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Arcana Transcendant (runawayninja x RetroWitchcraft)

runawayninja

runawayninja

Supernova
Joined
Apr 29, 2010
Rafe gasped out as he charged at full speed. It was said that amongst mages, necromancers were the fastest. It was a joke amongst the Cult of Rathma, more commonly known as necromancers. Or rather, as the true necromancers. The joke being that once a necromancer was found out, they usually had to be fleet of foot to survive the common masses that saw them as evil and unjust. Rafe was now putting his traveling boots to the test as he was running along the main road of the small town of Thayde where he was simply resting from his journey and perform minor magical tricks for some quick gold. But a traveling bard had exposed him as a necromancer and now the local guardsmen were pursuing him out of town. Rafe's long black cloak was rather distinctive as he charged out against the rays of the dying sun.

Rafe's other features were just as noticeable. Long silvery hair like streams of moonlight were in contrast to his dark cloak, as well as the pale, bone-like flesh that lent him an unearthly, haunting beauty to his youthful features. It made his sharp, bright green eyes that shone with a fierce intelligence stand out all the more, when they weren't softened by his light-hearted nature. "Trang-Oul, lend me your wings..." he muttered as he looked behind him, not paying attention to the road ahead.
 
Only three days had passed since Eowyn parents were found, dead, in the sweeping gardens of their estate. Just seventy-two hours had slouched by but to her it felt like an eternity. Each second stretched onward and bared down on her very soul. Their deaths had been particularly brutal. Apparently there had been blood everywhere and, while she was not the one to stumble across the corpses, she had seen a symbol etched on to her father's chest. Imprinted in her mind, she saw the thing every time she managed to drift off for a few minutes.

No longer able to live in the same place that her parents died, and fueled by the sense of revenge, she set out on the road. A large satchel of coins and a bag full of some supplies were the only things she carried with her. Although she was unsure of exactly where she was going, she knew what she wanted more than anything. Vengeance!

Yet there was hardly any fire in her that day. Travelling had taken some gusto from her plans. Her sleep starved body wobbled down the unfamiliar street, her mind in a daze. Hair so black that it shined blue in the light hung across her face and disturbed her vision. She did not noticed the man barreling towards her or the crowd that followed him.

It was not until that she looked up that she realized, too late, that he was going to crash into her. There was a moment where she tried to sidestep him but it was impossible. He collided with her and sent the wispy maiden tumbling. Legs were thrown over her head and she rolled on the ground, partially stunned.
 
"Look! He's in league with an elf witch!" That's what someone called out and Rafe instantly knew that his troubles had spilled over onto someone else's plate. Some small town folk were extremely xenophobic and this was, apparently, one of them. Rafe looked behind him, seeing the torches and farm implements, and he instantly grabbed her hand, yanking her to her feet. "C'mon! They think you're with me and they want to burn me, so no telling what they'll do to an attractive elf maiden!" He didn't let her hand go in case she resisted in confusion and continued on his path, heading for the edge of town with her in tow. Need could give one great strength and great speed and in this case, it was true. "Trang'Oul, make us light..."
 
There was he pain that came with scraped skin. All over her body, especially on her elbows and knees, the sting of grazing off flesh pricked. A very thin line of blood trickled down an exposed, pale leg. She was stunned to silence as she attempted to recover from what had just happened but, much to her chagrin, there was no time allotted for her to regain an iota of composure or to even howl at the oaf with whom she had collided.


Everything happened too quickly for the dazed halfbreed to comprehend. A derogatory term was thrown and the man who had bumped in to her had grabbed a hold of her hand. Practically dragging her, he hightailed it through the streets of the small town.

Sense finally prevailed and, shaking her head, she snapped out of the confusion. "I have just come from this direction!" she said scathingly.

Then her remaining color drained. "What are you doing? Where are you taking me?!"

What in the underworld was going on?
 
"At the moment, the answer to both those questions is running away from that mob!" He shouted as he raced towards the woods. It was night and they might not be safe, but uncertain danger was preferable to certain danger. "If you can run under your own power, it would make this a lot easier! I'd appreciate that and I'm sure you would too!" He was racing as fast as he possibly could. There was no time or concentration to use any magic and anyways, these poor misguided fools were not worthy of his time and effort and they had done nothing truly wrong to him or others. Their narrow-mindedness would come back to them.

After the escape was made, in the blackness of the woods, Rafe finally stopped to gasp for air. The villagers wouldn't leave the town at night. He started to cough and bent forward, filling his lungs with precious air and giving his aching muscles pause. "I'm sorry...about that. I'm sorry...you got involved...I just did what I thought might...save you from them."
 
Running was not something she was used to but, being half elven, she was naturally fleet of foot even in times when exhaustion nibbled away the better part of her resolve. Without really thinking much on it, as she just listened to what he said, she continued with the dashing.

Like him she collapsed against a tree, panting painfully. Everything was still in a horrible fog for her. A man had bumped in to her, a mob of angry and pitchfork wielding villagers called her something nasty, the man dragged her behind him like a ragdoll, and now there they were. Keen sight picked up on the light of the moon and she was able to see somewhat. Unfortunately she had not picked up complete night vision like most of her kind did.

Her eyes, pale gold and luminous, darted towards him. Clearly she was still trying to make sense of this mess she had gotten drawn in to. She sized him up, trying to ascertain exactly why someone like him was a threat to a whole village.

"Why did they chase you?" she asked after she had regained her breath. "And why did they call me an elven witch?"
 
Rafe waited to reply to her until he was totally able to vocalize himself. His face was flush red from effort as he hefted himself up on tired legs and sore knees to address her properly. He slowly pulled back his black hood to reveal himself to her. "I imagine they called you that because they are small town folk with small minds. As to why they were chasing me, some bard in that town pointed me out as a necromancer. He's right...but I think that's a poor reason to do something like that to a person." He looked at her and waited for the obvious reaction, something he was used to by now. "I mean you no harm, I can assure you of that."
 
A necromancer?! Her eyes widened and she flattened herself against the tree. Although she too was a magical class, the art of necromancy was considered forbidden by many. Playing with the dead and raising them contorted the very essence of the natural order. If that was why he was being chased, however, the townsfolk were ignorant. It amazed her that such a place existed in such close proximity to the city of New Hope.

Still the company could be much better. "I don't think you're going to hurt me! That is just stupid! I just think necromancers are the worst sort of mages!"

The almond shaped eyes narrowed once more and she took in a sharp breath. "Why did you even bother saving me? What's your motive?"
 
He narrowed his eyes a bit as if he was insulted, but if he was, he did not say such a thing, he simply looked at her as if he wanted to get to the bottom of her line of reasoning. "My motive, was to prevent a woman from becoming kindling, namely you. And why is my kind the worst sort of mages, hmm? Because we recall souls from paradise and uproot their bodies? Because we keep spirits in little gems to speak to at our convenience? Because we turn the living into terrible experiments? Some necromancers may commit such atrocities, but the Priests of Rathma do no such thing and if you think I am merely a trafficker in the dead, then I'll say my goodbyes now and go along my way, because I have no interest in such company."
 
Eowyn glared at him as he prattled off what necromancers did. She did not need to be informed what they did. Her father had told her plenty about the different types of mages and had spent an extensive amount of time on the spell casters that had an affinity towards the dead. Her cheeks shone a bright red, flushing her face and spreading down to her neck.

"Well, what did you expect me to think?" she shot back hastily. "You did not exactly explain yourself."

There was a pause as her anger subsided and a dangerous sort of curiosity. He had said that he was not an evil necromancer. She had never even heard of his order before. Her rose red lips pursed.

"What exactly does a Priest of Rathma do, if not the typical atrocities of your caste?"
 
He paused. She was expressing interest, a potential open-mind. Someone who he could change the thinking of. Someone who could spread that word of the Priests of Rathma and change the minds of others. Something like that, he could not turn his back on.

"The Priests of Rathma work to maintain the balance of life and death. We ensure that the living die and the dead stay dead. That might sound cold, but someone has to. There are plenty of evils that seek to extend their time here on the world. There are plenty of dead who seek a forceful way back into the world of the living. We ensure, in the name of Trang-Oul, that the balance is maintained. When we're not doing that, we tend to use our powers to better people's lives. The dead have much to teach, many songs to sing, and we are their voices." There was a tone of stringent expectation of the failure of his words to make an impact. He had apparently done this before without the intended result.
 
Whether or not he was telling the truth was impossible to tell. There was conviction in his words and, really, he had no reason to lie to a complete stranger. Especially one that he had just rescued from a violent, over zealous mob. Did a necromancer need a reason to lie though? From the way she was educated, the answer to this was no.

Still she was more intrigued by his description than put off. "You can contact the dead without raising them? As in you can speak to spirits?"

Her pulse quickened, her eyes peeled to him. If that was the case then maybe she could pay him to commune with her parents. There were no clues to go off of in their murders, save the symbol cut into her father's chest, and no one knew what it meant.
 
He looked at her carefully and cautiously. "It can be done, but it isn't easy, or safe. Why?" He was suspicious of her motives. There are many that would abuse such power. "I would have to know what I am doing and for what reason." He started to walk into the forest, and then stopped, looking at her. "Do you know the forests?" He seemed to be under the impression that all elves lived in the forest and had mystical powers in the woods.
 
Eowyn did not want to reveal why she wanted to know. Speaking of it always brought tears to her eyes no matter how strong she attempted to stay. The memory of their deaths was still too painful and infuriating for her to talk freely of and, everyone she tried to explain her predicament to, had treated her like a poor simple girl.

"I was just curious," she murmured before looked towards the woods. Being half elf, she had little affinity with the woods. Flowers didn't sing to her, the trees didn't whisper secrets. "I am not familiar with woods, I am sorry. I can see though. I'll be our sight."
 
He nodded slowly. "For obvious reasons, I'm rather wary of people attempting to use me for their own ends." He started to follow her. "So what do you do? I'm sure being an elf is great, but there must be more to you. Much like there's more to me than being a spooky guy that hangs out in crypts." Rafe watched her carefully, looking about for any signs of danger from either her or the forest.
 
That was what she wanted to do, wasn't it? The reason she had asked was because she wanted to get the information needed to carry out her revenge but she didn't care if it was selfish or not. Two people were dead, two very important people, and she needed to know.

Without asking to, she took the lead. The moon and star light provided enough of a spectrum for her to make out the branches and bushes, even through the thick canopy.

"We are fortunate the moon is full and high tonight," she told him. "I can see more than I normally could."

It was small talk but the pair had met under very odd circumstances, which didn't exactly leave things open to smooth conversation. Rather the whole business was awkward and forced. At least it gave her something else to think about than what had clouded her mind the last few days.
 
He saw that his questions went unheeded and he figured she probably either had some secret business, or simply did not want to tell him. Either way, he saw it to be in his best interest to stay with her, lest he should come across some hungry wolf by himself. Rafe looked at her as he followed and sighed softly. "I suppose it'll be another night in the woods for me. It's not the first time, but damned if I like it. Unless you want to spend the night trekking to New Hope."
 
There was no way to hide the pain that flooded into her eyes at the mention of New Hope, not as their qualities made them practically shine in the moonlight. A hand flew to her mouth to stifle the sob that escaped her throat. Any animal nearby would be alerted to their presence but she could not stop herself.

"I-I just came from New Hope," she yammered out. Her hands shook and she supported herself against the tree.
 
Rafe paused in his step and looked at her. He thought better of trying to ease her pain at this point, she was well into it. But he couldn't hold himself or his nature back. He walked to her side and slowly placed a hand on her shoulder. "What happened...? Tell me. My name is Rafe and...if I can help, I'd like to..."
 
Eowyn did not want to tell a complete stranger what had happened three days prior unless they intended to assist her. The few people she had managed to tell acted as if she was an idiot, stricken mad by grief and to be pitied as such. People she did not know didn't offer any real help or sympathy. Still he had saved her. That was something, wasn't it?

"M-my parents were nobility of New Hope..." she trailed off and took in a deep breath. If she wanted to be viewed as more than a sniveling weakling, she needed to show she was more. "They were killed very recently."
 
Rafe's face slowly fell. His thoughts about his responsibilities and duties as a Priest of Rathma fell away as he walked to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm very sorry to hear that. You look too young to lose your parents. Do you want to talk about it? Death has been a part of my life and training, if you were to have someone to discuss it with, I'd think someone like me would be it." He genuinely wanted to help her, he had caused her enough trouble as it was.
 
Talking to a man she just met about it didn't feel like the right course of action to her. It was wonderful that he was so understanding but, really, that was not what she wanted. What she wanted was for him to try and contact her parents and to ask exactly who had murdered them. Tearful eyes widened and she reached for his hand, taking it in both of her dainty and slender palms.

"If you could help me find out who killed them, I'd be forever in your debt. All I want is vengeance for how they died. It was truly horrible."
 
Rafe frowned softly and slowly retracted his hand from her grasp. "Vengeance is not a feeling to act upon. It sheds more blood, leads to more death..." He looked away. "If you want a hope of contacting them, going to where they lived is your best bet. The dead often flock to places they once lived. But even so, there is no guarantee they'll still remain on this realm, they may have...moved on. In which case, they are beyond my reach at my level of expertise. But I warn you, you will make the walk with me into the spirit realm, since they'll respond to you if they're there, and it's not a safe journey...it involves leaving the body in a state of near death...so your spirit can shed the mortal form."
 
For her, vengeance was all there was or all there ever would be. She was far too young to be torn away from her parents. Even at thirty and five years of age, which was considered full grown for an adult, Eowyn was still in adolescence of her mixture of races. A girl just changing into a young woman.

"There is nothing I would like more than to destroy the people who destroyed my life so thoroughly. If death happens for it, I'll be glad, for either their horridness or my suffering will be allayed." she replied coolly.

The prospect of going back to New Hope did not sit favorably with her but, if that is what it took to be able to speak with her parents, it was to be done. Her features knit into something very cross. "I do not mind it. Being so close to death does not frighten me."
 
He looked at her for a moment before he started to make his way towards New Hope. "Being afraid of death is normal...it is unknown and not even Necromancers know all of it's mysteries." He seemed unwilling to take a side on her quest. He looked at her again as if he were checking on something. "Are you feeling alright? Not feeling tired or any signs of illness at all? Did you want to rest for the night or just move straight to New Hope?"
 
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