• Closed • Adventuring West

Noth, Malt

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Nightshade Eld
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Vhalar 92nd, 717


Though it was midday, there was relatively little "day" about it. The clouds seemed to block any kind of sunlight one might have wished to receive. It wasn't all that shocking, considering the lateness of the season, but it was no doubt annoying for those who wished to travel. Weather like this promised rain. Night was really starting to be grateful to her little shopping spree the other trial. The waterproof tarp was tucked nicely with the rest of her things. The cart wasn't as full as it could have been, but Storm was resilient and walked slower if there was too much, not because it was too much. It was just to annoy her because he himself was annoyed. Damn brat. She couldn't curse the Zelroux with all of her breath though, it was fortunate enough he could pull the cart. Even if it took a lot of rope... A lot of rope.

So that left Night and Storm where they were now. A little ways outside the city where they had agreed to meet up with Noth. Neither one really happy to be idle and neither one really happy with the weather. It wasn't the cold that really upset the half-breed, but the distinct lack of wind. She adored the cold as long as it was a windy day, but the moment it wasn't windy her temper turned bitter. The wind was amazing for flying, and therefore something worth putting up with the weather for. But for it to be cold and not windy? That was just annoying and left the half-breed with a slightly bitter taste in her mouth if she actually had to be out and about. Her eyes glinted disdainfully as she watched the sky.

She tried to turn her thoughts to something a little brighter. She was about to set off on a trip with Noth, that in and of itself was something to be celebrated. She would finally figure out what kind of place her family had come from, she'd finally find what kinds of gifts her family had left for her. Of course, they were heading to Westgaurd. There was no telling what kind of creature lived in the area. It was, after all, the guard against all things nasty from the world of the Lothar. Monsters galore if the rumors were to be believed. That didn't really bother her too much, but it did annoy her thinking about the possibility of their trip being delayed. When she told Noth how long they'd be taking it was only a rough estimate. She had no true idea as to how long it would take. She'd never even flown all the way to Westgaurd, and she'd flow to some pretty far out places before. Especially for the sake of the Smarter Charts. Considering her job was that of a map maker, she was often sent out and about. She was, after all, a scout.

Speaking of the Smarter Charts, the woman quickly pulled out a map from the cart. It was a little rough, a little plain, but it had all the information they'd need scribbled down on it. She was lucky her boss didn't charge for maps that she drew for herself. This one wasn't good enough to be sold anyways. She still struggled with making them good enough. She knew just about everything she needed to know about cartography, but there were still issues on the ground of drawing out the maps. Her fingers still didn't really know which direction to move and how to keep the lines straight. This led to more issues than the woman could even count. But at least she'd still learned some helpful things.

After checking over the map once more she put the piece of paper back into the cart and continued to wait for Noth.
word count: 660
Common ~ Ith'Ession ~ Lorien
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A sense of anxious excitement gripped at Noth’s heart as he scurried about throughout his cavernous home, making last bit preparations to ensure that everything had been secured properly. He was excited about the trip, because it meant that he would finally be able to spend a long amount of time with his beloved, and because he hoped that he be able to ascertain the information requisite for him to ensure his paramour of his adoration for her. In short, he wished greatly that he would be able to find out what had become of the Master and his arrogant brat of a child so that he would be able to track them down, and bring them to a judgement composed entirely of oblivion and pain. It was true that it was a villainous thing to wish, and he recognized that his lover was quick to acquit herself of such dangerously cruel thoughts, but even she would see the practicality and the justice of making those who had harmed her so greatly in her past suffer. Perhaps she might even lend a hand to the prospect…

The twilight hybrid had already managed to pack away what few supplies he had decided to bring on their expedition. He had originally vetoed the thought of bringing along his armament and weaponry, because it seemed a somewhat ridiculous notion sense he was effectively just going to be going upon a romantic expedition with his beloved, but he distinctly remembered hearing about the history of the old town which had inhabited their destination, and how it had been plagued by banditry until it had finally been burned to the ground. That thought made him reconsider his originally pacifistic intentions, and so he had gone ahead and stored the war gear that he often took with him upon his journeys.

He had gone ahead and put on his armor, wearing it with evident pride, but in truth, it still made him ache sadly within when he thought of the two young ones who had fallen to Marrow’s vicious monstrosities in order to grant him his armored carapace. He cast a knowing glance at his possessions, wondering briefly how much blood in total had been spilled to give him all that he had taken, knowing that it must have been more than even the local streams would be capable of possessing. He wore his longbow over his right shoulder along with several arrows, and his adamantite mace rapt gently at his left hip, gleefully leaping upwards an inch with every step. He had brought along his clothing as well within a bag, and a small ration of water and food to tide him over lest it be requisite. Other supplies had been left behind, under the watchful eye of Vern who was under the protection of Ears whilst the Avriel was away. It was humorous to see the two together, the paranoid spastic remarkably calmed by the typically agitated goose.

In truth, the twilight hybrid was also somewhat nervous about the expedition. It was something entirely new to him in his recent persona to gallivant around for any reason that wasn’t business-related, and he seemed somewhat unused to the idea of any trips related to pleasurable experience. Of course, Rharne had been a mostly pleasurable excursion, but it had not had the intent of being pleasing; that had only been a happy side-effect. This, however, could not be excused as simply another operation of Al’Angyryl, nor could that subject ever truly come up when in the company of the woman he adored, and that was something different to the hybrid. He worried that he might somehow mess up the entire trip, that he might somehow blunder his way into making her despise him like she had in the time of his first betrayal. After all, they had spent time together, but they had never spent quite such a large amount of it in one another’s company. The opposite was also possible… he could grow to enjoy being around her so much that he would be unable to achieve his goals, and that was an unacceptable potentiality.

The twilight hybrid set off from his cavernous home, bidding his beloved pet goodbye, and quickly made his way to the designated rendezvous point. Crimson eyes settled upon the beast of burden she had procured, and a gentle laughter echoed from his chest, an outburst of humor at the sight of such a proud predator humbled into a position better fitting a mule. He did actually possess a horse that would have been capable of pulling the wagon, but… explaining where that particular prize had come from would have been an unfortunate retelling of his recent events and their dreadful cruelties.

“Sweet heart, how have you been?” He called out to her as he drew near, rapidly passing his things into the back of the cart so that he might wrap his hands around the waist of his lover. “Are we nearly ready to depart?”
word count: 842
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As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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Though there was truly no benefit to be gained, he almost wished there would be some warning signs. The smell of the grave, slow, ominous boot steps up the stairs, shadows roiling across the walls, low, cruel laughter even. But all that came, after the entire trial was spent in dread anticipation was the appearance of the red glowing eyes.

It was as if the air burned to smoke around them, flowing to take on the shape of a darker shadow against the already dark room. A long, spiked head first, with four slightly upturned horns dividing the forward half circle of space before it into three equal segments. After that the "smoke" rolled down to define a tall cloaked shape, radiating malice.

There were no pupils in the eyes, yet the man could feel when they were focused on him. The terror he already felt seemed to intensify in his heart, and spread to every extremity. The floor rose up to meet him of its own accord, and tears poured from him as he rolled onto his back, as if the beta positions adopted by submissive animals would make some difference.

If anything, the sense of malice increased, though it was hard to tell if it embodied amusement or loathing. "Failure...Again, failure." the voice spoke directly to the man's quailing mind. "You know what that means..."

A rare. desperate courage rose in the soul of the man as he rose to his knees, his whisper fierce, "No! You must give me more time. I'm getting close. I know it! Please, take no one tonight. They are beginning to suspect me. If another is killed, it will only make it harder."

A brief surge of hope flowed through the man's soul as the dark figure remained silent for a moment, as if considering the request. An even lower depth of anguish gripped him though as the eyes once again bored in on him, "Who suspects?..."

The man realized what he had now done. and tried to backpedal, "They're all starting to. There isn't any one per-..."

"WHO!" the voice pierced his mind like a needle. He twitched and crumpled in pain.

"No...there isn't..."

"WHO! NAME HIM!"

"Not any one....I don't know..."
WHO!!


The man gasped an agonized breath and was on the verge of screaming. The shadow relented its assault. A scream would not be helpful. The face grew in size, seemingly absorbing the shadow accounting for its body and drew down to within inches of the man's face.

"Fool. Our deal cannot be undone. But I can take you in his stead. Then I need only find another to take up your task. Would you have the work you have done thus far be used only to help another succeed, while you are taken? Nothing is gained by this... There is always one who focuses suspicions...Give me his name..."

The man, Ivan, looked up into the pitiless eyes and swallowed hard. The new spring of tears made it difficult for him to speak the name. But in truth, he did not need to speak it. The name and face were in his mind. "Good. Go to your Inn. Drink. Be jailed for drunken revelry. Then you cannot be suspected for what happens."

Ivan nodded in wretchedness, already picturing what the morning would hold. When he awoke in the Westguard jail, Ivan had to feign surprise at the news that Rolan Benrick and his family were found dead. The turnkey eyed him with disdain, "I guess you were lucky to be arrested, shithead. You'd 'ave been the first one I'd 'ave blamed for it."

_________________________________________________________________________________________

To the east, two half-avriels set out for this same town, unaware of the trio of hunting shadowhounds paralleling their trail. Storm, the fully winged female's zelroux companion, was beginning to sense something threatening in the air. He would grow more and more edgy as the trial went on.
word count: 669
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The woman felt a small rush of excitement and fear run through her at the appearance of her most beloved. "Noth," she purred in a voice that was both chipper and elated. The smile that graced her features was a smile that was for him alone, bright and flawless as if everything that was wrong in the world didn't seem to matter anymore. "Of course, I'm ready whenever you are," she giggled, her cheeks were painted a sweet pink rose as her eyes twinkled. "Before we go, here!" She said, pulling the gift she gotten him out of the cart. 20 adamantite arrows were handed to her fellow half-breed, their burgundy tips glinting in whatever light the sky was willing to offer. She smiled brightly as she held out the gift, knowing that her companion was a hunter and better with ranged weapons. There was an innocence in her expression that spoke volumes about how little she understood exactly what she was doing. How much she thought what she was doing at that moment was a good thing. Just how little she understood about the real persona of Noth. Her lips were pulled up seemingly as far as they would go. At least it was an even trade, Noth didn't know much about the real Nightshade either. This loony, love-struck puppy, it wasn't really the same woman who'd come crashing into his cave and soaked herself in blood when they first met and arc ago. That woman was the one that showed up whenever he decided to take her bandit hunting. She was the brave one who stood up to guards and negotiated for the lives of bandits if they were willing to clean up their act. This one, this one was more so delusional than anything.

"You can climb in the back of the cart and get yourself situated. I'm just gonna deal with this moody pup and then whenever you're ready we can set off," she told him as she moved towards Storm. As she approached the beast she ran a hand along his flank, the fur flattening against her touch. The Zelroux gave a throaty rumble, parting his jaws slightly. A whimper escaped his throat and he gave her a pleading expression. "I'm sorry, we don't have horses," she tried to explain for the millionth time. The Zelroux, seeming to almost understand, lowered its head and whimpered once more. Then again, it might not understand at all and it was still trying to guilt her. Both were equally valid possibilities. She couldn't really put it past the little devil to try and manipulate her with puppy dog eyes. It was unfortunate such things didn't really work on his master.

Once Noth was ready to go and had informed the woman of such she carefully hauled herself onto Storm. He was possibly one of the easiest creatures to use as a mount, further setting him ahead of horses. Horses typically needed command and direction, while the Zelroux understood better what was expected of him. He would follow the road until told otherwise, alert the group of danger, and stop at crossroads till told where to go. At the same time, if he wasn't watched constantly he would start to slow down and whine sheerly because he was hitched to the cart. Benefits and drawbacks one supposed.

After traveling for a little while the creature gave pause, his eyes darting around. He made a noise somewhere between a growl and whimper. If Night wasn't paying attention she would have taken it for a complaint as Storm slowed slightly. But the rumble in the depths of his chest told otherwise. She watched him part his jaws, his cheek muscles twitching slightly. A pinpoint of poison gathered at the tips of his fangs as he spread his mouth completely wide, continuing to walk. With his mouth spread so far apart the warning noise was shot out almost like it was spoken through a megaphone. The reverberating threat spread outwards. Night felt her own feathers starting to flare up slightly. This wasn't normal behavior by any means. She wished she'd bought a couple vials. She'd been meaning for a while to start in a way milking Storm for his venom. He needed to get rid of excess poison anyway, might as well store it and save it for her own swords. But the woman, of course, hadn't been thinking when she went shopping and failed to get any. She cursed under her breath, quickly patting herself down. She was quick to pull out a headband of sorts and tie it around her wrist. The Headwreath of Awareness wasn't necessarily something she wanted to wear on her head, so she instead had the brilliant idea to tie it around her wrist.

"Noth. Dear, beloved, darling. Would you be absolutely amazing notch your bow?" She said, keeping her tone even. Even though the warning signs Storm was giving off were extremely small so early in the journy, Nightshade Eld was no fool. Animals knew things that people didn't. Felt things that people didn't. She would take their warnings to heart.
word count: 878
Common ~ Ith'Ession ~ Lorien
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The predator had grown quite decent at noting the subtle changes of expression that indicated how a person felt. It was a vital skill that had allowed him to both sense danger and thus far avoid it, and to provoke others towards whatever action he desired of them. He looked now upon his beloved, upon the young woman who had chosen to spend her time with him, and he took notice of the subtle, and less than subtle hints of affection that had painted her features. He took note of her smile, of the way it rippled across her face with such elegance, of the gentle rosiness of her cheeks, and it made his heart ache. He would fail, he knew, because it was his lot in life to fail, to be cast into the depths, to be crushed underfoot by the things better and more valiant. He hoped only that he did not doom her with his actions along with himself.

He hid it all with a smile, an appreciative gesticulation of his facial features, a contortion of flesh, a façade of meat. She offered him a gift, a set of items which he took hold of immediately, examining them with an analytical eye, observing the subtle verges and curves of the masterfully constructed missiles. The tips of the arrows caught his eye, gleaming with the same metallic tinge as his mace, and he withdrew the brutish instrument to compare them, seeing immediately that they were the same. It was a pleasant gift, and he smiled, but he genuinely wondered whether she knew why he would truly desire such a thing. He honestly doubted that he would run across many creatures capable of resisting his standard arrows, though he supposed they did exist. No, the arrows she had given him were far more liable to be used on other persons, to end their lives even if they wore armor, and the persons most likely to wear armor? Guards, mercenaries, the righteous and upright, the lawbringers and the prosecutors of order. She had granted him the key to a box that she did not want opened, and once more he felt his soul ache.

She knew who he really was, because she had seen him in action. She knew his level of savagery, of brutality, the things that he thought, and the way that he seemingly considered the lives of others to be something spent for his own personal gain. Yet, for all of that, she continued to shower him with gifts both material and emotional. What a strange and fanciful thing their relationship had become.

He was directed towards the back of the cart, and he promptly obeyed, sliding whatever items he had brought with him along his side and gazing out into the woods. He imagined that it would be quite a long journey, and whilst he was anxious to leave behind his fledgling followers, he sincerely doubted anything too terrible would become of them in his absence. After all, there were others present who could more than adequately deal with any problems should they arise, and his pet goose was being cared for by one of his most trusted associates. It was somewhat humorous in hindsight that he was a serial killer and a monster, and yet he cared so sincerely for a goose, though, he supposed it wasn’t necessarily all that different from Nightshade and her ‘moody pup’.

The journey began with a start, the gentle rumbling of the road underfoot becoming familiar as time began to pass, the hybrid scanning the trees every few moments to ensure that nothing had decided to plague their travel as he so often plagued others. Simultaneously, he was also enjoying the view, because it had been quite some time since he had been allowed to ride along in a cart, and whilst his memories of it were pleasant, they were old and required refreshment. There was a brief rumbling noise emitting from the front, and the twilight hybrid scanned past his beloved, attempting to ascertain why the beast had suddenly begun to grumble. Was it simply tiredness beginning to take its toll on it, and make it irritable?

His attention was drawn to Nightshade who promptly began to speak sweetly to him, calling him by a multitude of pet titles before requesting that he notch his bow. Everything became suddenly clearer, and he quickly maneuvered himself to follow her request, sliding an arrow along the string of the bow until it had been properly prepared for firing. Crimson eyes scanned the woods, but they detected nothing, no movement of any kind indicative of either ambush or predation.

“Might I ask what we’re looking for?”
word count: 788
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Credit to Pegasus


As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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It had already begun to get dark, and both mixed-breeds knew that predators would wait until dark to move in and attack. What to do about Storm's growing tension would begin to become an issue. He was no use in a fight if he were still tied to the cart; but he was equally useless if he were to run off into the dark in a fit of alpha aggression. It's not that it wasn't possible that he could do some damage to whatever was stalking them, but that unknown factor was what made it hard to judge what was the best thing for him to do.

If it was a single monstrous entity, Storm would surely be savaged quickly, to little gain. If it was a pack of lesser beasts, he might take one or two out before the rest drug him down. But in either case, he was over, and they were stuck with no beast to pull their cart. That was probably not the aspect of loss that was at the forefront of Night and Noth's concern over storm's welfare, but it would dawn on them soon enough.

Dawn itself was a long way off as trees and other features were lost in the dusky gloom, replaced by a threatening span of blackness in all directions. The sky was a barely discernible strata of slightly lighter gloom; the persistent cloud cover blocking the starlight completely. It was likely that Noth and Night would be aware that the first measure of defense in the wild was to build a campfire and capitalize on most wild creatures' instinctive fear of the flames. The secondary advantage was the reflection of the eyes of those beasts as they circled the camp site.

Several sets of such eyes now roamed beyond the firelight, criss-crossing each other as they assessed the vulnerability of their targets. Whatever actions, defensive or otherwise, that the two half-avriels or their zelroux companion took would have the expected results; but would fall short of reducing the numbers of the shadowhound pack that hovered near to any significant degree.

But for a moment it may have appeared that they drove them off, for the pack suddenly quailed at something and withdrew back into the darkness. Whether the two defenders had some thought that this was a distraction, and that other hounds were about to attack from behind, or if it was just some intuitive sense that whatever had spooked the pack must have come from their direction, but was not them, they turned to see a different set of glowing eyes.

These eyes did not pace with the restless criss-crossing of the shadowhounds. The light did not have the radiance of reflected firelight either, but seemed rather to be lit from within by a baleful presence. Storm suddenly drew the pair's attention with a very uncharacteristic whimper as he shrunk against Night's legs. He would not allow her to approach the glowing eyes, biting into her leggings and holding her back, if necessary. It did not take long for either of them to realize that the eyes did not blink.

Noth may have decided that their stillness and unwavering illumination made easy targets for his archery. Were he to fire upon them, there would be the sound of the arrow hitting a target. One of the sets of eyes would blink out, and the others would fade out slowly enough for the half-breed to possibly get off a second shot. Was he to restrain himself, the eyes would simply watch a while longer, then fade out the same way. In either event, nothing would be found the next morning, except some odd droppings. Noth would probably recognize what animal made them, given time, with his numerous forays into the farmlands to rob the citizens there. For now though, it eluded him.

Out in Westguard, their presence did not elude the shadowy figure with the two glowing red eyes, that found Ivan's confirmation that one of the two was his foster-sister, Nightshade, to be interesting. Ivan suffered a while longer in agonized silence, until the presence there was convinced that he did not know the other half-breed.
word count: 712
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The half-breed knew well the nature of her beast. Storm had grown strong in the time he'd been able to spend with Nightshade, but he didn't have the nature of an Alpha. He acknowledged himself as subordinate to the half-breed, not her equal, it was not in the nature of the male to go against her wishes. To further that, it wasn't in the nature of the Zelroux to charge in mad or blind. They were cautious creatures who avoided confrontation, even with others of their kind. It wasn't a matter of distrust that whispered to the half-breed to keep the beast hitched to the car. Quite the contrary, the half-breed trusted Storm to stay close to them and at her command. Even with her rather abysmal ability to train beasts, the nature of the Zelroux species as a whole acted to her advantage.

The difficulty in her decision making came on making a split second escape, and the fact it was dark out. It would be hard, if not impossible, to hitch Storm up quickly if they had to make a daring last-minute escape. In addition to that, they'd be stranded for the night if they decided to untie him now. Night severely doubted her ability to redo those knots in the dark without hurting Storm. Sometimes she had to question if she was the biggest threat to the beast's safety.

"Noth, get the tinderbox," she said quickly in a breathy growl of a voice as her eyes scanned the area around them. Should all else fail, it would be too easy for her to abandon her companions. Her wings gave her safety that the ground didn't give to them. But it wasn't in her nature, her honor wouldn't allow it. She had half a mind to try and use one or two of her mark abilities but she was hesitant in the presence of Noth. He was aware how she got the mark of Qylios bound to her shoulder, but he still didn't know that the shield on her hand was the mark of Ethelynda. And it was honestly better for the moment to try and keep it that way. Her entire body felt stiff as her mind raced, trying to come up with something. Anything. The air chilled her lungs and smelled deeply of flora and shadows, the taste of the darkness thick on her tongue as she opened her mouth to speak, but the words quickly died in her throat as they drowned among the stifling nightfall.

She would admit that this was a mistake in the morning, should they even manage to make it that far. If Noth didn't move to try and get some kind of fire going, she would, practically throwing her body into the back of the cart to rummage through her belongings. She couldn't remember if she packed the fire starters, relief washed over her as her fingers grazed the tinderbox. She pulled one of her extra torches out and fumbled for a moment before getting a spark to catch. With a torch lit, there was an instant wash of safety. "Hold," she ordered quickly forcing the torch into Noth's hands. Holding a torch would cause problems so she'd try to make a fire pit as quickly as possible. A makeshift one, a dangerous one, but a fire pit none the less with whatever stray flora she could find.

A quiet growl caught in her ears and the straightened the moment she heard it. One hand went to her waist and the other thought about the whip in the back of the cart. She pulled herself up and quickly grabbed it. Distance would be best. "Storm, just stay," she ordered the beastly creature. Deeper, disgruntled growls came from the chest of the monsterous Zelroux, but there was a certain gentle tone to them that almost sounded like compliance. Then again, Night was used to her mind tricking her with certain things.

Four trills in, four trills out, her breathing steadied as she perched on the side of the wagon, her talons digging into the wood as she gripped the whip. With the ferocious howl, the pitch black beasts attacked. Shadow Hounds, she'd seen one before at some point. They were familiar bloodthirsty creatures looking for a meal. She lashed out, the Urumi slashing the ground harmlessly. The Hounds jumped away slightly but continued their assault, undaunted by the attack. The half-breed wasn't good with a whip. She didn't bring a bow. The only other two combat methods she was good with were literally her swords and her first, neither of which being very smart ideas right now.

There was a quiet sound almost like a chirp, then a hiss, and then another howl. The hounds retreated into the darkness once more with bellows and yips. "That's not normal," was the first thought that came to her mind, one that she vocalized. "They had the advantage, we could barely drop their ranks, they shouldn't have run," her mutter was distraught as she felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to rise. There was no getting out of this now, so she moved to the front of the cart and began releasing Storm as quickly as she could, her hands shaking. There was a strong taste of fear in her mouth, like the bird ancestry of her avriel half was trying to tell her that something was very, very, very wrong. She looked around slowly, trying to judge what had scared off the pack, only to come face to face with a new set of brilliantly glowing eyes. They seemed to be illuminated by some kind of internal fire as they shifted in dangerous and brilliant colors.

She barely processed the whimper that Storm gave off, her fingers sinking into his fur as she took a step back.

After the eyes were gone, she would resign herself to quietly setting up camp even though it was unlikely for her to sleep. After such an event her guard would not simply drop. It was likely most of, if not the entire rest, of this would be spent in a quiet caution.
word count: 1055
Common ~ Ith'Ession ~ Lorien
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Adventuring West

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The wilderness was without a doubt a dangerous landscape. It seemed to be the common thought of many that the wilds were little more than a pleasant place where they could frolic and picnic with one another, where they could observe the many beautiful flowers of the fields, and watch as critters great and small scurried to and fro their dens, attempting to find enough food to last them for the next Cold season. At times people might have felt that tension tugging at the back of their conscious thoughts, warning them that the wilds were not a civilized place, and that meant that they were not entirely welcome within their depths, but for the most part it seemed that people simply ignored their innate and natural warning in favor of what they perceived to be a good time.

Yet, ignoring the dangers did not make them go away. In the time that the twilight hybrid had lived outside of the city limit within his cavernous home, he had encountered several creatures of local origin that had both threatened he, and his livelihood. After all, it was difficult to hunt down lonesome merchant and persons to rob when wild beasts had frightened them to the point that they holed up within their homes, or that they needed to call upon the Black Guard to patrol the woodlands in hopes of somehow trudging up upon a pack of wild creatures that they could slay before they had made their flight from them.

Perhaps that was the reason that the sudden intrusion of predatory beasts upon their quiet and peaceable venture wasn’t altogether surprising nor frightful to the Avriel. Oh, certainly they could cause some damage, could manage to tear them limb from limb, but at the very least, they understood what they were facing, and could probably find an easy solution to negate most of their ability. After all, animals were predictable in a way that the mortal beings were typically not, and they relied upon the instincts passed down to them from generations prior to make their decisions instead of using any sort of logical or intuitive reasoning to conclude better or more creative ways of achieving their goals. That lack of innovation was likely best found in the way that they so thoroughly avoided fire; most creatures did, as a rule, even if it meant they would not be able to consume their fleshy snacks.

The creatures remained out of sight in the darkness, concealed away by the shadowy mass that crept across the land, stalking ever closer as time ticked onwards. A reasonable answer to their problem tickled his ears in the form of Nightshade’s suggestion, and he promptly set about searching through the cart for the tinderbox. Unfortunately, the amount of supplies upon the cart made it somewhat difficult for him to locate, and an instant later, his beloved took matters into her own hands and began to scour alongside him. Crimson eyes flickered up from their downward gaze, glaring into the woods where he felt certain the beasts lay, a snarl finding itself easily etched upon his features as he dared the creatures to make a move.

A fire was quickly started by the talented female Halfvriel, and soon Noth had begun to gather around it, his longbow still held within his palm, arrow notched and ready to fire the instant that he felt danger come nearer. The hounds moved slowly closer, and he listened as his beloved lashed out at them, doing little to halt their casual and slow advance, and it felt inevitable that a battle would break out… until at the last moment they turned and took off into the woods, as though frightened by something in particular.

“I don’t believe we frightened them, Nightshade.” He uttered in response to her statements about how they shouldn’t have taken off so quickly. He concurred, though it didn’t seem entirely unlikely that there was a greater entity now stalking them through the woods which had lain claim to them which the shadowhounds refused to combat.

A quick scouting of the nearby area with his crimson eyes revealed a secondary pair glaring directly back at them. There, he thought, determining in an instant that those baleful and dreaded eyes looking out from beyond the veil of forest foliage were the cause of the hounds sudden flight. There was a flicker of compulsion to attempt to fire upon the eyes, and yet… they were so familiar to him in an unnatural sense, like staring into a mirror and seeing his own visage reflected in many forms. Oh, they were something different, of course, but there was a strange kinship that he felt towards the beasts, as though he understood them on a level beyond that of normal societal constraint.

With a slow movement, the Prince of Eternal Mercies allowed his wing to outstretch, and he matched their glares with his own, allowing all of the menace he possessed to pour forth into the stance as he waited for them to finally dissipate into the ether. When at last it seemed that they were safe, he approached the campsite once more, ensuring that Nightshade was safe, and then set about assisting her in the construction of their campsite.

“Something wicked lies that way.”
word count: 890
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Credit to Pegasus


As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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Adventuring West

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The night passed without any further event, though sleep was somewhat restless. The two took turns at watch and morning came to bring the sense that they had perhaps over-reacted to what may have simply been a large herbivore with some sort of heavy eyelids, and not some supernatural entity. The knowledge that they were grasping for comfort only made that comfort harder to achieve, but by midtrial, the previous night had been dismissed as a singular event. They knew they were approaching Gauthrel, and that such odd things were likely to occur.

A additional event likely to occur when one comes within a trial or two of Gauthrel is the suspicion directed by locals towards strangers passing through. The two half-bloods were not spared this event either. But it was probably the surprise that the hostility was NOT based on their racial heritage that gave them enough pause for a word here and there to steadily build to a collective realization that the two hybrids were not "one of them."

It was so common for Night to hear those kinds of phrases to be specifically directed AT her, as justification for hostility, that to hear it be the basis for the opposite attitude, was a new experience. Noth, of course, was still viewed with trepidation, but Night's natural good nature won out and the group of watchful villagers wished them well; telling them that, judging by the break of the trial, they'd best go no further than Morrel's farm before camping for the night.

Some of the farmsteads were quite extensive, and for many it was only the 'grain' of the tilled soil and the presence of irrigation that gave sign of not being wild land. The only problem was that there were no markers identifying ownership. There was no sign of which farm may have belonged to someone named Morrel, or if the villagers had been giving them credit for faster progress.

But it ultimately made no difference, as a particular downward bend in the trail brought a sight that gave them a decided shiver. It was not a scene of death, or even any logical cause for a sense of danger. But the sight of the six goats in the back corner of the yard at one abandoned-looking homestead gave the term 'foreboding' a new depth of meaning.

There was nothing special about them, they simply stood there. The two half-bloods tried to convince themselves that their minds were playing tricks on them. They did not even realize at first that they'd both felt the same thing. It soon came out though, as their casual talk turned to questions about perceived moodiness. They both knew that something about the goats triggered a serious uneasiness that could not quite be accounted for.

As the sun finally dipped and shadows began to dominate the landscape they heard a voice, one crying in alarm, "Darin Morrel, you get back in here!" They could see a figure of a woman, stark against the inner lit outline of a doorway. They could then see the man she was calling to. He was hurrying down a cleared dirt road toward them, alternating between waving them to approach and pressing his finger to his lips for silence.

He reached them, an odd combination of an herbal pouch and spyglass in hand. The man did not introduce himself, but simply began to pat them down with the pouch, which gave off a strong, partially unpleasant, herbal scent. Any protests by either avriel would be met by an astonished stare, and justification for this behavior in the form of a single, quietly intense phrase, "Are you mad? The goats are out!"
word count: 623
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The passing of the night should have made the half-breed feel better, but it wasn't in her nature to just 'feel better' so to speak. She was a worrier. So she worried, and worried, and worried. With every waking trill that she spent on guard that night and with every breath with which she tried to take in and force herself to be calm and sleep, the unspoken questions were heavy on her tongue. The questions swirled together and threatened to choke the very breath from her lungs if they went unanswered. The question of safety was the first and foremost one on her mind, and not specifically in regards to just herself and Noth. Somewhere not too far from where they set up a camp there were other people, she was sure of it. Could they be endangered by such a creature? Would it be better for everyone to try hunting it down and slaying it? Was there any way to settle this without shedding blood, and that included the blood of the beast? Was it even dangerous?

The sun was coming up by the time her imagination finally yielded to her demands for silence on the topic. Sleep was fleeting, cold, and more often than not quickly lost and slowly gained. But, she'd always had issues with insomnia, so this was nothing new. About the time she was 14 she stopped being able to sleep soundly thanks to... certain encounters with Ivan, and she never really got that ability back. It had its benefits though, and she'd taught herself to operate on just a couple hours of sleep so at least she had that. On top of her inability to fall asleep though, she was a chronically light sleeper. Ever since she'd gotten Storm the situation had gotten a little better, she'd learned to ignore sounds that the beast didn't rouse for despite the constant paranoia that just maybe it was someone with a knife or a poisoned dagger sneaking into her cave. She usually silences those thoughts quickly since they brought her mind to Alex... Alexandria was a bittersweet memory she didn't have the heart to entertain. And if she thought about Alex then she'd somehow end up thinking about Mal and it would be a downward spiral all over again. Perhaps it was the only way to make sense of her almost desperate reliance on Noth for emotional support and her tendency to cling.

If she managed to lose Noth, that would be the last straw. If he, of all people, went as far as to leave her, that would be the end of the line. She wasn't sure what she would do but she knew that it wouldn't be healthy for herself or anyone around her. The unhealthy reliance that she placed on her fellow half-breed was more than he deserved, her dependence on him was something forged in fear and loneliness. Was it love? Deep down, yes, she'd have to admit that she loved him. She loved him when she was kind and protected her, when he wrapped his single wing around her and whispered sweet nothings, when he risked the chance to drop his guard around her and show her the full brunt of his nature and character. It was ugly, horrific, monsterous. At the core of his nature Noth was a being who couldn't take blame for any of his actions and managed to take on a god complex because at the end of the trial both of them were genetic monstrocities born to a race of creatures that Delroth should have never made. If one were to take a step back, they could claim that Noth was more broken a creature than Night.

That was where the lines of their relationship started to blur. She tried her best to urge him into being a good person, showing an upstanding character, trying to move away from his past. But his course was set in stone and she knew that, she already knew that. She would have to be an idiot not to realize that behind her back he was doing a lot of things she wouldn't condone. She didn't know the specifics, but that was because she closed her eyes and covered her ears. If ever she heard his name in the street or whispered by a farmer she was render herself unaccepting of anything she heard, good or bad. She didn't want to have to deal with this yet, didn't want to have to aknowledge it yet, even though she knew it was there. Perhaps that was why she was so jumpy even when it was Noth's turn to take guard...



After sunrise the two set out once more, Night's determination renewed. She found it impossible to stay in one place for any specific extent of time without some form of movement. Tapping a single nail against her sword, move her foot, jiggling her leg when she was required to sit, constantly fluffing her wings and moving them ever so slightly the moment they seemed to be settled. There were slowly rolling waves of pain at the pit of her being deep in her stomach. Not nessisarily 'pain' but a discomfoting sensation that could only really be described as pain. It ebbed and flowed in how distracting and strong it was, but it was always there.

In spite of that she was still Nightshade, and she'd been dealing with emotions like those ever since she was 5 and she had to be terrified of doing anything wrong. If she didn't smile gracefully, avoid breaking anything, and talk with only the upmost polietness to her nature, it would be 5 lashings. And then at 10 it was 10 lashings. And at 15 it was 15 lashings. So despite the echoing fear and wreathing pains she carried herself with an air of elegance and strength. There was pride in the way she held herself, but not the kind of pride than an Avriel might display. It was the kind of pride that came with knowing you had gotten to this spot in life all on your own and you are proud of yourself for being strong enough. It was a studdied action, and to the delicate eye one might see that it was a little more hollow compared to some of her more genuine actions like the warm smile that blazed in her eyes whenever she saw another person. The pride was something learned, something she'd spent arcs watching the guards display and had learend to mimic in order to be taken more seriously. The smile was something that she had always possed. The best way to describe it was a love for everyone. It was a rigth that anyone possed upon fist meeting the half-breed. Without direct cause for distaste, she was liable to offer everyone the same almost blistering amount of gentle kindness.

Perhaps that was why she was able to win the kind of favor she had. Even when her face remained passive, the way her eyes always glittered with joy when she saw someone else like she was greeting some kind of long lost friend. Even when she was working or having a particularly vicious day it was rare for her to get snappy even if she did end up becoming a little more reserved. Oh, but the way her face looked on a good day. Relaxed or not, she wasn't working and there was no immediate bad thing happening. So the way her face almost seemed to light up with a smile half the size of her face the moment they came across another person. The way her voice rose and fell and tittered as she spoke, just enjoying the presence of someone else. One could argue that it was her love and hope for all people, but they could just as quickly argue it was her desperate craving for affection and reaffirmation that made her act like such.

After working her magic and getting some rough directions the pair continued off. All was well until they got to one simple building. Nightshade could feel her skin starting to cry, all the fear and anxiety that had been quietly building since the night prior coming crashing down on her shoulders. The woman, so used to internalizing her feels, stock piled them as if they were gold. She didn't know what to do with them, so there they sat. Coming upon this homestead she felt them starting to swirl around her heart. "I hate it," were the first words out of her mouth. "I hate those goats," she corrected herself realizing that 'it' was a rather vague term. The word died in her throat the moment a call entered the air, a name spoken in a panicked demand.

She gave no protest against the odd action but did voice a question as to why this was needed. "Called it," she muttered quietly upon the goats being such justification. "I'm sorry, but we're not sure exactly what that means. My friend here isn't local to the area and I haven't been close to here since I was but a babe," she said trying to probe for furthur explanation. Of course she kept her voice in a hushed whisper as the man seemed to want them to be quiet. She wasn't sure how close they were getting to where she was born, and she similarly wasn't sure where the manor once was in relations to that. If it even still existed of course. She knew it was a good ways away from where Westguard was now, but still rather close. She didn't leave it often, but she had been in the area before given her father's wanderings (against the Master's orders) and his tendency to bring her along. Perhaps if she was lucky the name would jog her memory if these were in fact creatures local to the area.
word count: 1693
Common ~ Ith'Ession ~ Lorien
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