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Post by Kelathi on Dec 21, 2016 0:43:28 GMT
The birds chirped their farewells overhead, and crickets hummed busily in the brush, welcoming the coming evening with all the excitement of a throng of giddy children. Held within the loving womb of a hollow oak, her sleeping figure lay in a blanket of moss. Glimpses of her umber-coloured skin could be seen amongst the green foliage, dusted with grass stains. One arm could be seen to be strewn over her head, her hand buried in a cascade of rippling black hair, which in turn was littered with flowers of every kind of colour. Upon her cheek a shimmer of pollen, giving her face a strange, unearthly glow. Her legs were curled up in the cramped space, the bare soles of her feet pressed against the bark of the oak, which seemed to emit a strange warmth. Despite the gaping cavern in it’s heart, the tree still flourished, and seemed to happily accommodate the sleeping figure, it’s branches handing down over the opening which she had entered, as if to shield her face from the dappled rays of the sun as it rose steadily in the East. Now, as the sky darkened, the leaves were disturbed by a gentle wind, lifting tendrils of her dark hair and coaxing her awake.
When she was finally roused from her slumber, her sleep-drowned ivy-green eyes opened reluctantly, and sought out the light of the moon. The air smelt of recent rainwater, and the mossy ground was damp and cool beneath her bare feet as she climbed out of the tree, it’s bark cushioning her soles lovingly every step of the way. The forest bowed over above her, greeting the rising moon, and as she stepped into it’s light, eyes wide and glistening in the dark, she cast them down suddenly, and fell to her knees. Forehead pressed against the grass, her hands planted either side of her head, knees folded beneath her and dark hair falling about her in a cascade… she welcomed the evening, allowing it to flood into her body. After a few motionless, hush moments, she arose slowly, lifting the hood of her cloak, which served to hide her waterfall of hair from behind.
There was much to do, and she began the tasks eagerly. With a swiftness akin to that of a fleeting fox, she lightly ran through the ferny brush, searching for the materials that she would need, her mossy cloak rippling behind her. The robe fell about her shoulders, covering most of her modesty, whilst leaving her arms and legs free. When she crouched low over the ground to collect thistles and fine, long grasses, apart from the occasional movement, she appeared to be nothing more than a green molehill emerging from the ground, laden with moss and the occasional mushroom, the perfect kind of camouflage. Finding what she needed, she tucked the items into an indiscernible place in her dress before moving on to the next area. Eventually, she had gathered all she felt she needed, and she returned to the aged oak. Laying each item carefully on the ground in a small clearing before the tree, framed by mushrooms, she made a quick complicated motion towards the tree with one hand. Then she set to work.
In her hands, the collection of long grasses were twined together with nettles and ivy, the bristles neither pricking her skin harmfully, nor the latter poisoning her. With the use of the sticks, she began to create small structures, decorating the pieces of art with mushrooms and flowers. Eventually, she set the structure aside, and began on the next. When she was done, there were three of the structures, and all three took on the crude shape of a person, with limbs that stuck out as if petrified. All three were weighted so that they could stand on their own, but when she gathered them together and placed them in the middle of the circle, she lay them down on their backs. Standing before them, she glanced back up at the moon. There was a moment of silence and stillness.
Then, slowly, she lifted her hands, removing the hood from her head. It slipped down, and she shrugged the mossy wrap from her shoulders and from her body, to where it crumpled at her feet. Then she cupped her hands together, and raised her arms before her. A slight wind seemed to pick up, as if on que, whistling gently through the trees, drawing a low, excited susurration from the grass at what was about to come. She lifted her cupped hands to her mouth, then gently, exhaled…
Golden specks of light flew from her mouth, and she caught them in her hands, closing her fingers over their glow. They fizzed excitedly in her hands, looking for a way out, and she crouched again. This time, she opened her hands carefully and quickly blew the gold specks onto the three inanimate people.
And soon, she danced beneath the moon, laughing her silvery laugh… followed by the silhouettes of three, tiny little figures…
She had worn many faces in her time.
She had gazed from behind the whiskers of a fox. She had looked out from the broad face of a bear. She had bobbed around beneath the surface of a lake, her koi scales glinting in the morning sun. But though she took on their forms, the other animals had never accepted her in this way. They seemed to sense that she was different, a deceiver, one whom was not as she seemed, and they shunned her, too wary to be close. Try as she might, she could not run with the wolves, or soar with the eagles, not like this. And yet she craved to be a part of them. It was not enough to simply ‘be’. She wanted to belong.
That was how she came to learn about Borrowing.
She had discovered the skill as she had been resting in the shade of a great canopy, gazing up at a throng of chattering birds above. It was at that moment when she had realised that she could touch their minds.
Take them too harshly, and the animals freaked, kicking her unceremoniously and brusquely from their consciousness. But with time, she learnt to cradle their minds as if she clasped a fragile egg within her cupped hands, gently touching the edge of their conscience, like one dips a toe in warm water. They were aware of her presence, and soon, they became accustomed to it. Soon enough this tolerance grew, and they let her stay- to observe. After a while, they allowed her to see through their eyes, join them as merely a passenger, a guest in their private bodies to see and feel how the world is experienced by them. Sometimes she might offer a suggestion, a nudge, one might say, and if the animal felt kindly towards this patient stranger sharing their mind, they might choose to obey. In this way, she was able to slide seamlessly into their lives, and she was welcomed. The animals no longer shied from her presence, they tolerated the animal individual with their strange, mental passenger. At last, in this way, she could belong.
And as such, she had died a thousand times. She did not think she would ever get used to that part.
Meanwhile, during these excursions, her body was left behind. After an eventful week of being a falcon, soaring in the air waves high in the great blue yonder, that she had almost forgotten that she was Borrowing- forgotten that this body was not her own. She felt the wind through her feathers, the lift and pull of the air, and she observed the green canopy of the trees far, far below. And then suddenly, she had remembered.
When she returned to the forgotten body, she had lay unmoving for a moment, alarmed at the foreign feeling of fingers instead of primary feathers. For days she had had to resist the urge to glide down from a tree, lest she be welcomed to the earth abruptly and without grace... For weeks she had to remind herself that she could not grasp a vole within her talons, and that feet were for walking on, not for scratching that pesky bit of food from her beak, which funnily enough, did not exist, replaced with a nose... After that time, those stumbling first days as she became accustomed once more to being approximately 5 foot tall instead of 1 foot, bumping into trees and shrubs alike as she relearnt her spatial awareness… she realised she must not spend so long living in the bodies of others. For whilst she was away, her original body withered without her. Void of substance, it became weak, and each time she returned, it gradually become harder and harder for her to remember how to be herself.
But… what was she? The endless question, to which she had no answer.
On the morning everything changed, she felt the world crack.
The shock of it had made her fall to the ground, and the tremors lasted long after the rumbling had ended. It felt as if a great pressure had been relieved from the forest, one she had not even noticed had been there until now. The animals had scattered at he first tremor, and she could think to do nothing but lay on the ground, curled up defensively.
It seemed to take a long time for it to stop, but finally, stop it did.
The world resumed as if normal… but she could feel it had not. Something had changed. She had to know what.
She ran to her tree, thankful to find that it still stood, formidable against the strange, sudden storm. She clambered in, and barely taking a second to think, she quickly borrowed the body of the first animal she came across. It happened to be a vixen, which had been cowering in her den nearby. It took some coaxing, but eventually, she emerged from the den, and allowed herself to move forwards, trekking across the uneven ground, and searching for what had changed.
((Open to all! So, the slight plot is that the forest has been held under a curse/spell for hundreds of years, the magic helping the place flourish whilst keeping the outside world, that means all humans, out. In this Oasis, only animals, and my character, exist. However, one day, the spell is broken, and humans can finally explore the place. I'm thinking this is sort of a loosely medieval-fantasy setting, think Lord of the Rings kind of setting. Feel free to bring in characters and discuss with me what may have caused the spell, or caused it to be broken, etc. Join as any species! Have fuuuuun!))
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 2, 2017 15:52:54 GMT
(Impares DEFINITELY would be involved at some level with the spell breaking, I think… how, as I start writing, I’m not entirely sure, but at some level… bwahaha)
There.
His plan had worked after all. How amusing it was, to watch events unfold just as predicted. Humans were so predictable. They thought they were so masterful, so powerful… so much more than their short lives allowed. This made them easy to manipulate, made them… useful.
A lone figure watched as the world began to stir, as if the earth itself was waking. Animals rushed past in their attempt to escape the threat, a tilt in the figure’s posture being all that indicated they were watched as they fled. The reason for this was simple: there was nothing to see but the robe. A long black cloak covered what could only be described as a tall, scrawny man, the narrow shoulders being the only thing to identify that there was some frame beneath. The hood hung like a drape around an unseen head, the shadows within darker than even the midnight robes. The only thing to mar this entirely black silhouette was a small broach that held up the cloak, a crescent moon encrusted in rubies and the coils often found in the old Celtic art. An ancient piece, from its design to the worn edges. Curious, to have something so obviously valuable still displayed so prominently. One might wonder why no one had tried to take it yet.
One might be surprised to know that every attempt ended with someone having to dig six feet deep.
Impares hardly cared about such events in the past, such minor incidents. The barrier was down, allowing him at last to step through the trees rather than endlessly walking towards them. It had been a powerful spell, keeping out even one such as he. But with the right stories and right moments of encouragement, he had coerced would-be adventurers and treasure hunters into discovering how to break the spell and get inside. Humans could not only work in numbers, unlike he, unique, but they could also go where he could not.
Useful.
As he moved across the land, it was almost as if he glided rather than walked, as there was never a break in the folds of the cloak, never a glimpse of what might lurk beneath. Even as the terrain would move up and down, it was as if the robes were liquid, flowing to always meet the ground, never hindering, never revealing. The animals could have cared less about looking, seeing him only as something to avoid running into; as the terror the spell breaking caused faded, various creatures would almost look through the dark intruder into their sanctum, even as he would watch them, visible only in that his hood would sometimes twist, indicating his head and so eyes had moved over.
The animals were of little interest to him either. He neither hunted nor had need of eating, but it was a different kind of hunger that drew him on, slowly and meticulously searching for his target. His progress was slow, thorough, even though he would only pause to stare at a bush, at a log, before moving on. How he was searching so carefully was not clear, and yet, it was impossible to say that he hadn’t been as careful as he was capable of. It was also impossible to say what he was looking for, as the animals were of no interest, yet he continued to look in places where they would likely hide.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he spoke softly, the deep voice hollow enough that it would expectedly be unnerving. And yet, another contradiction; the almost playful words, as menacing as they could sound, were indeed softly said, like the interesting sound of distant rumbling thunder compared to the deep roar of a storm overhead. He was no threat; just a mysterious figure, slowly making his way into a wood that had no trace of human contamination. Not that he left any such contamination himself…
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 4, 2017 21:47:54 GMT
It didn’t occur to her to be afraid of the figure.
The rumble of the ground, the cracking of the Earth… that was understandably terrifying. But this creature… she could not remember ever seeing anything like it, despite the annoying niggling at the back of her mind that suggested that she had. But the memory was so old she couldn’t place an emotion to it. Should she be feeling joy? Sadness? Excitement? Fear? She didn’t know, so she merely watched from afar, crouched in the shadow of the brush, sunlight dappling her fur. However, as she tried to creep closer… the animal would not. The vixen froze, unwilling to go any further, ears flattened low against her head and pupils narrowed. The animal’s fear gripped her, creeping in at the edges of her own consciousness. So she pulled out, moss-green eyes opening abruptly to gaze up at the canopy of her tree. She needed something else, a creature that was easier to manipulate, and one that she could coax closer so that she might get a better look.
So she closed her eyes again, reaching out with her mind, scanning the surrounding area… until she found a tiny, slumberous mind, down on the forest floor. Perfect.
In the body of a dormouse she now leapt from branch to branch, taking easily to the arboreal lifestyle of the rodent. Being a nocturnal creature, it had been sleeping in a pile of leaves in the hollow belly of an aged log. But smaller animals she had always found easier to coax, so it had not taken much to get it up and about. Tiny claws gripping onto the bark as the little creature skittered about, searching, using its sense of smell to identify anything that did not smell of earth and leaves. When it finally caught sight of the creature again, she was able to convince it to drop to a lower branch, then a lower… until it was only about a foot above the creature’s head but a few metres away. The figure was still moving on, seemingly unaware of her presence so far. Occasionally, they would stop, as if to regard the world around it.
Curiosity peaked, she wondered how she could communicate with the figure… and if she should. And how? From living in the bodies of many animals she knew many languages, languages of speech, body language and scenting. How could she communicate with this creature, so alien to her?
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 5, 2017 15:52:00 GMT
It might have surprised the borrower to know that her hiding places were not as perfect as it might have been with another.
The methodology of the stranger didn’t change, however, even as he noticed he was no longer alone. He continued to walk, pause, look about, and move on, his direction being all that changed. His path wavered from a straight line in, curving around to one side, going a little further, then circling back. This made it so he was very close now to the little dormouse, taking the time to thoroughly, if lazily, study the area beneath the branch it was hiding on.
“Do not be afraid of me, little one,” the voice again coaxed, as if randomly deciding to remain and wait under the tree. “You are in no danger from me, no matter your form.”
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 9, 2017 22:28:52 GMT
Still, even as it became clear that the figure could sense her somehow, knew that she was there despite her disguise... It did not occur to her to be frightened.
What did shock her, though, was to learn that she immediately understood what he was saying. Some part of her brain seemed to unlock with those few, simple words, and scattered memories flooded to the forefront of her mind at once, leaving her dizzy, and the mouse, glassy-eyed as she struggled to take it all in. Snippets of past conversations, faces she no longer recognised but held an essence of familiarity. It made her feel... Very odd. As if an entire life had passed by without her noticing, events and conversations and people that she should remember, which were there in her mind, but merged together, so much so that she was unable to make sense of it all.
Who was this creature? She had to know. She crept forwards...
And the branch snapped, sending her tumbling down abruptly. The mouse would have known that he was too heavy, would have sensed the thinness of the branch, and backed away carefully to try a different route. But she had been oblivious to these small signals of the body she inhabited, signals that had seemed insignificant compared to the mass of information she had suddenly been bombarded with... Until it was too late and she was dropping from the sky.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 14, 2017 2:45:20 GMT
When the branch snapped, the hood twisted upwards, but only a black void was discernible within the folds of fabric even from such an angle. The gesture, however, indicated some surprise, even as he twisted to catch the falling figure. Two gloves were outstretched, cupped to gently bear rather than grasp the dormouse, the cloak seeming to extend to reveal the gloves without revealing anything else.
Again, it was more the folding of the hood to one side that indicated the head had tilted, studying what was in his hands. “Well, well, well… that was quite the fall, little ones,” came the voice again, its hollow depth still gentle and warm, almost affectionate in tone. Rather than hold onto the dormouse, the figure knelt to ease his light burden onto the mossy ground, remaining in this position even as his hands withdrew, as if melting back into the cloak. Again, he tried to coax. What he was trying to coax wasn’t as clear.
“See? Nothing to be afraid of.”
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Post by Kelathi on Mar 10, 2017 19:37:33 GMT
Wide, black eyes stared up at the abyss of blackness, and frozen in place, the mouse merely continued to stare as he spoke. The lack of action was through shock on behalf of the mouse, but in regards to the other consciousness within... it was because she was trying to process the thoughts that were currently running a mile a minute. Little... ones? It was as if they knew what she was, what she was capable off... but how could that be possible? She tried to leaf through the blurred memories, those thoughts that seemed faded with time and yet also somehow so new and foreign to her... but there was not enough time, for now he was lowering her to the ground, and she felt as if the wealth of memories she had waded through were only those few that had bobbed to the surface, and beneath, there was a chasm as deep as a well of uncharted territory...
So she did what came natural to her. In her attempt to decipher what was going on and who the mysterious figure was, she reached out with her consciousness, trying to feel theirs, trying to understand...
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Mar 11, 2017 1:05:14 GMT
The long black cloak did more than merely hide the figure. It almost seemed to transform him into a statue, were it not for the occasional tilt of the head, the slight shift in how a fold reflected the light. Alien, but too subtle to be intimidating. It was a tactic that worked quite in his favor, capable of manipulations that largely went unnoticed.
But this wasn’t another human he was dealing with, no mere mortal whose mind was so easily distracted, so easily controlled. This was a being with capabilities that he saw as… useful. To play at the friendly stranger was his preferred method. He could make himself seem as gentle and dismissible as he wished.
At least, he could when no one could sense what really hid beneath those robes.
Rather than the warm consciousness she might have expected, the thriving sense of life, what she touched was ice. No, not ice… the cold stiffness of a corpse. There was no life beneath the robe, and yet death had not fully claimed it either. Before more could be understood from this momentary connection, it was severed, as if a shield had been swung in like a sword, defending while attacking.
Physically, there had been no connection, no move towards the other… but the form seemed to slink back, inhuman in its fluidity, suddenly a pace farther back. Was that brief flash of white a reflection in a now narrowed eye within the darkness of the hood? It seemed too sharp, too focused to be, but what else could it have been?
Another moment passed before the stranger laughed, a sense of light hearted surprise passing easily. But it was a veil, a now imperfect mask to a far more sinister tone, like the rumble of a great beast waiting to strike… playing with its prey. “A curious one, are you not?” he asked, the same eerie mix of amusement and threat rounding out what had been a simple hollowed voice.
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 12, 2017 20:51:38 GMT
It had been an innocent gesture, one meant merely to satisfy her curiosity, to further her understanding of the creature before her. It hadn't even been an attempt to read the individual's intentions. She didn't know what she had expected, but either way, she got much more than she had bargained for...
She had not been ready for the sudden shock of cold and vast emptiness that had greeted her reaching mind. She sensed a hint of surprise, and then suddenly, she was shoved harshly and unceremoniously from his consciousness.
It wasn't painful to be kicked out of a mind, but there was normally more of a warning beforehand. The shock of this ejection simultaneously kicked her straight out of the mouse's mind. The rodent in question, suddenly alone and in full control of it's mind once more, stared up at the hooded creature blankly for a moment... Before reacting as any sensible mouse might do when suddenly finding itself in the palm of any creature- It bolted.
As immediately as she left the mind of the mouse, she had returned to her own body, her eyes shooting open, the motion accompanied by a startled gasp. That strange creature... What was it? Why had it seemed... So empty? So uninviting- hostile even... It was at complete odds to the way in which he had spoken to her. What did this mean?
And why was it here?
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 19, 2017 2:13:35 GMT
The mouse had tried to escape.
Before it could go more than a few feet, the time it took the stranger to recover from the exchange, the creature was grasped in long, bony fingers encased in old leather gloves. Instinctively, it could sense the danger, present in something that should have had life. It also had no concern for other forms of life, closing in tightly, just barely letting the panicked little breath continue.
Somehow, the stranger had launched forward to capture the little beast, a flitting shadow before it coiled back into form around the mouse, rising to full, intimidating height. What was perhaps the most intimidating thing about such a detail-less figure, almost ironically, was the sudden increase in detail. The gloved fingers that held the squirming mouse seemed to harden as the grip tightened, a dull metallic sheen reflecting off the old armor joints. Hardly something to be affected by biting teeth and scratching claws.
“Back to the hunt, then?” came the eerie voice, now void of its warm, gentle guise. It was cold, and hard, as heartless as the armor that could only be hinted at beneath the flowing black robes, as if made of mist. The empty hood studied the mouse, which had finally begun to cry out as the clawed grip tightened. There was a sense of blame, of guilt assigned to not have done more to aid his quest…
A tiny, final cry escaped the creature as it vanished within the armored glove, which finally closed into a tight fist. Only the noise of metal against metal remained. The cloaked figure moved on from the clearing, again seeking the power that had been so tantalizingly close, the armor vanishing as the cloak once more swirled and encased in inky darkness. Only three words escaped the stranger as he moved on, hissed with a snarl that couldn’t possibly be mistaken for anything of this world.
“So be it.”
(cue timeskip! )
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 27, 2017 23:56:48 GMT
((Poor mousie!!! If she knew she would be mortified haha))
And that was all it had taken for her to be spooked.
To sense danger was not foreign to her. She had experienced it before when borrowing the body of an animal, and coming across the scent of a known predator. Sometimes one had even caught her before she managed to kick herself out of the prey’s mind, gasping for breath and left trying to calm her racing heart and expel the second-hand panic that consumed her. But this… this had been different. It had filled in her an alien feeling of deep-set dread- overwhelming and frightening. She didn’t know what this thing was, but all she knew with certainty was that she did not want to be anywhere near it. So without returning to her oak to gather the tell-tale signs of her stay, she simply moved on.
Then there was the problem with… everything else. Things had changed somehow. The trees seemed different, the animals… she could not describe the change, but it was definitely there. She was unsettled, but it felt that the world was too. There was a strange… lack of pressure in the air. Like something had been released- as if a veil that had been pulled tightly over the world had been removed.
Had the strange creature brought this feeling with it? Perhaps. All she knew was she had to keep on the move. The more distance between them, the better, and there were a few days between them now. She knew this place, from every oak tree to every fox path weaving through the brush, he would surely not be so sure of his way. Assuming, of course, that he was even coming for her. Again, she did not know why, but she felt like… like he was here for her. As if he had been searching for her, for some reason. As she mused on these distressing thoughts, she halted suddenly as she came across something quite different in her path…
She stood as if frozen to the spot, her doe-eyes wide. She waited as if expecting it to move. When it did not, it still took her a few moments to work up to actually step forwards, and even then her movements were slow, wary… as if she were ready to bolt at any moment. She approached the giant carefully and fearfully, and still it did not move, and when she lay a hand on its side she found it cold and lifeless. A shock of memories hit her then, visions of stone-brick houses and people… people, like her? No, not exactly, but they looked very similar…
This was a house. She had found a house! When had it come to be here? She had walked this way many times and had never come across it. She had been under the impression that she was alone in this place, as travelling in any direction had only brought her to more forest, more animals. This settlement… that meant there had to be people. She was not sure if this was a good or a bad thing- all she knew was that she was excited, apprehensive and dizzy all at once. Excited to find these people, or this person, apprehensive in case they were not friendly, and dizzy with all this new information, and the questions it arose.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jul 20, 2017 23:34:39 GMT
(wonder what she’d do if she found out some other things… XD)
It was unusual to see him so upset. While he didn’t curse and storm about like some, or mutter at length like others, any who might have recognized him would have quickly picked up on one important difference; instead of playing the fools around him, getting them out of his way in a manner that kept eyes aimed elsewhere, the weak-minded turned into slaves, there was a trail of bodies behind him inspiring rumors of witchcraft and plague that spread even faster than his own unnatural gait.
Impares was at the end of his patience.
Of course, no one paid the cloaked figure much mind, even in towns that had started calling up witch hunter generals for their help. He had that affect upon mortals; a passing shadow, at most a dark form in the corner of an eye unless he wished otherwise. He was soon forgotten after. Only those foolish enough to earn enough of his attention didn’t get a chance to forget his presence.
One fool had proven to be useful even in death, however, as it put Impares in an ideal place to listen. Rumors of those he had eliminated were that only witchcraft could be responsible - along side those who died a simple death by a blade, the weapons used were frequently described as being made of fire, of searing the flesh of its victims as it bit into them, among other such inhuman methods. As his hand released the neck he had just crushed, dropping the body to the earthen floor, he listened to the men speaking on the other side of the barrels, nervous and hushed.
“I swear, sir, there be ghosts among us! The dead punishin’ the livin’ fer their sins…” “Ye don’t really believe in ghost stories, now, do ya?” “Wot about those gents we found back on the highway? Broken bones, all contorted ’n folded up like a lady’s washin’? No 'uman hand never did such work!” “Aye, but that be the Devil’s own work… no ghost is needed when we ‘ave witches summonin’ the evil to our world!” “Yer talkin’ about th’ stories comin' in from the outer villages, aye? Little wonder they’ve got a general headin’ up t’ clean up the place!” “Let’s ‘ope the general’s up to task, then… there’s enough carnage lately to challenge a battlefield!” “Eh? A small one, maybe… unless ye mean in terms of horrors."
As the two guards continued to bicker on their rounds, they missed the shadow that slid out into the light of the street behind them, thoughtful in his slow movements. Now there was a clear path before him, rather than resorting to violence to sate his fury. All he had to do was to find the mentioned witch hunter general, and determine where he was going. It’d be a simple matter to get there ahead of him… in a number of ways.
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Post by Kelathi on Sept 28, 2017 18:24:09 GMT
“Here you are, dear.”
The young girl looked up as the woman spoke, her vivid, ivy-green eyes putting the elderly woman a little ill-at ease, and not for the first time. She tried to be welcoming anyhow, remembering her manners, and offered the mug. The girl seemed dubious, staring at the offered beverage as if it were a puzzle to be worked out. When she took no move to take it, the old woman merely sighed, placing it on a nearby table instead. She settled down in her armchair and tried to think about what she was going to do.
It had been chance that had led her to step outside to gather some firewood from its store besides her door… but as she had done so, she had near-walked into the mysterious, foliage-clad figure on her doorstop. Any attempts to take away the strange, matted coat of ivy and mushrooms had proved impossible, the girl clinging to it as if it were a lifeline, and the woman thought she could see why. To notice the girl was stark naked beneath it would have shocked most villagers into turning the stranger away, but she was headstrong, and saw merely a problem that was easy to overcome. She had tried to show that she wasn’t trying to steal the girl’s only belonging, but rather replace it and also protect her modesty, by offering one of her own shawls. The girl had taken it, but as with everything the older woman had attempted so far… just seemed perplexed by the action. She hadn’t even moved to sit on the sofa upon entering, but rather, had knelt on the floor and shuffled close to the dying fire, staring at the dulling embers, seemingly transfixed by the dancing flames.
Despite her calm appearance, inside, she was rejoicing. So many fragmented memories brought to life by this place! So many things she knew the names to, but their precise functions escaping her at present.... In the forest, she had never pondered upon the meaning of her existence, nor the mysteries of her origin; she had merely existed. But now, with each memory opening like a shy flower, unfurling its petals cautiously one by one to reveal more information, long forgotten in the fogginess of her slumberous mind… She was filled with questions. Who was she? Why was she? And where… where had she been, and where was she now? So many questions, and so overwhelming that she could do little but stare at everything in wonder.
The elderly woman rubbed her chin thoughtfully as she regarded the girl. She seemed to her to be so… fragile, so vulnerable. Like an autumn leaf, easily crushed beneath a careless hand. And the villagers… on the whole, they were ignorant, and cruel to that which they didn’t understand… especially with all this talk of witchcraft lately. It was for this reason that she had been quick to smuggle the girl out of sight. As she rubbed her own chin, she felt the deep grooves within her face, the lines that easily showed her age. She could not protect this girl, no matter how she might wish to. For the elderly woman was a traveller, she had seen many things, and had been blessed with what she had come to think of as a ‘second-sight’… she could read a person right from the offset. Witches, innocents, evil individuals… she could tell them all with just a glance. And this girl… although a mystery, she was sure that she was not evil, and she did not mean them, or anyone, harm. Why she felt such an urge to protect the girl, when she was nothing to her… was a mystery, but one she did not waste time pondering upon.
She should send the girl away before anyone caught whiff of her being here.
Unfortunately, one villager had already happened to catch sight of the stranger before the woman had managed to hide her away from sight…
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 7, 2017 19:14:48 GMT
There was one reason and one reason alone Impares didn’t try to use the witch hunter general beyond a simple direction: he wanted his prize alive. Only that way could he get what he wanted. Great would his wrath be should he not get it… his anger so far had only been a simple taste of his capabilities, not unlike when he was alive. But now…?
He had moved with great speed, benefited by the fact that he did not need to stop and rest like the living around him. It was not hard to follow the signs as he neared his destination, as the people grew increasingly more hostile to strangers and things that were beyond their own simple comprehension. It was mere days before he arrived, the witch hunter general and his men far behind him. It had been satisfying, passing as a ghost in the darkness of their camp, not even disturbing the flickering flames of their campfires as he gathered information. But he knew the general was not a man to be easily pulled from his own path, and it was too great a risk to trust any word from him about shielding one particular “witch.” Had only the old man known of what had been following him as a shadow that night…
As he approached the edges of the town that evening, his unearthly pace slowed, feeling himself suddenly drawn to the side. It was the same feeling as when he had been near his target before; a draw, likened in his mind to a lure, with something he couldn’t quite describe as bait. It was this power of hers that he wanted, to use either through her or through his own hands. There was danger to his plan… but his will was strong, and his instinct to survive as dead as he. HIs reason for being. He followed the pull.
Even so, his pace now was slow, hidden gaze taking in all around him. Impares was wise enough to desire advance notice of anything that might try to intervene between him and his plan, rather than simply wish he had had it later. This slow pace gave him time to study the old cottage as he approached, sensing the warmth and life coming from it. Only a few individuals hid within the safety of the walls, he knew, even if one radiated enough light to make him stiffen for a moment.
She had been a mere shadow before, a presence, nothing more. He was near her now, and as confused and frightened as she may be, she still held one power over him.
He simply needed to keep her from realizing it…
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Post by Kelathi on Nov 18, 2018 22:56:07 GMT
She had not sent her consciousness out since the moment she had met that stranger. Every animal's mind she had ever touched had always had... Presence. Warmth. It was what made them real, what made them... Alive. And she was afraid. Afraid to reach out and increase her chances of meeting once again with that wall of ice, that... pure emptiness that she had felt when reaching out to the hooded stranger. She found her gaze, not for the first time, being drawn away from the wonders of this new, curious place to the old woman who now fussed over her. If she were to reach out, would she be met with the same icy presence? Is that what other people felt like? Is that what she felt like if someone were to do it to her? It had never occurred to her to ponder on such things, animals had never reached out to her as she had them, so it had never occurred to her to question such things. They were simply out of the realm of her experience, or at least, they had been, till now.
Now she found herself in this strange place and full of more questions than answers. How can a place that she's never been to be so familiar? Why did she know what it was, and why we're all these memories suddenly cropping up, of places and curious items like the ones she saw here on the shelves, and faces that she must have seen but she was sure she had never seen in the forest? Up until now, she had been fairly certain that life was as it had always been- herself, whatever she was, and the forest. Now, these thoughts only seemed to contradict everything she thought she knew.
She felt a sudden urge to run.
And yet, at the same time, an urge to stay. To explore. To further unlock these strange thoughts and memories. To unwind them slowly until they were readable, comprehensible. There was so much going on in her head at once that she was simply bewildered.
A sudden banging nearly made her leap out of her skin, her form visibly jolting and her wide eyes shooting towards the direction of the sound. After a quick moment, the woman appeared from the other room, a garment over her arm (probably another of the strange offerings she had received so far that she had absolutely no idea what to do with), wringing her hands and looking... Joyful? No... A quick scan of the old woman's body language revealed that the emotion was apprehension. Faces were much harder to read than bodies... "Oh, already? How could they... They must have seen..." Again, the girl was taken aback by the fact that she actually understood the strange language that the woman was uttering. She began to relax again, despite the woman's apprehension, for she did not connect it as a signal for herself to worry. Not yet, anyway...
The woman hurried to the door, but instead of opening it, shouted between the thudding, causing it to stop abruptly with the sound of her voice- "Who is it? What do you want?" There was a pause, and then a very different voice, much deeper, shouted back, yet much less forcefully than might have been expected- "Lelia? It's Jimmy. We just wanna chat, tha's all." The old woman frowned, and then looked angry (as far as the girl could tell, anyway. Her emotions seemed to change very quickly.) "And who else is with you, Jimmy?" She responded wearily, knowing full-well that the insistent banging would not have belonged to little Jimmy Sothersby. A quick flick of the curtains that she had cleverly thought to close, although it was not much use now it was obvious they knew something odd was going on, had revealed that her assumption was correct. When no immediate answer was forthcoming, the woman spoke again, having clearly lost patience- "It took you all of less than ten minutes to round up some fellas to come and knock on my door, all over the threat of a young woman? Do you all have cotton for brains? A stranger she may be, but I tell you, that does not make her a witch!" Evidently, the woman knew exactly why the men were here.
The young girl merely cocked her head, listening to it all unfold. A witch...? Another word that seemed familiar for no real reason. She felt as if she had heard that word uttered many times before. Both women could hear muffled voiced from beyond the door, then this... Jimmy spoke up again. "Listen, Lelia... I... They don't wanna do this but if you don't lettus in we gonna have to break down the door."
((Feel free to control any of the other characters )
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