silavor
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I'd prefer it if Grey responded first to Arianna's inquiry, but I'll have Ereshk make a reply some time tomorrow if nothing else happens.
Woo, progress!
Ereshk gratefully accepted the young woman's help in hoisting himself up to his feet. He was still a little wobbly, but at least he could stand. The mage nodded absent-mindedly as Arianna explained how he fainted after saving a villager. His hands were still patting down his robes, trying desperately to find his book.
Where in the nine hells did I put it!? Ereshk was starting to panic now. His mind was beginning to fully comprehend the notion that he may have lost his master's spellbook. It was at that moment that Arianna's words sunk in. His hands stopped their frantic pat-down. They paused for a moment, paralyzed in fear, before falling limp at his sides. Ereshk slowly exhaled. He stared at the young woman with a look of confusion and betrayal. The mage appeared to deflate like a balloon, collapsing back down into the wooden chair.
"Left it... in the alleyway..." he murmured, taking a moment to let the finality of it sink in. "Huh."
Suddenly, a mountain of a man barreled into the house, blood oozing from a gash in his torso. Ereshk jumped to his feet in surprise, and knocked over the chair he had been using in the process. A shiver ran down the mage's spine as the large man in front of them examined his blood-coated hand. Ereshk had to turn his gaze away just to keep himself from vomiting again.
"Wizard... I don't suppose you-" the man paused to cough. "have anything for this, do you?" He appeared to be addressing Ereshk, unless the young apple thief had suddenly sprouted magical powers in the last hour or so. Ereshk risked a quick glance at the wounded man. He immediately regretted that decision, and squeezed his eyes shut a moment later. Nope. Nope, nope nope nope nope nope. Nope. There was just something incredibly unnerving about seeing blood. It wasn't right. Blood was supposed to stay inside your body! Inside! Not out!
Ereshk tentatively opened a single eye, choosing to stare at the young apple thief instead of the wounded man.
"I appear to have lost my spellbook," he began, speaking slow and steady. "I won't be of much help to anyone until I get it back."
Where in the nine hells did I put it!? Ereshk was starting to panic now. His mind was beginning to fully comprehend the notion that he may have lost his master's spellbook. It was at that moment that Arianna's words sunk in. His hands stopped their frantic pat-down. They paused for a moment, paralyzed in fear, before falling limp at his sides. Ereshk slowly exhaled. He stared at the young woman with a look of confusion and betrayal. The mage appeared to deflate like a balloon, collapsing back down into the wooden chair.
"Left it... in the alleyway..." he murmured, taking a moment to let the finality of it sink in. "Huh."
Suddenly, a mountain of a man barreled into the house, blood oozing from a gash in his torso. Ereshk jumped to his feet in surprise, and knocked over the chair he had been using in the process. A shiver ran down the mage's spine as the large man in front of them examined his blood-coated hand. Ereshk had to turn his gaze away just to keep himself from vomiting again.
"Wizard... I don't suppose you-" the man paused to cough. "have anything for this, do you?" He appeared to be addressing Ereshk, unless the young apple thief had suddenly sprouted magical powers in the last hour or so. Ereshk risked a quick glance at the wounded man. He immediately regretted that decision, and squeezed his eyes shut a moment later. Nope. Nope, nope nope nope nope nope. Nope. There was just something incredibly unnerving about seeing blood. It wasn't right. Blood was supposed to stay inside your body! Inside! Not out!
Ereshk tentatively opened a single eye, choosing to stare at the young apple thief instead of the wounded man.
"I appear to have lost my spellbook," he began, speaking slow and steady. "I won't be of much help to anyone until I get it back."
The first sensation Ereshk could recall after passing out was that of weightless floating. It felt like the Void. There was power in the air, and it was the same power Ereshk channeled to form his spells. He looked around, though he could not recall ever actually opening his eyes. A dozen shadowy figures, hidden by hooded cloaks identical to his own, stared down at him from tiered pews. If they were his jury, then the single cloaked figure directly in front of him was his judge.
"Congratulations on your first kill, Ereshk." The single figure in front of him seemed to speak directly into the mage's mind. It was unmistakably the voice of his master. "As you have broken Blood for the first time, allow me to officially welcome you into our order, Brother." The Master raised a sleeve of their robe out from beneath their cloak in order to shake Ereshk's hand, though there was no physical arm within the sleeve to do so. As Ereshk stared curiously at the hollow sleeve, flecks of bone flew in from all over to assemble the skeletal digits of a hand. Tendrils of muscle and vasculature slithered out from within the sleeve, grasping the bones tightly. Rolls of skin and fat soon followed, paving over the musculature. Ereshk watched the fascinating display, completely enthralled as his master's hand assembled itself from nothing. Still rather in shock from the whole affair, Ereshk shook his master's hand without saying a word.
"A toast, then, to our new Brother! May he continue our work in the mortal coil!" His master held up a clear glass wine goblet. The dozen cloaked figures behind the master all held up goblets of their own. Ereshk found that he too had a goblet, and he held it up like the others. A bubbly pink-red fluid flowed into the goblets from the void that surrounded the group. Though it smelled sweet and succulent, Ereshk couldn't help but think of the pink mist that had come out of the bandit. He drank along with the others, and the fluid was more intoxicating than anything he had ever had before. He chugged the ambrosia as fast he he could get it down, licking his lips greedily as he finished. He wanted more.
A swift slap to Ereshk's cheek finally managed to dislodge his silver-frame glasses. They sputtered down his nose before hanging, lopsided, off of the very tip. Ereshk's eyes fluttered open groggily. He inhaled deeply, shocked to find himself awake once more. Where was he? This wasn't the alley. He groaned, instinctively pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. The groggy mage blinked and scrunched up his face, trying to focus back on the present. It appeared he was in some sort of building now. Was he sitting? Yes, he was definitely sitting now. It felt like a wooden chair of some sort.
"Mmph. You're that- That apple thief, right? What occurred?" Ereshk blinked lazily at Arianna, still half in a daze. He idly felt around for his grimoire.
"Congratulations on your first kill, Ereshk." The single figure in front of him seemed to speak directly into the mage's mind. It was unmistakably the voice of his master. "As you have broken Blood for the first time, allow me to officially welcome you into our order, Brother." The Master raised a sleeve of their robe out from beneath their cloak in order to shake Ereshk's hand, though there was no physical arm within the sleeve to do so. As Ereshk stared curiously at the hollow sleeve, flecks of bone flew in from all over to assemble the skeletal digits of a hand. Tendrils of muscle and vasculature slithered out from within the sleeve, grasping the bones tightly. Rolls of skin and fat soon followed, paving over the musculature. Ereshk watched the fascinating display, completely enthralled as his master's hand assembled itself from nothing. Still rather in shock from the whole affair, Ereshk shook his master's hand without saying a word.
"A toast, then, to our new Brother! May he continue our work in the mortal coil!" His master held up a clear glass wine goblet. The dozen cloaked figures behind the master all held up goblets of their own. Ereshk found that he too had a goblet, and he held it up like the others. A bubbly pink-red fluid flowed into the goblets from the void that surrounded the group. Though it smelled sweet and succulent, Ereshk couldn't help but think of the pink mist that had come out of the bandit. He drank along with the others, and the fluid was more intoxicating than anything he had ever had before. He chugged the ambrosia as fast he he could get it down, licking his lips greedily as he finished. He wanted more.
A swift slap to Ereshk's cheek finally managed to dislodge his silver-frame glasses. They sputtered down his nose before hanging, lopsided, off of the very tip. Ereshk's eyes fluttered open groggily. He inhaled deeply, shocked to find himself awake once more. Where was he? This wasn't the alley. He groaned, instinctively pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. The groggy mage blinked and scrunched up his face, trying to focus back on the present. It appeared he was in some sort of building now. Was he sitting? Yes, he was definitely sitting now. It felt like a wooden chair of some sort.
"Mmph. You're that- That apple thief, right? What occurred?" Ereshk blinked lazily at Arianna, still half in a daze. He idly felt around for his grimoire.
Ereshk hurried through the streets of Charten, little more than a ghostly shadow in the wind as he flitted between houses and through alleyways. Without metal armour to slow him down, or metal boots to clang against the cobblestone streets, the dark mage was remarkably quiet compared to the din of battle erupting all around him. Mister Carthul had ordered him to evacuate civilians, so that's exactly what he was going to do. Ereshk knocked on the door of any house he came across, yelling that the town was being raided and that everyone should head north and east away from the assault.
Ereshk himself was slowly fanning south, towards the broken gate. There were fewer occupied houses here. Most of the townsfolk had either already left, or... The smears of blood in the dark alleyways told him all he needed to know. He grimaced, cringing away from one such stain on the wall while clutching his grimoire tightly like a teddybear. Ereshk gasped as he heard a muffled scream from the alley in front of him. His dark brown eyes opened wide, and he could feel his head turn to stare into the darkness of the alley. Ereshk was screaming inside of his head, pleading with himself to turn and run, but his body wouldn't listen to him. The kid took a step towards the alley. Then another. And a third. There, up ahead, as the alley came to a dead-end, were the shadowy figures of a large man with someone much smaller and weaker than them. Ereshk's blood began to boil. The man had to be stopped. But how? He flipped open his grimoire. There was a spell. There was always a spell. Yes, Ereshk had the perfect spell. The perfect penetrating punishment for perpetrators of precocious and perverted ploys. He began to chant in the ancient language of elder magic.
"Eh? Whos're!?" The man threw his captive to the ground before fiddling around with his equipment. The captive cried out upon hitting the ground as the man hefted his axe over his shoulder. "Oi, another hero-type!" He laughed, charging at Ereshk with a gleeful, sadistic grin on his face.
The power of the human soul is immense. Humanity has within themselves the capacity for greatness, both great good and great evil. Love and hate, joy and pain, peace and war; the human soul is a two-headed coin with great potential on either side. But this was not what Ereshk was after. He could feel the buzzing radiance reverberating within his soul, and it was indeed powerful, but his goal was a power much stronger than that. His mind stretched out further, into the void beyond, and he cried out his prayer to the Darkness. This was a ritual Ereshk had done countless times before under his master's tutelage, but something felt different today. Something was off. The darkness of the void that Ereshk channeled through himself felt alive, more than it ever had before. It mingled with Ereshk's raging, boiling blood. It fed off the writhing and conflicted emotions that lashed out from both sides of Ereshk's soul like brilliant solar flares. The void's power engulfed him entirely, smothering the blazing light of his soul with its soothing darkness. Only one thought remained: obliteration.
Thin dendrites of darkness spread from the corners of Ereshk's eyes as he chanted the invocation from his grimoire. Strange energies began to flicker around him like pulsating lights. The ghostly after-image of some sort of runic circle began to flicker on the ground around the mage's feet. Ereshk finished his incantation and looked up impassively at the charging bandit. He felt no emotion. Emotion was a construct of the soul, and thus completely alien and incomprehensible to Ereshk while the powers of the void gripped him.
The bandit seemed to recognize that Ereshk was casting a spell. He looked like he was preparing to dodge a fireball as he charged towards the mage. Ereshk canted his head. Surely the bandit should know better? This was no fireball. Thick tendrils of shadow shot out down the walls and floor of the stone alleyway from Ereshk's feet, racing at breakneck speed towards the bandit. The bandit's bloodlust saw only Ereshk, and never saw the shadows of the alley turn against him. The racing tendrils lunged all at once, piercing the bandit from all angles, slicing through flesh and bone with ease. A fine pink mist spread out in all directions. For the briefest of moments there was the pitter-patter of rain splashing down on the cobblestone bricks of the alley. As Ereshk's spell dissipated, releasing the energies back into the void, several large chunks of meat slopped to the ground. The wet slapping noise they made as they hit the cobblestones caught Ereshk's attention and snapped him back to reality.
The sight. The smell! Oh gods, what have I done? That was- He was- Ereshk collapsed onto his hands and knees. He was trembling. He felt sick. Disgusting. Wretched. He did this. He called this forth. The smell was overwhelming. Ereshk vomited up what little he had eaten. Clutching his grimoire to his chest with a death-grip, the mage crawled over to the side of the alley with the last of his willpower. With no more strength left to hold himself upright, Ereshk slumped over, unconscious.
Ereshk himself was slowly fanning south, towards the broken gate. There were fewer occupied houses here. Most of the townsfolk had either already left, or... The smears of blood in the dark alleyways told him all he needed to know. He grimaced, cringing away from one such stain on the wall while clutching his grimoire tightly like a teddybear. Ereshk gasped as he heard a muffled scream from the alley in front of him. His dark brown eyes opened wide, and he could feel his head turn to stare into the darkness of the alley. Ereshk was screaming inside of his head, pleading with himself to turn and run, but his body wouldn't listen to him. The kid took a step towards the alley. Then another. And a third. There, up ahead, as the alley came to a dead-end, were the shadowy figures of a large man with someone much smaller and weaker than them. Ereshk's blood began to boil. The man had to be stopped. But how? He flipped open his grimoire. There was a spell. There was always a spell. Yes, Ereshk had the perfect spell. The perfect penetrating punishment for perpetrators of precocious and perverted ploys. He began to chant in the ancient language of elder magic.
"Eh? Whos're!?" The man threw his captive to the ground before fiddling around with his equipment. The captive cried out upon hitting the ground as the man hefted his axe over his shoulder. "Oi, another hero-type!" He laughed, charging at Ereshk with a gleeful, sadistic grin on his face.
The power of the human soul is immense. Humanity has within themselves the capacity for greatness, both great good and great evil. Love and hate, joy and pain, peace and war; the human soul is a two-headed coin with great potential on either side. But this was not what Ereshk was after. He could feel the buzzing radiance reverberating within his soul, and it was indeed powerful, but his goal was a power much stronger than that. His mind stretched out further, into the void beyond, and he cried out his prayer to the Darkness. This was a ritual Ereshk had done countless times before under his master's tutelage, but something felt different today. Something was off. The darkness of the void that Ereshk channeled through himself felt alive, more than it ever had before. It mingled with Ereshk's raging, boiling blood. It fed off the writhing and conflicted emotions that lashed out from both sides of Ereshk's soul like brilliant solar flares. The void's power engulfed him entirely, smothering the blazing light of his soul with its soothing darkness. Only one thought remained: obliteration.
Thin dendrites of darkness spread from the corners of Ereshk's eyes as he chanted the invocation from his grimoire. Strange energies began to flicker around him like pulsating lights. The ghostly after-image of some sort of runic circle began to flicker on the ground around the mage's feet. Ereshk finished his incantation and looked up impassively at the charging bandit. He felt no emotion. Emotion was a construct of the soul, and thus completely alien and incomprehensible to Ereshk while the powers of the void gripped him.
The bandit seemed to recognize that Ereshk was casting a spell. He looked like he was preparing to dodge a fireball as he charged towards the mage. Ereshk canted his head. Surely the bandit should know better? This was no fireball. Thick tendrils of shadow shot out down the walls and floor of the stone alleyway from Ereshk's feet, racing at breakneck speed towards the bandit. The bandit's bloodlust saw only Ereshk, and never saw the shadows of the alley turn against him. The racing tendrils lunged all at once, piercing the bandit from all angles, slicing through flesh and bone with ease. A fine pink mist spread out in all directions. For the briefest of moments there was the pitter-patter of rain splashing down on the cobblestone bricks of the alley. As Ereshk's spell dissipated, releasing the energies back into the void, several large chunks of meat slopped to the ground. The wet slapping noise they made as they hit the cobblestones caught Ereshk's attention and snapped him back to reality.
The sight. The smell! Oh gods, what have I done? That was- He was- Ereshk collapsed onto his hands and knees. He was trembling. He felt sick. Disgusting. Wretched. He did this. He called this forth. The smell was overwhelming. Ereshk vomited up what little he had eaten. Clutching his grimoire to his chest with a death-grip, the mage crawled over to the side of the alley with the last of his willpower. With no more strength left to hold himself upright, Ereshk slumped over, unconscious.
Ereshk stared up at Barst, listening to the archer's tale of the young recruit. He took Barst's hand and hauled himself up to his feet. The mage found himself chuckling softly as he got off of the stump; apparently Barst's smile was contagious. Ereshk glanced over at the nearby tent that held a fellow scholar like himself.
"I'm sorry," he apologized to the fellow mage, whose name had escaped him once again. "We'll be leaving in a moment." As if on cue, two of the men from earlier strolled up behind Barst and Ereshk, barking and howling something about hunting birds. Ereshk spun around and waved at the two in greeting, his cloak fluttering about behind him as he twirled.
"Oh good, more help!" The mage grinned in relief at the two brothers, Lasair and Sammael. "I'll be back in a tick, just gotta fetch some more coins." Ereshk hurried off after that to Mister Carthul's tent. He refilled his coin purse with a much more substantial amount of gold, now that he had a slightly better understanding of how much it took to properly feed a whole camp. Ereshk could carry money. Coins were light, and they were easy to squirrel away in pockets or stuff in bags tied to your belt, leaving your hands free. Oh, and he could do math! That was another thing he was good at. Manipulating numbers was easy compared to the mental strain of manipulating the façade called reality. Ereshk hurried back to the campfire, his spirits bolstered with the confidence that he was not completely useless after all.
"I'm sorry," he apologized to the fellow mage, whose name had escaped him once again. "We'll be leaving in a moment." As if on cue, two of the men from earlier strolled up behind Barst and Ereshk, barking and howling something about hunting birds. Ereshk spun around and waved at the two in greeting, his cloak fluttering about behind him as he twirled.
"Oh good, more help!" The mage grinned in relief at the two brothers, Lasair and Sammael. "I'll be back in a tick, just gotta fetch some more coins." Ereshk hurried off after that to Mister Carthul's tent. He refilled his coin purse with a much more substantial amount of gold, now that he had a slightly better understanding of how much it took to properly feed a whole camp. Ereshk could carry money. Coins were light, and they were easy to squirrel away in pockets or stuff in bags tied to your belt, leaving your hands free. Oh, and he could do math! That was another thing he was good at. Manipulating numbers was easy compared to the mental strain of manipulating the façade called reality. Ereshk hurried back to the campfire, his spirits bolstered with the confidence that he was not completely useless after all.
[redacted double-post]
I guess that's up to Psyker and Purrfect. They might be waiting for us to get a bit more established first as a group.
Nerendier said
are you talking to me, or is "Herk" an expression?
Oh no, it's just an expression. I know your character's name is Hark, with an A.
Herk. I really thought I had posted a reply somewhere. I guess that was just something I dreamed up.
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