Nostrum: Tales of Valor

From The Ashes

Cronn awakens in almost complete darkness, with his groggy state limiting his comprehension of the world around him for some time before everything leading up to this moment comes barreling back. With a sharp breath, he throws himself onto his backside and scoots across the ground, expecting to see Belial towering over him; But as his overcoat slips down his back- having been covering his face while he was unconscious- he finds himself to be completely alone. Accompanied only by the remnants of a scorched forest, he finds his footing and tries to familiarize himself with the area, in an effort to determine which direction he is facing. With lungs that still burn from the inhalation of smoke, he wheezes harshly and coughs up what his body will allow him before staggering towards the lake. Burned crocodiles litter the grounds he travels over, painting a picture in his mind of just how many had been chasing them before Briar caused the chaos that has now concluded. Being thankful that he managed to pass out in an area lacking any foliage, he drops to his knees at the water's edge and collects a few cupped handfuls, raising them up to his mouth and swigging away. Once he is quenched and cleaned up to the best of his ability, he rests, allowing his feet to sit in the chilly lake so that he can continue to cool off. Small blisters that had formed sometime during the fire begin to expose themselves through a burning sensation across his back and face, but this does not bother him.

Letting the knowledge that Briar is dead and Belial has turned against them sink in, he attempts to grieve but finds that he cannot. A very neutral expression is all that he can display as the morning sun beats down on him. Being the first time in a long time that he has been out during the day, he only just begins to notice the lack of morning bird songs and insect chirps when a lone fish creates small ripples in the surface of the water. He watches it suck in a piece of ash, most likely thinking it to be food before it disappears somewhere beneath the murky mirror once more. With a grunt and wobbly legs, he tosses on his boots and steps in, quickly reaching a point where it soaks his pant legs up to the knees. Then, with no concern for what else might be lying in wait, he dives forward and begins the dreadful swim back.

Once the lake is behind him, he travels up the path that led them to the broken bridge, collects some jarred foods from the merchant's wagon atop the hill's crest, and begins eating at a slow, sickly pace. His mind wanders to the thought of what he might find when he arrives home, at The Keep, and what other damages Belial may have caused already.

"Is it possible that he has already returned? Still hiding what he truly is in front of the others?" He asks himself aloud. "No, no. I doubt that. With him returning alone, there's no way they'll buy into anything that he might tell them." Taking a bite from a softened, browning apple, he taps his lip with a loose finger and rolls his eyes from side to side. "Did... Briar tell him we knew of his condition? Is that what set him off? Or... was this all planned from the start?" Freezing in place as a thought crosses his mind, he nearly chokes on the apple. "What if someone else already knew, too?" His thoughts spiral as the possibility of this becomes more obvious. "What if The Council knew? What if they obligated us to continue on with him as punishment for not telling them, and that's why Convener Achlys was so distraught? What if... Briar died because of them?" Discovering a new type of rage he has never felt before, he drops the apple and a jar of seeds, which spills out as it topples over, and begins sprinting towards the mountain. The risk of their failure to destroy a beast for the sake of relations causing even more death and despair is something he knows for certain that he wants nothing to do with. More Purebloods dying due to his inability to fulfill his own duties would surely push him beyond the point of recovering from insanity. Having known who the Great Beast was on the night Fredrick died should have been enough to end it, is all he can think. "Why would we allow this to go on for so long? What would make us think we could subdue it with that brew? Wh-..." Cronn slows himself as yet another thought begins to build. Then, speaks it out loud. "Sedatives and sweets.... He's trying to contain it still, but... has clear intentions to cave. Why would he want to prevent something he surely knows is inevitable, only to make it happen rapidly when he's ready?"

The answer comes swiftly following his words.

"He's still as human as he'll ever be." Cronn takes off once more. "Belial must be intending to enter The Keep as a man, but once inside, turning into a Great Beast, permanently. But... why?"

As he continues his travels with an uncontrollable pant, he spots some of the tracks they had left on their way to The Kneller. Among these muddy footprints, which have been painted onto stone, he recognizes those of Belial. With the prints still being damp, whereas the others are caked and cracking, he knows these to be fresh in comparison. The direction of the boots' toes confirms his suspicions. Now confident that Belial is returning to The Keep, Cronn corrects his posture and grits his teeth. The foot of the mountain rests just beyond the bogs ahead and the sun continues to beat down on him; Now being directly overhead. If there is one thing he is certain of in this moment, it's that a beast's nocturnal nature cannot be swayed.

"Dream, Belial. Let your slumbers consume you, so that I may take the lead." Cronn skims the treeline before crossing what barrier divides such terrains, fighting the idea of attacking Belial in his unconscious state, as the risk of being defeated himself, in his current condition, is far too great. With this thought having been forced from his mind, he trudges through low waters, attempting to keep his path as straight as possible, so as to save all the time that he can. Once he reaches what he can only assume to be the heart of the bogs, the immediate sensation that something is watching him grows exponentially. With the hairs at the back of his neck having begun to stand on end, he jerks his head to each side, whilst keeping his lower body as still as possible. Figuring that the water sloshing about and lapping against tree trunks might have caught the attention of something, he continues to scan the surrounding areas from where he has planted himself. With the feeling refusing to fade and his eyes failing to locate a source, he continues forwards, when he finally sees it. High on a branch up ahead, the peculiar shape of a man hunkering over becomes blatantly obvious. The figure does not acknowledge that it has been seen. Instead, it simply watches the soot-covered bog dweller below with intense curiosity. Cronn, deciding he has no time to waste on such things, forces himself to keep going, passing right under the man; Who proceeds to flip around on the branch, as to keep an eye on the weak, abandoned Nostrum below.

"I'd waste no time at all if I were you!"

Startled by the unexpected words, Cronn looks back at the man once more. Then, towards the mountain path, just beyond two very large willows.

"Bit of a contradiction, wouldn't you say?" Cronn slyly questions through wheezy breaths. "You say you'd waste no time if you were me, and yet, you waste my time with such nonsense?"

"Why, of course! It's not those who I've grown fond of at risk. It's those you've grown fond of."

Once again, Cronn finds himself struggling to decide on his next course of action. Something in the way the man speaks makes him wish to continue the conversation, but he knows he must keep moving if he is to reach The Keep before Belial awakens once more. Shaking his head in an aggressive fashion, as to regain focus on his current objective, he offsets what compromised balance he was already afflicted by and tumbles over, creating the loudest splash yet and soaking his attire once again.

"Ah, you can't travel through snow like that. You'll surely freeze to death, wouldn't ya?" The man gives a jolly laugh as he watches Cronn stand up and attempt to beat the water out of his pockets.

"What is my well-being to you, anyways?" Cronn snaps back. "Why are you pestering me when you clearly know something about what it is I'm doing?"

"Why, because I'm in your head, of course!"

Cronn continues to pat at the pockets, leaving a stream of water trickling down the edges of his overcoat as he looks towards the man with utter confusion in his eyes.

"Isn't it obvious? How else would I know what you're up to?"

"It's a strange world we live in. Most nothing is impossible."

"And yet, some things still are. Aren't they?" The man soothes his voice but continues to give a toothy smile as Cronn stares back with black bags beneath each socket. "You're dreadfully tired. Why not rest yourself? Let someone else handle these things you stress."

"I have to keep going. Convener Achlys, Yuler, and many others need to be aware of what dangers are headed their way."

"Ah, but surely they will know soon enough. Hm?"

"That's enough out of you!"

The man bellows with laughter as Cronn swats an arm at him before stepping out of the water and onto a large rock, where he begins ringing out his clothes.

"Oh, Cronn. When will you learn?"

"Learn what exactly?"

The man closes his lips but keeps them turned in a crescent fashion as he raises both arms out to his sides and lowers his head, tipping his chin from left to right.

"That it's all in your head?"

Hearing these words, Cronn looks up one last time, but the man has vanished. Having no time to deal with such things as it is, he grumbles and slaps at his hat, which rests in his hands. As he does so, droplets of water shoot off, but they don't make a sound when they hit the stone, or the pool below. Noticing this, Cronn looks down as he hits it again. Once more, there is no sound. Looking back at the hat, he notices that it is completely dry. Taken aback, he looks down at the rest of his coverings and finds them to be equally so. In fact, they are completely covered in soot. His heart begins to race with this realization. Both arms, both legs, both boots... all look as they did when he first woke up. As what sounds like small pebbles being dropped into water at a rapid rate becomes audible, he jerks his head up, attempting to seek out the source, but all he finds as the blinding sun forces his eyes closed is the shadow his overcoat casts. Pulling it away from his face with a sharp breath, he throws himself onto his backside and scoots across the ground. Accompanied only by the remnants of a scorched forest and a now setting sun... he weeps.