Into The Unknown

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Open to one, preferably someone I have yet to write with. Bring it on.

"Madison, are you certain that you have the free time available to commit to a battle in the Citadel?"

"Yes, Hype. I have all the time in the world."

"Very well. I trust your judgment, but--"

"But what?"

"I do not think that this is wise at the moment."

"Why not? I need a little break from the lab."

"But according to the timetables you set up--"

"I'm aware of what the timetables say, Hype."

"--and with the setbacks we have suffered with the experiments so far--"

"I'm aware of those too, dear."

"--I must insist that you do not waste your afternoon here in this place where the thrill of battle is wasted and the deaths do no count anyway."

"I need to relax."

"We can play that card game you love so much."

"I need to unwind."

"You can have that awful drink that Diggs and Hedge seem to enjoy so much."

"When I get done in two or three hours, remind me to explain to you what a 'hierarchy of needs' is. Sometimes, senseless bloodshed comes before research."

"...Very well, Madison. I will return to the lab and wait."

"Thank you. Tell the others they can have the afternoon off, as well. They've worked hard enough these past couple weeks."

"But the timetables--"

"Fuck the timetables. That son of a bitch has yet to pay us for what we have delivered so far. He can wait."

"Yes, Madison."

And with that, I turned away from my masked assistant and gave the iron door handle leading into one of the Citadel's innumerable battle chambers a pull, revealing the shimmering white portal within.

[Erirag the Poet]

On the other side of the portal, a mountain awaited. Erirag Songcrafter was sitting on the craggy peak, watching the valley below. Everything was awash in red, from the packed clay and drifting sand of the plain that stretched in supplication to the mountain, to the rocky outcroppings that jutted from the earth and eventually piled together to form the rise. The orc had seen enough crimson in her day, and the burning color around her was far less beautiful than blood on the battlefield. Rather than watch her surroundings in awe, amber eyes were leveled on an orb of shimmering light. She’d emerged from one of these herself, before she’d scaled the cliffs ahead of her.

Something was tugging at her, itching under her verdant skin. Energy was prickling at the hairs on the back of her neck, and it felt familiar somehow. A melody was playing in her head, and she longed to strum it on the lute strapped to her back, but she waited. Something told her that no song she sang today would be worth an absent audience. The wind picked up and a collection of sand was pulled into a dust devil, dancing across the clay, scattering into the few hardy cacti and succulents that managed to take root in this place.

It was a long shot from the Lindequalmë, where life had been boiling over. Now she would battle in a landscape that offered a different sort of burn. The portal below shuddered and twisted, and a small form emerged. The bard grinned and slid down to the next outcropping, a wake of dust behind her and rocks tumbling and scattering below her as she skated along bare, calloused feet. Knowing it would be enough to capture the girl’s attention, the sound of rocks clattering still ringing in faint echoes, Erirag roared to life.

“Ashdautas vrasubatlat!” she called, the threat and greeting answered immediately by the cry of a vulture hiding somewhere farther up the mountain.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

The portal dumped me onto the ground. Before I could even differentiate which shade of brown or gray the dirt and rocks were, I covered them with thin pool of translucent amber. The teleportation magic employed by the Ai'Brone never did sit well with me.

As I stood up, wiping excess drops of bile off my lips with the back of my hand, I turned to survey my surroundings. I had been deposited on the side of a low mountain at the edge of a verdant valley. Outcroppings of rocks awash in the glowing orange of the setting sun were scattered around, making quick darting movements costly if not impossible. Thin wisps of clouds floated lazily overhead. Behind me, a forest grew at the foot of the mountain, stretching out for countless miles until it ran up against another towering ridge at its far side. It was a beautiful landscape that I would not have minded spending the rest of the afternoon admiring, were I not here for a completely different kind of relaxation.

A booming voice echoed from further up the slope, strong and feminine, calling out with words that I did not not recognize. I didn't dwell on that fact much--violence was a universal language, after all. But it did pique my curiosity somewhat.

"Let's see what we have today," I muttered to myself as I knelt back down on the ground. Thick green tendrils slithered out from my wrists and pushed their way into the rocky dirt. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and exhaled. I pushed my will into the earth, and opened my mind's eye. In a moment, the unique pulse of every living creature within range spoke to me. I could feel the rapid heartbeats of animals in the forest below as they were chased by predators four times their size. I could imagine the circular paths of every bird that had taken flight overhead. And up the mountain, I could sense the determined pulse of what clearly had to be an orc approaching me.

However, there was something not quite... right. My senses told me that it was obviously an orc I would face off against today, but something was off. There was a small shard of corruption buried deep within her soul. The very moment I latched onto that sensation, every fiber of my being told me to dig deeper and deeper into it. I pushed the pulse of every other living creature around out of my mind and focused on this one single soul that was approaching me.

Where had I felt this sensation before? Why was it so familiar?

In that moment, I could feel the same pulse beating in my chest. It was eerily identical to the one that corrupted the soul of this orc.

When I recognized it, a smile crept across my face. It was small at first, lips pursed into a thin line. But it grew. It grew and grew until teeth were bared in a malicious grin fit for the worst psychopaths.

This orc was tainted by the power of the Red Witch. They were one of Podë's Chosen.

Oh, this was going to be interesting. Most interesting indeed.

I suppressed a giggle as I ripped my vines out from the dirt and drew them back into my arms. I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, "Hello!"

This was going to be simple. Incapacitate the orc, tear out the shard of Podë's power that the bitch left behind in him or her, and be home in time for dinner.

[Erirag the Poet]

A slip of a girl, a slip of a voice. The initial call of the greeting was just as faint as the echoes that barely followed, but Erirag refused to be fooled by the diminutive tone. The smallest of threats had been the most deadly in Lindequalmë, after all. Never let it be said an orc couldn’t learn a lesson.

The slide of the mountain below her was as easy to traverse as one of Radasanth’s cobbled roads. Her feet knew the way instinctively. After all, the arena she’d created when she stepped through the portal was some bastard child of Alerar and Raiaera. There was little wonder why she’d left the forest in the valley behind and scaled the rocky heights. Her footsteps were beating a song of home, rocks tumbling as she descended. It took her hardly any time at all to jump, roll, and shift until she was standing on the lowest outcropping above the valley floor. She could see the girl more clearly now, her bright eyes and the dark locks that whipped about in the breeze.

There was something about her smile that was unnerving. It felt familiar, Erirag thought as she looked her over more carefully, leaning down and resting her elbows on the thighs exposed through the grass of her skirt. It made her heart beat a bit faster, pounding in her chest beyond what her clamor down the ridge could explain. The feral grin framed on such a sweet face would surely taste like blood and honey. Erirag growled and let her eyes slide to her opponent’s hands, looking for weaponry.

“The fuck is you?” she gasped before she could help herself. Her amber gaze was locked on the vine arms, the thick curl and rush of reedy plantlife that somehow managed to take on the silhouette of arms and hands, the tendril fingers of a pianist, all accented with leaves rather than jewels. Erirag gestured with her own arms, flailing them at Madison as she stared in puzzlement. “How that happen?”