, blade slicing only empty, spice-scented air.
Arion Touvengard
The host possesses a peculiar aptitude for evasion. It is inefficient, yet effective. We are hidden, but the blade still glows faintly in my grip. I must suppress the light, lest the ritualist track the aura through the stone walls.
Regil presses his back against the damp brick, chest heaving. His hand trembles as he grips the sword's hilt, the metal vibrating with Arion's restless, hungry energy.