Eidolon Advent

Sitting upright on a mossy log, Belial sips at a wooden mug, letting steam roll up his face as it abandons the warm, scented concoction within. Surrounding marshlands offer only the faint chirps of insects to him as he awaits the return of Briar and Cronn. Having been informed of Briar's findings, he remains patient as the moon begins to fall. Allowing himself to appreciate the moment of peace he has been given. A brief period lacking in responsibility, purpose, and all other ties humanity has forced upon him. He sighs with relief and tranquility, allowing his eyes to fall shut for a moment, only to open them again as images of his torment throw themselves across the backs of his eyelids. He stares ahead blankly as they fade back into the abysmal parts of his mind. Then, sips at the mug once more.

A sudden shift in wildlife activity causes his ears to perk up. Listening intently, he manages to distinguish the sound of approaching footsteps with slight wetness about them; Roughly an eighth of a mile out. As a second set comes within range, he relaxes his shoulders, folds one leg over the other, and takes another sip. The bitter tang of coffee beans washes over his tongue. Leaving behind a comforting scent that dilutes his sense of smell as he studies the lessening distance between himself and his cooperators.

"Feeling alright?" Cronn asks, coming into view of the campsite's fire.

"Never better." Belial claims, placing the mug alongside himself and awaiting their report.

"Good to hear." Briar plops down on the log and rubs his palms together, prepping them for the fire's warmth. "Not much we can say about our findings."

"Seems the specters have no true pattern here. No cut path like they have in the city."

"Meaning?"

"They won't be much help in guiding us."

Belial lifts the mug back up to his lips, sips at it, and smacks them together with dissatisfaction. Then, pulls two more into view, offering one to each of the others. Taking a beverage in hand, Cronn presses the butt of his torch into a soft patch of soil and steps around the log, keeping on his feet in an attempt to avoid too much rest.

"That isn't to say they can't guide us." Briar rationalizes. "The further south we traveled, the greater their density."

"So, you think it's possible that the next closest Kneller is southbound?"

"It isn't unfair to say so." Briar offers, moments before scolding his throat as he chugs the coffee. "Still, we are best off following the manifestations. Retracing our steps a mile or so that way will lead us to where they were most frequent. From there, the specters can guide us the rest of the way. Or, at least, until we hear the bell for ourselves." Peering into the mug, Briar finds nothing more than a few grounds at the bottom. Seeing this, he tosses the container into a pouch at his side and pulls the coarse strings apart, sealing the opening in the process. "If we're to accomplish anything more tonight, we should set off. We've already lost more time than we can afford." As the trio dismantle their camping equipment, Briar watches a distant column of smoke form, followed by a second, and finally a third. In such close proximity, the trails funnel into one another, leaving a singular trunk of ominous darkness that shrouds out the moonlight. With a heavy sigh, he turns away to smother the embers of their own; Removing the only potential distraction that could delay much-needed assistance.

"Pity." Cronn states, gazing up at the plea with remorse spilled across his pale skin.

"Indeed." Belial responds, merely glancing up before returning to the work at hand.

"If it were under any other circumstances, we could step away and lend them our assistance... but odds are, they're suffering due to what we are struggling to end already." Briar pulls a second small pouch off the ground and adds it to the same rope as the first. Then, looks back at the others. "The best way for us to help them is to continue on with our own. Preventing the next potential attack will allow them some time to recover."

"Given they survive." Belial bluntly states. His features speak of neither anger nor grief. Stone-cold neutrality consumes his expressionless face and the sunken eyes housed within it.

"Yes, well; Best not to dwell on what we cannot influence." Briar looks back to the smoke, studying the patterns within as he trails it up and down. "Aside from what we're already busy with, the distance from our location to theirs is far too great. We couldn't possibly reach them in time."

"We've got clusters within the mile in every direction. Someone will be there soon enough." Cronn states in an assuring manner as he pulls the last of their gear over one shoulder. Yet, his stance suggests that even he has doubts about this claim. "It's time to move on. We don't want to let that Kneller gain any more distance on us than it has already."

"Was Achlys able to provide any information on their numbers in the report?" Belial asks.

"Not accurately, it seems. Members of The Covenant's watch atop the towers estimated roughly thirty to forty, based on what chimes could be heard. That number varies greatly depending on which of them you ask. Unfortunately, the weather up there cost us any additional information that could have otherwise been given with reliance on sight."

"Mercy certainly wasn't shown towards us."

"In this line of work? On what occasion is it, for a Nostrum?" Briar chuckles at his own words as the three of them set off, beginning the search for their next uncertain encounter.

"Tell me again, Briar. When was it that you had yours removed?"

"Hm?"

"Your Sigil," Cronn explains, adjusting the positioning of the ax at his side, "when was it removed?"

"Ah, yes. It wasn't but a week into my time with The Purebloods. A delayed occasion, really."

"Strange of them to do so, no?" Cronn asks with prying curiosity. "Given that one cannot truly be Pureblood until it is?"

"Hell, no Nostrum who still has his Sigil is even meant to be considered for the title. Let alone granted access to The Covenant's headquarters." Belial overstates with gritted teeth. "Not that the fault falls on you, Briar."

"Of course not." Briar agrees, stepping over a fallen branch covered in age-old mosses. "It was an act of desperation. They excused my early deployment in the name of bringing their number of active members up in a time where this lycanthropy was most prominent in the region. It's something I consider myself grateful for to this day."

"Why is that?" Cronn cocks his head to one side, granting Briar an even more eager ear.

"I'd have never learned to appreciate The Purge if it wasn't for the first time I fell in battle, only to come back."

"Strange." Cronn raises a curled finger to his chin, hardly watching where he walks as he thinks over the response given to him.

"Might I ask why?"

"Certainly." Cronn, unblinking, looks back towards the marsh ahead. Assembling his reasoning as best he can before speaking it. "You claim that your reasoning for joining The Purebloods is knowing that there will eventually come an end. Yet, you removed your Sigil after having a revelation about the power resurrection has to offer."

"As I stated before," Briar nods with a frown before continuing, 'Reality is best dealt with when you lack distractions.' Others were risking their lives for the last time, knowing that one wrong move would be the end of them. It was. I followed them into that battle on my third night with The Purebloods and each of them was pulled apart before my very eyes. When it came to be my time, all went black. Yet, where the others' hearts stopped beating, mine continued. I awoke in a place I'd only ever heard of. Thinking that it was some realm within the Heavens or purgatory at first, I marched on, until I met... Her. Soft-spoken, caring, estrange, ...familiar. It took Achlys no time at all to explain who she was, where I was, ...who I was. She offered me strengths I have only ever seen the beasts possess. A true blessing that only The Bethel could have to offer. Or so I thought. I accepted, obviously." Briar shrugs, lacking any remorse for his decision. "In the end, I returned to our world with wrongs to right. I took the head of the beast that slew so many Nostrum before me and offered it to The Counsel myself; A small token of justice in my eye. I was proposed a permanent place among the ranks that very night and I took it without hesitation. Achlys repealed my Sigil that very night. A painful experience it is, really."

"Where- in your recount of those events- is your reasoning for giving up the gift of resurrection you were so fond of?" Belial wonders, being less than enthused by Briar's words.

"In my dying moments, The Purge taught me that such dreams are something that truly limits one's capabilities. Our- er-, their guide... those of The Bethel, may offer incredible power that most can only dream of, but without the fear of eternal rot, there is no charm in The Purge, this plague, itself. Why worry about being struck down, if your return is inevitable? Why improve when you can weaken a beast further and further with each of your arrivals? Removing your Sigil does not only enable reality to truly set in, but it also enables you to become far better at being a Nostrum than anything Numen could offer. Quick thinking and strategic motions are taught only when fear looms overhead. The certainty that your rope has an end will turn you into a Nostrum that no ordinary man could ever be, or compete with. Once again, I say, 'Reality is best dealt with when you lack distractions.'"

"Your morbid sense of fulfillment concerns me." Cronn warns with widened eyes.

"As it should." Briar jokingly assures with an added wink and twisted grin.