Forgotten

Kavyr – Elven Magus of Greyhaven

Kavyr came to, curled in a fetal position on a cold fitted stone floor, racked with unimaginable pain. One of his first impulses was to get to his feet, but when he pulled an arm beneath him to prop himself up, the wrist buckled. Shooting pain shot up his arm and he noticed both the gaping wounds on the back of his hands and down his fingers, but even this held his attention meagerly at the shock of not recognizing his own arm and then body for that matter. 

He tried desperately to recall what had happened before he was unconscious and found that trying to recall any memory was like grasping smoke. His own identity felt but fragments of forgotten childhood stories. 

Looking around, the room was dimly lit with dingy ambient light - no obvious source, and filled with unidentifiable mechanical and alchemical apparatus of dizzying variety. His bare chest and arms felt damp. He dripped grimy liquid he could not discern - some composite of blood, viscera, and the prior contents of the surrounding piles of shattered  glass. He tried to make out his reflection in a larger fragment of curved glass to little avail, but he certainly didn’t recognize what little distorted imagery the refractions chose to share.

Taking time to allow the shock and wave of nausea to pass, he slowly and laboriously managed to erect himself. Stumblingly from the room allowed him his first slivers of recollection. This was the nether fortress, Tican Sumnere. He had come here with friends, fought hordes of broken creatures on entry. Details eluded him, but as he stumbled about, he found himself in the throne room immediately adjacent to where he awoke. Here a renewed wave of disorientation at just how very heavy he felt washed over him - when he had been here previously, his feet never touched the ground.

An overwhelming sense of panic took hold. Was he dead? Where was his party?

Concentrating, listening intently, he could hear very little over the ambient roar of the nether plane. Nothing recognizable was discernible over the shear cacophony of background chaos. His eyes darted around scanning for any sign of movement amongst the floating debris of the falling fortress. This too proved difficult as the environment supplied no end of shifting light and shadow and the constantly changing perspective, consequence of the floating fragment of suspended structure he trod, caused him vertigo. He still saw neither ghoul, visage, threat or ally of any kind.

Cautiously, Kavyr made his way through the fortress, both through rooms he recalled visiting in fragmented recollection and those he didn’t. As far as he could tell, the fortress now lay abandoned. If his friends had been successful, he’d been forgotten.

---

The creature, as Kavyr had started mentally considering his current form, looked on from an outcropping of branches up above the practice area outside of the Ratatosk camp. The him-that-was-not-him had bested Kya, but he hadn’t earned it. Or rather, she had given it to him. In a sense, it was fascinating to watch as, for him-that-was-not-him, the sword seemed in the way, a distraction around which to wrap his fingers. Kavyr was certain Kya had taken notice. Her engagements with the impostor spoke volumes. She knew.

He wasn’t sure he could even put it to words correctly himself how he-was-he, but looked like a creature and that perfect reflection of how he should look sparring with Kya wasn’t him. But there was comfort in the knowledge that she knew that wasn’t him.

The creature leaned ever closer to the edge, tempting fate with the height of the limbs, trying to find some crack, some flaw in Kya’s feint. If there were any, he nor the impostor took notice. He watched for a moment as Kya wandered off, likely to conceal herself and the wounds undoubtedly just obscured by her fur. It was only then, as he slouched back onto the gnarl upon which he previously rested, that he found it occupied.

Jumping with a start, he instinctively brought his hands up to a defensive position as he took in a blue-robed man, who hadn’t been there a fraction of a breath previous. The robed figure quickly, but calmly, pulled his hands upwards exposing his palms and demonstrating that he was unarmed.

Blue robes’ hands were covered in multi-faceted rings, expensive looking armlets covered his forearms, and many leather pouches and pockets arranged with methodical  care about his waist were now exposed. He had thinning platinum hair that fell about his shoulders. A wide brimmed hat and backpack leaned against his leg. His face had hawk-like features and piercing eyes. His fingertips were stained with ink and he reeked of ambient magics.

Upon noticing him release the tension in his response, the robed figure gestured with his hands as he asked, “Do you speak?” After what felt like an eternity piecing together the words from broken memories, Kavyr put together the meaning of the question and shook his head slowly.

With more gestures, the blue-robed figure asked, “But you understand?”

Kavyr nodded.

With a brief flurry of gestures ending in a point towards where Kya had stood, “Is the furry one…” and he slowed his gestures, “friend…” alternating interlocking index fingers, “or prey?” The robed figure made a violent motion with one hand toward the other, pointing and then cupping his hand to his mouth. He paused, his face expressionless allowing Kavyr the time he needed to respond.

It was then that Kavyr realized that this funny little man was giving gestures to words. He started upon realizing the gravity of the question now - and wincing with pain, alternated interlocking index fingers.

Noticing his crusted injuries, the robed figure extended an open hand, “I am Thallis. May I?”

Kavyr hesitantly extended a hand, allowing Thallis to inspect the open and in several places, weeping wounds on the back of his hands running the length of his fingers.

Thallis worked with seemingly single-minded focus, procuring salves and other alchemical reagents, combining these with magics, and lastly, covering the wounds with wrappings, all the while carrying on a verbal monologue that Kavyr could barely keep track of.

“These are strange wounds to find on a construct. They appear to be done by someone with skill, but skills short of that needed to assemble you... I would venture a guess, that yours is a copy or sub-planted intelligence, rather than that of artificial origin….

“I’m intrigued how this plays out… There. That’s as good as I can do for the time being.”

Thallis fumbled around in another one of his pouches, withdrawing a small ring. “Take this. It will allow you to watch from a safe distance, unobserved. It’s an earlier version of one I now wear, so the illusion will not hold if you engage or otherwise interact. But, it should suffice for stalking.”

Thallis smiled and winked.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.” And with that, the funny little man hefted an obviously heavy pack and started down the limb that would meet up with the Ratatosk camp, disappearing entirely from unobstructed view not ten paces between them.

Kavyr took in the ring for a moment. Then, realizing one little finger was not fully dressed, donned the ring disappearing from view.