The Witching Hour (Closed)

[Duffy]

The Witching Hour (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3U_x781-24)



2979


Closed to Witchblade.


Sequel to I Lay Claim to your Crumbling Pride (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25500-I-Lay-Claim-to-your-Crumbling-Pride).

Duffy sat on the steps of the Citadel, wistfully admiring the sunset. Whilst the aftermath of a long, embittered war still cast its shadow over the island, nature remained oblivious. The birds flew south over the rooftops for the winter. The trees swayed leafless in the boulevards and boardwalks. The sea, on the horizon, burnt gold as the last of the evening warmth faded.

“She really was something…,” Ruby said.

Duffy rolled his eyes. He looked up at the spell singer, a step or two higher than he was, and shook his head. “We don’t need to dwell on what was, Ruby. Whatever happens in the Citadel stays in the Citadel.”

Two hours ago, he had woken up in the apocathery’s chamber. His body ached. His heart lamented. His lips parched with fatigue. Ruby had been there, as ever she was, to see him through the dark times of revival. Though he was immortal, and returned to Althanas countless times from the Beyond, it never got easier.

“Forgive me for wishing to examine what happened today.” She pursed her lips.

Duffy nodded. His simple, poignant body language served a surgical purpose. Ruby had undergone her own physical trauma today. They had travelled to Radasanth to test their mettle in the sandy arenas. She had fared much better than he had.

“I could not have expected someone quite so…,” he said with bemusement. His train of thought trailed off into daydreams. “Well, someone so…” He mumbled. “Someone so increasingly determined to kill me.”

Ruby dropped two steps, plonked herself down, and tucked her palms into the folds of her purple and violet gown. She kept her gaze south along the long, wide road that travelled from the Citadel’s grand entrance to the market district a mile away. A soft wind rolled north over them both, setting their hair adrift, and their clothes dancing with life.

“You tested her enough, though, didn’t you?” she mused.

Duffy sighed. He had simply seen no point in fighting on after her reflexes had rebuked his blades, and her bitterness had turned aside his rhetoric and artistry. There was no use continuing his elaborate, detailed monologue when the words were going straight in one ear and out the other.

“I sure as hell tried to, at least.”

Ruby chuckled. “I don’t think she was the sort of woman who found theatre enthralling.”

In recent years, there had been an increase in what the thespians of the world were calling ‘the unsung souls’. It had hurt Duffy, at first. He hated the concept of anyone not being able to find peace, love, and happiness in something as simple as the written word. It was a sign, if anything, of the changing times.

“She may yet prove us wrong,” he said flatly. He flicked his floppy fringe from his eyes. He ran his tongue tip over his piercings, and blinked to keep his tired, straining eyes focussed on the sandstone walls and cobbles of the boulevard.

Ruby shook her head. “Witchblade, as the noticeboard referred to her, hardly seems like the sort to just come waltzing up to you after a willing conflict and demand vengeance for some sort of social slight.” The thought of that creature possessing any concept of etiquette and honour confused Ruby’s usually intuitive intellect.

Duffy took a moment to consider his options. Replying to anything Ruby Winchester said was as much a battle as any titanic duel in the Citadel. The monks of the Ai’bron had a name for the once read headed matriarch – they called her Crimson Death. It was after the maddening disease found in the tropical jungles of Dheathain. Its victims left gibbering after a long, furious fight with a certain demise.

Talking to her sometimes felt just like that.

“You never know,” he clucked. He produced a hip flask from his sweat sodden jacket pocket and drained it. “People can surprise you.”

The duo fell silent, and continued to watch the sun set over the capital of Corone. Smoke rose in streams from crooked chimneys, and red, gold, and yellow squalls formed on the horizon.

[Witchblade]

Witchblade looked out at the port of Radasanth, bathed in the colour of gold. The calm waves of the evening rolled up the banks and splashed against the smooth stones littering the beach and the wooden structures precariously placed close to the water’s edge. Their stilts protruding deep into the molten liquid the ocean had become.

She enjoyed the visage, the sunset always had a certain calming effect upon her. But as the day turned to night, this setting did not have the one thing she wanted; the ship she’d booked passage on. The one carrying her from Radasanth to Talmhaide and whatever awaited her therein. She’d spent the whole day in The Citadel without even realizing it. Her lust for blood had driven her there, but the pathetic battle with Duffy Bracken had barely whet her appetite and so she’d been forced to look elsewhere. She’d found two more opportunities in Maddison Freebird and Zerith Dracosius. Both of which had been interesting fights and left her feeling content, at the time.

Now though, she wasn’t content.

Angry, yes. Piss off, sure. Content? Fuck no.

If that pathetic being known as Duffy had just given her a decent fight and died like a man rather than squirming on the ground like a worm she wouldn’t be in this situation right now. She’d be on her way to Dheathain.

Running her fingers through her jet black hair, Witch turned away from the beautiful scene that no painter could ever hope to capture and marched back into the winding streets of Radasanth. Her anger simmered just below the surface. Even Daegun, the baby dragon perched on her shoulder could feel it. He chirped into her ear and nudged her with his head. The sharp frill of spikes protecting the back and side of his neck catching on her hair and pulling at it. Absently, she scratched him under the chin and freed the strands of hair from him. He playfully nipped at her fingers and she couldn’t help but chuckle as his sharp, needle like teeth broke skin.

She could always count on the little guy to cheer her up.

Silently, she thanked MetalDrago, one of the few friends she had in this world, for giving him to her. Realizing only now that had not seen the Dragonian warrior in many years.

Absently she wondered if he still lived.

Within the streets, the tall walls of the buildings cast deep shadows along the cobbled and dirt lanes, already bringing on the sense of night. Lamplighters bustled from one corner to another, their long poles and the flickering flame at the end reaching up high to ignite the oil in the street lights and chase away the demons of the night.

Too bad fire didn’t work on her.

The last of the more savoury crowd bustled quickly from the shops and the pubs to their homes. They knew that night brought out the worst in the citizens of this region and the civil war had only made it easier to get away with your more base cravings.

As she walked through the emptying market square, the wind changed. It brought with it the scent of refuse, of smoke and ash and of the man she’d been cursing only moments ago.

Bracken…

Turning her face into the wind, she breathed in deeply, focusing on his scent. If she couldn’t get to Talmhaide, perhaps she could get a little revenge.

Pulling her hood up and over her head, Witch bathed herself in the darkness her cloak provided and slipped away into the night.

She found her prey in the very spot she’d left him; The Citadel. He sat on the stone steps drinking from a flask, a woman with hair the colour of the fading sunset beside him.

Stepping away from the shadows, Witchblade moved towards the human. The baby dragon on her shoulder chose that moment to leap down, his white scales flashing in the growing dark as he glided towards the steps. Landing at the bottom, he let out a chirp before climbing up them, claws digging in and scratching at the worn stone as he made his way to Bracken.

Damn dragon better not get any ideas.

”You…” She snarled the word at him. ”I missed my ride to Talmhaide thanks to you.”

Her right hand reflexively opened and closed at her side. Remembering the feel of choking him, the way his throat worked and moved as she’d threatened to end his life, only to walk away from the chance.

[Duffy]

Duffy blinked. Ruby raised an eyebrow. They both did a double take.

“I…,” he mumbled.

Ruby stood, defiant of the creature ascending the stairs, and set her arms across her chest. She took on a matriarchal glamour that would have cowed lesser men. Witchblade, however, was not a man. Ruby was not entirely sure what she was. She knew only this – she did not like her one bit.

“If you missed a boat, wretch, you’ve only yourself to blame.”

I was not speaking to you, hag!

The two women glared at one another. Witchblade approached a few cautious steps at a time. Duffy, still uncertain about how to react, pocketed his flask as slowly as he could without drawing the creature’s attention. His marl eyes sparkled in the dying light. His hair, still matted with sweat, dangled over his forehead.

“Ruby…” He said softly. He reached up to her, and tugged at the hem of her skirt. She looked down at him with fire in her eyes. She almost made to strike him. “It’s alright. I will deal with this matter.”

She sat abruptly. Her buttocks bruised against the stone, and she rested her palms on her lap in as dignified a manner as she could. The evening light continued to turn the typically vibrant backdrop of Radasanth sour, grey, and lifeless. Soon, the candles in windows and torchlight boulevards would begin to glow.

Did you hear me? Her voice pressed against his tired mind like a vice. I missed my boat because you rambled on for an hour!

Witchblade's malefic aura intensified, and the bard and spell singer started to feel her presence writhe and lash in their silver tinted minds.

Duffy raised an eyebrow. He had intended to fight in the Citadel. When she had insisted on belittling his every being, he had lost the will to stoop to her level. He was a man, quite literally, born of words. They were his lifeblood, his power, and his drive. He fought Witchblade with every bit of that strength. She, he assumed, simply did not understand the finer points of debate.

“You get used to it…” Ruby clucked. She finally started to ease off, releasing anxiety in the form of crude humour. She was starting to sweat now as well, and she did not have the excuse of having fought in the sandy arenas in the grand building that loomed behind them.

“I am sorry you missed your boat.” His apology sounded heartfelt, but there was no warmth of expression to accompany it. Ruby turned to him, made to speak, but was rebuked by a sideways glance. “How can I make it up to you?”

The creature stopped three steps away from Duffy’s hobnails. It scratched at the rock, hissed, mewed, and flicked its tail. The bard had no doubt in his mind that, if he said the wrong thing now, she would lose it on them. He had no particular desire to suffer another reincarnation today.

[Witchblade]

”M-make it up to me?”

Withblade stared at him, stunned. Inside the shadows of her hood, her face took on a look of incredulity. Her steps faltered on the stairs, uncertain whether to carry her further up or stop the journey altogether. All her thoughts fled to the dark recesses of her mind. The piece of human trash in front of her should be running for his life, not asking if he could make it up to her. He should be pissing down his leg right now in fear. She’d practically ripped his throat open and he acted as if she’d asked him what his favourite colour is.

“You want to make it up to me!?”

The very thought made her blank. The idea of him wanting to do anything other than run for his worthless life at this moment just seemed ludicrous to her. How could this pathetic creature possibly make anything up to her? How could he solve her problem? She’d paid that damn captain a fortune just so he’d let her on his freaking rickety boat. After all, a reputation like hers meant most people wanted to stay the fuck away from her, not allow them passage on their ship for a week long journey.

Daegun took her hesitation as a sign that he should make friends with the garbage before her. He let out a loud chirp and then stood on his hind legs, his front paws resting on Duffy’s knee as he gave a gentle push and demanded attention.

[Duffy]

Hesitantly, Duffy looked down at the strange creature nuzzling his limbs. At first, in response to Witchblade’s outrage, he remained silent. When Ruby nudged him in the rubs with a little but too much enthusiasm, he jolted, leant down, and ran a finger gently along the creatures back.

The noise it made was halfway between pleasure and wrath.

“I’m sorry!” Duffy whelped, withdrawing his finger before he loosed it.

“That’s what he said, isn’t it?” Ruby objected, with dripping smarm.

Duffy blinked, looked to the Spellsinger, and then caught up with the conversation that had undergone a rapid turn for the worst whilst he was distracted. He sighed.

“Look,” he began, slouching forwards onto his knees. He was not in the mood, but he was every bit the man of his word. “I am sorry for your difficulty. I mean it, though. If there is anything I can do to help you continue on your j-” He paused mid word. His lips continued to move as if he were speaking, but only salty air passed between them.

Ruby rolled her eyes. Her greying hair and lacklustre afternoon own ruffled as she pushed herself upright, dusted herself down, and held her hands with dignity in the small of her back. In the absence of men, she mused; her own strength would have to carry them through this encounter.

“We can offer either a chartered ship to your location,” she began, calculating in the back of her mind when the next vessel her husband controlled would be leaving. “Or…” she giggled, knowing full well Duffy would moan horribly at the idea. “We could sing you to where you want to go.”

The spell singer’s words took on a life of their own, and held sway over stone and seagull, and sanity alike. The bard glared at her, and abandoned his attempts to make friends with Daegun.

“Ruby…,” he whispered, in a low, judgemental tone. “No…,” he clenched his teeth, “we will not.”

Witchblade, beneath her hood, continued to be perplexed. There was not enough blood, guts, and detritus in this moment for her liking. Despite her objections, still they tried to help her…

Sing? She whispered into their minds. You can sing people to places.
 
As if by magic, she forgot her troubles. The voice in her mind and the voice within a voice resurged, causing a swell of nauseas and a cackle of madness.

Go on?

Ruby wagged a finger at the bard, and he sat, abruptly, back on the step. All of his charisma and wiles failed him, and Ruby Winchester firmly took command of the drama. It was precisely what she was good at doing.

“We are bards of sorts, trained in the varying schools of magic from the High Elven tradition.” She would have gone into detail than that, but she doubted Witchblade would live long enough to hear it all. “A ritual of sorts would transport us to wherever you needed to go, provided we have been there before, or thereabouts.” Chances were, they would have, but she knew little of Dheathain to be sure.

“Or we could end up in a fucking volcano…,” Duffy snapped.

Worried about your little face again? Witchblade jibed.

Duffy stuck his tongue out at her.

“Which will it be?” he asked with a sigh. He did not see any point in arguing with his better, and the sun was setting, quite radiantly, over another tedious day in the capital. Perhaps, just perhaps, his failure in the arena would turn into an altruistic triumph out in the heated jungles and Fae realms of the Forgotten Continent.

Fat fucking chance…he thought to himself.

[Witchblade]

Witchblade pushed back the hood from her face, crimson eyes regarding the two humans before her with indifference. She'd come up here ready to take blood as payment for the slight, blood and possibly a man's life, if the opportunity presented itself. Yet she had been offered an altogether surprising apology and the choice of being sung to her destination directly or another ship to transport her there.

The thought of spending weeks cooped up in a small cabin surrounded by nothing but humans smelling of sweat and things better left unidentified, even though her sensitive nose could, made her grimace. Doing it in the first place had not interested Witch in the slightest, but the dreams had grown worse and the pull ever stronger. She could no longer avoid Dheathain in order to keep her own sanity. Thus, why she'd relented and book passage. Only to have it, and the shiny gold coins the human race valued so much, vanish into the sunset. Leaving her without a way there, or so it had seemed.

While she contemplated her situation, the sun continued to creep ever lower on the horizon, bathing the filthy city of Radasanth in a crimson glow. The grey stone stairs they stood upon bled like the blood that ran beyond the citadel walls. The human male before her, sighing oh so dramatically as if this conversation had taxed him so, stared off towards it.

Daegun took his seated form as an invitation to more attention. He let out a lilting tone Witch had never heard him make before, almost like the song of a bird, then jumped right into the human's lap. She narrowed her eyes at the baby dragon, whose white scales were bathed in the colour of the setting sun. He merely gazed back at her, the pure black of his iris reflecting the light like a cats. So much intelligence lay beyond those dark eyes. She had always known it from the moment that egg hatched and he’d walked towards her on legs that wobbled and barely held his meagre weight. Opening his muzzle, he made that strange trilling sound once more before turning away from her and head butting Duffy Bracken in the chest.

Well, I suppose he's made up his mind then. Witch thought to herself.

“Fat fucking chances seem like a better idea than rusting away on a ship for several weeks surrounded by nothing but stinking humans. I’ll accept the apology in return for transport to Dheathain and the chance to better observe this song magic.”

The battle with the human trash before her had been Witch's first experience with this song crap. It seemed a strange choice in abilities to her. If anything, she'd want her magic to work the second she thought about it. Not after she belted out a couple verses. If she even could. The matter of her mouth certainly made that prospect rather difficult. Still, if it was going to get her to Dheathain then she had no qualms with it.

[Duffy]

It did not take more encouragement than that to get either Duffy or Ruby to sing. They were made of creation. Any opportunity they found afforded to show off their talents, they had to take in earnest.

“Okay then,” Duffy chirped. He slapped his knees, which made her ‘pet’ jolt with a twitch, and stood clumsily upright. Ruby followed suit. “Let us sing you home, and right the wrongs we’ve committed on this…,” he sighed, “a little too adventurous afternoon.”

“We have to warn you, though,” Ruby interjected. “Though we are born of the Tap, magic itself, despite our mastery…”

Duffy chuckled. “She’s trying to say you might re-emerge with a tail, stuck to a fat man from Alerar with a penchant for cheese, or just outright be torn apart by demons.” The bard saw no need to dress up the fact that spell singing, like most magic, had a chance to catastrophically, painfully, and bewildering wrong.

Witchblade blinked.

I will find you if that happens, and you will know about it. There did not seem to be any doubt or hesitation in her inner voice. The bard quite agreed.

“Stand perfectly, absolutely, and unnervingly still.”

Her strange pet clambered up her body in a spiral; its claws clenched enough to grip but not to tear. It came to on her shoulder, and continued to blink with half-love and half-hatred at the bard’s marl eyes. The scales danced with the dying sun. The tail whipped to the beat of the roaring wind, which seemingly washed over them in anticipation of their deeds. Wherever there were bards, there was pathetic fallacy, and a sudden urge to slap them in the face.

“For love, like grace, is full of ardour,” Ruby began. Her voice was shrill, but in tune, and perfected by years of coarse practice.

“And travel kilns the soul with fire,” Duffy continued. From then on, they sang as one, their chests swelling, their arms swaying, and suddenly, all of Radasanth noticed them.

When the song came to it’s inevitable conclusion, nothing happened. Duffy slapped his hands against his thighs. Ruby twirled a lock lazily around her index finger. The wind died. The pet twitched. Witchblade, ever seething, continued to stare non-chalant at the pair. Her contempt for their transgression expanded into blazing hatred.

Then, like a whisper in the mind at midnight, something.

Sound.

Heart.

Fire.

Radasanth, with a screwing motion, vanished from view. Lunches were lost. Scars healed. Heads span so hard even vodka would have made the world seem right. Whatever the song had meant to do, it was doing it, and the party hurled through time and space to somewhere.

[Witchblade]

The song ended.

Nothing happened.

Witchblade raised a slender, dark eyebrow and continued to stared at the two of them. Her patience wearing thin, her annoyance rising with it.

Fingers clenching into fists, mouth pulling down into a frown, she opened her mind to speak and then froze, thought half formed.

The air around her shifted. Daegun tensed, his small white body becoming as stiff as a rock. His back rising and a low growl escaping his slightly parted muzzle. She stared at him in confusion, he's the one that had suggested the damn spell song, now he didn't like it anymore?

Then Radasanth vanished.

She didn't move, didn't see it melt away. It simple ceased to exist, as did the two spell singers and Daegun himself. Even Witch felt as if she no longer held form. She felt nothing. Saw nothing. None of her senses worked. When she opened her mouth as if to breathe, she swore she possessed no mouth to do so, no lungs to draw in that much needed air.

A strange sensation washed over her, the feeling of travelling at great speeds. She'd felt this before when flying. Only here, in whatever nothingness her world had become, there was no wind to rip at her hair and close. Just the free fall and the hope she didn't shatter whenever she hit the earth.

The world abruptly exploded around her.

Brain scrambled, skull pounding, ears ringing, she stumbled onto solid ground; eyes blinded by the sudden and intense amount of light. Feeling something run over her mouth, sensation returned to her, Witch reached up and ran fingers under her nose. Her hand came back stained dark blue with blood. She wiped it and her face off on her cloak, the travel worn thing was already stained in countless areas.

As her eyes finally adjusted, Witch found herself standing on the outskirts of a village.

Little wooden shacks sprouted up from the dirt like weeds. Their sides leaning, the wood rotting and the rooves barely held together, or so it looked to her. Eyes peered out of a dusty, grimy windows at her and Duffy Bracken, standing only a couple feet to her left. Blood dripped down across his mouth as well.

A lone windmill turned off in the distance and far and aay from that she saw a wall reaching towards the sky. Impossibly tall, taller than anything she had seen before. Hollow tubes protruded from the sides of it and water tinted brown flowed freely from each one. Even from her incredible distance, she could smell the waste coming off it. The fact that the river it created flowed right by this strange village did not help matters at all.

Voices reached passed the ringing in her ears next. She turned towards the sound and found several of the locals staring at her in shock and confusion. Though she supposed if someone literally appeared only a couple feet from her, she'd stare at them the same.

Realization of the people came to her a moment later. At first, the humans seemed perfectly normal to her, then she remembered Duffy and that red headed bitch were supposed to send her to Dheathain, which had very few to no humans in it. Meaning, this could not be Dheathain. The language they spoke was one she did not recognize at all, and Witchblade had travelled to many of the far reaches of Althanas.

Their clothes seemed foreign somehow, the women still wore dresses and pants alike, shirts covering their upper body. But the style wasn't the same and not a single one of them carried anything she could interpret as a weapon, well, except that shovel.

As she stared around at the small crowd of dirty and dishevelled looking people, Witch saw no sign of Daegun.

Frowning, she turned and looked behind her, making a slow circle as her eyes scanned the grass and dirt, the houses and the humans for a sign of flashing white scale. But she saw nothing. That red headed witch was also conveniently missing.

"Daegun?"

No chirp responded back to her. Not even a growl.

A thin tendril of panic, an emotion wholly foreign to her, formed in her chest.

"Daegun!"

He still didn't respond, and the tendril blossomed. It clenched her heart within an iron grip.

"Where the hell are you, you cold blooded bastard!?" She couldn't feel his presence.

Crimson eyes darted in every direction, so fast she could barely catch a glimpse of anything. Heart pounding within her chest, breath coming out in shallow fits. The murderess turned to Duffy, closing the distance between them in three long strides. Her hand shot out from the inside of her cloak, fingers wrapping around Duffy's throat as she easily lifted him off the ground.

"Where is my dragon?" Wide eyed, she stared at him, not with anger or hatred, but with fear. "Where is he!?"

[Duffy]

It took Ruby a few seconds to get her bearings. Her eyes widened when she realised where they were. This was not Dheathain. This was not even Althanas.

“Oh shit…,” she mumbled. Her body visibly slouched, her defensive tension in the presence of whatever their reluctant passenger was fading into non-chalant resentment. Circumstances were not aiding her ability to rid themselves of the woman, and her ‘pet’.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself Ruby?” Duffy wheezed. He slapped his forehead. The satisfying noise echoed in the courtyard. The hand did not faze him around his throat. If anything, the discomfort kept him alert, full of adrenaline, and one-step away from vomiting with the lingering nauseas of the spell song.

The murderess dropped him, and he stumbled back. She span, glared at Ruby, who stood on a rise overlooking a wide river, and hissed.

Where…is…my…dragon?

Ruby rested her hands on her hips. Her dress, dishevelled and inappropriate for the strangely humid climate, was beginning to stick to her undergarments. She swooned a little, her forehead beading with sweat, he heart pounding in her chest.

“If I knew that, I’d hand him over and be rid of you right here and now.” She pointed to the north, where the river ended and an indomitable wall of glass and steel rose almost to the point of touching the clouds. “But we have bigger problems…” She turned, stomped down the slope, and gently unfurled her clawed fingers from around her brother’s throat. “So, kindly put this idiot down, and listen.”

If you are up to something…I will hang you with your intestines…

Ruby had to shake the image out of her mind. It was not something she wished to experience.

“This is a planet that is not Althanas.” Her words echoed over the rugged ground, the jade green grass, and the ramshackle huts that loomed up from the mud to the south. They were near a settlement of some sorts. “It is one of many beyond our own…one connected to the Tap through a series of,” she shrugged, “misfortunate events.”

She waited for recognition from the murderess. She got only blank stares.

“This is Junkyo…isn’t it?” Duffy’s voice wavered between fear and awe. He had heard of it from Ruby’s many adventures with spell singing when she had studied Turlin performance in Istien University. When she had sung songs there, she had literally transported to worlds only imagined in maddened minds.

Ruby nodded.

“At least the dragon’s safe…” Ruby smiled. She pointed towards the huts. Quite happily, the little creature was prowling after what the spell singer could only hope was a rabbit of sorts. It was grey, with fluffy fur, and had four pairs of ears and blue eyes like lightning.

“Perhaps you should’ve got the boat…,” the bard groaned. He was tired. He was weary. He was in pain. He was not in the mood for adventure.

Witchblade moved towards Daegun, her hatred of the witch and the warlock temporarily forgotten.

[Witchblade]

The relief that washed over her when she spotted Daegun was a feeling unlike anything Witchblade had felt before. She hurried towards the lithe dragon as he chased down the furry creature nearly identical to size as him. It kind of reminded her of a rabbit, except the ears and tail were exceptionally longer and the face far rounder.

He pounced right on the creature just as she reached him, his clawed paws holding it steady to the ground as it appeared to play dead and pray to be left alone to live. Probably not the best strategy when dealing with a dragon, but she doubted this place had ever seen a dragon before.

"Daegun."

He head came up, a victorious grin plastered on his scaly face, sharp teeth flashing inside his maw.

"No, you can't eat it. It's probably diseased."

He looked mildly disappointed, but did as he was told and released the rabbit-thing. It bounded off quickly and disappeared around one of the rotting huts these people called home. Leaning down, she picked him up by his tail and held him upside down in front of her face.

"And why didn't you answer me when I called you the first time?"

The response was more of the usual. A light, carefree sounding chirp followed by something that might have been a burp. And if she wasn't mistaken, from this close, she could see fur and minute traces of blood around his mouth. Just great, he'd already eaten one. If he got a stomach ache she would not be pampering his scaly ass. He could go find a forest or hole to do his business. Witch drew the line there.

Releasing her hold, she watched with some satisfaction as he let out a startled squeak and fell to the ground, landing on his side. He looked up at her indignantly, black eyes glaring. She merely laughed and watched as the little guy right himself and shake the dust from his scales.

Daegun then bounded off towards Duffy Bracken and Queen Bitch of the Universe, Witch following behind him.

"So what's the big deal?" She asked as her eyes took in more of their surroundings. The glass dome that loomed high into the sky intrigued her. She wondered what it protected. Or what it hid. "Junkyo, Althanas, what does it matter? Just sing us back."

[Duffy]

There were many things preventing Ruby Winchester from just ‘singing them back’. Choice, to her merit, was not one of them. Something had gone awry in her spell song, yet it was not down to her talent, her composure, or her intent.

“I can’t,” she replied flatly. She paused mid-stride, realising she was not walking anywhere with purpose. “We’re supposed to be in Dheathain.”

“Supposed being the operative word,” Duffy added, as if the point needed clarification.

Witch and Daegun came up behind the duo, and looked out across the water. The path, arid ground and dying grass, gave way to a clifface that was a vertical drop. Ahead, a strange land and sea formation littered with makeshift villages and shantytowns. Behind that, the glass dome, though it was energy protecting it, and not sand.

Where are we?

“This is another world,” Ruby whispered. It was approximately six hundred light years from Althanas. Only through her meeting with Mordelain Saythrou had she been able to piece together just why she was able to recognise it, and reach it, with magic from another world altogether. “That is the city of Aileron.”

“…and I have an idea,” Duffy added. He rummaged in his pocket. The cool wind whipping up the cliffs smelt like sewerage. “Have you ever been near a temple of the ancients, or the Fae?” He produced a small stone, marked with draconic, winged symbols. He did not know how to read it, but it was almost certainly a relic from the ruins beneath Donnalaich. He had found it centuries ago, in another life. He held it out to the vampire.

“Duffy, this isn’t the…”

No. What is it? She snatched it from the bard, and examined it.

“If you have…,” Duffy sighed. “Those ‘ancients’ were from the Kalithrism…they were from another world.” Perhaps, just perhaps, the magic that drove them had untapped an unbidden, unrealised dream of the Dheathain resident. Despite the ferocious façade, did she really just want to go home? He turned to the city, and picked out the detail with narrowed eyes. “Whatever lives here now, built the crystal spires and powered the civilisation of the Fae.”

It was a long shot, and despite the telepath's ignorance, he was sure her presence had corrupted their magic.

A bell sounded, and then a horn. It permeated from the city, but rippled out across the horizon, and incited chaos. The people, no more than ants to the trio, scuttled out of the streets, the windmill steppes, and the recycling plants. The sewage pouring from the city formed flotsam and jetsam on the shores below, and children and adults alike fled their pillaging and rummaging to take sanctuary from something...

"I think they know we're here...," Ruby murmured, finally realising what Duffy was getting at. She turned to the city anxiously, and looked to the black dots in the skies.

[Witchblade]

A grin split her face.

It spread from one ear to the next, pulling at those damnable strings, and bringing her pale flesh to life. Witch watched the black things dart off into the sky. Her crimson eyes tracked them as they sailed with a kind of beautiful symmetry across the azure sky. Their forms small, but growing as they appeared to head in their general direction.

Finally, a chance to have some fun.

Daegun butted up against the back of her leg. She looked down at his small white form, the hard scales covering him, and the look that passed in his black eyes; almost like a look of concern.

Nothing to worry about.

Shrugging her shoulders, Witch allowed her rucksack to drop with the ground with a heavy thump and a rattle as the items inside shifted. Reaching up, her fingers deftly undid the clasp of her cloak. The worn, black material slithered down her body and pooled around her scuffed boots. She stepped over it and Daegun grabbed it with his teeth, dragging it back and away to tuck within the sack.

Eyes still focused of those specks of black, she rolled her shoulders and twisted her back. Bones popped and cracked, muscles loosened. Then the skin around her shoulder blades stretched as something moved underneath. Farther and farther out until finally it tore, the sound wet, as tiny droplets of blue blood flew through the air and two black, leathery springs sprouted from her back.

It had been a long time since she'd used them. A long time to forget the familiar and glorious pain.

Extending them out in a quick snap, blood and tissue flying from the thin membrane, Witchblade ran towards the cliff and jumped from the rocky face. The ground swelled up below her, a rush of biege and green and tiny decrepid homes. Wind whipped at the exposed skin of her arms, face and chest, turning her black hair into a frenzy around her face and tearing at her clothes.

As the ground rushed up to meet her, she spread her wings and leveled her flight off, heading towards he azure sky. The black specks had grown in size in the interim, and Witch was finally able to make out detail on them.

She could see wings coming off of a solid, cylindrical body that looked dull a metallic. The wings did not pump and move like her, they were stationary, extending out from the body and ending in a crescent. She had no idea how they were staying int he air, but it wouldn't be for long if she had anything to say about it.

Increasing her speed, Witch watched as one of the vessels fired something white and bright right at her from two little protrusions under a glass dome that glinted in the light. She banked to the side and they harmlessly went right by her, then she flew right through their little V formation.

They scattered, like insects.

Three of them turned around and came after her, the other two started heading towards the cliff where that red head and Bracken were. She scowled and hoped they could handle themselves. She neeed them alive to get back to Althanas.

Turning to face the three crafts, Witchblade reached behind her and wrapped her fingers around the hilt that extended above her right shoulder. Dodging more of those weird white lights with relative ease, Witch ripped The Rot Slayer from it's resting place. Three hundred pounds of Titanium flashed in the light of the sun. Grinning, She brought the sword back behind her, wrapped her other hand around it and slashed down with all her might as the thing went flying by her.

The sound of tearing, rending metal filled the air. She cringed, her sensitive ears protesting at the noise as six feet of blade tore through that black material as if it were nothing more than wood.

Sparks flew through the air, some strange liquid sprayed out all over her, and the vessel itself fell into two pieces and plummeted towards the ground.

The two other vessels veered off and then came back at her with a vengeance. With the added weight of The Rot Slayer, her movements were slightly slower and as they fired those damn things at her again, she miscalculated one. It struck her in the shoulder.

Pain exploded down her left arm. Spiraling through the air, Witch eventually got herself under control. Looking to her arm, she saw torn flesh and muscle and bone as blood dripped down her deathly pale skin.
The two vessels came right back at her.

Growling deep in her throat, Witch used her full speed and flew through the air like a lightning bolt. She came up under one of them and jammed the blade right into it's belly. Smoke billowed out, a strange straining sound of squealing and squeaking echoed from the hole as she ripped the sword out and watched the vessel head towards the ground.

Sheathing the blade, she grabbed a hold of the other craft as it sped by her. Pain lanced up her good arm as it nearly dislocated itself from the sudden force. Grasping the metal, she pulled herself up and over and eventually crawled her way to the glass dome in the front. Inside, she could see what looked like a metal man at some kind of table covered in blinking lights.

Balling her hand into a tight fist, she reached back and slammed down on the glass. It shattered, sharp shards digging into her skin. The metal man looked up at her just as she grabbed his head. With a grin, she pulled and ripped him from his seat.

I once met a man made of metal, are you one of him?

Even though the wound on her shoulder had barely begun to heal, she flexed her fingers, grew out her claws and shoved her hand through the metal of his stomach. A scream issued within the metal suit and Witch ripped her hand out holding a link of entrails that glistened wetly.

Guess not.

She let him go and he slipped down the side of the craft, falling towards the ground as the vessel she knelt in began to bank and dip down as well.

Spreading her wings once more, Witch took to the skies and headed towards the cliff face she'd left the two humans on.

[Duffy]

“Did you know she could do that?” Ruby asked. She sounded genuinely surprised.

Duffy shook his head, eyes fixated on the descending shape. “I can’t say it ever came up in conversation.”

He had been too busy trying to stay alive to give anything Witch gave consideration. He doubted she would have divulged the true extent of her power to him. He pursed his lips, leant on his cane, and tried to reconcile the devastation she had wrought with his conscience. Those men, falling to the sea aflame, were dead because they had made a mistake.

“We should never have come here…,” he whispered.

Ruby turned on a heel, eyes ablaze like the comets of fire that rained down over the shantytown.

“I didn’t try,” she hissed. “Don’t start with that sanctimonious bullshit!”

Duffy did not look at Ruby. Looking at her would give her argument credence. He knew, that she knew, that he meant actions always had consequences. He pointed out to sea, where the last of the debris had settled, leaving rings in the waves and plumes of black, acrid, and lingering smoke trailing through the sky.

“Look down there,” he said, flatly, and without further explanation.

He stepped to one side, hobbling as he went, and made room for Witch to land in dramatic fashion on the Clifftop. Her wing beat thudded in his chest, and her still simmering rage washed over him in six feet tumults. He knew that feeling all too well. It was battle. It was adrenaline.

Problem solved. She half-roared into his mind.

Duffy nodded. “I don’t think we’ll be bothered by the city again,” he said, re-assuring Ruby passively. “However,” he added. He turned to the shantytown, and extended his cane to the shore. This time, Witch looked as well, and the two women watched the scene unfold with equal parts horror and curiosity.

The people of the village had cowered in their homes during the battle. When it was over, and the heady breeze swept the smell of death away, they emerged into the streets, onto the rope bridges, and to the tops of the myriad windmills, which gave them power, and thus life. They crept to the shore, slowly but surely, and all of a sudden, they broke into cheers.

“It would appear,” Duffy began dryly, “that you have just become a hero.” He addressed Witch, but somehow, it was Ruby’s disgust he felt in the air, thick as smoke, uncomfortable as a sandstorm. The crowd, gibbering and running amok, turned to the cliffs, pointed and cheered louder still, and put the bard, the belle, and their cargo in quite the predicament.

[Witchblade]

Witchblade laughed. She watched those tiny little humans milling about below them like excited little insects. They pointed and cheered and called to them. Her sensitive ears could not pick up the words, but she could hear the cadence of their voices nonetheless. It amused her to no end that they thought her some kind of hero. She killed those men, or whatever they'd been, not for them and barely for herself. She'd killed them because they got in the way of her end goal, which was to get out of here and get back to a world she understood, even if she didn't necessarily belong there.

”Pathetic.” She growled out, then went silent as she watched them. The movements stirring old memories that didn't quite surface, fuzzy images she could no longer remember. Just a vague feeling of something Witch knew she should know, but couldn't quite grasp.

”It would not be the first time someone has mistakenly called me a hero.” Witchblade said softly into the minds of Bracken and the the red-headed bitch. ”It will not be the last, but that does not change the fact that it will never be true...”

Her eyes watched them for a moment longer, until Daegun bumped into the back of her leg. Looking down, she found her dragon with her cloak in his mouth and her rucksack resting next to him. When she turned to pick it up, pain lanced up her arm, the thrum of adrenaline having left her system and leaving her vulnerable to the working of her nervous system.

Crimson eyes roamed over the tear in her flesh. The skin was hanging open and slowly knitting itself back together. The muscle of her shoulder and bicep were visible and in one place she could even see the bone sticking through the mass of destruction. Her entire arm was saturated in dark, blue blood, sticky and smelling sweetly of iron. If only it wasn't her blood that smelled of it.

Grimacing, she ignored it, like most things. Pain was just another thing to be pushed to the side and forgotten about. Like friends.

Picking up the dust covered cloak, Witch threw it over her shoulders, covering the enchanted sheathe that held The Rot Slayer within, hiding it's full width, height and girth within the confines of a normal sword sheathe. Then she slipped on her rucksack, though Daegun stayed on the ground for once. Perhaps mindful of the wound still healing on his favourite perch. Either way, she wouldn't have cared. A little pain meant nothing to her in comparison to him.

”So now what?” She asked.

[Duffy]

It was a justifiable question, but all the same, Duffy flinched. Had he known the answer, he would have given it to her. In all likelihood, if he knew how to get them away from Junkyo, their spell song would never have brought them here in the first place. Now, the citizens of the mega-city would never forget her, and the consequences of that would echo through time.

“I wish I knew…,” he erred. He did not believe in lying, least of all in such astute, embittered, and withering company. Ruby glared at him, her eyes boring answers out of him he did not know he possessed. “But…,” he continued, mumbling, “Perhaps we can try another song.”

Oh wonderful…she hissed. She did not attempt to hide the sarcasm, driven to heightened levels of barbed aggression due to her still restacking injuries. That worked so well the first time.

“If you’d been honest with us, we’d never have ended up here,” Ruby spat. Only Mrs Winchester berated Mr Brandybuck. It was her right, and no one else would deprive her of that.

“What she means, I think, is that something untoward happened because we’ve never…,” he trailed off. He ran a finger over his piercings, silencing his thoughts, and keening his calculations. In the glare of the sun, his pale skin danced with ivory light, and then, an idea. “What gives you your…power?” he asked. He looked at Witch in earnest, seeing her as an anti-hero, despite her protections of non-chalant feeling towards the still cheering and adulating crowds below.

[Witchblade]

Witch looked at Bracken as if he had lost his mind, after the crimson glare left the red-headed bitch of course. She had been nothing but honest with them, Witch did not believe in lying. It only wasted time and lying took more effort than telling the truth. “What do you mean, my power?”

He hesitated. “What allows you to do what...you just did?”

“If I had an answer to that, I wouldn't need to go to Dheathain.” She stated.

The red-head rolled her eyes towards the bright sky once more and placed her hands on her hips, turning her full attention towards Witchblade, as if she should be tickled pink to have it. Or run screaming int he other direction.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Witch growled deep in her throat. ”That means I have no past, human!” She spat into her mind, her frustration at her growing every time she opened her mouth. She took a couple steps towards the filthy human, eyes narrow slits, elditch power rolling off her body in waves as she let her anger run free. If she didn't need this woman to get her home, she would have killed her by now. Bracken may annoy her, but this one reminded her why humans were a waste of oxygen.

”I know nothing of who and what I am. I have searched for years and scraped and scratched and clawed at every clue I could find, but nothing has ever come of it besides the scars on my body and the strings that hold my lips together.” She told her, blazing eyes never leaving her face. ”Dheathain is my last chance to discover what I am and why I can't remember anything beyond the day I woke up on the shores of Corone, a bloody mess. It's all I have left.”

Daegun rubbed against her leg and Witch turned her gaze from her companions to her dragon. She reached down with her good arm and he climbed up, claws digging into her flesh to give himself purchase. Perched upon her shoulder, he nudged the side of her face, scales warmed by the afternoon sun high in the sky. His tailed wrapped around her neck and he turned the black pits of his eyes towards the two mages.

”What does it matter about my power? It's your spell song that got us here in the first place."

[Duffy]

“That’s not st-,” Duffy began, but fell silent when Ruby shot him a glare that could bore through steel.

“My spell song brought us home,” she continued. She rested her hands on her hips, a stance she was far too familiar with, and tried to work things through in her head.

Didn’t you hear me? Witch protested. I do not know where home is.

The sun continued to warm the Clifftop, casting the unlikely hero in a golden glow. As the minutes turned into an hour, the trip were no closer to getting to where they wanted to go, and the people down in the village below were denied the chance to shake the hand of their rebellion inciter.

“Perhaps…,” Ruby said, finally free of her mind’s cage. “Perhaps when I sung I sung for a home for you?” she offered.

Duffy shook his head. It said ‘bullshit’ without having to waste his breath. Ruby pursed her lips, shook her shoulders, and stomped a heel.

“Ruby…,” Duffy mumbled.

“No, you’re right. It was a stupid idea. So, let’s just throw ourselves on misery’s mercy and sing a fucking ditty, shall we?”

The tension intensified, until it became so thick Duffy found it hard to breath. Being on another planet was one thing. Watching your rock come undone was entirely another. He began to take deep, dredging breaths, only settling on speaking when he was entirely certain he was not going to vomit.

“I am sorry this has happened,” he said to Witch. “We will do all we can to rectify it, I assure you.” He turned to Ruby. “Sing.”

The simplest of commands oft sparked the greatest activity. Together, they held out their arms, ignoring the pain in back, bra, shin alike, and began to harmonise in wordless music that pierced the skies. Whatever magic power vested itself in the duo, it worked. So much tension, so much anger, and so much self-loathing gave providence to the music and melody, and very swiftly, Witch, Ruby, and Duffy fell from Zhayou, and plummeted…no, catapulted deep into the heart of Dheathain.

It was almost certainly going to be a messy landing.

[Witchblade]

Her feet touched down on uneven ground. Stumbling, Witchblade caught herself on a nearby tree trunk and promptly wished she had a stomach from which she could throw up. Her whole body felt as if it had been turned upside down and inside out then quickly reassembled with a couple pieces missing. Her head spun, her limbs tingled and the sound of a heavy drum, slammed itself over and over again in her head. Somehow, she thought the second time would be less severe, if anything it felt worse.

Groaning, she reached up and wiped the stream of blood that was flowing from her nose. Even Daegun seemed slightly affected by the sudden shift in surroundings this time. Her little familiar was wobbling around, teetering from leg to leg as if he couldn't get his bearing under him. He kept shaking his head and even she noticed the stream of red on his brilliant scales. Finally, he just gave up and with a pitiful noise flopped down onto the moss covered ground. That's when Witch took in their surroundings.

They were walled in on all sides by trees that pressed closer then the dense forest of Concordia. Vines branched between them and lazily drapped down to the moss and fern covered floor. Flowers of the brightest colours she'd ever seen outside Fallien blossomed from large leafed plants that hung close to the ground. The scent of wet earth and rotting wood was prevalent and the humidity clung to the air in a haze. At first she thought her eyes were still unfocused from their spell song, then she actually realized it was a mist that seemed to cling to everything. Even her sharp vision could see no more then thirty feet into this dense jungle before the grey swallowed it up.

And the noise. Either her ears were still overly sensitive, or this was one of the loudest places she'd ever been in. It was like a constant buzzing that permeated her skull, broken by the shrill cry of animals she couldn't see. When she opened her senses to feel for them, she was overwhelmed by the amount of life she felt around her and quickly closed off her other sight.

Her unlikely companions appeared to be collecting themselves as well. She heard Bracken stumbling through the under brush a moment before he emerged from behind the trunk of a large tree. He seemed in slightly better condition than she did, though Witch could only imagine he was more accustomed to the effects of that song. Curiosity be damned, next time someone offered her free passage on a ship she'd take it. The red headed woman appeared next, though Witch would not be remiss if she'd been left in Junkyo. Or lost her head or mouth somewhere along the way.

"Is this Dheathain?"

She tried to move and abruptly lost her balance to her spinning head. Clutching the smooth trunk of the tree for support, Witch growled deep in her throat.

"Damn magic...if this isn't bloody Dheathain I think I'll just walk from here."

[Duffy]

“Oh, this is Dheathain alright,” Ruby, with foreboding, casually remarked. Her hand, delicate wrist twisted and finger pointing shot forwards. Though the mist was thick, she could make something out on the edge of their vision.

“Oh fuck…,” Duffy spat. He reached into nothingness, and pulled a katana from the abyssal realm of the Tap. It sung a little ditty in Fallieni as it emerged, and then fell silent. “Look sharp,” he added, suddenly alive with adrenaline and freed from his misery and pain for just long enough to find strength.

Witch looked up through her dizziness, and saw what they were now all three aware about. The mist, clinging to the creature as it emerged swirled and intensified. It took on the thickness of smoke, and then ooze, and then…

Dragon…

The creature was a dragon, but only in form, not function. Its wings towered above its shoulders, even when folded behind its back. Its head sprouted three horns, two curled, and one long, elongated spire. Its eyes were golden, dancing with colour and hope amidst the drudgery and abandonment of the jungle.

“Friend or foe?” Ruby shouted, perhaps a little too aggressively. She too conjured a weapon from nothingness, though hers was a violin, not a blade.

The dragon smiled, or at least, did what passed for a smile to the draconic kin. Its tail lashed behind him, thumping down weeds and reeds alike. Its hands, clawed on one finger, but still deadly, cupped together. Then contrary to its larger kin, it bowed.

“Greetings,” it slithered and whispered. The long, forked tongue slipped between its deadly fangs, some of which could pierce a man’s skull with little effort. “What business do you have in Luthmor?”

The question posed only more questions to the bard. He eased off his blade, recognising the caste of their greeter, but not the location. He turned, as though she knew, to Witch. For once, it would be she guiding them through the perils of their misadventure, and not they.

“Yes…what is our business here?”

If only he knew where here was and why there was a dragon talking to them. The phrase out of the frying pan, into the fire came to mind.

[Witchblade]

Witchblade stared up at the creature before her with barely a twinge of fear. Perhaps a smarter person would feel something at being presented with a large, serpentine creature that had claws and teeth so powerful and sharp they could end their existence in a heartbeat, but Witch felt barely a tingle of emotion beyond the discomfort from the lingering effects of Ruby's magic. Even that was slowly dissipating.

It was not that she believed herself more powerful than the creature before her, it was that she just didn't care. The only thing that elicited any kind of emotional response from within her was the fact that it spoke. She had come face to face with dragons before, and killed her fair share of them, but never had she crossed paths with one that spoke the tongue of humans.

"We've merely come to explore." Witchblade said with barely a pause.

She eased off the tree that supported her, feeling much more clear headed and in control of her own extremities. The dragon, turned it's golden gaze to her and regarded her in silence for a moment. The nostrils on it's long snout moved as it breathed in deeply, scented the air, perhaps even scenting her. She couldn't help but do the same. All she smelled was a familiar damp forest with, the unfamiliar scents of animals and vegetation.

"Do not lie to me." The dragon grumbled, the words coming out a slurred mess of the common tongue.

Raising her slender, black brows, Witch regarded the beast for a moment in silence, which was quickly broken.

"Are you insane? Just tell the damn dragon what we're doing here." Ruby growled out.

Her crimson gaze flickered to the woman for a brief moment until returning to the unwavering stare of the dragon. She doubted it would let them leave until it had the answers it desired, and though her words were not lies, they did not hold all of the truth. Exploring is indeed what she came to do.

"I lie not. Lying is a waste of time." Witchblade said with an even look.

The dragon appeared to find this amusing. Or at least Witch could only assume the subtle shift upon it's scaly brow as amusement. Daegun took this exact time to appear from the underbrush of the forest. The baby dragon walked forward on unsure legs before stopping short when he saw his full grown brethren before him.

The dragon guard lowered it's head and sniffed at Daegun, who in turned smelled him back. The difference in their size was staggering and Witch could only hope that one day Daegun would grow to be just as large as this one, perhaps even larger. After a moment, the dragon lowered it's head and Daegun touched his snout with the end of his, then he stepped back and darted towards Witch's feet.

Then those eyes swung back towards her and Witchblade found herself once more under scrutiny.

"I've come to seek answers about my past and why I am drawn to this place. That is all."

"Very well, I hope you find your answers."

With that, the large beast moved with surprising delicacy as he turned and lumbered off into the misty forest leaving the three travellers to their own devices. Without looking back at her companions, With began walking into the thick forest.

[Lye]

Tantalus Receives:

1,910 EXP
130 GP

Witchblade Receives:

1,650 EXP
130 GP

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added!

Tantalus Levels to Level 13!