Breaking to the Limit

A force beyond all recognition ripped Alyada from her standing place. A cold snake shivered up her spine as she was rocketed through time and space. Blackness became her vision, and the yawning depth that awaited her chilled her very bones.

It had been the Tarutaru, Arctyrael. How she knew his name… she was not sure. He had come from her past, or perhaps, the past before her past. Regardless, they were bonded. A bond that he knew about, that formed wicked grins on his face. A bond that… Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh would know who, or what she was.

Flashes of light and sound: a deep, emanating purple light, the hollow sound of wind seeping through canyon walls, the rustle of Yagudo feathers.

She fell to her knees, gasping for air. She couldn’t find Gilgamesh now. If he knew the truth behind her past, he would know the truth behind Tsuim’s. He knew where they had taken her, and where she was. The Boyhada Tree. The Cloister of Storms, where sleeping Gods must stay.

What kind of evil was Tsuim facing right now? How would Alyada recognize her? Would she know her own sister when she saw her face?

Life had been cruel to her, but she was determined to overcome it. If there was a bond between her and the immeasurable evil, then she would ride into the storm, her katana raised.

Brin and his Galkan companion landed next to her. She stood, brushing herself off and basking in the warming light of the crystal.

“I… your kindness is one I have not known. Perhaps I was wrong of the inner workings of Vana’diel and her people.”
 
(>_< I'm so SO sorry for taking so long to reply. I've got no real excuse. I'm just sorry it took so long. I couldnt think of anything good to write >_<)

The quick grab attempt at the gloved hand of the Taru by the Mithra missed, though there was a bit of contact made. Enough to toss the off-center creatures balance out of whack and cause him to crash to the ground.

"What the devil-wevil!?" he asked quickly as he moved to dust himself off. As he lifted his hand, he caught sight of another Tarutaru, approaching quickly from the south. Though at this, the Mithra seemed somewhat disturbed, then he heard Brins words. Before he could rise, or even call out any grievances with the choice in spells, the glowing light of Brins magic caught him up. Struggling against the magics power was futile, he knew, so he lay there and take it.

Soon enough, the soft hum of the crystal tele-point filled his twitching ears. His head throbbed, though he couldnt quite pinpoint why; or even how. Something about the entire situation felt...wrong.

First the yagudo, then the odd meeting of all these fellows, then the appearance of Produn, and finally the appearance of the mysterious Tarutaru. None of it made any sense. He sighed, his ears drooping. Who was he to question the will of Altana? She had brought him here to meet these people for a reason, whatever reason that was would eventually make itself evident.

Rising, he dusted off his pants and boots, then turned his soft blue eyes up toward the group. It seemed the girl was having words with the galka and the elvaan. Tyrisian, too, seemed to be well.

"Good.." he said quietly to himself. "But I wonder whataru all that was about..." his meandering thoughts, however, were interrupted by spiteful words echoing from nearby.

".....ee-thousand gil! You'd better pay me, or i'm gonna report your sorry little ass to the Chocobo Commission! You'll never rent another chocobo as long as you live! I'll personally see to it that your license is revoked! Revoked, you hear me?! REEEVOKED!"

His ears twitched again. He turned those not-so-calm eyes downward, toward the chocobo keeper who stood, hands on her hips, at the base of the spire. Her cruel words spewed forth, one right after the other, until he waved at her with his hands, giving that 'simmadown' motion.

"Calm, dear lady, calm! I can pay you all the gil you need, worry notaru!" He said cheerfully, and then hopped down once more. Reaching around his rotund waist, he unclipped a small pouch from his hip. Offering it up, it held a sizeable amount of gil, which shut her up instantly.

"Why thank you sir," she said sweetly, and motioned toward the chocobos on hand. "Theyre all very lively, sir, take your pick!"

"Erm.." he shuffled a moment, and glanced up at his commrades. "The Boyhada Tree you said, correct?" he asked of Alyada. "That is north through the mountains...then down into the Sanctuary..there should be enough gil in that pouch to cover the chargaru of my friends chocobos as well," he said to the keeper. "Keep whatever change there is."

Saddling up, he waved his hand at the group. "We must be swiftaru, as the mithra said..Let us make haste to the Tree!"
 
As always, using the spines as a means of transportation was exhausting, but Li'Telor... Li'Telor had a means of multiplying this tenfold. He was exhausted - both physically and mentally.

Assuming his victims were at this very moment rushing to the sanctuary, as he might figure the mithra to urge them to do, he had until sundown to be ready. Calling forth an old friend, servant, he mounted Fenrir and pushed forth with as much speed as he could physically handle. It had been 20 years prior that his faculties had been strained this far, but he had prepared himself for such a day. This time, this time he would not fail.

The energy here was the same as the northlands, but much more contained. He noticed the blinding stones emanating a soulfull glow betraying a sense of calm -- another trick of the Zilart. His admiration grew, yet so did his disdain. In their carelessness, they allowed the Northlands to become contaminated with dark energy - sealing the tomes of the Ancients. Access to them was lost with the 4th crag. Atleast here, the energy was yet contained, and likely to remain so for the duration of sky. The Zilartian capital proudly held fortress above them, hovering with ease.

The sun was nearing its Zenith and he still had 2 hours of hard riding to go before he would be at Boyahda. He figured Veovis had entered the Sanctuary in the hour past, the burning protective magic of Windurst quite apparent. Assuming they didn't stop for a break, they would be upon the tree in 6 hours. He pushed onward, spurring once more into Fenrir's rhythmic pace. He was looking forward to a good long rest once he was done. First, he had to seal their entrance to the tree. He already began to brace himself for the strain this would ensure.

Arctyrael brought Fenrir about for a second, then turned his head for a moment and nodded to Produn. The expert marksman looking back, traced his client's outline into the forest. He was being paid profusely to do his job -- he asked no questions!
 
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