The Forgotten Zodiac

"Step one..." Forin grumbled, pushing aside more rocks and managing to crawl in from the gap he had made. He slowly crept to the back of the cave, wary and careful with his movements. He knelt next to Luen again and put his hand on the were-kirin's nose again, soothing him with slow, gentle petting and soft words. "It's okay, Luen...it's okay. I want...I want what I wanted before. Bite me," He put his hand on Luen's muzzle, pushing aside Luen's fuzzy lips and feeling the sharp teeth with his fingers. Sorry about this, Vorpal. This might hurt a bit... he thought, knowing his weapon would hear it.

((He wants Luen to bite down on the bracer so he can use his other hand to shove the plant in. And the other plants he has in his pocket make a really, REALLY nasty scent, so Luen will be forced to let go and retreat rather than bite down harder on Vorpal. Sound like a plan?))

((Sounds good to me.))

Vorpal's only answer was Forin receiving a small feeling of determination. The sturdy 'blade' was ready for anything Forin needed him to do.

Again, Luen started growling savagely, his senses riled up again by the touches on his teeth. The second he moved to tear into Forin's fingers, the Tartaran thrust Vorpal in the way. Luen clamped down powerfully on the metal instead of Forin's arm, snarling and yanking back so hard on the bracer that Forin was almost dragged on the ground.

Forin braced himself against the ground, forcing the Wolfsbane into Luen's mouth before he could do anything. Forin grabbed it with the hand that was in Luen's mouth, reaching down and literally shoving the plant down Luen's throat. He let go when he felt the reflexive swallowing, then he pulled his hand out; but he couldn't get out of Luen's teeth. He jerked back, but it was useless; he reached into his other pocket, grabbing the two plants Diana and Luen had gotten. He crushed them together, wrinkling his nose at the rancid scent. Then he practically shoved it up Luen's nose.

Luen howled so loudly that Forin suspected the ceiling might cave in on them, releasing his hold on Vorpal and stumbled backwards so hard that he crashed into the wall behind them. It quickly became apparent that he was in agony from the plant Forin had shoved down his throat, and he wailed and howled and screamed in suffering. He coughed and spluttered, as if he couldn't breathe, his eyes flickering. He grabbed his head with his heavy claws, half coughing, half wailing. It was literally like he had ingested strong poison, after all. They had to wait for it to disgest inside him before it could do any good. The look he gave Forin as he collapsed in the corner was a plantive, sad, heartbroken sort of look, mixed with fear in heavy amounts.

Forin moved forward quickly, tying the ropes around Luen's muzzle. The howling could alert nearby predators. Like the ghost pack...goodness knows they didn't need a repeat of that. Who knows where they had gone, at that. Maybe further south, or west. Maybe up here, in the mountains. Regardless, Forin didn't need anything wandering towards them, friend or foe. On the other hand, he didn't want Luen to make himself throw up, either. So Forin tied the ropes around Luen's jaws, then hugged his friend's arms to keep him from clawing it off. Luen could very well rip his guts out, but Forin doubted he'd try.

Large, watery tears were leaking out of Luen's eyes, though whether that was from the fumes the plant had given off or from emotion, Forin couldn't tell. But Luen didn't attack him. Possibly out of fear of being hurt or having something else stuffed down his now-sore throat. He let out a soft moan around the robes covering his muzzle, still leaking large tears from his eyes. He stared up at Forin's face, his tail tucked between his legs in submission. Like he was begging Forin not to hurt him.

"I'm sorry..." Forin murmured, not letting go of Luen's hands. "I'm so, so sorry, Luen..." He looked up sharply as Diana crawled into the cave, dragging herself over to them. She was crying, her own tears burning into her cheeks painfully, only causing more tears. She had tried using the hem of her dress to clean it up, but the acidic drippings had eaten through it and burned her hands.

Forin sighed, wiping her eyes and cheeks with his sleeve, not caring that he was ruining the fabric and burning his skin at the same time. Diana managed to stop crying, curling up next to Luen. "It hurts, Forin...I'm hurting..." She murmured, wrapping her arms around Luen with a small whimper. She passed out again in mere seconds.

Luen jerked his head from Forin's hands long enough to give Diana a careful, testing sniff, as if not sure what she was, then slowly seemed to accept her scent and turn back to Forin. He stared up at the Tartaran, then slowly spoke around the cords over his mouth.

"Fo...ri...n..."

It came out halted and broken, but it was still Forin's name. He pushed his nose against Forin's neck, making the same whimpering sound over and over, which Forin knew was his way of crying in this form.

Forin stroked his dear friend and hugged him tightly, sighing unhappily. "I know...I know..."

"There it is! Vernine," Werr pointed to the city below. They approached quickly, and Werr spotted a grey dot in the distance. The temple. He wondered briefly why it hadn't been destroyed; Naybrin had to remind him that Yemara was a Demigod; generally speaking, their 'homes' were stronger and magically defended, if the Demigod in question thought to do so. Cyprus hadn't considered it. He trusted people too much. Yemara, on the other hand...well, her home and center of magic was fiercely defended.

Werr nodded thoughtfully as they landed. "I guess that makes sense. Right, then...let's make our way to the inn and get settled before those of us who are going...well, go. We need to hurry, though...Diana only has a few hours left."

Naybrin nodded, carrying them lightly through the forest and towards the town. Once they were close enough, he let them off and slid into Werr's pocket, where he wouldn't be easily seen.

Welk took Isslia by her hand and put one hand on Werr's shoulder, a faraway look on his face. "Something weird is in this town," he muttered, flicking his tail, then glanced over as Cynyr gave a barely audible squeak of pain as he landed. He crouched on the ground for a moment, but when he realized that Welk was looking at him, he stood up and padded around in front of them, 'humph'ing and stalking off.

Welk stared at him, then shook his head.

"Yeah...I feel it too. But there's no time for investigating that just yet. We have to get to the inn, and make a beeline for that temple." Werr shook his head. "We'll find out what's going on after we save Diana."

The city itself was huge. Werr quickly took note of the layout; the different rings of the city meant that the walled area was likely the richer buildings. He could see the top of the castle from the farming district. Which meant that the clumps of houses further ahead would be businesses. They'd likely find an inn there.

"Isslia, do you know this city?" Werr questioned. Perhaps there was a quick way of getting about.

"No," Isslia shook her head. "Not geographically. Socially and historically, I'm aware of this city, but...I don't know much about it that would be helpful."

"Right. It was worth asking," Werr shrugged, pressing ahead to try and locate an inn.

A hand suddenly brushed Werr's arm, and he turned to see Dmitry striding evenly along with him. "There's an inn further ahead," he said quietly. "I can smell the dinner that's just been prepared. Down the street, turn at the alleyway with all the boxes, then continue down that street until you see 'The Green Dragon'." He fell back, looking down at the ground.

Welk eyed him, then said "It's our best bet, yeah?" and took the lead.

"He's right. Let's just follow him," Werr shrugged, continuing his steady walk. He paused and looked up at the sun, then sighed. "No...there's no time. Dmitry, take the others to the inn. Here's the money to pay for it," He dropped a small coin purse into Dmitry's hand. "Welk, Isslia, Naybrin and I will return soon. Okay?" He didn't wait for confirmation before running back down the street, pulling Welk and Isslia along behind him. "Let's go, we have to hurry," He said, hoping that Cyprus had held true to his word. If he wasn't there...all this would go to waste.

Welk nodded, then shifted to lion form and pushed under Werr at once, taking off down the street.

Naybrin slipped out of Werr's pocket and doubled back, shifting to a middle-sized form. "Paradoni, misu," he said, then snatched up Isslia onto his back and followed after them, catching up easily.

Dmitry watched them go with a sigh, then turned and guided the others off.

Werr, Welk, Isslia and Naybrin approached Yemara's temple with all due haste, with Naybrin already preparing himself for the difficult task he would have to do of cloaking Isslia's lifeforce suddenly and swiftly, as if she had died on the altar. Welk had already agreed to spill his blood for the cause; it had to be real blood that spilt on the altar in order to wake Yemara, after all. Welk would just slit his wrist instead of stab Isslia, very subtly.

But of course. They wouldn't just senselessly kill Isslia...such a thing would be terrible.

The Temple stood before them, a large beast of a building that seemed to be sucking them in. Inviting them. Cyprus was waiting on the doorstep, his life force and magic already sheilded. In fact, he was hardly visible to the eye; just a shimmer and a disembodied voice. "I'm here," He said softly as Werr approached. "I double checked most of the traps. They're all disabled. Yemara is waiting inside...her spirit is, at any rate..."

Naybrin exhaled a soft burst of smoke in the direction of the waft that was Cyprus, then said "Move quietly, little ones. And Isslia, you want to be convincing, alright? Welk, stop twitching. She'll be fine."

Welk flinched, then sighed and tried to keep still as he changed forms and picked Isslia up, carrying her bridal-style into the building. His ears flicked back and his tail tucked down, fear edging into his eyes. But moreover, there was determination there.

He would not let Isslia, or Diana, die.

Isslia fell very still. She knew she wasn't supposed to be just yet, but she knew that she had to make it look as though she were here against her will. She would be fighting in any other situation other than her unconsciousness. Therefore...going limp and still seemed to be the best option.

Of course, the second they stepped in, Yemara's ghostly form appeared before them. "Took you long enough. I'm waiting." She inspected Isslia, curious. "Hmm...I like it. Perfect. Oh, the clock is ticking...better hurry, or you may as well be sacrificing two to me."

"You'd better shut up or I'll-" Welk started, but Cynyr and Werr both got their hands on him and dragged him backwards, the black panther saying softly "I will personally end you if you screw this up now."

Welk scoffed, but it might've been a cough, from Cynyr's arm around his neck.

He pushed free and stalked towards the altar, and Isslia felt his heart pounding angrily (and nervously) in his chest. He muttered under his breath, but kept his calm as well as he could, though he really just wanted to take Isslia out of the room, Werr with them, and go...hug them all, or something.

But he forced himself to acend the steps to the altar and hesitantly lay Isslia down on it, swallowing.

Isslia lay still once more, her eyes shut and her breathing slow. "Odd...she's not asleep, but she's so still..." Yemara observed, frowning a bit.

"Paralysis is an easy thing to replicate if you know what you're doing," Werr tutted. He had already thought about that one. "It'll wear off soon, though..."

"Indeed. Here, use this," She held out a dagger, a long, jagged blade with bloodstains that spoke of many ancient sacrifices from many years prior.

Welk took the dagger, looking revolted, then exhaled heavily and muttered "You're a sick, twisted woman...sick..." But he was the one that looked sick. He carefully grasped the dagger in one hand, then reached out and, after hesitating a moment, gently settled his other hand just over Isslia's navel. He wanted a good, clear shot at his own wrist, after all. He glanced over his shoulder at Naybrin, who was standing just near the unseen Cyprus, and exhaled as the dragon nodded once, very slightly.

Welk turned back to Isslia and steeled himself, then raised the knife and stabbed downwards rather convincingly. He twisted the blade expertly at the last second, slicing cleanly into his own wrist, which released the biggest splurt of blood Welk had ever seen. It just kept gushing, too, until he threw the dagger aside and clamped his hand over the slit, making it look as if he was trying to hold the 'wound' on Isslia closed.

He felt a rush of subtle magic, and to all appearances, Isslia's breathing and heartbeat stopped. It even looked like she had just died; her chest no longer rose and fell, but Welk knew that was an illusion cast by Naybrin.