Ferris Talese
@Pezz570@HokumPocusThe forest was a quiet rustle of leaves around Ferris as he walked, and in the distance crickets were readying their songs for when the sun sank below the skyline. Around him, the air was cooling to the slightly nippy nighttime temperature common to the border between the Lands of Taste and Sight.
Ferris adjusted his hat as a bit of wind leaked through the trees. He'd make it to the next town before nightfall, but perhaps it was time to consider upping up his pace a bit. The border woods weren't known for being safe after dark, and every now and then a corpse would turn up for one reason or another. While Ferris was secure in his abilities, he wasn't one to spend time and energy frivolously. So, resting his hand on the hilt of his blade under his cloak, he moved to speed up his pace, but a sound from behind—a throat clearing—made him whirl around.
Leaning against a tree was a black haired man who wore an easy, confident grin as he waved to Ferris. There was something unnatural about the scene. It was not just the man who acted as if he knew Ferris but the forest as well. The crickets were no longer chirping. The leaves had stopped their rustling. The air had gone still, and the forest... silent.
Ferris didn't react, instead watching the man carefully. The man hadn't snuck up on him because no one had. Not in a long time, and not in the middle of the woods, where leaves and earth were the only scents around. The other option, however, made both more and less sense; it was unlikely that the man teleported to or materialized in his current position, yet such would explain the utter lack of scent and sound.
Weighing his options, Ferris figured talking was his best course of action. If the man wanted Ferris' head, he'd just given up his best chance at it, and—judging by his grin—he was probably a talker. And, since Ferris had only questions at this point, he would play along.
“Who are you?”"Who am I?" The mystery man repeated, rubbing his chin in amusement.
"What an odd little question to ask me." The man turned his back to Ferris and gazed towards the night sky as if in thought.
"To say I am a who would imply that I am someone. A someone forever is, and even after death remains forever who they were. Me? I'm forever changing, much like time itself. So a someone I am not. A who I can never be.
"But, what am I?" The man continued, twirling with his arms outstretched.
"Now there's an interesting question! For a what I most certainly am. Exactly what, I shall not say. I fear the answer is far too much, especially for a mind as unhinged as your own.
"No, no." The man said with a smirk and a swat of his hand.
"Simple. I'll keep things simple. I would rather have that mind remain uncracked, after all. Instead, I'll keep things down to a name. I tend to take my names by the person. For you? I'll go with... Hagan Talese..." The man pronounced the name slowly and deliberately. His lips curled into a calculated and knowingly grin. The kind that would put any man's hair on ends.
The mystery man locked eyes with Ferris. Looking as if he were peering into Ferris soul.
Ferris froze. It'd been years since he heard that name. Hagan Talese, the man who'd died fighting off assassins in a bid to buy Ferris enough time to escape out the back window of their cabin. The same cabin was a beacon of orange light when Ferris finally chanced a look behind him, easily identifiable in the night, and even now Ferris could recall the acrid smell of smoke.
Whether or not he'd actually smelled it was irrelevant, just as it was irrelevant how this man knew his father's name. Without warning, Ferris sprung at the man, drawing his blade and slashing it towards the man's throat.
Blood sprayed forth from the neck of the black hair man. The blade cutting cleanly through. The man who introduced himself as Hagan, collapsed to the ground. dying a pool of blood.
"Yikes..." Came a voice behind Ferris. It was the same as the one belonging to the man Ferris had just killed.
"Now perhaps Hagan isn't the most hilarious name I've introduced myself as but there's no need to go making mess over it."Behind Ferris sat the same black haired man which Ferris had just killed. He eyed Ferris with and sly look on his face.
"Honestly, friend, you mustn't go killing every odd person you see. The even people? Sure! Go right on ahead! But the odd ones? Oh no, no, no! You see, it's odd ones who are the most interesting of the bunch!" The man smirked as if amused by his own joke.
Ferris stiffened, whirling around to put his sword between himself and the man who was and wasn’t bleeding out on the floor.
”What do you want,” he asked flatly.
His eyes flicked to the man on the floor, whose throat bubbled with his last breaths, to the silent forest around them that was suddenly devoid of the sounds of leaves and life. Then, his eyes settled warily again on the second man.
"Now why is it that everyone just assumes I want something from them? Maybe I just stopped for a good old chit chat, or maybe I'm here just to make a friend. What do you say, dead me? Why do you think everybody thinks I'm out to get something?" The man, who introduced himself as Hagan, turned expectantly towards the dead version of himself as if expecting a response. He waited patiently with is hand to his ear. Nodding every half a second or so.
"Uh-huh," The man said.
"You don't say?" He continued.
"Huh. I never thought of it that way. Gee thanks, dead me." The man turned his attention back to Ferris
"Dead me says I could use a bath. He also told me to tell you he said, hi." The man gave Ferris an amused smile, knowing full well that he was being unhelpful.
"Truth is, what I want is actually quite simple. I want a good cup of tea-" He said, raising his hand and snapping his fingers. A cup of tea materialized in his left hand.
-and for the success of some convoluted plan which just so happens to align with a silly bounty hunter's quest for revenge." The man took a sip from his cup of tea.
"So tell me, friend... Do I have your attention?"Ferris stayed silent as the man spoke, watching him carefully. From his magic, it was clear that the man was stronger than him, and perhaps even the strongest magic-user he’d had ever encountered. Unless this was all an illusion—which was possible, but still left Ferris in an unfavorable position—the man had literally summoned a flesh-and-blood copy of himself, which meant he likely couldn't be killed via normal means.
“Yeah.” Ferris let his bladed hand drop to his side.
“You have my attention.”
Olfaccium was Ferris’ least favorite month, given his choice of clothing, but he’d never let it bother him. Having arrived in Shimmer Town at sunrise, he’d spent the morning walking around town looking for something—or someone—in particular. The information he’d been given was sufficient to help him locate his new targets, but it was a sizable town with a decent population. Stale scents were available, but Ferris needed fresh ones to track, lest he be led randomly around by the nose. Though the information he’d been provided seemed largely accurate, he disliked the idea of immediately trusting what he’d been told. Until he found the ones he’d been told about, until he’d spoken to them, gauged their goals and desires, he’d continue to be wary.
The town was a messy mix of scents in the morning, likely leftovers from fights from days prior. The fainter scents were only detectable if he focused, meaning they were likely old and past their use. Stronger scents, though, offered little information without a face to put them to, and a face was all Ferris lacked at the moment. A face and a location, but the latter provided the former.
However, given the state of the town—the dead lining the streets with mourners caught between celebration and sorrow—Ferris figured it wouldn’t take long to find his targets after they started moving through the town. If his source was correct, the group was still in town, so it was just a waiting game. This fact culminated in an uneventful morning as Ferris walked the town, knowing full well he wasn’t the only one looking but being unable to do anything about the fact. That he’d been pointed in their direction was proof enough of the group’s threat to the shadows of the town, and Ferris knew he’d be naive to believe he was completely safe roaming inside town walls.
It took a bit of aimless wandering after stray scents and a good bit of luck but after a decent amount of time following the fading pinewood scent indicative of Touch magic, a scuffle of sorts broke out in the square, starting with an unannounced crash. Those involved easily parted the meager crowd as the chased and chasing sped away from the scene, the sharp smell of fresh pine enough to incite Ferris to follow. With a scent trail to track, he was hard on their heels, though he maintained some distance as to not clue in the pursuers. When they turned into an alleyway, Ferris waited a beat, then ran over, pausing at the corner to access his vials and pull up his mask. In went dabs of fruit and earth in case things went south.
Then, drawing a dagger, Ferris rounded the corner and drove it into the lower back of the nearest man from behind before kneeing him, using the momentum of his fall back to push him off the dagger. The man’s pained cry was cut short as Ferris caught him, slitting his throat and dropping him. Blood welled out around the man’s fingers as he hit the ground, grasping at a lost cause.
“Chres. Octavio,” Ferris said, tossing aside his dagger and drawing his sword, the other thugs backing away from him with their weapons up and eyes wide.
“Let’s talk after.”With that, he lunged at the next closest thug, blade high to disguise his intentions to pivot a kick.
