Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Rakvald felt one emotion over all others as he travelled the terraces of desnind. Apprehension, fear, abject terror at the lowering of every branch. While he was climbing the terraces to get to the upper boughs of Desnind, he half expected the bark to swallow him whole. It was something of an adjustment to get used to the idea of plantlife that wasn’t out to kill you, as it did in Quacia with the Creep. He’d only met a Creepborne once, in a past life. It was a true horror, that was the only way to describe it. Perhaps that fear of vegetation and what it could become Is what prompted him to stay there for so many generations. That kind of accumulated apprehension wasn’t easy to dismiss on the assurance that the plants weren’t going to kill him. It’d take a while to deconstruct.

His instinct was to warn the people, to protect them. Every moment a branch lowered to graze his forehead, he jumped. When he saw them swaying to reach another person in that crowded terrace, he nearly lost his composure and spoke out. It came out as a half-clipped ”Gah.” every now and again. He wondered if the other people there thought he was oafish.

He’d lost a good deal of weight since falling on hard times in Quacia. The less food he had, the more jittery the forest made him. At least if he had a good meal, he could feel at ease. As it was, he hadn’t a good rasher of pork in trials and trials. Almost the entirety of Cylus had passed since he stepped foot in his old home. As for his belly, it rumbled, empty, as he watched and waited, killing time.

He turned every once in a while to look at a person entering. Each time he saw someone moving through a beaded curtain that served as a doorway, he half expected a Creepborne to pop through it. He gasped audibly everytime. Without fail.

Perhaps this wasn’t the best choice of destination for him.

A bough grazed his shoulder, and he jumped, gasping as he bumbled through a beaded curtain tinto an empty cavity, spacious enough to be a home. There, he found himself in the belly of a tree. Had the creep taken him!? What was this, and who was this strange woman smiling at him? Was she treefood too?

Rakvald felt his fear melt away, with every trill that turned onward. He focused his attention on the woman, wondering at first if she was taken by the creep. She didn’t appear to have any of the telltale signs of a creepborne. They weren’t too far from where the Creep arose to the west, nearer to Quacia, in terms of global proximity. He wondered how Desnind kept itself safe from such an influence. Or perhaps it was a weapon the natural city unleashed upon its decadent neighbor.

As he focused on the woman, she rose from her seat. Rakvald took in the full measure of her then. She had the air of an alpha female, one that commanded every inch of the space she occupied, and then some. She was certainly attractive, but more than that had a certain steady confidence that marked a strong candidate for breeding. Not that the Lothar was thinking of courting her, yet. It was just the Bonde way to take these details about females in, and tuck them in the back of their mind for further perusal as more details come to light.

Her touch was cold, but strangely comforting as she laid a hand against his arm, and led him to the table. Once there, he took a seat opposite her. The woman’s hand never left his arm alone, touching it the entire time. He looked from it to her. The Spark within him awoke with flesh curiosity. He tried to suppress it, but wasn’t easy with the subconscious thoughts of breeding running through his head. The combined stress of feeling in danger and being in the presence of a woman combined in a strange way, he found.

He tried to suppress them, however, and managed an introduction of himself, ”I Rakvald. Sorry, this your home? I would knock if had not tripped.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, as his fears continued to fade. ”Thank for taking my hand. Who is you?”

”People gone? Hmmm…” Slowly Rakvald was coming to his senses, the fear subsiding, almost unnaturally fast. He squeezed her hand back when she took it, firmly. He needed to feel something he could latch onto, and the rancher was more comfortable with living beings than the cold wooden furniture that surrounded.

”I sorry, my common not good. Company?” Her word confused him slightly as he hadn’t learned that one yet, but the way she leaned forward stirred something in him, and he found himself grinning back at her.

His eyes trailed to her hand as she drew it back. Rakvald did the same thing with his own hand in turn, and watched as she scattered some bones on the table. They looked like knuckle bones. The fact that they might be from a humanoid creature intrigued him. The lady was either dangerous or had a fascination with the remains of sentients. In either case, that only deepened his intrigue.

The notes that rang back at Cirrina would be those of many men she dealt with. Simple needs like hunger, cold, shelter, confusion, and even lust. Lust was placed higher on his priorities than most perhaps, but he was a Lotharro.

There was another note, one of estrangement, and longing for something or someone left behind. But that was about all that was easily decipherable on the surface.

”Oh! You tell me?” He quirked a brow, ”I listen. Fearful city, plants dangerous where I from. Same here?”

He lifted his eyebrows in growing intrigue at this mysterious woman, who threw human bones and could possibly read the fabric of fate.

”Companion…” he said, his own mouth twisting into a grin at her smiling eyes. There was certainly something different about this woman, something about her flesh that called to his Spark. It was as if her true flesh was hidden, not as if by clothes but by light? He couldn’t quite make sense of the feeling he was getting from his magical senses. But then they didn’t exactly grant his clairvoyance. Just a slight curiosity when it came to matters of flesh and lineage.

”Danger.” his eyes darkened as his grin grew wider. ”Woman is most danger beast of all!” He thought back to Ildred, who’d forced him off his farm, while tricking him into impregnating her into the bargain. He would have his child back, by hook or crook, when she bore the brat.

”I’m from darkness. Come from dark place, I dwelt many decades, almost hundred arcs.” He shrugged, ”Raising pigs.”

Whether this woman was sourcing a magic that existed outside of sparks or divinity, he could tell she was very wise. Wiser than he, anyway. Not that it said much. He did enjoy her company.

”Danger everywhere. No safe place. Is life. Passion and adventure run amok in life.” He shrugged off the sense of worry that suddenly overcame him. Perhaps he was worried for his child, resting in the belly of that treacherous woman. Maybe he was worried there might be something wrong with him. Or, Thetros forbid, her.

”I…” He started, but failed to complete his thought. He didn’t know whether she even wanted to hear his troubles. In the end, he still spilled the beans. ”My son is held in another city. I must know how to reach him, and bring him here to safety. Before blood god corrupts him.”

He looked up at Cirrina, wanting to move next to her yet respecting her space for the moment. ”Can you tell I he is alright?”

Ordinarily, having a buxom woman in his lap would’ve excited Rakvald, but thoughts of his future offspring being in jeopardy ruined his mood. As it was, he couldn’t think of much else than the detestable woman in whose womb he’d now reside. Many Lotharro had children by human women, that was not unusual. What was unusual, except perhaps among bonde Lothar, was the concern for the children of a union that meant nothing or less than nothing. Still, this would be Rakvald’s first child in this incarnation. He hadn’t been busy for all the years he’d been an adult, having occupied his time in the raising of his pigs. The thought of his former farm brought about a tinge of rage, as he remembered the woman who stole it all from him.

He turned to Cirrina, and couldn’t hide the distress from his face, let alone whatever tunes she’d be able to pluck out of the ether. He believed what she said. Most con artists would try to reassure their marks, and tell them only good things. At least the bad con artists. But she’d told him something negative, without even giving thought to how he might react. That made her trustworthy in his book.

”Thank.” He said simply, rubbing her back as she made a seat in his lap. He managed to grin as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and he put his hand on her thigh. Her flesh was cold, almost too cold. Yet that was not entirely unattractive. He found himself drawn to this mysterious fortune teller, his eyes roving from her face to her neck down to her cleavage. He grinned with his teeth, ”I have room in Karshe Inn. Will be finding a new steading in this city next few days, you welcome to visit always.”

He patted her thigh, and nodded to her. ”What I owe you for fortune?”