Wings of Wonder: NPC Interactions and Investigations

[voidtreckermods]

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WINGS OF WONDER: NPC LOG

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ARRIVAL ISLAND

EAST ISLAND

NORTH TRAIL - SOUTH TRAIL

NORTH ISLAND

SOUTH ISLAND

WEST ISLAND

Comments

The picture is a spoiler. Also slight FFXIV spoilers here.

[wewillwewill]

"Outsiders," Elidibus murmurs. Or... not? Well whatever the origin of the perpetrator, he is curious about whether it's a singular or multitude. "More than one?" It's something he manages to retain the presence enough to ask. A soft noise escapes his throat; a sharp exhalation from the experience of discomfort which is going much deeper than the physical vessel he resides in. His fingers then wrap around the palms of the statue's hands, making certain he will not flinch back.

His answer comes with assurance, "You have my permission. I am no stranger to pain." Old pain. Recent pain. It comes with the feeling of grief. With a mimicry of the Ascian's aether as the conduit, it may even come with flashes of memory. A rain of fire in the sky. Suffering near total dissolution as something tore energies out of his being. Elidibus would endure in the face of a need for this vital information.

But he knows it will be harsh and thus there will also be the impression that he braces himself for what's to come.

[voidtreckernpcs]

The image is received, and with it - with it and the grief - sympathy is given in turn. Deep, and with a sense of gratitude - for Elidibus to be here now, to be offering aid for those of the statue's own home.

It lasts for a few seconds, doesn't exactly leave, but the being's attention moves elsewhere, within itself - before then the connection between them expands onto a clearer level, the energy mimicked lessened by the presence of the statue's own.

It is stabbing pain, a headache, and the being does not delay:

'The bridge beside me leads to our home.' It is a voice, light-sounding, neither clear-defining as male nor female. Young, perhaps; somewhere around 20s to 30s. 'Something troubles our connection. I cannot speak to the hearts of the other islands. Forever Ones, we are called. Connected to our lands. Our people. Tell them, Hemla is fine - Hemla is I.'

There are flashes of images, memories: round houses set along a hill-like terrain, holes for windows in homes made in the hill itself. The inside of a building, large, with a concentric layout that gets smaller at the centre where a hearth lays. Satyr-like people sitting around here. A place of study. The home of the sages.

'Be careful,' they continue, a warning, one hurried. 'Your energy is not ours. The world rejects it. I do not understand, I will learn. Give time. Our school-' The sages show again- '-can aid. They aid you. We aid you.'

With this close a link, the gratitude - under the pain that comes with it, a migraine from two clashing energies that refuse to co-exist - stronger than before, before the being withdraws the link, giving Elidibus respite.

[wewillwewill]

There is an irony in the sensation. A small "tch" sound escapes as pain lances through his head. Though his features furrow and eyes narrow with the sensation, he doesn't draw away from the statue. In time his expression retains most of its usual calm expression.

But if someone were to look closely they would see there are still lines creasing his temples and perhaps a bead of sweat.

The message, at least, is clear. And thanks to the Ascian's prior experience with pain and possibly his birthright, something he hears in full.

When the entity withdraws, Elidibus releases the breath he'd not realized he'd been holding. The sigh brings a faint sensation of 'relief' from pressure underneath the lingering throb of the headache.

"Thank you." Pain aside, the Ascian is grateful. Though whether he can take advantage of the information personally remains in question; at least he can pass it to others.

"I pray if this encounter caused you as much pain, you recover quickly. I will tell me comrades of what you have shared with me. We will see your message passed on."

Elidibus will wait for an indication of response or acknowledgement- he certainly would pause if there is more- before unwrapping his fingers from the statue's hands and withdrawing. So many questions may remain, but it is likely better to ask those who would be easier to speak with.

He's not one to linger, usually and it seems he's prepared to depart. Yet he does hesitate; at least for a moment or two longer to compose himself before rejoining the others. He does have pride.