The Night Rider

Chapter 51 - Torecaster

"Well said, Tinker Mole. Looks like Axis agreed with you. The Fatekeeper would be proud." Hack noted, his gaze fixated only on the Tinker Mole despite the scene behind him.

The different styles of Trait, Craft and Pulse melded into a quiet shroud of Solaris flowers and knee height mist surrounding the small gravestone. Now it was more than a marker. It was why that last line had so much heart behind it, why the hidden phraseology within the prayer was so prominent to him. Because people like Sleek deserved to be remembered.

"My uncle could've done it better but…that was my first attempt at an Ironthorn Passage on my own. I hope…I hope I did my ancestors justice." Gidget admitted nervously, smiling gratefully at the Sand Wraith.

Hawkins stared at the Tinker Mole, disorientated by the unfamiliar Nocturian ceremony but way over his head as to remembering to ask for Axis' permission. Attempting to clear the sleep from his eyes, he clenched his nose to try and lessen the tension unsuccessfully.

"For someone who's never done it before, you certainly know your stuff when it comes to a good Soulcatcher Grove. I'd be happy to stop here if I was a spirit." Hack said, much happier talking to the young wannabe druid.

Hawkins couldn't clear his head, his eyes drifting back to the discreet memoriam made for Sleek with the combination of three conflicting abilities. The thought of such a volatile mix of personalities converging into such a beautiful sight went against everything he was told about necromancy. But he had been wrong about a lot of things the past few days.

"What…what is it?"

The Mediator was mystified by the growing plants surrounding the small plinth still unsure what to make of it all. As the seconds ticked by, more and more stones began to emerge. They burrowed up from the earth like the wick of a Flickerwick candle gathering ivy and plant life from thin air.

As if plucked from the forests of Nocturus the grassy knoll of wild grasses and rockery began to glow with anticipation. Awaking sleepily from its cocoon of light and happiness, minute globes of Trait started to settle amongst ferns and tombstones before finally settling on a more comfortable, buoyant form of a playful spirit. Trollians.

"It's the beginning of a mass grave. Protected by Trait, Craft and necromancy. Or Pulse, if you prefer." Gidget explained nonchalantly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

It took a moment for Hawkins' vision to readjust, the brightly searing forms of the sentient smoke trolls gathering itself from smoke stacks and chimneys nearby. Digits emerged, fights erupted but the more the Mediator watched in awe the less he understood about how they came to life. After all, he had never seen a Trollian's life cycle before.

His breath rapidly formed clouds of mist that billowed into the cold air, the brief spark he felt he almost grasped died as his exhaustion hit full force. Blinking it away, the thin gossamer layer around the Trollians forms began to shimmer, a thread of red bloomed into being and for a moment he swore he saw something more…human.

"The Undercity doesn't have a place like that." Cull interrupted, folding his arms and inclined his head towards the grove of gravestones.

Hawkins flinched at the Enforcers tone, sounding a little more standoffish than before but compared to having him strung up like a pig it was certainly an improvement. He angrily watched the Trollians drift towards the grove curiously, spawning more and more often as Cull struggled to grasp how he felt about the little blobs of spirits.

The Infernal Triad hovered close to its holder, the smoke trolls weaving around the book despite the interest. Perhaps Cull felt uneasy as he did about the display of unfamiliar necromancy, not really sure what to make of the discovery. But if that were the case he'd be just as angry at Hack than a random graveside. He seemed lost. Just as lost as he was.