Stranded (Juumbled x Well Spoken Silence)

[Well Spoken Silence]

Demons. Vampires. Ghouls. Beasts who breath fire and bleed acid, who yank men into shadows and leave behind nothing but dried husks, silent screams still etched on their faces. The supernatural is a real and present danger to the realm of man, who struggle valiantly against the shambling creatures who wormed their way out of whatever hell they were damned to. Though some find hope in steel and stone, all too often do humans encounter monsters who can rip a man asunder with a single swipe of its claws. Faced with this grim reality, humanity slowly embraced magic as a possible source of their salvation.

The process of turning mana, one’s life essence, into a force that could shape reality is as precarious as it is powerful. One could just as easily raze a city they were trying to repair, or erupt in a gout of flames while trying to fly. To properly wield this power, some mages have expanded the field by experimenting, creating their own spells, though this usually only ends in disaster. The grand city of Caerus still blames a wayward mage for the destruction of their queen’s summer palace, turning the once picturesque gardens into a crater.

In fact, there is only one thing which reliably helps mages expand their powers: the teaching of the Arcanomicon. All of man’s mystic knowledge is based on this single tome, from the meticulously transcribed chapters hoarded in the vaults of mage colleges to the hasty scribbling sold by black market vendors. However, the original manuscript has been lost during the demonic invasion nearly a century ago. Kings, generals and archmages alike have tried to find ways of summoning the Arcanomicon, scouring ruins across the continent for any sign of scared text, only to come up empty handed. Mankind ultimately ruled that if the Arcanomicon still existed, it was not on in this realm. And so expeditions for the tome became rarer and rare, until finally they stopped all together. After all, with such a hight risk of death, interdimensional travel was a task only a a fool would consider.

Tonight, one such fool would succeed.

It was the culmination of months of effort. Finding the right pattern for a teleportation circle alone took two weeks, to say nothing of organizing a heist, preparing for the double cross, and making a daring getaway. Humming orange crystals floated evenly along the pattern, each glowing with the mana that filled them to the brim. Transferring life force was considered taboo even among practiced mages, but it was vital for his plan. Alastair Blackwood didn’t naturally possess the life essence needed to tear himself from this reality. But after carefully placing his vitality into the conduits, slowly allowing it to regenerate after each transfer, he had all the power he'd need to burst through this world and plunge into the next.

Alastair sat cross-legged in the center of teleportation circle, mentally going through his pre-port checklist. His hands tightened the unassuming burlap satchel which hung at his side, securing his collection of expedition supplies. It was a pain to create a storage device of such capacity in portable size, but not nearly as difficult as the metal choker wrapped tight around his neck. He had no idea what environment he would be entering, so he put as many wards as he could on a piece of clothing he was sure he wouldn't lose. It wouldn't give any special protection against attacks, but it'd keep the air breathable, the gravity walkable, and pressure bearable. He ran through the checklist once, twice, three times, his blue eyes running across his workshop as carefully as his anticipation would allow. Now that the moment had finally arrived, he had to force himself to be patient and be sure he was ready. And with no other reason to delay his travel, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began the incantation.

As his words reached a fever pitch, he felt himself melt away, becoming a formless, shapeless being. He was flying through some kind of plane, one he didn't recognize from all his time researching the arcane. He was moving at impossible speeds, yet never seemed to approach any sort of destination. He spent eons in that violet void, gazing at the stars that glided slowly around him. They reminded him of the first time he saw fireflies, sitting in the field of his village watching the purple dusk sky. And so, despite the fact that he was hurtling through space as a ethereal entity, he felt strangely calm.

After an eternity, a single sound broke the silence, shattering the comforting glow of the cosmos Alastair had begun to call home. The fireflies scattered, and he tried to join them. But it was like chasing a dream; the more you concentrated, the further it got away. There was a pulling in his gut, like falling from a great height. Senses began to return to him, and he could once again feel himself taking the form a young man. Smells wafted to him, and he remembered the smell of his old books and his old dog when it ran out into the rain. He could taste again, feel the teeth in his mouth, feel the cloth that laid on his skin.

It was disorienting and uncomfortable to become human again, and Alastair struggled to stay in the sky where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. And yet, he was unsure of what awaited him on the other side, so he closed his eyes and let himself fall, curious to see what he'd find.

When he opened his eyes again, Alastair found himself a little disoriented, doing his best to remember how to be human. He was looking for something...a book. A large book. He rose to his feet, taking in his surroundings. But rather than some great library or forgotten ruin, he stood on rocky, patched earth. Darkened clouds blanketed the sky, smothering the light of a shattered moon. Uneven rows of dead trees flanked the rough path he stood on, their branches straining out in all directions, their gnarled fingers trying to tug at everything around them.

“Oh shit…” Alastair folded his arms, scowling at the wasteland around him. “Did I teleport back to Caerus?”

 

[Jumbled]

The realm of Morngard was dark, though even in the daylight it was muted and colorless? It was nightfall, however, distinguishable by the shattered moon that crumbled its way outward like a broken ball of illuminated glass in the sky. The shimmer was eerie— a fitting touch for such a place that housed demons, monsters and many things in between. The earth below was dry, and by a human’s standards, inhospitable and barren, aside from the lines of trees that may never have been lush in the first place. It looked as though an artist had started to touch upon such a world, only to then abandon the canvas without even adding proper color to it. The air was stagnant with a distinct smell of decay — a troubling scent when one’s nose wasn’t well adjusted to such things. It was dry and warm, but the air felt heavy against one’s body. Such a harsh environment brought forth even harsher inhabitants with moods as sour as the water surrounding the lands.

Morngard was like a prison to the various life forms that wandered within it— though they were not strictly trapped to its confines. There were ways to get to other places; places with humans, magic and other various forms of life essence. There was no good substitute in terms of sustenance for the typical beasts that walked the lands of Morngard. They craved what the other world had— what the humans had. There were always different ways to obtain it, too. The Succubi had their special charms for seducing their prey while the vampires were more hit or miss when out for blood. These creatures visited Midgard frequently enough to generate lore and legends of their kinds. It was a bold feat to end up in a campfire story.

Buildings sat along the desolate world sporadically, belonging to the higher class — really, the most feared — beings that had decided to claim or build a home. While some creatures still rushed around as wild, bloodthirsty savages, others displayed a more sophisticated nature. One such home stretched across the thirsty earth with its tall walls and gray exterior reaching up toward the broken moon. It was decrepit, with beams of wood disjointed and windows broken along the outside, with a path that looked even less inviting than the old mansion. The home, however, was one of the finer ones in the area. While many creatures shared such estates with groups of their own kind, living in small clans or packs that hunted together, the Reaper lived alone. Well, nearly alone.

No one had ever seen the likes of her before, and more than most tried to stay away entirely. Her only real company consisted of three pets: Hellhounds— beastly dogs that stood over four feet tall. Their skin was leathery and darker gray, like ash, with hellfire veins that cut through their forms, each one glowing a respective color of fire. One was orange, another blue and the third purple. Their teeth were jagged maws of terror that could shred through nearly any material and their eyes were each swirling fireballs that left trails of light as they ran by. These beasts were very fond of the Reaper. She’d picked them up along her travels to another realm and they’d refused to leave her side. The hounds, loyal to only her, served as an invisible guard. While she could see them plain as day, and was able to make out their distinct features, they were an invisible force to most. The Hellhounds, hidden in the shadows of the Reaper’s power, were a fun little fear tactic she liked to use, revealing her pets in her prey’s peripheral vision, spooking them into running. Such methods allowed her to maintain her solitude in the large home in a realm full of dangerous beings.

The hounds were running about on a hunt, two of them scouting the dead woods while the other padded slowly along the path leading to their master’s home. The road winded around broken stumps and jagged branches that could be used as spikes if the circumstances were right. The Reaper and her pets had no issue with hunting inside of Morngard, the dogs liked to chew on the lesser monsters that polluted the area like an infestation of rats. The Reaper didn’t mind the pests so long as they left her and the mansion alone. Her reputation was that of a killer which typically afforded her peace and quiet.

One of the Hellhounds had locked onto a familiar scent. More than anything, their master had them chase and lead humans to her, and this time there was one not too far from where they lived. They usually had to leave the realm to find such a prize. A second hound joined the first while the third stood alerted with his ears pointed and shifting to hear what was happening. The air filled with broken sounds of growling far scarier than any animal on earth. It was twisted and demonic in nature. The air grew hotter, causing the visible area to warp in waves from the heat. They scratched at the ground and claw marks began to appear, ripping into the wasteland and hinting at their presence.

Up the road from their commotion, the Reaper walked out of her home, noticing the hound with purple eyes was whimpering for her attention. She gazed down the way, her blazing yellow eyes nearly as frightening as the hellhound’s. She gave the area a quick scan, finding no immediate threats. With a nod of her head, her dark, cherry brown hair fell around her face with strands that’d brushed against her pale skin, softly tickling her cheek. She brushed it back with a hand, working around the dark horns that curled out from the top of her head in a frontal position just above her forehead. Her silent command sent the last hound out to meet the others. They were hunting something, but she didn’t know what. She walked further out from her abode, a long, silk cloak covering her shoulders and back appearing as though she was shrouded in a fog that moved with her form. She had been lazing about that night, settling in to sleep, but her pets had found something important enough to cause a racket.

 

[Well Spoken Silence]

Alastair knelt down, examining the roots of a nearby tree. After he managed to find his bearings, it was clear he was no longer in his home realm. Cracked moon aside, these plants didn't have the familiar dull swirl of life essence inside them. Instead, it was faint but tumultuous, almost clawing against the bark to reach up and into his palm. This tree wasn't an outlier either: each one he investigated contained this same agitated energy, leading him to a single conclusion.These things around him weren't dead.

They were starving.

This discovery did nothing to settle his nerves. He needed to find a shelter to gather his thoughts, reach out and sense where exactly the Arcanomicon was hiding. Trudging along the worn earthen path, Alastair knew eventually he'd find some sort of town or city. He wasn't sure what he'd do from there, but it couldn't be worse than staying out in this malnourished forest. It seethed around him, angered by his presence, the air itself pressing around him like a heavy blanket. The world was dead quiet, the slow plod of his boots on dirt creating the only sound for miles. No matter how far he walked, the faint scent of decay was ever present.

"Mental note," he muttered to himself, kicking a rock out of this path, "The next collar will protect from smells."

A low growl shattered the silence, rumbling like nothing he had ever heard before. Another howl echoed the call, growing louder and closer. Alastair whirled around, his eyes straining to make out the creatures responsible for the call, but all he could see was warped air shifting through the withered branches. "Well, that's not ideal." The shifting creature settled on the path before him, joined by two other invisible beings. The warm dry air became uncomfortably hot, beads of sweat forming over the mage's brow. The earth beneath these presences furrowed, as if gouged by thick claws. These furrows slowly stalked forward, closing the distance. The snarling returned, louder than thunder, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

"And that's even worse. Time to go!" Alastair raised his hands and outstretched his fingers, electric blue bands blasting forth and wrapped themselves in the timber between him and the prowling menace, forming an interwoven web-like barrier. He whirled around and took off in the other direction, running as fast as he could go. Behind him, scorching air nipped at his back, the baying howls of unseen hounds pushing him forward. His legs were aching, but he couldn't slow down. Whenever he thought he was safe, he catch a glimpse of something in his periphery. A glint of a slobbering maw, or rippling muscled legs powered by glowing red veins, forcing him to shift the trailing cerulean bands to cover this new angle of attack. And yet, while they threatened to overtake him, they never quite caught up to him, pushing him down an off shoot of the path he hadn't noticed before. The path grew narrower, turning the very environment against him. Branches tugging at his robes like grasping fingers, slowing his breakneck pace. Roots seemed to rise up from the path, stumbling his gait, but despite their best efforts he avoided tripping into the fallen logs, their forms jutting up like swords.

The forest fell away to a clearing, where a lone manor stood watch over the wasteland. It looked as starved as the forest that threatened to engulf it, with pale grey walls that stood firm despite its dilapidated appearance. Branches seemed to be sprouting through the building, nature trying to consume the artificial structure. A rusted wrought iron fence surrounded the mansion, a thin barrier he had no trouble boosting himself over with an ethereal blue stairway. Roughly cut or cracked stumps and felled trees sporadically littered the lawn of dead grass. And while that was concerning to the fleeing mage, it wasn't what caught his focus.

Standing between him and the manor was a tall, thin woman clad in a pale green garb he'd never seen before. Hard, almost crystalline material wrapped around her chest and ribs, with gossamer fabric draping down her alabaster skin. A fluttering cape hung from her shoulder, cloaking her silhouette in a concentrated fog. Black horns sprouted from red-brown hair, framing her hard features. Golden, indiscernible eyes burned bright in the dark as he approached, winded from his flight. She was eerily beautiful, and did nothing to calm his pounding heart.

"What are you doing standing around?" The howling broke out again, heralding the approach of what ever unholy things had pursued him here. "Get back, monsters approach!" He turned from her, backing up towards the mansion, weaving new glowing sigils in the air before him. With no good place for his bands to anchor to, he'd have to create a new construct, and began pushing the glyphs outward, their forms slowly interlocking into a wall of words. With any luck, it would be finished by the time he reached the front porch, and he would have protect himself and the woman long enough to come up with a semblance of a plan.

 

[Jumbled]

Intimidating cracks of demonic barks broke the otherwise silent air, bouncing out and echoing back inward, causing it to sound as though the human male was completely surrounded by invisible threats. The heat had grown so intense that the tiny twigs jutting out around the starving trees ignited with small embers that dwindled down their paths like a lit fuse until they’d shriveled completely, crumpling over into a line of ash, disappearing into the darkness. The hellhounds snapped their jaws together with loud snaps from where their fangs met aggressively. If the earth beneath their clawed paws hadn’t been so dry and easily marred, the illusion of many monsters would have succeeded. The hounds knew no difference. Their job was simple: herd the human. They’d padded forward with their bodies lowered, ready to pounce. The splitting dirt revealed each precise movement under the broken moon.

They needed to push him forward. Most men, upon their initial sense of terror, tended to freeze, paralyzed in fear. The only thing that got them going again was making them realize their impending doom was getting closer, louder and chasing after them. As the hounds barked louder, their volume comparable to a storm booming across the sky with claps of thunder and heat, the man abandoned his caution to flee the scene, though not before casting a luminous net of cyan that wrapped around the dying plantlife. His attempt at slowing his pursuers wasn’t completely unsuccessful. As he cast his spell, one of the hounds, its body lined with veins of deep blue, leapt forward, landing against his magical barrier. It pushed the beast back quite suddenly in a daze as its leathered flesh was singed with smoking lines of burning essence. It yelped, though even that was a guttural, unnatural tone.

As the hound with deep purple accents began to snap and bite at the magic, its mouth steaming from the spell, the third hound had cleared it completely with a giant leap, sending itself flying forward in flashes of deep, fiery reds and oranges, gaining the distance the mage had cleared between them. As the other two hellhounds lagged behind. The first finally recovered, shaking its head clear of its confusion, while the other managed to tear parts of the webbing to shreds with its teeth, the spell’s bright lights dissipating upward into the air like fizz until it faded away like it’d never been there to begin with.

And perhaps it hadn’t.

As the spellcaster continued to run, unknowingly herded by the hound that was easily keeping strides with him, his shield shifted and darted over to a new cluster of outstretched limbs. The bands twisted and reshaped themselves into new webs to protect himself as he ran further into the thick of the dead forest. As the other two hellhounds caught up, flanking him as the orange one raced ahead, they guided the human with hints of their forms. They veered left toward the path that winded down toward the dilapidated manor.

The Reaper, watching with a cold gaze, wondered what the hounds were up to. They sounded rowdy— the way they acted when she took them to the other realm. She tilted her head to the side as she squinted to see down the path; her vision was weak compared to other demons— Such a thing was hardly an issue with her hellhounds around. Blue lights snagged her attention, but they were a different hue than her pet’s features. The way the light frayed out in her eyes, she couldn’t see that it was a magical stairway at all. She could make out the blur of a figure in the dark, but not much more until he’d finally neared.

The pups didn’t usually go after other demons for their supper, but maybe it was a wretched vampire. Whoever had upset them was in for a surprise, at any rate. The Reaper wasn’t one to stop them from attacking in Morngard. Monsters typically knew better than to enter her territory— excluding the Dryad that she’d been at odds with for many years. But, the running person, from what she could see, was not the Dryad.

The man finally stopped in front of her, gasping at the putrid air as he caught his breath. She could hear his heart thumping loudly against his chest. That sense was far more reliable to her than her sight. As she stood there in her natural form, she instantly realized it had been a mistake. “Human?” she asked herself in a whisper. She looked outward at the three colored streaks of light that chased him forward. So they had been hunting. But— she hadn’t been prepared. This was not how she cloaked herself when hunting. What was a human doing at her doorstep?
The hellhounds bellowed out, making themselves known. She could tell they were proud of their find but she snarled with displeasure. No human had ever seen her face before and she wasn’t happy about it. Even if she killed him right there where he stood, she would still know he’d seen her, and that on its own would eat away at her. He warned her of monsters, acting as though he intended to guard her. She observed him carefully, starting from his feet and moving up. His attire was still considered fashionable in the main parts of Midgard. He’d chosen the darker color schemes that she struggled to identify in the dark of the night. His jacket looked heavy as it hung against his frame and he had a bag wrapped around him which suggested he’d been traveling purposefully. Her gaze wandered slowly as she caught sight of a metal chain around his throat. Was he somebody’s pet? She certainly couldn’t destroy someone else’s property for no reason. Her eyes moved upward, but he’d turned away from her, tryingappy to back her onto her porch much in the same way the dogs were pushing him back toward her.

With a step to the left, removing herself from his protective line, she whistled a sharp pitch and the howling instantly stopped. The heat in the air slowly simmered down to just the normal discomfort of Morngard and the hellhounds walked around restlessly before each of them found a spot to sit or lie down. Their claws left similar gouges in the earth as they did earlier, though they were shorter in length. She turned, her body almost gliding as she moved, looking at the man that had, perhaps not by choice, trespassed onto her land. She grabbed his wrist, a not so subtle way of suggesting he cease his casting. Her grip was far tighter than what her appearance let on. She could feel the surge of power coming from his hand, seeping into her skin. She tried to ignore it, though such a task wasn’t easy.

“Little one,” she began. Her words were, perhaps, a strange choice. Her reasoning was as simple as their small life spans. The Reaper had never bothered to speak to a human before, she realized. She never had any interest in playing with her food. She released his hand, her own fingers tingling. He was a mage. She’d had a few of those before but they were quite rare to capture— not that she’d often gone out looking for such a thing. Humans were all easy enough to snare, she wasn’t very picky. “Why are you here?” she asked him. Her voice was almost melodic as she spoke to him.

 

[Well Spoken Silence]

Despite her appearance, it soon became clear the uncanny woman Alastair was trying to protect was more than capable of protecting herself. A single, high whistle cut through the reverberating growls of the unseen creatures, silencing them in an instance. The shimmering creatures spread out across the grounds, the parched earth giving way to shallow grooves, before a small puff of dust signaled the end of their tramping steps. Scorching heat dissipated into mild discomfort, made all the worse by the sweat of his excursions. While the collar managed to keep his skin from suffering the same fiery fate as the bits of wayward twigs, it wasn't designed to protect him from his own actions. Still, the danger seemed to fade thanks to the woman's interference. Were these predators commonplace in this realm?

Still, he had no way of knowing if danger was over, and he refused to die to assumptions. Alastair continued his incantation, moving more and more azure glyphs into the thickening barrier, before another simple gesture from the woman silenced him as well. It wasn't the firmness of her grip nor the frigidness of her touch that shattered his concentration.

It was what lay beneath.

Her essence roared beneath her flesh, as vacuous and voracious as a maelstrom. It pulled the warmth from his skin, threatening to tear through the paper-thin barrier of flesh and yank him into its yearning maw. The closest he ever experienced such a sensation was when he investigated the trees, but comparing its mana to her's was like comparing a summer's breeze to a hurricane. And yet, instead of fear, the only thing that gripped him was morbid curiosity. What exactly was she?

She released, asking in a voice lighter than he expected, "Little one, why are you here?"

Alastair cocked an eyebrow at her comment, making a point to look down at her golden eyes. He was at least three inches taller than her, and while he wasn't the burliest man alive, he felt he was decently built. Good enough to outrun the invisible demons that chased him here at least. After letting that moment sink in, he jerked a thumb to where the now docile flickers lay.

"Kind of obvious, don't you think?" He smirked, trying to keep a cheerful demeanor about the whole situation. The atmosphere was dismal enough without him adding to it. "Before that, I was trying to get to a book, but it seems someone or something doesn't want that to happen." He was sure something must have intercepted his spell. No way could he have gotten it wrong on his own, he followed the pattern exactly. He just had to learn what could be strong enough to disrupt that ritual.

"So, what about you spooky?" he asked, gesturing towards her before folding his arms. "What brings you to a ramshackle manor in the middle of a desolate forest?"

Another, more pressing thought entered his mind. "More importantly, what'd you do to those creatures? My barriers barely slowed them down, but one whistle from you and they're harmless."

 

[Jumbled]

As the human gave her a glance no man or beast had ever dared to do unless they were searching for a fight, the intensity in her gaze fiercened to something akin to blazing fires— much like her Hellhounds’ eyes. Her stare was fixed and unblinking as she met his eyes with her own. She wondered how someone’s pet could be so clueless as to who she was— what she did to simple men. His pause was brief as he seemed to consider her, then he gestured behind where he’d stood. He was, indeed, several inches taller than herself, but The Reaper still felt bigger. She followed his cue, staring at her lounging hounds in the yard. He pulled her attention back to him slowly as he spoke so casually to her. She supposed he had a point. The pups had chased him toward the manor from somewhere nearby. But that wasn’t the answer she was searching for. His follow up, however, gave her a better idea.

“A book.” she repeated, her tone utterly unimpressed with his story. If his master didn’t want him to read something, it was within their right, as far as she was concerned. The Reaper stared out into the blurry distance of the night. She wondered which direction she needed to send the small one. Her home was a little further out than most places. There was a town several walking miles out, but he'd have to make it through various territories before reaching it. Once more, he drew her attention back to him with his jesting tone.

“Excuse me?” her questioning of his word choice was extremely accusational with an undertone of warning if he proceeded down the path he had stumbled his way down. She took a step forward, her fingers gracing the metal chain around his neck with her delicate touch. Her fingers were cool and even without directly touching his flesh it was possible he might feel a chill from her. She could show him spooky. The Reaper considered using her powers on him, sending him though visions of his life up until the moment they both met. She often liked to look through what the humans got up to; how they lived. It was an entertaining gift that no other being possessed. They could both watch the flashbacks together as she forced them upon the human— she usually only did this before she took their lives, though. She wasn't going to end him. Right?

But—

She hesitated as she trailed her fingers upward, touching a tender spot along his throat without adding any real pressure. His flesh felt wonderful. So delicate and soft, humming with a tasty power that lay within him. Humans had such appealing qualities but she particularly enjoyed feeling his skin against her fingertips. His magic was strong considering he was just a man. She bit the inside of her lip before she'd managed to escape her own thoughts of what it might be like to touch him more intimately.

“This is my home, Small One. And those are my hounds. You’re such a clueless thing. I think it’s time for you to return from where you’ve come from. I shall keep the dogs at bay while you take your leave. Now, you must be off. I don’t take kindly to intruders. Consider this your only warning and a courtesy to your master.” Her hand trailed back down, catchin the choker she'd mistaken as a collar before releasing him.

The Reaper quickly gestured with her hands, followed by the snapping of her dainty fingers. The hellhounds jumped up, alerted by her command and went toward the manor, lightly growling as they moved around the human. The orange one was bold enough to even push itself into the man, it’s height suddenly very evident as its haunches met his waist. It was a far warmer creature than she was, but he wasn't fired up as to not needlessly burn the man. The Reaper gave that hound a disapproving glance as she tisked at it, pointing at the doorway of the manor. The hound lowered its head and went into the house.

“I think he likes you.” she said as the hint of a laugh nearly escaped her. She centered herself, allowing her expression to go flat again. Her eyes trailed across his features one more time. It was a shame he had to go. He would have made a nice meal, she thought. With a turn, her hair sweeping to the side as she pivoted toward her porch, she gave a backhanded wave to the mage. He was skilled enough to get onto her property, so he would be fine enough to find his way out on his own, she was sure. Right? She couldn't help but be curious about him. She glanced back at him as she reached her doorway. The thing was never shut properly, the invading roots had made sure of that much. Would the Dryad be so honorable to spare the human? Or did he belong to her, she wondered. The thought hadn't really occurred to her until that moment. Maybe she should have ended him. With a twitch of a nostril at the distasteful thought, she stepped into her home, leaving the man to his fate.

 

[Well Spoken Silence]

For an owner of a decrepit manor in the middle of a dying forest, the mysterious woman seemed awful proud. She bristled at his answers, her golden eyes burrowing into him with every word. Finally, it appeared Alastair's jest touched a nerve, and the pale woman paced forward, her fingers tracing the collar that kept him breathing in this nightmarish plane. Even through the metal's wards, he could feel the material grow cold to her touch, raising the hairs on his neck. Her digits trailed upward, pressing gently against his neck as if checking his pulse, feeling the arcane energy flow as easily as his blood. She bit her lip as she lost herself in thought; did the maelstrom inside her just grow hungrier?

It wasn't a concern he had for long, for the woman soon withdrew her hand, though not before catching briefly on his collar. She gestured back the way he came, making it clear he wasn't welcome in her clearing anymore, promising to hold back her unseen beasts. She snapped, punctuating her point, and he watched warily as the shifting heatwaves kicked up dust and seemed to almost trot to them and back to the house, their growls nothing compared to what he had heard in the forests. One of the wave pushed past his flank, solid and much too warm, a rising rumble reverberating through it. The woman sent it away with a tsk, though Alastair didn't feel relieved until the shimmering creature had disappeared into the ramshackle structure. With the danger passed, he realized what she had said earlier.

"A courtesy to my master?" He shook his head, unsure what she meant "Sorry to disappoint Green, but you're looking at him."

If the woman heard him, she gave no indication, instead returning homeward, her misty cloak giving off the appearance that she was gliding across the dying lawn. Shaking his head, Alastair turned away, trudging back the way he came. She hadn't exactly been helpful, but he was still in one piece, and free to think as he kicked up the dusty pathway. The way she talked about masters made it clear there were other humanoids out there, so perhaps it was one of their doing that sent into a forest of dying, hungering trees instead of the Arcanomicon's resting place. Magic certainly worked in this plane, so maybe there were wards that protected the tome's location from direct teleportation?

Suddenly, he stumbled, the ground below him trembling. An earthquake? No, the tremors were growing stronger, not weaker, kicking up small clouds of loose dirt. He turned back to the house, wondering if she had changed her mind about letting him leave, but there was no sign of her, nor the rising heat of her beasts. No this was something else entirely, a fact confirmed by an eruption of earth and withered grass, sending him tumbling back.

Rising from the path was a snapping serpentine monster, surrounded by three thick writhing vines. Its sickly brown appendages were covered in thorns, its eyeless ruddy mouth locking on the mage. In an instance it lunged forward, crashing headlong into a hastily constructed cerulean barrier. Alastair clambered to his feet, dashing backwards towards the house, only turning around at the sound of his spell shattering. The creature was gaining ground, azure splinters dotting its head, furrowing the ground like a ship parted the sea.

Alastair fired off a volley of projectiles, peppering the plant with arcane explosions, staggering it backwards. It roared in pain, but when the dust settled, only a handful of scorch marks proved the attacks landed at all. He was never the biggest offensive powerhouse, even when he wasn't drained from teleporting to a completely new plane of existence. Scanning the monster, now mere feet away, he looked for an opening, a weakness, anything to harm it. But looking down the gullet of the grotesque flower's maw, he could only stand stock still and close his eyes.

With a sickening snap the beast lunged forward, the red petals engulfing the mage in a single bite. It threw back its head, roaring in triumph, tendrils twisting wildly. It turned itself away from the house, returning the forest, paying no attention to the pinprick of blue light that dimly shone through its throat. The glow grew brighter and brighter, its light rivaling the shattered moon before a loud boom burst forth from the creature, sending chunks of plant matter raining in all directions. Its body collapsed, spilling out the coughing, green-stained traveler.

"Guess you bit off more than you could swallow." Alastair rose to his feet, wiping the viscous fluid from his eyes, and grinned wickedly, surprised to be alive. Kicking the lifeless body of the creature, he laughed, calling out to the forest "That the best you got? Some hot air and an overgrown flower?" The earth rumbled in answer, his laughter dying down as quick as it came. He might have had energy to fight the last beast, but between arriving in the woods and defending himself against two different attacks he barely had enough magic for parlor tricks, let alone fighting another monster.

So, when the other two creatures punched through the ground, their guttural snarling filling the air, he had already slammed the door to the woman's home tight behind him.

"Hey Ravenlocks?" Alastair panted, peering out the cracked peephole at the angry plants that roamed her lawn. "You got a bit of a weed problem."

 

[Jumbled]

The Reaper stood inside the entryway of her home. She hadn’t been able to push herself further into the abode while knowing that human was still out there. What had he meant when he said she was “looking at him?” Was he implying that he was, indeed, his own master? Puzzled at the thought, she leaned back against the doorway, its warped hinges making it slant against her weight with a pitiful creak. She looked at her fingertips as they still tingled from her light touches against his skin. How would a human manage to get into their realm all on his own? Considering he was a magical user, it wasn’t impossible, but even so it was highly improbable that he would survive such a journey on his own. Morngard was a treacherous place filled with horrors that included herself. She flipped her hand around, gazing at her long, dark nails that could have been mistaken for claws. It wasn’t often she found herself so lost in thought but the mage was a curious case she couldn’t shake loose from her mind.

The hounds grew restless inside, growling and whimpering as their ears pointed in the direction of the front windows and door. The Reaper stirred enough from her thoughts to notice their discomfort. What was troubling them? Did they really want to bring the human back again? Perhaps they sensed she was due for a meal soon. It had been a while since she’d fed. Life essence was delectable, for certain, but she tended to keep to herself more often than venturing out to play with the humans. Travel took its toll, all the more reason she questioned the presence of a human in her front yard. The fixtures in the manor jingled and jostled around as though they were experiencing a minor earthquake. Such an interruption was enough to clear any fog left in her mind as her fingers clenched into a fist. Damned Dryad.

If that human was a decoy and he’d failed to trick her— which he had— then this was clearly a tantrum taking form from the very earth that ruptured in her lawn. She growled a low rumble deep within her throat before turning around. This war was an exhausting one that she wasn’t exactly winning. If anything, she was holding the Dryad at bay. The house shook harder but The Reaper’s footing didn’t falter as she remained with her fixed posture and piercing gaze staring so hard at her front door she might have burned holes through the wood.

The hounds began to bark— a haunting, dangerous sound. They wanted her to free them; to unleash them onto the Dryad for such foolhardiness, no doubt. She was their Lady of Death and they were her loyal servants. Of course she wouldn’t contain their Hellfires from the likes of that wretched beast that trifled with plants to do her bidding. Their fires alone were enough to consume the likes of her minions. Even so, she didn’t like to use her darlings in such a fashion, it was degrading to their mighty race.

There was a battle going on outside from the sounds of things. The Reaper’s hand lay along the edge of the door, pulling it toward her enough to peer out at the mage. He was fighting the brambly monster that had been summoned. She tilted her head with her growing curiosity, her dark hair falling along her face in silken, soft strands that she idly brushed aside. It wasn’t what she expected to find. If anything, the image of the human being puppeteered by vines that jutted from below the hardened clay and dried soil had been a more predictable sight to fix her eyes upon. However, she found herself surprisingly incorrect.

Purple eyes looked up at her with spiraling flames begged to let him go outside. The hound had pressed itself against her leg and waist with a whine and a nudge. The other two were just behind their brother. “I don’t want you getting mixed up with his magic. I don’t need you harmed.” she lectured the beast below her. It only looked onward with pleading eyes, wishing to take back their territory, and perhaps the human as well. She pursed her lips.

They probably needed to intervene— but no. The mage was still holding his own. She would just watch him a little longer. She didn’t want to fall into a trap. It still could have been one elaborate game concocted by the Dryad— not that the foul creature had ever been so clever before. Her hand dropped down to the hound as her fingers scratched behind its ear affectionately. “Just wait, my darlings.” she urged with a reassuring tone, perhaps something unexpected from a creature such as herself.

The mage was throwing out projectiles of magic, the lights shot out and stretched out in her poor vision. If she ever had to fight him, personally, it would be distracting at the very least. She blinked hard, attempting to force her vision to focus. He then stopped moving. Her tilted head straightened as she opened her door more, something instinctually telling her to go out to him. What was he doing? Was he out of magic?

Before she could react properly, the giant plant lunged forward, enveloping the man within its blood-lusting petals of ruby red desire. Her jaw dropped as she released the door, stepping back out onto her porch. If he was to be someone’s lunch, he certainly wasn’t going to feed the Dryad! She glared, heated as she was fueled with rage that caused her skeletal, spectral form to cover her features. But, he was gone. She couldn’t just feed into the games. The plant was leaving, carrying the human off in its jowls, likely to better charge its master for a harder attack. Perhaps this was going to turn into the precipice of their battle, determining who would finally win rights to the land before them. The Reaper returned to the manor. The hounds were shuffling around, still uneasy and wanting to attack. She hadn’t stayed out long enough to see the spectacle that followed after as the man split the plant open from within.

The ground began to tremble again and she glanced to the side, just barely peering over her shoulder. This show of strength was unnecessary. She sighed to herself, the idea of battle already exhausting her. Then, there was a bang against the door— it actually flung open from the force and its lack of proper hinges before swinging back. Startled, she whipped around, hearing the snarky voice of the man once more. He was alive? She saw him get swallowed up!

“You—” she voiced as she pulled the door open once more. Her features were still overcast with a skeletal form as she reached out, touching his jaw with a dainty finger. The hounds flashed with heated fires and she knew she could no longer hold them back. She gave a slight tilt of her face, motioning them to move out. Her hand turned and cupped against his jaw and cheek as she stared up into his eyes. He felt weaker than he had the first time she’d touched him. She couldn’t resist as she breached his mind, just enough to know who he was and how he’d arrived. He would see such visions as clearly as she did, the gnarling, hideous sounds of the hounds tearing the plants to shreds and sizzling piles of ash fading into the muted sounds of memories that once were.

She released him, her eyes blinking as she gazed at him curiously. “Come inside.” she told him as she pulled her hand forward, not yet releasing his face. “Do you find me more frightening now? Would you rather I give you back to the Dryad, or would you stay with a Reaper, human mage?” Her features remained hauntingly unearthly as she watched him for his reactions. “My protections come at a cost, but I can feel you are far too weak to keep going on your own. Don’t let your pride sway such a decision, for I am setting my own aside in order to protect you.” she admitted as her grip around his face began to release, lightly grazing his skin as she pulled away.

 

[Well Spoken Silence]

The suddenness of the door's shift startled Alastair, though not nearly as much as what lay behind. Instead of the hauntingly beautiful visage of the woman, it was of a monster. Calcified armor covered her form, her skin covered by bleached bone, while yellow-green globes burning behind the mask of a skull. She emanated a power he hadn't sensed early, radiating danger, and for a moment he considered turning back. But where would he go? Back out to the lawn? Where howling shimmers clashed with snapping horrors? Instead, he stood his ground, doing his best to seem unphased, an act likely undercut by his disheveled, slime-stained appearance.

"Yep, it's me. I'd say never mind the mess, but I doubt I could ruin the house any more than its current state." He gave a small smile, trying to break the tension and hide just how intimidating the smaller woman was. An ultimately fruitless effort, for when she reached for his face he flinched, unsure of what she was planning as her pale fingers gripped his face with surprising strength. Between the expenditure of his power and this display of hers, the cavernous void within her seemed so much stronger. With a firm shift she forced him to stare into her eerie eyes, their glow intensifying as the rest of his perceptions began to shift. The din of gnashing teeth and thunderous crashes faded, the battle waged on the lawn now a muffled drone. His body numbed, the only constant feeling the vacuous maw inside her churning, until that too lessened. His vision faded to black, save for her glowing eyes, which seemed to draw power from his dulling senses. Soon, he felt nothing, adrift in a jet-black void, alone save from the twin pair of golden globes.

After a time, he watched the void shift, sights and sounds and sensations of all kinds returning in a disorienting rush. But no longer was he in the dilapidated porch of a monster's home. Instead, he was surrounded by a memory made living. It had to be. It was the only explanation for why his academy's lecture hall was now filled with student's taking hasty notes, instead of the crumbling ruin it was transformed into after an arcane accident. But it felt so real. The scratching of parchment, the smell of old books, even the way his teacher cleared his throat as he tried to control his eager students. And so, Alastair watched, unable to move, as the memory of how he first learned about the Arcanomicon played out before him. It seemed this place didn't just replicate memories, but emotions as well, as he felt the curiosity swell at the mention of a tome of all magic, the disappointment to learn of its disappearance, the desire to seek it out. All of this played out before the ceaseless gaze of the watching eyes.

Memory after memory played out this way, each connected to the Arcanomicon. He relieved the adventurers and preparations needed to replenish mana quickly, the thrill of the learning how to place it into to objects, the indescribable feeling of teleportation, and the confusion of arriving in this dead world. Each memory came with its own sensations and emotions, each hungrily consumed by the orbs that hovered above it all.

Finally, they closed, and Alastair's perception of the present snapped back. He blinked wildly, trying to process what had happened, not even fighting as the woman dragged him inside by his face. She spoke firmly, speaking of dryads, reapers, and protection. His eyes widened slightly, the dim light of the room mixing with the ivory garments to finally make it clear who he had been speaking with. Caution told him he should choose his next words carefully. Pride told him otherwise.

"No need to do anything rash, Spooky. Miss Spooky." He shuddered slightly as she pulled away, her icy touch feeling more ominous than it did a second before. "I suppose even though I'm more than capable of defending myself, I could pay for a small amount of protection. Though I'll admit, I didn't bring much in way of coin..." He trailed off, rummaging through his pocket before producing a single silver piece, a handful of copper, and a small, brightly wrapped hard candy. He looked at his hand, then looked to her, then looked to his hand, hoping that somehow currency was worth more in monster territory.

 

[Jumbled]

It seemed the mage was more appropriately startled by her features the second time around. Her lips curled into a menacing smirk behind the bony mask in which she hid behind. No man had seen her real face and she had her reasons— her privacy was a comfortable shield to hide behind. Her ferocity was nearly a guarantee that she maintained her status in the lands in which she roamed. Without the unsettling armor of bones that masked her form she nearly looked like a delicate woman with gentle features, aside from those eyes. But even then, with the right look, she might appear soft to those that didn’t know any better.

His responses weren’t what she expected, but she could sense the underlying levels of unease that coursed through his system; smell his anxiety. It only furthered her suspicions as he flinched away from her hand. Her grin only grew wider. Good. He needed to know his place. Even with his sarcastic nonsense and the brave front, she needed to know he understood she could end him. Her fingers stuck to his skin and the slime he was covered in, but she’d had messier things along her fingers before. She didn’t mind.

She pulled him into her mind games easily. He couldn’t resist her, most men couldn’t. He’d technically already gone through the case with her hounds. His energy was expended far beyond what it needed to be after his battle, too. She watched his memories, sifting through his mind, tracing back to his original purpose, his greatest needs and desires. She searched further, finding no trace of the Dryad. He was indeed his own master, as he claimed to be. She shifted as she studied him, curious about the amount of willpower that led him to her on such a night as this.

The hounds terrorized the plants outside. The thorny creatures were no match for their fires— they couldn’t even get close. If The Reaper asked it of her pets, she could convince them to clear the brambles and roots that invaded the manor itself, but such tasks were beneath such noble beasts. Perhaps the human could do such a thing, instead. She found herself considering keeping him. She’d never wanted to care for something too weak to fend for itself before. But— Even then she could still feel the gentle licks of tingling touch her fingers as she threatened him with Death’s cold embrace.

She couldn’t understand all of his memories completely. It looked as though he was crafty, though. It captured her interest enough to look into his tinkering further. It looked as though he placed his own magical essence into items of his own selecting. Was that something he could do at any time? Could he infuse her somehow? How might she obtain such a thing?

The Reaper spent the longest time in his memory of teleportation. She’d never known what it would feel like for a human. It wasn’t nearly as difficult for someone such as herself to cross over to another world. She bit her lip again, feeling his feelings as he lived through them once again. He hadn’t wanted to leave, finding the void of that floating, light embrace wrapped around him like a luscious blanket of stars enough in that moment. Who would want to go? Certainly not herself. She had trouble prying herself free of it.

She closed those blazing eyes, and with that, The Reaper severed her connection with the human— and for the first time that she could recall, she didn’t end his life. She opened her eyes again.

He stared. He was processing. She’d never really wondered what her mind games might do to a man after she was done picking through the toybox, throwing blocks every which way without cleaning up her mess. She blinked slowly, her hand only tingling more from her touch before she pulled away. He shuddered as she left him and she enjoyed the look of that, too. The hold she’d had on her skeletal form dropped, leaving her standing before him as nearly a lady once more. She crossed her arms, folding them under her breasts, pressing them together from the motion creating enticing lines of cleavage. Her mystical clothing danced around her, moving forward to lightly brush against his skin. She shifted back a step, shifting her hips to deter the foggy garment.

“And what, Little One, do you suppose “anything rash” means for a monster like me?” she asked him. She dared him to keep going; to speak his mind. He’d already done a good deal of that as it was. “I don’t find you capable at all. Those monsters outside were like the little… trash pandas that live in your world’s dumpsters. They’re nothing but random wildlife feeding off of waste. Not to say that you’re— waste. I’m sure you have your— uses.” her sentences slowed as she allowed her eyes to travel along his form more than once. Why did she want to keep touching him? It was his magic. She curled her fingers into her arms as if to anchor them more tightly against her torso and away from him. She was no desperate woman. She wouldn’t dare let him have such an impression of her, either.

As he fiddled through his pockets, she watched him skeptically. Did he really expect her to take coins? The addition of candy seemed like a nice touch, though she had no idea what it was. The wrapper was pretty. “That’s not— how it works, Little One.” she told him as she dared to step closer to him once more. “You have other means of satiating me, though.” she mentioned as she took another step in his direction. Her eyes gleamed with interest in him as her hands unbound themselves from her front, her hand reaching forward to retrieve the hard candy if only to study it for a moment longer.

“Do you have any ideas as to how you could do such things for me?” she asked him without breaking her gaze from the wrapper. “Be specific, I know you’re smart. You’ve been running at the mouth since you’ve found me. If you can’t tell me, I’ll just have to show you,” she told him as she tilted her head to the side, her eyes finally looking up to meet his.

“If you can do what I desire, I’ll claim you as mine. No one would dare touch you, and well, if they did try—” her words trailed off at the thought, wondering how she’d fare in battles with those bold enough to intrude. She was the stop right before death. She had a reputation of killing whatever stood in her way. It didn’t matter which realm she visited. But, there were some more powerful than herself. Some that could be so audacious as to encroach upon her manor to take what was hers. The Dryad wasn’t really a threat compared to such things as those that lurked deep within Morngard.

She smiled at him. It was a curious sight in the way that it was far from comforting. She hadn’t really meant for it to be, though. If anything it was more playful and mischievous. The hounds scampered in, panting as they’d tired themselves out in the lawn, likely thrashing the plant scraps around like glorified chew toys. Good. They deserved some fun. They’d managed to bring her a special present, after all.

“If you’re a good Little One, I’ll even help you find your book.” she finally mentioned.

 

[Well Spoken Silence]

Whatever the monster's reason for using her powers were, she seemed to be satisfied with what she had found. The armor surrounding her faded into wisps of white smoke, leaving her in her green gossamer and crystalline clothing, allowing him to breath a little easier. If she saw wanted a fight, she wouldn't have swapped back to that ethereal outfit, her smooth alabaster skin free to drink in the light of the moon. With a casual step she shifted her weight, stopping her misty cloak from obscuring her form. That simple act, mixed with way her arms pushed up her breasts, made it hard not to stare at the woman who was now asking for payment from him.

She spoke plainly, insisting on calling him "little one," making it clear what he fought was merely a common pest. All the while eying him hungrily, her intentions obscured. What was it she wanted? Every time they touched, he could feel her mana tear at him, trying to drink in his essence, so perhaps she was simply after what all monster's desired. And yet, the way her eyes traveled over his stained robes, carefully examining his form, he couldn't help but wonder if she was after something more...physical.

She drew closer closer, the air between them growing cooler, now less than a foot lay between the mage and the reaper. Slowly, gracefully, she plucked the candy from his hand, all while mentioning how if he desired her aide, he'd have to satiate her. Everything, from the way she moved to the tone of voice was enchanting, alluring in the same way a predator stalking its prey is alluring. And yet, instead of fear, Alastair was only gripped with fascination. Fascination, and another emotion he couldn't quite name.

He wasn't sure he liked the way she mentioned being claimed, nor the way she smiled at him, a toothy grin that seemed a little too close to the skeletal mask she wore moments earlier. But even when her shimmering creatures reentered the home, their heat alleviating her chill, she made no motions to harm him, only idly playing with the candy while awaiting his response.

Allowing a moment to compose himself, he answered her carefully, doing his best to mask the quickening of his heartbeat. "Well, unless there are more than one plane full of reapers, then I know you need mana to survive. I can put that mana into other objects, you saw it yourself with your little evil eye." He backed up, trying to put some distance between them, but after a single step his back bumped against a dusty wall. It was clear escape wasn't an option.

He continued anyway, playing it off as if he wasn't trying to argue for equal footing with death herself. "So, you help me Ravenlocks, and in time I'll start packaging away all the mana you could need. In exchange, you help me find the book, and we work as partners. I'm not some underling or one of your hounds." He crossed his arms, before willing to make a leap of faith based off her mannerisms. "After all, partnerships can have all kinds of benefits. Some based on power, others more...recreational, if you so desire." He let his eyes wander at that, stealing another glance at the woman before returning to her face.

 

[Jumbled]

The Reaper observed the human male as he calculated how to respond to her. He was always so quick with his wit that she found it curious he might actually take his time to respond to her in a more thoughtful manner. She tilted her chin to the side, eyeing him with her cautionary colored eyes that looked deceivingly soft with such a sweet twinkle in them. His beating heart played into her ears as though it knew her favorite song and she stepped even closer, watching as he all but bumped back into the wall behind him.
“Careful, Little One, you’ll knock the house over.” she spoke in a soft whisper of a voice as she drew nearer. The smallest of dust particles danced in the air around him where he’d disturbed its resting place and she lowered her head to keep such things out of her eyes, only pulling her face closer, right under his jawline.

Inhaling deeply, finding his emotional state a lovely smell, though the sludge of plant slime not so much, she wrinkled her nose and huffed a breath of cool air against his tacky skin and metal chain. She moved delicately enough, aware of her own spacial needs so that she didn’t carelessly poke him with the twisted horns that protruded out from her dark cherry hair and dipped down toward her eyes. “I’ll admit your suggestion is appealing.” His comments about her “evil eye” trick hadn’t slipped her mind but she supposed he wanted her to react to such things and she wasn’t in the mood to give into him. He was in her home and only standing before her because she allowed it. She sensed he understood that, at least to a small degree, if not more. She did suspect he was smart, as she’d suggested to him earlier, yet he was a man— Most of the men she’d bothered to reap were chauvinistic and ruled by their cocks in such a way that it was easy to see without ever diving very deep into their minds. Even this one before her had eyes for her body, speaking to her in any way he chose to. Perhaps he was not so different. Her expression hardened as she stiffened her shoulders and stood taller as if to better demonstrate how she wouldn’t be pushed around so easily.

He muttered some new nickname for her and she stared at him flatly, waiting for him to finish with his idiotic rambling. Perhaps she’d been too generous in calling him smart. “My hounds are precious to me. They are caring and loyal creatures. How many friends do you have behind you willing to kill for you?” she asked him. Her voice had abandoned her earlier, tender moments and switched to that of a hissing, poisonous viper. The hounds, as if they understood her tone and words, were quickly on their feet, their growls filling the empty air as the heat continued to warm the room. “They are my partners. You— You are nothing. A measly human covered in dried plant bile, alone in a world of monsters in which your magic will not defend you for long. Do not insult me. When I offered you such a deal as to be mine, I did not do it lightly. I will offer you one last chance to accept my offer before I cast you out— or kill you.”

It was clear in her tone that she was no longer buying his games or entertained by his foolish nicknames. She stepped forward, the hounds eager to move with her as she boxed the mage in against the wall. If he truly was intelligent, he would realize he shouldn’t have insulted the hounds. He could never begin to understand the dynamic she had with them, but speaking ill of them was likely the quickest trip to his grave. The Reaper didn’t hint at a smile. She cast her cold stare directly into his eyes as she waited for his response. His death would be quick and easy. She didn’t care enough about his mana to spare him if he intended to be so disrespectful.

Slender fingers reached forward to grip his jaw, keeping him from looking away from her. “Now tell me, human mage, do you intend to be mine, or do you seek your death?”