39th of Vhalar, Arc 716
"Luden," Alistair called to the Lotharro, who'd slept in the main room of the cabin they'd both been staying in - a room Alistair quickly made his way to after the events of minutes prior. The man rose quickly to his feet, balling his fists and readying into a stance, eyes flickering open and investigating his surroundings. "Huh?" he asked. The mage, eager to move forward, did not yet bother explaining what had been going on. Instead, with his hand extended outwards, he beckoned for the Lothar to come closer.
Complying reluctantly, Luden did so, and he took Alistair's hand.
"Alaa bana seio'forta - asa je vanya lameia togourto seis fatan," he whispered, and repeated.
"What are you saying?" the Lothar asked, eyes widened. He began to slowly pull away from the mage, who was terrifying him. Immensely.
"Naa'ha ba sei forta, Sera ba Randil, Ellasin de Dathlan, nousra a forta sei demente zothros," he said. Once, and again, and then again, for a third time.
His words materialized, it seemed like. The windows - from where they could see them - were covered now in pale hands. Creatures sliding their palms down the glass, desperate and pleading to come in. What were they? The Lothar didn't know. But he was afraid, and he trusted his gut instinct. Balling his fists once more, he threw a hard fist against the mage's face. Alistair fell to the ground, knocked unconscious, with Luden grabbing him before he hit his head on the hard wooden floor.
With that alone, the hands disappeared. The groaning ceased, and the night returned to quiet. Alistair was put to bed with leather straps around his wrists, Luden preventing him from any wild behaviors when he awoke. Truthfully, he didn't know Alistair very well, or magic. The Lothar stayed up much of the night pondering what to do - even considering killing the mage in his sleep to prevent the incursion of those things again: the Sylvithia. Unlike Alistair, Luden recognized them.
It was possible that the man had become possessed.
Trials later, when the sun rose and shined through the window, Alistair's eyes flickered open. He saw leather bindings around him and in short order began to panic, but when he rationally examined the situation he realized they didn't pose much of a threat. Using the Chasing, a form of Rupturing, he teleported the leather bindings across the room, their forms disappearing from around his hands as he rubbed his sore wrists. But why were they there in the first place? Last thing he'd remembered, Luden was asleep, and Alistair rose to try and tell him of what he'd seen in the forest. There was nothing after that.
Alistair rose to his feet, stepping into the hallway and peering through the small opening of Luden's door. He couldn't see anything inside, but continued to peer in, curious to see if the Lotharro was still there. As he searched, however, he was pressed against the door from behind. It was the Lotharro - he could tell from the strength. And the musk.
"How'd you get out of your bindings?" he asked Alistair. He didn't seem... upset that the mage managed to get out, interestingly enough. Maybe - instead - scared.
"I teleported them somewhere else," he answered frankly. "I'm not sure why I was restrained in the first place. I was hoping you'd . . . illuminate that answer for me."
"Because you went fuckin' crazy," the Lothar answered. "You grabbed my hand and started speaking some crazy shit. You invited ghosts to my bloody cabin, mage," he snarled. Alistair changed his mind - Luden did in fact seem quite angry.
