Tyrian

Tengu

Familiar

Tengu will attempt to confuse and lead the unwary traveler astray.

2250

Your efforts will be rewarded if you mediate a dispute between Glimmer and Gloom 4/1/22

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This isn't at all how the ritual was supposed to go.

"It's a modified application of Earthen magics, of sorts," Tyrian had said, and Amorra took that to mean 'something overcomplicated and probably not useful'. She stood off to the side of Tyrian's cavernous workshop, finding a spot to stand amidst the stacks of parchment and near-endless bookshelves.

Countless rusted chains draped from the ceiling, crisscrossing the stalactites above. Lanterns hung from the chains, a little haphazardly-- some are low enough that Tyrian had to duck around them as she moved about her study. Amorra watched Tyrian's shadow dance and flicker as she scurried about.

"I thought you said it was already ready," Amorra muttered.

"It was!" Tyrian indignantly grabbed a scroll from the table beside her in a huff. "I just... Forgot to account for a few extra factors before you got here, that's all. Ah, well!" She threw down several of the scrolls in her arms, gesturing for Amorra to follow her. "I don't want to keep you waiting, and those checks weren't really that serious anyways!"

She crossed the cavernous chamber to a raised, circular dais. An elaborate runic circle was sketched over the very center of it in deep red chalk, and Tyrian used a claw to scratch away an errant mark.

"You're really gonna love this! If I can figure it out properly..." Tyrian fidgeted enthusiastically beside the circle, giddy with excitement, as Amorra stood off to the side. "Now, let's see!" She drew out several components from a pouch at her side, which, to Amorra's eyes, seemed out of place-- a few incredibly common herbs, a long piece of cloth, a small clouded crystal...

Satisfied with how she had arranged the herbs around the circle, Tyrian placed the crystal in the center of the circle with great care. "You're probably wondering what this is gonna do, right?" She turned to Amorra with a toothy grin.

"I am, actually." Amorra crossed her arms. "Why'd you use... regular old desert scrub?"

"Look, I know it seems really common and not at all magical, but it's in the spirit of the thing!" She adjusted the silks draped around her neck, moving about the circle and gesturing as she spoke. "All of these plants are native to Dragonhome-- and quite bitter. They're intended to draw on, manipulate, and control ancestral Earth magics. The circle actually does most of that, but a few select herbs here and there, harvested properly under a setting sun, help keep everything in shape. And those magics will do... this!"

She picked up one of the discarded scrolls, unrolled it, and abruptly realized it was the wrong one. It was a good handful of moments before she finally extracted the correct scroll from one of her assorted piles. "Er, this!"

Amorra squinted at the scroll. A sketch covered most of its surface, and seemed to depict a large tower. A few sections of the tower had a stylized cutaway to reveal the inside; a spiraling ramp ran along the outside, with rooms inside the innermost core of the tower. The entire tower looked sharp and smooth, with distinct facets along each of its surfaces-- almost crystalline.

"Is this..." Amorra hazarded a guess, "going to grow from that?" She nodded to the crystal in the center of the circle.

"Sure is! At least, I hope so." Tyrian rolled up the scroll, still practically vibrating with anticipation. "It's not too hard to make small crystals grow, but if we can properly shape the structure and make it nice and large-scale... can you imagine the applications? You could build an entire city in a week! Imagine needing shelter during a battle, and just growing a tower from nowhere! The crystal structures that result are nearly indestructible, too, so that's just another added bonus. This would have been impossible years ago, but ever since the surge of elemental magic..." Tyrian clapped her hands together. "Ah, I can't wait any longer!"

She adjusted her silks one last time, stepping up to the circle. She took up the piece of cloth she'd been holding, and-- to Amorra's confusion-- tied it over her eyes. She glanced back in Amorra's direction, smiling warmly.

"It's for ritual significance," Tyrian clarified, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "Many myths say this sort of creation magic is the purview of gods, and therefore should never be looked upon by mortal eyes. Perhaps it's a foolish loophole... but I'd like to think it's clever."

With that, Tyrian began the ritual. Amorra couldn't help but move closer, observing the crystal in the center of the circle with interest. Tyrian chanted, gestured; magic flared to life at her clawtips.

The crystal did nothing.

Tyrian stepped forwards, taking care to avoid smudging the circle as she went. Every movement was far too precise to be anything but perfectly rehearsed. Tyrian's chanting was beginning to grow in volume, and Amorra nervously watched her face, but her voice betrayed no nervousness nor enthusiasm.

The crystal did nothing. Shards began to grow.

Flaring magic illuminated the cavern walls and rusted chains above with splashes of orange. Tyrian's gestures were now not unlike a dance-- there was something careful, graceful, about each lilt of her wing and spark along her horns.

The crystal did nothing. Bright red spines of crystal began to jut and grow from the floor. To Amorra's vague, dulled shock, they didn't make a sound-- nor were they growing from the central crystal. The shards began to spire upwards as they grew from the perimeter of the circle.

"Tyrian..." Amorra whispered, hesitantly moving closer. Tyrian either ignored or didn't hear her, and with another flash of magic from her clawtips, the crystals silently jutted upwards another meter, branching and intertwining. They were nearly waist-height with Tyrian now, and only seemed to be growing further.

Amorra couldn't keep the surge of fear that lanced through her heart quiet. "Tyrian!" She called, stepping closer to the circle. Tyrian stopped, but only for a moment, continuing her dance around the circle-- until she nearly tripped on an errant shard protruding from one of the runes. She flailed haphazardly, sending off a bolt of magic directly into one of the larger pillars, which immediately doubled in size. It pierced the cavern's ceiling, sending a few of the larger stalactites downward in a burst of stone. Lanterns shattered on the hard stone floor in bursts of flame. Rusted chains clattered down around and inside the circle, nearly tripping up Tyrian again, who was startled to a stop.

"Tyrian, you're gonna bring the whole cavern down!" Amorra leapt to the side to avoid a falling lantern. Tyrian was now barely visible; the crystalline growths were nearly head-height with her. She pulled up her blindfold, whirling around to take in the destruction, magic dying on her clawtips-- and the crystals didn't stop growing.

"What on Sornieth--" Tyrian examined the flaring circle with horror, desperately bounding towards a gap, wings outstretched-- but a spine of crystal suddenly emerged in front of her, pinning her against one of the spires behind her. "I don't know why it's doing this!" she cried.

Amorra was suddenly spurred to motion, drawing her sword and bashing it against the outermost wall of crystal. It barely left a scratch. She staggered back, watching the bizarre mass of crystal grow further.

"Tyrian!" Amorra yelled desperately, helplessly. Rubble crashed down around her as the crystalline structure pierced the ceiling. "What do I do?! Can you get out?"

"Ah--" Tyrian clawed uselessly at the shards surrounding her, even as they pinned her further. Her blindfold slipped back down over her eyes as she struggled, and with her last gasp, she shrieked--

"Amorra!"

---

Tyrian awoke hours later to a dark cavern, her entire body aching. Her head throbbed-- had she hit it somehow? She shook herself awake and got to her feet, and no sooner had she seen the mass of crystal in front of her did the events of the past day come rushing back.

The jagged structure, half-tower, half-throne, took up the entire dais. The rusted chains that once held lanterns were now draped around it, occasionally winding inside as spines had grown around them. The smell of ash hung thick and heavy in the air, and rubble and ashes cluttered the cavern. Amorra realized with dawning horror that one of the lanterns must have ignited Tyrian's scrollbound notes.

Tyrian. Amorra turned back to the crystalline obelisk and desperately pressed her claws up against the surface, searching the interior for any sign of life.

What Amorra discovered was this: if she stood at exactly the right angle, and tilted her head in the right way, she could barely make out a dragon-shaped shadow at the dead center of the structure. It was utterly still.

Amorra cursed violently, drawing her sword and furiously bashing it against the spire with all her might. One particularly chaotic swing nearly ripped her sword from her hands, and she stumbled backwards, her chest heaving. Amorra's sword slipped out of her claws as she stared at the broken, stunted tower. In another time she would have fondly scolded Tyrian for her lack of foresight, but even now she couldn't bring herself to feel anything but horror.

"I will," she whispered, "get you out of there. I swear it."

With her oath burning a hole in her heart, Amorra took up her blade, glanced towards the ruins of Tyrian's workshop, and left.

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