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Post by Galvin Roe on Oct 28, 2015 15:40:43 GMT
Nymara had just spent her second sleepless night in the woods. In general she was starting to get a little tired of this strange feeling. It wasn't pleasant, and she kind of wanted to start vomiting and running in the opposite direction. But that was a very small portion of her; the other portion, the humongous 'larger than self' portion, was demanding she keep putting foot in front of foot,that the slightly mountainous terrain up ahead was the destination. It didn't feel like she'd feel accomplished when she got there, something told her she wouldn't feel anything but the frenzied desire to 'have' to be there was prevalent none-the-less. And she was NOT going to talk to Father Mathew or Svan about it, the last time she peaked into 'the next' she felt like she was basically being dragged into it. Something weird was going on here, but she couldn't put it together. She was already exhausted dealing with the complications that arose with her hand, then all THIS started and she really wasn't given the chance to rest and recuperate. She supposed it didn't help that she wasn't eating as well as she 'should' be; it was a very small thought that was quickly brushed aside. And while she did this brushing, she realized she was walking again, and she had already lost sight of the tent. The fire was long since smoldered out and the weak sliver of a moon provided no light what so ever. She stopped, then realized she hadn't stopped. Something really bad was going on here, something involving 'the next' she could feel that twitching desire in her, that piece that would always crave to dance away from life right into the void. That connexion had her completely entangled, some compulsion had her under it's grip. And that's when Nyms really started fighting back. She couldn't care less what the end force had in store for her, it was trying to FORCE her somewhere, have her do something IT'S way. Denying all choice and option. That, she'd have nothing to do with. But despite her natural tendency to rebel and do exactly the OPPOSITE of what people told her to do or really, better still, wanted her to do,;that piece inside of her that sang to the grave was stronger. So Nymara half crazed in frustration, in anger, shouted suddenly. Doing her best to drag her feet; jam them into holes; grab hold of trees. She did little else but leave marks where she was and got both her hands cut on a passing pine. Nymara was marching into the void and there was nothing she could do about it.
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Post by drest on Oct 28, 2015 16:53:24 GMT
A faint impression in the dark night, Kerttu almost missed it. Deep along the trail of a colossal boar, so deep she knew the length of its tusks and could guess at its coloring, the single booted footprint nearly escaped her. Little ever escaped her completely. Few ever came this far into the wild woodlands, fewer still alone. Kerri feared no creature or magic of the wood, but she did fear for one who entered the woods unknowing.
A longing glance after the boar's sign did nothing for her. She felt called to follow the footprints. The ground was hard, so few steps left a track, but there were other signs. Broken twigs, branches leaning the wrong way, bent grass. A path could be discerned.
Shortly, Kerri came upon what appeared to be a deer-path, but was perfectly either way she looked, not a single blade of grass growing on it. To her dismay, the tracks followed it. Fuck. She had no charms on her, but there was a little bell in one of her pouches; she pulled it out and rang it thrice, whispering to the gloom, "I wish only to share your path a ways, your home is yours." It would have to do.
Her anxiety gathering, she hurried along the fairy-path onto which some other had strayed. She thought about what she knew. Alone, light and small-footed, fairly quick. Female, likely of elf or nymph blood. Not covering her tracks, but not followed. Well, save by me. There was of course a chance that this woman, like Kerri, knew what she walked along, but many wanderers in wooded places took seemingly convenient fairy-paths without knowing what they meant.
The footprints left the path after a ways, but from the other direction, as though the walker had doubled back first. I hope she's not camped here, Kerri thought.
A shout, wordless and angry, broke the still of the windless night.
Kerri doubled her speed. Soon the tracks became more pronounced, first deeper as though hurried, then frenzied presses into the ground. Branches were bare of leaves here and there; a tree-trunk had blood on it. Fae-tricks seldom are this potent, what have we stumbled on? The small comfort that she had been right to be worried meant little.
Kerri unslung one of her spears for caution, and kept forwards. Every second saw fresher tracks; she was close.
At last, a few paces away, she saw her: a slip of a woman in a light robe and hood. "Traveler!" she called after the woman, her voice raspy from so long with little use "How finds you this night? Are you in danger?"
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Post by Galvin Roe on Oct 29, 2015 13:12:16 GMT
Nymara heard a haunting echo. Someone shouting from a great distance; over a cavern, through a forest, under a mountain and somehow it reached her. As she turned she could see the material world forcibly being torn away. The veil was breaking and she had nothing to do with it, that portion of her that was always connected to 'the next' tore at her insides, demanded recognition. It couldn't be denied. Just down the path she could see a woman, already she was beginning to become hazy and less real than the opening void of death. If only there was more light, perhaps the woman might have seen the forced transmutation occurring in Nymara's eyes. As her pupils and iris began to blanch and lose color, draining away to a blinding white that glowed forth a small sickly light. " NO! " Nymara cried, but even to her, her voice sounded like it came from underneath a deep pond. And that was all she could force out for this woman, as her head involuntarily turned back to the rending of the world around her. A tree became a road, a road to a small sparkling home. Some might have called it a castle at first, or a mansion but even through all the entangling enchantments Nymara could feel a strange loneliness and decrepitude from it. Somehow the glorious shining mansion seemed to glow mainly through tricks of moonlight and dew strings, the only light that shew forth from the place was a single, lonely candle by the window. Invoking thoughts of loss, loneliness and regrets long past. One would certainly call the light the color of regret. Then Nymara noticed how . . . earthen the walls were, how simple the door, only as it opened. A figure drawn, pale and glowing emerged. Robes different shades of starlight and sorrow and it began it's slow journey to reach her on the long-long wooden road?
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Post by drest on Oct 30, 2015 21:25:06 GMT
Too late Kerri saw the woman's eyes. They went white, an ethereal white that gleamed in the darkness. The cry of 'NO' slowed her down, but did not stop her.
She raced for the woman, whose face had gone slack, her mind running double-time trying to think what she knew of enchantments. Little.
By the time she'd caught up, the woman – bone-white of skin and eye – was unnaturally still. Kerri had to hold her hand over the pale lips to confirm she was still breathing. Some powerful magic or spirit had her in its grasp, but Kerri knew little of either.
Still, she'd treated with spirits before and lived; something had to be done. With her teeth, she tore a bit of skin from the tip of her index finger, and dabbed the blood on the woman's forehead. With no magic, all she could do in a metaphysical sense was ask nicely, but 'nicely' was a word she'd always interpreted loosely.
She dabbed more blood on the woman's lips, then slapped her across the face. "By what right do you hold this woman?"
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Post by Galvin Roe on Oct 31, 2015 7:33:28 GMT
" NO!" Nymara shouted. As ethereal hands reached up around her, she avoided the first 'jab' but as the spirit drew nearer, the material world fell away ever farther. She felt something being applied to her face, and she'd have screamed at whatever was doing it, if she had breath. If she had a body, for that matter. She was no longer just looking into 'the next' she was there. Or somewhere, somewhere near there, it was different. Only half incorporeal and there were no roads in 'the next'; spirits had no use for roads. This entity was certainly using said road, however, and Nymara could see the world shifting with it. Then it finally reached the end of it's long journey, floating onto the grassy meadow with toes. Toes, and feet? This was no 'spirit' at least no spirit of the after-life. As it's delicate feet left the wooden path the world shifted back into focus, sudden, horrendously. And Nymara felt the bitter taste of blood on her lips. It made her gag her first initial gasp of air, as her eyes painfully reverberated and returned to their natural pale and green hue. Tears trickled as she squinted at the woman in front of her, who knows how long she'd been standing there but with her direction Nymara was almost certain she'd seen nothing of the spirit. The bright eyed creature that hovered almost directly behind her. With a feeble arm, Nymara caught hold of the woman's. Sinking shakily to the ground. " Get down, move, don't - stand there. "
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Post by drest on Nov 2, 2015 7:19:26 GMT
The woman's eyes snapped back into focus, a pale grey-green like water in a stone pool. She slumped against Kerri, sinking slowly to the ground, and whispered a warning Kerri could barely hear, "don't – stand there." Kerri knelt next to the woman, hurriedly to heed the words.
"Gods thanked," said Kerri, putting one hand on the woman's shoulder. "D'you have your wits and will? I'm no proper spirit-talker."
She could feel the almost-presence of some being around her the way one feels a before-remembering just as something they've forgotten comes back to them, a sense of impending that blurred her vision with tension. Her spear would do her little good, but with her free hand she took the haft in a tight grip nonetheless.
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Post by Galvin Roe on Nov 2, 2015 7:48:05 GMT
Shivers trailed up and down her spine, as the spirit moved ever closer. " Sit, sit by me. I can't talk to this being, but maybe another spirit can. " " That's not necessary little being. Come-come, I've not had company in many a day and cycle. Take a rock, sit and stay. Thank you for breaching the bridge, but now you must stay, stay-stay be the bridge from there to here and we can dance, sing and eat. Anything, as long as you don't leave. An eternity alone is an eternity of torment!" The Fae let out a sad sigh, even with it's smile. " I . . . don't think we should stay here. " Nymara whispered to her new compatriot. Slowly turning the whisper into a contented smile. " What's your name, ancient spirit? "
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