[open quest] Part Two: The Investigation

[Viszla]

Myrna suffocate the fire i started-------------------- right when it kindles She steps through the swirling clouds of the portal, and finds herself standing on solid ground. The burst of relief she feels at not arriving in the heart of a storm is short lived, quelled by the battle around her. The scent of blood fills her pale nostrils, and shrill screams pierce her ears. A stallion with tentacles where his mane should be rears up beside her, boxing at the head of a mare who seems mostly bird. The mare falls back, and though Myrna skitters back, she is not quick enough. The horse falls onto…no, she falls through Myrna. The sensation is nauseating, and she clenches her eyes shut to avoid the gory sight. But beyond the semi-darkness of her closed eyes, a light begins to glow. She reopens her eyes to find one of the sprites moving toward her. It seems different than before, the light less intense, but it is hard to be sure with so many distractions. A gurgling sound to her left is the end of the tentacle-maned stallion, but Myrna does not look away from the floating ball of light. A wound that must be healed. Beqanna will be next. She had been right when she stepped through the portal - this is a chance to fix what she had broken. But how? Her magic is no help, but the Sprites say the same thing of themselves. What can she possibly do? Before she can begin to spiral down in her mind, she hears another voice. It does not come from the sprite, but rather from a buckskin unicorn. She had come through the portal too, Myrna realizes, as had the Baltian and the chestnut stallion. As they speak, she glances around and realizes that they are not alone, others have come as well. That is what the sprites meant when they said they couldn’t do this on their own - they have to work together. It had taken many of them to break this, she remembers from the first Storm, and so it will take many to repair it as well. As the others make inquiries of the Sprites, Myrna listens with one golden ear as she begins to take in the place they have arrived. She does not recognize the Ruins, having so rarely left her home. But as she looks around the battles and the bodies, her attention keeps catching on the odd stones. “What is this place?” She asks, half to herself, then louder as she continues. “Where are we? What was this before it became a war ground?”