A Hunting We Shall Go {Stare, Closed}

Nevin rolled to his feet even as the ornately dressed man tested his weight on his injured foot, both men hissing in pain as they moved. The lackey had now had time to draw out his dagger, and Nevin still had his sword - but the bounty hunter was trained at least to some degree in using his weapon, and Nevin was not. But the man didn't know that - and he had already lost the use of one arm, hanging limply at his side with blood oozing and spurting from the long gash Nevin had inflicted on him. His eyes darted past the blood mage to the other fight and he grinned viciously.

Almost, almost Nevin turned to look - but he didn't have that luxury, if he looked away he would likely end up with a knife in his guts. No, he would deal with this bastard, and then figure out what he had been grinning at. That decided, Nevin rushed at him, moving to one side to force the man to turn on his hurt foot. The lackey scowled as he tried to turn to keep up with Nevin, but the redhead was not injured in his legs, so he was moving faster than the man could keep up.

Nevin suddenly jerked to the other side, and the man tried to turn to block - and Nevin swung, gripping the sword in both hands as he attacked. The lackey tried to bring his dagger up to block, but Nevin powered through the shoddy, impromptu defense, slicing another line in the man's torso. The man let out a bellow of pain and lashed out, trying to stab Nevin, but the Alchemist locked their blades together, sacrificing the sword to throw both blades away from their fight. The lackey stared at Nevin, stunned for half a second, before turning and lunging for his dagger or the sword -

But it wasn't fast enough, even as he tried to ignore the pain in his foot to move faster. Scarlet threads burst forth from Nevin's outstretched hand, coiling and twisting together into a deep red whip that writhed and squirmed in the air. With no motion from Nevin the whip snaked through the air, coiling around the man's leg, and Nevin jerked back, dragging the man backwards along the ground, his fingers scrabbling for purchase.

The lackey rolled over onto his back to try freeing himself from the sudden whip around his ankle - and let out a strangled scream at the sight of the threads squirming around Nevin's skin, the same threads that composed the whip that was currently making his leg burn in pain. His fingers dug at the red cord, but he learned the same thing the other victim had - the whip was easily as tough as steel, and fingers just could find no purchase to pull it free. Instead his fingers turned raw as the flesh on them was torn away.

"Wh-what are you?" The words escaped from disbelieving whips as Nevin dropped his other hand down, more red threads unclog from beneath his skin, forming another, shorter whip that went rigid. Nevin snarled.

"A Cobalt-taken monster." The short, stiff whip was driven into the soft tissue of the man's neck, coiling around his arm to strike when he tried to shield himself. A wet gurgle, and he went limp, blood leaking around the edges of the red coil in his neck. Nevin ripped the whip away and spun on his heel to see Stare finish her foe - or not. The mage was pressing a golden knife against her throat, a cruel smile curving his lips as he kept his eyes closed.

"I don't know how you escaped crow b***h, my master said his brother had no one close enough to help you." He was gloating, unaware of the results of his lackey's fight. "Reginald, worry about the corpse later. My sponsor wants this one alive, but he's fine with dead too - go check on the cell and see how these two fools escaped..... Reginald - Reginald answer me you misbegotten excuse for a bookkeeper." He twisted his head, opening his eyes to look - right into the furious, burnt red orbs of Nevin. "Oh, dear." Crimson red that had been quietly slithering over to him as he floated suddenly sprang up, coiling around the man's wrist, wrenching the hand holding the dagger away from Stare's throat. The other whip snapped up, coiling around his neck - and this time, the one around the neck was not 'hungry' and just choked the man as Nevin heaved him off of Stare, his muscles trembling as he pulled hard. The blood mage kept the whips on the unknown mage, keeping him pinned as he let Stare recover.

"His brother ..."

The words rang through her head as she desperately struggled against the mage, her daggers seemingly doing nothing but keep her alive that little bit longer. It came to her that it was strange the mage was using a knife, rather than any more spells, yet maybe this was his way. As he forcefully turned his face away she tried another throw of pain to his ankle on her chest - but this time he seemed to be ready. Just the same as her knives were making no real effect on his feet and legs, it seemed that he was protected by magic. As she allowed an eye to slip into a view of auras she caught a glimpse of his body run with thousands of tiny black lines, but ones that were different from his general dark aura. Instead they were small sable sparks of power that gave the illusion of a suit of armour.

"His brother ..."

What did that mean? That his sponsor had a brother? That could be possible, but why would the mage say that? How could a brother of a sponsor she did not know have any intelligence on her or her cuff, or Vitruvion? What was this - some form of freak show?

It made her more determined to find answers. Furiously she resorted to shoving at he Mage's chest as he went on about how she could be fine dead. He was taking time out of attacking her to speak to his lackey. Taking the opportunity she stabbed against his chest but found the same useless ability - unable to cause any damage. His body sung from shoulders to ankles and wrists in hairlines of black webbing, as some form of magical armour.

Brother. What brother?

Suddenly though, then the mage was caught off guard. A thin black rope of crimson coiled around his neck, snapping around and closed and tight like a coiled snake. Wide eyes appeared on the mage's face, along with disbelief as he was suddenly and entirely yanked off her form.

Back he went, sprawling to the side, the whip grabbing and forcing him away from her, the entire movement taking less than a second. As the pressure was released from her chest Stare felt her lungs rush with lungs again. And she was spluttering, coughing, retching ...

She rolled over to the side, continuing to cough horribly.

"G-get kni-ecch knife from his hand!" She managed to hack out.

Vomit came from her stomach. Thick, awful and blundering. "Get it ..."

"Bah!" The mage attempted to yell a wave of force again, but one time was enough.

Rolling right over, still shaking, Stare shot him the darkest look she had. Shoving the worst of her anguish onto him she made him pause - then suddenly begin to scream in horror.

"Nightmare," she explained in a haunted whisper.

Nevin ripped the whip around the mage's wrist around in a circle, the hungry threads sawing, tearing at the armor that was criss-crossing his body. The blood-whip coiled over and over, continuously tearing as the man began to scream. As the black webbing the cracks in his armor spread, deepened, Nevin lifted the arm holding the wrist and smashed it down against the ground, over and over again. There was a strange sound, almost like glass shattering, as the armor protecting the mage's body broke around his arm, deep black lines spreading up his arm as another smash had the golden blade skitter from limp fingers. The mage's screams deepened as the whip around his wrist began to bite into his arm, tearing away at the flesh as blood began pouring out, strangely coating the whip and running along it towards Nevin's arm.

His face a rictus of rage, Nevin used his magic and his muscles, such as they were, to hoist the screaming mage up into the air, and shook him roughly. He kept up the pressure around the mage's neck, watching in grim satisfaction as those black cracks darkened, getting closer and closer to breaking as Nevin's whip tightened around him. The blood mage twisted his head around to look at his friend, and he banished the whip that had now ripped away flesh almost to the bone on the mage's arm. Nevin held out one hand towards Stare, offering to help her up as he kept the mage held in the air.

"I would say we should question this waste of blood, but I don't think he's going to be in any state of right mind to do so any time soon. Perhaps he has notes? He did seem to be writing when we came in here. Ah." His dark eyes, which had turned towards the mage's desk when he had mentioned that, noticed a key glinting on the table, half-buried under some papers. "I believe he's locked your cuff up - that might be the key on the table, there." A tilt of his head indicated it. Nevin shook the mage again, the man's body twisting in the air like a ragdoll hung from the neck.

For a long time, all she could do was glare.

As she moved her body into a seated position, her chest rose and fells in great peaks and troughs. Like the formation of a mountainous landscape she sculpted swathes through the air, her small breasts actually noticeable for once beneath the mounds of feathers and chainmail. Underneath the hood of her long, tapered helmet she looked with dark, unmerciful eyes. Easing herself onto her backside, not willing herself to do anything more under the circumstances she raised her head up to watch the blood mage, struggle and suffer, the whip dangling him like a dying man on a noose.

Around his neck the physical signs of his armour breaking could be seen, black lines forming like spiderwebs. They appeared as they showed in her aura vision - the actual sense of his power visible here. Still he bore against it, still he survived. She reckoned he could go on for a fairly long period of time - very slowly suffocating to death.

Slowly, though, she looked over to her friend and saw him motioning to the desk. Moving her gaze over to there, but her eyes still as hateful as the day she had met Vitruvion, she spied the silver shine of the key he spoke of. Her breath was patient for a moment or two longer, slowly easing more air into her lungs and steadying her body. Still, slightly it shook, in the ends of her fingers and the remaining feathers at her tail. But, she found the courage and the energy now.

Therefore, with a great heave and a sigh expelling through her nostrils Stare staggered to her feet. Her body, worn and weary after five days of imprisonment and a near death fight, despite Nevin's health potion meanwhile, had its effects. Uncertain was she in her footing as she moved across the floor and grabbed the key from the desk, using the wooden slab of furniture as much of a crutch than anything.

"You missing anything?" she asked Nevin in a hoarse voice, as she searched for a hole to put the key into.

It did not take her long. With one clawed hand gripping tight onto the desk she eased herself down to come face to face with a bottom drawer set into it. There was a small hole there, and it fit the key well. A twist, and a series of clunks and a small flash - and the drawer opened. To reveal inside a metal-lined cupboard, with a cushion inside.

And on the cushion lay three objects. A small dragon-skin covered book, a tiny flask ... and a deep grey cuff.

Absolute relief flooded her, and she felt her life begin to fit together again. All those worries, all that pain - it was suddenly gone as happiness washed over her. A joy to not have to face Vitruivion's wrath, should she return to him. A far lesser chance of peculiar and cruel punishment.

Shoving her hand she took all three objects. Separating out the cuff she shoved it deep into the inside of her tunic, into an inside pouch where it could not ... should not go missing again. Pausing for a moment, she looked at the other two objects in her hand, and then looked back up to the demonic mage, her brow lowering once again.

"What did you mean by 'brother'?" she hissed.

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thinking the book could have some demonic rituals in it or something, a way to contact his sponsor? and the flask ... I can change that to something else.

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Nevin raised an eyebrow and shook his head slowly, though his gaze was locked on the small flask. Whatever was inside was positively crying out to his magic, a powerful crescendo that threatened to drown out his very thoughts. The blood inside came from. Nothing he realized, and it was potent - more potent than anything else he had ever encountered, not even his own blood or Stare's compared to the eldritch chorus that sang to him. It was difficult to pay attention to anything beyond the vial, even if he had been studying Stare as she stood up.

With a visible shake of his entire body, the blood mage twisted his gaze to the other mage. The man was still struggling, ignoring the question that came from Avis. Nevin thought that was rather impolite of the bastard, and shook the man's body roughly, forming more cracks in the armor around his neck. At this point the other mage was concentrating all of his protection there to keep the inexorably tightening whip from fully strangling him - though he wouldn't realize that Nevin had slowed down the inwards constriction when Stare asked the man a question.

Still the other man refused to answer, and Nevin let out a low growl of frustration. While they could wait here longer, that ran the risk of more hunters showing up and changing the situation. So they couldn't wait much longer - so Nevin decided to expedite the process and he walked closer to the man, grabbing his raw, bloody roster and jamming his own thumb under the jagged edge of the man's skin. He ignored the pain ed scream and stared up at the demonic mage.

"The longer you refuse to answer my friend, the worse it will be for you. I can drive the severe same threads under your skin from this close, and have them tear you apart from the inside out." normally the blood mage would be nowhere near this cruel or brutal - but these bastards had been holding his friend captive for days, manacled and blindfolded. To let the man speak Nevin withdrew his thumb from the wound, but held his empty hand up in the air, crimson threads weaving back and forth in a serpentine pattern.

The man looked to Stare, possibly seeking respite from the redhead, and whatever he saw in her eyes made him break. A dark stain spread across his pants, the acrid odor of urine permeating outwards from him. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. "M-m-my master -
a being approached my master, and asked for help in getting vengeance on his brother. Said.... Said his brother was reaching too far, interfering too much in mortal affairs." The mage's face drained of all color, his eyes suddenly locked on something. Nevin twisted his head around to see what he was looking at, but whatever had the man petrified in fear couldn't be seen by the blood mage. "No, no, I didn't mean to - I'm sorry, I - grck" There was a strange, muted cracking sound, and the mage went limp.

{Let me know if you want me to change this any}

With blank, pitiless eyes, Stare watched the man suffer his last moments. Shaking and twisting he became less than what he had been, his ferocity and his vigour fading fast as he became the victim, the prisoner, the agonised.

As he gazed into the blank void, his eyes flashing with fear before he died, her heart raced with his confession. A "being" he said, "had approached my master." Not a man. Not a wizard. Not a king. A "being." By her experience Stare knew that people only used that word when they had a degree of unfamiliarity and confusion when identifying someone. When they didn't think that they were human. Or elf. Or whatever other race. Stare thought about the time she had first experienced Vitruvion's power. It had been sudden, forceful, and she had not been able to fight against him. Truly it had been strange and fearsome - terrifying.

Truly a "being," not a "man."

And then he said, "mortal affairs ..." and she knew.

A second after his neck snapped she ran over, a shriek running through her beak. Furiously she ripped off her helmet before grabbing his body and pulling it down to meet her.

"No, no, no," she yelled, "You do not go like that - with that! What do you mean his brother? What brother? He has no brother! What do you know? Who are you!"

Screeching, she shook him before her face, spitting on him as she did so. When his body simply flopped and he did not respond she glared over the corner that the mage himself had looked before he went. Where she highly suspected he had seen his demon patron.

"You give him back now!" She screamed. "You do not face me and then get away with that. He has no brother! Not here!"

But her shouts fell to silence. The only other person was deadly quiet and just staring at her. Meanwhile the only noise was the drip-drip of the dead mage's blood.

Vengeance. Reaching too far. Mortal affairs.

... Brother.

For in her heart she knew, that by 'he' the mage could only have meant Vitruvion.

Stare was... shaking. Nevin could see that, even as he looked at her as she screamed at the darkness in the corner of the room. Whatever the mage had let slip just then, it had gotten to her in a very potent way, and for the life of him Nevin couldn't tell of she was trembling in rage, or fear. She shrieked for answers, demanding to know, but whatever had been there, unseen, gave no reply to the Kenku woman.

Nevin filed the last words away. He wouldn't bring them up with her not now - but he would be thinking about them, turning them over on his head as he tried to figure out why exactly it was that his friend had panicked at them. But for now.. For now, he knelt down and picked up her helmet, then slowly walked over to her. One hand stretched out, hesitating for just a moment before he clasped her shoulder gently.

"Stare... Avis, we need to get out of here. If his sponsor, whatever it was, was watching and knows he died here - or killed him itself it seems -then it is sure to have sent reinforcements. We should b gone before they arrive." He stated into her eyes for a moment before pressing the half-mask into her hands, and swiftly gathered up the book and the vial. His skin shuddered at the contact with the book, and sang as his fingers closed around the flask. He would worry about replacing his broken and lost gear later, for now he tucked these into pouches on his belt and took Stare's hand, trying to lead her down the hall that exited from the other side of the room. Now that he could see it, Nevin realized that there was a faint trace of sea salt in the air - the exit would be down this way. He frowned to himself - no matter what, they would have had to face the mage it seemed.

She did not resist as he took her hand. Instead she let the anger continue to consume her, filling her top to toe with direst hatred and frustration. Heart beating wildly she followed, knowing that right now she could conquer worlds with the amount of emotion she felt. But it felt good. They were her emotions. Indeed, she knew that truly she could let them go any time she liked with a series of reasonable and logical meanings ... But she did not want to.

Because Vitruvion had a brother. Here, on Althanas. And he had had her kidnapped, by a mage who had demonic gifts. Who had been granted power by a dark hellish being that had stolen his life when he had failed in keeping sane.

Vitruvion. Had. Another. Sibling.

But the question was - full god or half? Yes, he had been told by Ansaldo that he was the first one purely born from Ansaldo's essence, but with what they knew about the selfish, obsessive, cruel god he might have been lying all this time.

Beak held at an angle Stare surged forwards, her body near to collapsing state now. Held together with determination as she was she knew her excess energy could only last so far. But so focused was she that she climbed the weary last corridor and then a set of stone steps without much failing. The scent of the salt sea air hit her nose as it had done Nevin and memories of the Corone harbour came to her.

A small seaside village. Cobblestones and slate roofs. A curving street going down to the wooden jetties. A bright sun that stung their eyes as they blinked into it, coming up through the staircase, and through a final locked door that was so easy to open now.

So easy with the keys that they had stolen, the lives they had taken, and the suffering they had wrought. Practically, they had tortured a man. Practically, had she been tortured.

Stare staggered out of the doorway and out of the cells she had been in for five, long days. No sooner had they got out than her eyes washed over the view of the same harbour town she had begun in all that time earlier. But except now they were on a hill above it, overlooking it.

Suddenly she collapsed to the ground, her energy rushing away and a single phrase on her beak.

"... I am so sorry."

Nevin had been growing more concerned with Stare by the minute - from what he knew of her, shutting down like this could not be good. She had gone from trembling with some emotion to utterly silent, barely holding onto her mask with one hand and not even resisting slightly as he pulled/guided her down the corridor. The blood mage had to let her go to work open the door, throwing his weight against it, and he tumbled out into the bright sunshine, good eye stinging as it adjusted to the sudden light.

With a grunt of effort he forced himself back to his feet - the adrenaline was leaving his body now, and all the aches and pains he had accumulated during their escape were coming back to him. Still, they weren't safe yet, so he turned back to Stare - just in time to see his friend collapse like a puppet with their strings cut, whispering an apology. Alarm shot through him, forcing the pain back down as he rushed over to her.

She was, at best, half-conscious. One eye seemed to focus on him for a moment as he grabbed her mask from the ground and shoved it onto his belt, but the orb had closed by the time he carefully took one arm and levered it over his shoulders. It took two tries for him to stand up, as the first time he tried his ribs cried out and sent a burning wave of pain through him.

But onto his feet he made it. As he got her up, Nevin realized the problem inherent with his initial hold - she was short enough that trying to walk with her arm over his shoulders would just end up hurting her. For a moment he wanted to curse, but they didn't have the luxury of time.

So as she hung there, drained and exhausted, he moved around and scooped her up into his arms. She seemed so small and light as he held her up, and thin cords of red wove together under her body, a supporting network that ran between his arms.a tentative step, and she didn't seem rlto react - so he began walking down the hill, doing his best to follow the path.

The first warning he had was shrill, high, frantic flute notes that pierced through the sky, ringing discordantly as their origin hurtled out of the blue towards him. Nevin had only a moment to brace himself, before there was a loud popping sound and a rush of air washed over the two. Pounds of corvid crashed onto Nevin's shoulder, claws scrabbling for a moment to find purchase on the smooth crimson drakescales he now wore. Worried flutes trilled of toy as Aphrael checked him over, louder notes escaping her she she found the injuries on his face. The concerned, frightened bird broke off her chastisement and worry in a funny, confused twirl of notes as she noticed that her human was carrying someone. For a moment her crimson eyes scanned over the slumped form in Nevin's arms, before she snapped her head around, accusatory flourishes filling the air.

"Wha- what? No! No I am not replacing you with her you silly bird! She's my friend and she's injured. No I will not put her down, she can't stand on her own and we need to get away from here." The low, suspicious piping of flutes trailed off into confusion, then alarmed trilling. "Yes, that's right.
Away from the people who captured us and hurt us. We got some of them but I doubt we got them all." As he argued with the crow on his shoulder, Nevin started walking again, looking worriedly down at the Kenku in his arms, making sure she was still breathing, even if she didn't seem to be registering what was happening.

They must have made an odd sight as they stumbled into town, one human with a Crow-woman in his arms, and am overgrown crow on his shoulders, because all of the villagers gave him a wide birth as he staggered along the streets. At this point he didn't know what on earth he was looking for - the exit from this place? He didn't trust the guards, not in a village this close to their former captors. Still, his feet carried him onwards, precious cargo cradled against his chest, until -

"Who are you, and where are you going with her?" A distrustful, authoritative voice cut through the fog of pain that had descended over Nevin. The alchemist tried to focus on the speaker, but his unswollen eye was swimming in and out of focus. "Wait. Red hair? Are you the one -" whatever the man was saying was lost to Nevin, as with a shrill cry of panicked flutes ringing in his ears he fell to one knee, managing to twist himself round to protect Stare from the ground as he fell.

"Can't say I was expecting that answer."

Brown, luscious locks. Pointed, angled ears. Sharp, green eyes. A look so direct and immediate it could have caused harm.

Had he wanted to.

As Stare struggled against the warm, inviting arms of unconsciousness the new man moved to one knee and pushed Nevin's limp body aside. Pushing his arms around her chest and irnoring Nevin's mutterings of contestation he tugged her close, her legs dragging along the ground. Pulling her to the side he lay her shivering form over his knee, his keen eyes inspecting her with avid passion, before he tilted his head up and stared at Nevin.

"What happened?" He demanded. But the young man seemed no more able to give answer than her. For a moment the elf - for her was an elf, and his name was Raevin, son of Ralaer - glared, but then he let out a slow, long sigh and began to stand up. Gently he pulled the kenku into his arms and glanced around until he found a useful looking townsperson. Gesturing over he offered a large reward and pointed between Nevin and a nearby inn, just across the road.

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Several long moments later and Stare gasped, warmth touching her body. Eyes staring around she tried to perceive was was going on around her at the same time as comprehending what had happened. The stone staircase - thy had climbed it. Then, half dragging her Nevin had struggled through the streets of the harbour town as a ... Did she remember a crow? Fluttering around. Just fluttering, calling, shouting. And then -

Gasping, she sat up and immediately regretted it. Blood and dizziness swam to her head, and she began to let out a long, pained groan.

Strong arms caught her. Powerful ones that she knew fairly well.

"Hey, hey," Raevin's voice came quietly to her ear. "Hey, Stare. Everything is going to be alright."

Stare swallowed hard and groaned more. "Nevin ..." She mumbled, "He ..."

"He is right over there," Raevin said quietly, glancing over to a warm fire where Nevin was likewise placed in a chair like the one she realised she was in. All comfy and cushions and warmth, snuggled up in a small room that looked like a classic one from an inn. "... You have a lot of explaining to do, Stare," he told her.

"Ugh," she closed her eyes slowly and spoke with disgust. "You do too. Stupid, taking away my chances of running. I thought about it you know. I could have just ..."

"Gone? Yeah he wouldn't let you," the elf smiled warmly and pushed her back against the cushions as sleep threatened her. "You should know that by now."

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Guess we could finish it soon. Maybe a conversation with Nev and Rae?

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