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Portal - The Rise of a Mage (Black_Out/Iridel)

With a puff of his cheeks John offered a brief smile and nod as he crawled on his hands and knees to the edge of the creek. His thick workman like arms dipped into the chill of crisp clear waters and fished about the pebble strewn slick surface. Soon he produced two slick flat rocks, one significantly larger then the other and set one down while he dried the other off against the meager cloth garment covering his chest.

"I can grind them up for you, just lay what you want me to mash into a paste on this rock, alright?" He stated as he laid the freshly dried flat creek rock down in the grass before him and went about the task of drying off the smaller stone. Despite the poor girls severe injuries, John attempted to keep a positive outlook and warm demeanor. She had skills that could be vital to their mutual survival and if anything John wanted to survive.

The other's about the hill paid the pair little to no attention as most were plagued with exhaustion and despair. Most were sound asleep, while a few were drinking waters from the cool stream, there was even one younger woman towards the base of the hill that chose to just lay in the midst of the stream and let the cold chill of the water refresh and clean her worn and weary body.

Back from whence they had come into this strange land a trio of men were gathered beyond the fringes of the field of death beneath the portal. They drew attention their way as they yelled and screamed as they fought valiantly against a massive pair of rats. One of the men didn't seem to be faring well, as he had fallen upon his back and was struggling with one of the beastly rats that had clambered up onto his chest. The other pair were busy kicking and beating the rat with flesh ridden femur bone they must of collected from the pile. As they injured the rat it scurried back into the maze of corpses and disappeared while the other man let out a blood curdling shriek as the rat a top of him chomped down into his chest and with adrenaline offered by his wound he flung the massive rat off of himself, leaving it to join the other as it slid back into the pile of bodies.

There were others still coming out of the sinister glowing red funnel above the mound of corpses, and they worked their way clumsily out of the pile. Among them was Rand, and his gaze soon found the form of Almeta and John upon the distant slopes of the hill.

The sun was fading by now, drawing long shadows out over the lands as the humming of the portal dimmed as the last of the days prisoners had been judged and sentenced.
 
It was far easier to guide him how to grind the petals without words. Even with her mangled hands she could demonstrate pressing and turning the smaller rock against the leaves and turning counter clockwise, and indicate when he needed to add a little water to give moisture to the mix so it would come out as a paste. Once or twice in the beginning she glanced at the others who appeared with a touch of wariness, but when they ultimately left the two of them alone she began to ignore them.

As much as part of her wished to, Almeta knew she couldn't help them all. Right now only herself and John mattered. But it was all but impossible to ignore the men fighting the rats. The one man's scream made her flinch, and she was tempted to look. Ultimately she didn't, though a tear did wind its way down her cheek.

As the sun set there was a serviceable paste she instructed him to apply to his wounds, and she'd gotten a good few strips of cloth from her garments, his, or a combination of the two to bind her mangled hands with. Doing so was aost as painful as having them smashed again, but they needed the protection, and the pressure of the makeshift bandages would help prevent furture bleeding. She was exhausted, and while Rand had noticed her she had not yet noticed him.

Leaned up against John's side, or at the very least lying beside him, she had finally closed her eyes in the hopes of resting. In that state between sleeping and waking she reached inside herself. Doing so she felt that little flicker of magic that was always there. It still existed. That discovery alone was a huge relief even if she had no tongue or hands to channel it, because it meant that despite everything they did they couldn't really take it from her.

And with that, she finally fell asleep. In her mind's eye she did so clutching that spark close to her breast with hands that she no longer had.
 
John had let Almeta fall into a slumber along his side, even carefully lowering himself back down into the soft earth and grasses with care to not disturb her. The burly man who had worked as a lumber jack for years until the wear and tear of it all had caught up with him, forcing him to take simple side jobs, allowed for the sleeping young woman to nestle against his shoulder and arm as he fell into his own deep sleep. Unbeknownst to either, the battered and bruised cloth covered monk, Rand, had settled into a state of meditation nearby and kept quiet vigil over the pair as they slept.

Dreaming upon the soft slope of the peaceful hill side offered Almeta a mental escape from the traumatic events that had unfolded so swiftly in her young life. She felt free, unburdened, and bore no wounds, the pain her body was wracked with seemed a distant and numb memory. She had visions of her Mother, tending the gardens with her in her youth when she was learning the skills necessary to carry on her Mother's business one day. Her Mother was a kind and warm woman, and while not an openly religious sort, she did share with Almeta the tender and caring teachings of the Lady of the Veil.

She remember planting a simple flat and oval shaped pine seed with her Mother on the eve of the dawn of spring. The ritual was a simple one, her Mother had chosen a plot of land near their humble cottage in the back edges of her property. A shallow pit was dug, and filled with a mixture of rich earth and moist fertilizing components that single pristine seed nested within. That was seven years ago, and in that time the tree had risen to lay claim over the back edges of the meager cottage. Before her Mother had passed from disease, she had remarked to Almeta that she felt the tree could grow to be fifty feet or more in height.

Sleeping contently upon the soft pillow of John's side, dreaming of days since gone and clinging to the spark of magic that dwelt within her, a series of images sparked in her mind that she would recall with crystalline clarity. There was a glade, somewhere far from where she was currently, and the sun broke into the open meadow that was surrounded by the thickness of a forest. That image flashed away, replaced with another of her mangled hands somehow working to bury a pure and white pine seed beneath damp and rich soils within the midst of the meadow, along side a shallow spring of fresh water where a frog no larger then her thumb watched from upon a small stone at the edges of the spring.

She woke then sometime later, John was still asleep, and a short distance down the hill was Rand, who had crumpled to his side as exhaustion had laid claim to the monk while he was in the depths of his meditation. She didn't realize it at first, but Almeta felt a strange sensation between her bandaged left hand. Looking to it, there was a single pine seed of pure albino coloration that had somehow ended up caught within the folds of the ragged cloth strips she had wrapped about them.
 
Almeta woke to find the seed in her hand. Most of her dreams were forgotten. Lost in the veil between sleeping and waking. But the visions of the glade, and the spring, and even the little frog that watched her dig and plant the seed she now held, were as clear as if she'd seen them just moments ago. It left her stunned and baffled. Ordinary folk didn't have visions. And unskilled magic users with little powers certainly didn't either.

But she had. There was nothing else it could be.

More importantly it meant she had a goal. A quest even. Perhaps it seemed a trivial thing seeing as she wasn't going to play some great evil, but it was still a purpose. A reason to live and keep moving forward. It made the pain that still throbbed in her hands, lips, and tongue seem less terrible and important, and it gave her a strength and sense of resolve she didn't know she was capable of.

Looking to the East she saw only the barest traces of sunlight, and yawning she was reminded that more sleep was needed. Using her lips to move the seed she tucked it beneath a strip of bandage and grabbed the end to pull it tighter and hold the seed in place. It wasn't a perfect solution, but until she could get a pouch for it the seed would be safe. Smiling she curled back up against John to sleep until the first true rays of light fell upon her face. They'd both need their rest for the journey she was about to propose.
 
John stretched out in the grasses, waking from the depths of his slumber and the dreams that were gracious enough to lift him out of the reality he was currently in. For a brief flickering moment he felt as if he was awakening back home in his bed with his wife curled up alongside him. His thick workman like arm tightened about her dainty body as he began to blink the sleep away from his weary eyes. Clunky fingers sunk in against her wide hips and he turned his head to breath in the scent of her light strawberry hair.

That's when the realization dawned upon him, that we wasn't in the comforts of his bed at home. That his wife wasn't snugly nested in the crook of his arm, and that it was the young herbalist, Almeta. Her body felt warm against his, and despite the poor girl's battered, bruised, and tortured body she still possessed some measure of attractiveness, especially so in the plumpness of her breasts which John caught himself admiring beneath the torn white fabric of her meager attire.

Then a rumble of emptiness yearning to be filled worked it's way up from it's stomach and John found his attentions drawn to that sensation. He uncurled himself from the tender warmth of the young sleeping woman against his body and carefully and gently led her to rest in the comfort of the plush grasses. He smiled briefly down to her as he spat some saliva on his hand and delicately wiped away a smear of blood and dirt from the young ladies face before he crawled over to the edge of the stream.

By the time she would wake, Almeta would see John at the edge of the babbling brook, splashing the cool and invigorating waters upon himself and then dipping his face into the water to quench his thirst. Rand had woken long before either of the two did and had taken his leave of the pair. Off in the distance to the south, towards a line of tree's with fresh stubble sprouting upon his face the young and talented monk was returning towards them, cradling a harvest of spring onions, edible roots, and berries in his arms.

"Good morning, sleepy one." His smile lighted across his bruised and battered face as he looked towards Almeta with his one good eye and kneeled at her side, laying the simple harvest he had collected out before them all to partake in. "I brought some breakfast for us all."

John glanced back over his shoulder, looking to Almeta to make sure this visitor was welcome company.
 
John leaving her side allowed the cold of the morning air to reach her and fully rouse her from sleep. She could still feel the little seed tucked away in her bandages and see the images of the glade and the spring. Almeta knew she had to tell him, but first it seemed that Rand had made it through alive. It was a relief to see him there and to know they hadn't killed him with that beating.

Smiling she gave a nod of thanks and motioned him to where the letters were still scratched into the soft dirt. Kneeling there she spelled out:

Thank you for breakfast, and for the warning. I only wish we could have known sooner.

With a nod of her head she indicated for John to join the two of them before continuing.

Last night I had a vision of myself planting a white pine seed in a glade I've never seen before. I woke up with the seed in my bandages and the images as clear in my mind as if I'd lived them yesterday.

Unthinkingly she went to chew her lower lip in thought only to be reminded of the burns and wince slightly.

I don't know where to begin looking but I have to find it. I have to plant the seed.

Biting the inside of her cheek rather than irrituating her lips she looked at the two men fully aware they might think her mad, or at the very least a little touched. But she knew what she saw and she was ready to convince them.
 
Both John and Rand sat along Almeta's side as she went about spelling out the details of her dreamed vision. They chewed on the berries and assorted tender roots and onions that Rand had provided, gaining some measure of much needed energy from them. The two drastically different men looked towards each other as Almeta finished making her request.

John was the first to respond and he did so with a slightly wry tone and smirk upon his lips. "Well, I don't have any plans, so count me in Almeta." His gaze looked to her with some reassurance before he looked to Rand. "I'm John, by the way, I knew her Mother when we were kids." The burly retired lumberjack offered as a quick explanation for his presence along side her.

Rand nodded once and deeply bowed his head. "My name is Rand." He said simply to the older man before looking to Almeta. "I've known her, for awhile, and my help is given without question." His lips tucked into a quick smile to Almeta as he pointed to the south. "There are thick woods to the south, maybe we should start there."

He took a glance about at the other's lingering upon the hill and lowered his voice. "I managed to kill a pair of rabbits and hid them in the forest. They should make a better meal then berries and roots." He stood up and went to offer some help to Almeta, settling his arm beneath her own to help her to her feet.

"I can show the way." Rand said as John was getting to his feet now as well.
 
She didn't need words to express her appreciation to the two men. It shone through in her smile and the grateful look in her blue eyes. Accepting Rand's help to stand, she nodded in agreement about heading to the forest. It was as good a place to start as any, and it would get them out of the open.

It was a longer walk than she thought it would have been, and when they got to the treeline her feet were beginning to ache and she was getting thirsty. Almeta didn't draw attention to it though. The more progress they could make the better. Still, it was appreciated when they found the rabbits and could sit and eat something more than foraged berries.

The stop was also a good opportunity to tend to wounds once more. She could see the same herbs growing nearby, and getting John's attention she mimicked applying the paste with her mangled hands to indicate they needed to make more and reapply it to their injuries. Gingerly she unwrapped her bandages, careful to do the right one first so the pine seed could be held carefully between her lips when the left ones were removed.

Her hands were more swollen then the day before, and with the pressure removed they throbbed angrily and ached far worse. But a careful visual examination told her there was no sign of infection so far. Gentle feeling with her chin didn't discover any warm spots of inflammation, and the redness where scabs had formed didn't look more red than they should be. They might never be the same or even useable again, but at least it seemed like they might have a chance to heal cleanly.
 
Rand seemed to take to the lead of the group, leaving John to keep watch of Almeta as the trio traveled into the deepening woods that swept out before them after they had taken their break. For the first hour or so the forest was thin and rolled downwards as they followed the widening stream of water that ran down the sanctuary of the hill they had stayed at after their tumultuous arrival here. Rand stayed close and would check back every ten minutes or so with the both of them before darting quietly back out into the woods to scout out the terrain ahead.

He returned looking a touch troubled and out of breath after one such trip out into the unknown and put his hand up, then his finger to his lips. "There's a break in the tree's ahead. There's a valley this stream runs down into." He spoke in a hushed voice as he finished catching his breath. "I saw some other survivor's down there. Look's like some kind of native barbarians had them cornered." He glanced over to the wandering waters they were trailing along.

"We need to break off from this stream, get far away from it." He turned his gaze deeper into the woods that were thick and overgrown. "We'll stick together, move slow, and keep ourselves low and hidden in the foliage." He looked to Almeta and put his hand on her shoulder. "We'll go as fast as you can manage." He began to cross the stream and worked his way into the brambles and overgrowth, seeking a way to navigate through the natural hazards of the woods.
 
As they walked, Almeta made note of what herbs she could see growing in the underbrush. There was no telling when they might need tthem. She was also looking for anything that felt familiar or matched what she'd seen in her vision. Thus far there wasn't anything, but then again she had a feeling this task wasn't meant to be completed so easily.

When Rand came back with news of the troubling scene he'd come across, she eyed that direction nervously. Moving slow and being hidden was all well and good, but they'd still have to be quiet. She felt the loss of her magic greatly in that moment. If she had it, she could have softened their steps. A small thing that usually was used to not wake sleeping children when stepping on creaky floors, but one that would have been useful nonetheless.

The most she could do was follow behind Rand, her injured hands held close to her body to protect them from the brush and undergrowth. Almeta stepped carefully through the stream to avoid slipping and did her best to move quietly along the path the monk was finding. She was determined not to slow them down too much, and ignored the ache in her feet and legs as they protested to the excercise after the full day standing just the day before.
 
Rand moved at a snail's pace, delicately moving branches aside and gesturing with quiet taps of his feet towards places he thought it best to step. He stayed low to the ground and kept his hand feather light on the side of Almeta's shoulder as he guided them through the thick foliage. With the insistently slow pace and the direction of the light footed monk leading the way the trio made very little noise as they sneaked away from the meager path that was worked around the streams edges.

Rand aimed to get them up over a nearby ridge as quickly as possible and down into the concealment of the other side and he let out a quiet sight of relief as they passed the crest of the ridge and worked their way down the tangled slope. It was a tricky task, but Rand was patient to the extreme in it and made certain to help both Alemta and John down the terrain one at a time. He let out another sigh of relief and smiled between the pair before beckoing them to follow him deeper into the woods.

The sounds of cracking whips echoing in the distance brought their movements to a halt as both Rand and John held their hands up just slightly enough to signal to stop. They sat there in silence, crouched down amidst the deep undergrowth of the forest, with only the buzzing of insects and the breeze rustling through the trees as the sounds around their hidden place. Those whips and their snapping sounds grew clearer and from beyond the ridge they could hear the passing of a fairly large group crunching twigs and stumbling loudly down the trail back towards the North.

The sounds and voices passed after a handful of long minutes but Rand kept his hand up after the sounds of the groups travel had vanished. He waited still as a stone for what seemed an eternity, but was really about a half hour, and then he gestured for them to follow along once more as he took them far away from the beaten path.
 
Going down the slope was perhaps the hardest part. She didn't have her hands to catch herself with, and she couldn't reach out and grab the brush to lower herself. If Rand and John hadn't been there she would have likely fallen down it rather than climbed. But they weren't clear yet. The crack of whips made her flinch, and having to stop and wait for them to pass was nerve wracking.

As they crouched there she felt fear trying to claw at her throat. Her ears strained for the sounds of dogs, terrified this would be a repeat of her capture. The sound of her heart and her breath was entirely too loud it seemed, and when they finally did pass it felt a wonder they weren't found. As they resumed their journey the sudden rush of relief at having remained unnoticed placed the faintest tremor in her legs, and distracted her a moment from the ache in the soles of her feet.

As the hottest part of the day approached she began to feel fatigue creeping into her legs. Every step began to make them ache, and each one was becoming harder than the last. But she wasn't going to complain. She kept pushing, trying not to let it slow her down. There was still more of the day to go that could be used to make progress, and she didn't want to be the reason it got wasted.
 
Rand allowed for the pace to quicken in moderation once the sense of danger had passed, though he kept himself with the other two instead of moving off ahead now that their travels had taken them off the easy to follow trail. When it was obvious that Almeta, and to a lesser extent John were in need of a break he took that opportunity upon himself to venture off ahead while telling them to stay put and catch their breath. While Almeta might of felt bad about the breaks that Rand forced upon the others he did not mind the slower pace.

John spent those quiet moments alone with Almeta on his haunches, arms folded across his legs. "Hey, Almeta, if you see anything useful to you while were out here, maybe we can come up with an easy way for you to let me know and I can pick it for later." He kept his voice hushed as they waited for Rand to return. The day was growing old and Rand had wanted to find a decent spot to settle in for the night so he told them he was going to circle the area and see if anything was suitable.

John though had other immediate matters to attend too as he gave Almeta an uneasy smile. "I..uh, need to use the bushes, I'll be back in a moment and won't be far away." He tried to brighten his smile before he turned and worked his way through the foliage and vanished not long after behind the thickness of a nearby tree. "Ohh...god's..." He could be heard quietly moaning as the sound of him draining his bladder splattered the surrounding leaves.

While Almeta waited for what was a few minutes she found her wandering eyes drawn to a brief flicker of the day's fading light upon a small spot of metal in the nearby overgrowth not but a short crawl from her current position. There was a tangle of vine's and mushrooms about the vicinity, and as she squinted towards the brief reflection therein the shape's beneath the vines became clearer in form to her mind. Not but ten feet away there were a pair of bodies, decomposed humanoid remains covered in moss, dirt, and leaves.

One of the bodies was slumped against a tree and had fallen onto it's side, beneath the muck it looked as if he wore a thin garment of chain links and was perhaps about John's size. There was a bump across his back, where the falling light allowed her to see what appeared to be a back pack with a bed roll curled along it's top. The other body was harder to discern much from at her current vantage point as it laid seemingly flat upon the ground nearby the other, and the overgrown weeds and vines had made it look like a mound of vegetation for the most part.

Except for a few decayed fingers that poked out of the mess of vines and other plants that swallowed the body up. They grasped something thin and long that was covered in filth, save for a small patch of gleaming white metal that shone with a soft blue where the sun sparkled upon it.
 
She did indeed feel bad about slowing them down, but couldn't help but appreciate the breaks at the same time. It was good to be able to stop and catch her breath every now and again. After John's offer to collect things she thought of what might be the best way to ask for him to do so without slowing them down.

Taking a seat when they stopped for the day, she started to settle in, only to notice shine of metal and the corpses nearby. Using an arm to block her nose from the stench she crawled over to get a closer look. The bedroll was certainly of interest, and perhaps they could take turns using it so they'd each have a chance for some comfort at night, but the thin metal object was the thing that caught her attention.

Still seated on the ground, she held herself up with an elbow and used her heel and toes to pull the thing closer and get a better look. It was hard to tell just what it was, but once away from the grasp of the corpse she could curl her toes about it and drag it back over to where the others were.

She used a soft whistle to get their attention and nudged the item before motioning to the corpses to indicate where it had come from. Almeta wished she could actually pick it up and examine it more closely, but she'd have to leave that to her companions. Perhaps one of them would know what it was too.
 
Finally after spending several minutes working the long piece of narrow metal free from the tangle of vines and weeds that had formed about it, Almeta was able to discern through the muck coating the object that it was some sort of curved blade. The use of her toes had wiped some of the caked on debris away, leaving it smeared across the white steel blade beneath. There was a tint of blue upon the weapon that seemed to brighten as her foot dragged the slim curved blade towards herself and brought it into clear view.

The sword at her feet was unlike anything she had ever seen before, even covered in muck and filth as it was, the beautiful and remarkable craftsmanship was impossible to miss. First there was the ivory hilt that had been expertly carved in the shape of a ballerina in the midst of a tight twirling spin, the arms of which extended outward forming the guard of the weapon. The detail upon the figurine handle was exquisite, sculpted down to the finest of details and inlaid with blue sapphires in need of a polishing for the eyes. The strange white steel itself was keen and razor sharp on one edge of the curving narrow length, and fortunately Almeta did not nick herself upon it as she dragged it out of hiding.

As she glanced about for the other's she could hear the sounds of John returning towards her from beyond the tree. There was still no sign of Rand at the moment, though he hadn't been gone for much more then ten minutes. Just as John was coming around the tree in his low crouching lumber Almeta felt a strange presence in the air that was soon followed by the sweet and melodious voice of a lady that sounded quietly from the sword.

"You poor thing, and I thought I was a mess to look at. Speaking of which, do you mind giving me a good polishing, I've been covered in filth for longer then I care to recount." The soft blue glow found it's way back over the length of the sword as it spoke and then faded with it's silence.

"Who are you talking too..?" John looked towards Almeta whose back was towards him and he quickly cut himself short and looked ashamed at having asked such a thing of the poor tongueless girl.
 
The sword was absolutely beautiful, and she was grateful she hadn't accidentally nicked herself on the edge. But the most surprising thing was the voice that come from it. Ordinary swords didn't speak, and they certainly didn't glow. Almeta ignored John's slip up. It wasn't said intentionally, and anyways her focus had turned to attempting to polish the blade. Gingerly she used her bandaged hands to sort of scoop the blade into her lap, and from there did her best using them to rub the fabric of her white gown on the blade to clean the worst of the filth.

It was far from a perfect polish and she had to bear some pain as she used her hands what little she could, but at the end the blade looked far better than when she started. Done, she motioned John over to take a look. Almeta couldn't use it, even if she still had her hands, and having someone weild it would offer some measure of protection.

Still, she felt some regret she could not actually response to the sword and ask how it came to be here. Clearly it was magical in nature, but it seemed so out of place. Something this fine seemed more likely to have been confiscated by use for Merasheel or his Fingers, not thrown the portal with some doomed soul.
 
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John approached slowly, crunching a few twigs under his feet as he looked over Almeta's shoulder and saw the thin length of the curving scimitar in her lap. His eyes widened in surprise as he watched her diligently working her ragged cloth gown over the mud and grime caked length of the blade, revealing the brilliant white metal with the blue tint more and more with every painfully hard stroke of her garment upon it.

"That's amazing, where did you find that, Almeta?" John silently inquired as he put a hand gingerly atop her shoulder and looked towards the fanciful blade. He blinked and recoiled with a flinch of surprise as the sword in her lap shone in soft blues once more as the sultry and silky woman's voice rose from the weapon once more.

"Well thank you sir, do you always talk so sweet to the ladies?" There was an air of amusement to the voice and Almeta could feel the tiny thin hairs on her arms standing on end. "And to you, my dear tongueless wonder, I can hear you just splendidly so long as your holding me like you are now."

The absolute shock of a talking sword sent John falling onto his ass behind Almeta as he held his jaw agape. "..DId..did that...did the..oh my.....that just talked?"

"Let's not be making redundant statements Mister." The voice that floated up from the white steel blade sung as the soft blue glow encompassed the weapon. "But, to answer the lady Almeta's question here, I wasn't thrown through the Portal, I was brought here by an angel, stolen by goblins, and dropped into a fierce river. I've changed hands so many times over the course of my adventures, this poor fella who found me stuck in the banks of that river was my latest traveling companion. To bad that disgusting barbaric tracker got his dagger into his gut just as I stabbed him in the heart."

John sat in stunned silence behind Almeta and shook his head slightly, before wiping the rough edges of his knuckles against his eyes in an attempt to make sure he was truly awake. "My name is Jasmine, the dancing and singing blade, at your service, I suppose."
 
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