Tethers and Feathers [completed]

[Evarette Karmine]

Evarette rose swiftly to her feet, ducking behind Rhylen as he had ordered. She strained to look past him, indigo eyes boring into the inky darkness that lurked beyond the golden pool of light spilled by the meager campfire. The quavering light played tricks on her. She could detect not a single sound, save for the rush of her own pulse thundering in her ears.

"Steady yourself."

The demand seemed out of place...Evarette did not yet know what she was steadying herself for. She wound her fingers more tightly around the pale handle of her blade, more out of reassurance that it was indeed within her control, rather than in preparation for some intricate battle scheme.

His next words chilled her to the bone far more effectively than the onset of winter ever had. She blinked, throwing him a sidelong glance as her auburn brows gathered into an expression that indicated she was quite close to panic. She traded her eyes between him and the darkness gathering ahead, sucking in a shaky breath as she shook her head ever so slightly..."No...I see nothing. But--" ...what was it? Was it the sick twist of fear churning within her that suddenly made her feel so...wrong? The sensation seemed apart from the prickle of nerves at the base of her skull, and the more she fumbled with it, the further away it slipped. Eva swallowed...

"No, just darkness."

Ivar tossed his head, the low rumble of a wicker permeating the silence moments before Rhylen's solemn tone. Evarette pulled her eyes from the edge of the firelight, searching Rhylen's face for traces of the sincerity that was instilled in his words. He was...perfectly serious. She frowned softly, uncomfortable with the idea of a complete stranger sacrificing himself thus, on her account...But what choice did she have? She could either stubbornly stay put and prove herself to be completely worthless in the face of such a paranormal assault...

Or, she could trust him...at his own expense.

Evarette nodded once, meeting his eyes with her own sapphire pools, uncertain as to whether or not she could trust herself to speak without any questions...An interrogation could only serve to be a potentially fatal distraction, at this point. His apology caught her off guard, and Eva sucked in a shallow breath and followed the intensity of his gaze towards the approach of whatever lurked in the velvet curtain of night quivering just beyond the light of the fire...

"Please, Rhylen. Be careful. Don't let it come to that..." Eva winced at the thought of him succumbing to injury, even death. She did not wish to see him hurt.

[Rhylen]

Her fears fell on deaf ears, Rhylen’s being was now consumed by the presence of the unearthly form which stalked nearer; its direction as true as an arrow’s, gliding directly towards the two Drykas and their mounts. The air grew colder as the ghost came; the effort of sustaining its materialized state sapped what little warmth the air and surrounding grasslands still clung too in the wintery breeze. Even the horses could feel this strangeness, growing steadily more anxious as the light of the fire seemed to dim and the fog of their breath grew thicker. Every hair on Rhylen’s body stood in rapt attention, merging with his fear almost painfully to keep his feet planted.

He pressed through this feeling, however, taking a few hesitant steps away from Evarrette and the warmth of the fire into the growing darkness. He could now clearly make out a human-like figure in the swirling mist that approached. Soulmist, the deceased spirit’s only means of existence in this plane, was the key to a Spiritist’s power over the dead. Rhylen knew of a recipe that would allow him to replicate the mist, and potentially command the spirit, but he had none prepared. Never before has a spirit sought him out specifically. Generally it was the other way around. A Spiritist was meant to help these beings pass on, or prevent them from doing harm to the living, but Rhylen had always found them first. Never before had one wandered out of the darkness so far from the din and energy of civilization. Truly this entity was as persistent and dangerous as any he’d yet encountered.

”Come no further, Spirit!” Rhylen commanded when the ghost had come within twenty paces. The form was definitely human, and the Drykas could be certain that it had been a man in life. Still it grew nearer, and Rhylen’s instincts to flee chimed shrilly in his mind. ”Back up!” he screamed more loudly, motioning for Evarrette to do the same with his left hand, the right clutching the carved dirk as if his life depended on it. Sadly, the blade would be of little consequence in this matter. He took a few steps nearer the spirit as it floated casually towards him, still in the semblance of walking, but having no effect on the grass below its feet and making no sound. “Stop!”

The warmth had now left his extremities and was draining from his core as the Drykas and approaching phantom grew nearer still, to within ten paces. When the distance reached five and Rhylen began mentally preparing himself for an assault the ghost suddenly stopped, its form shrinking a bit, and growing more determinable. An aged man; one with the crooked posture and skeletal features Rhylen was only too familiar with. Raghnall.

”Master,” Rhylen breathed the word, his knees suddenly weak and a well of emotions coming to his eyes. For weeks the Drykas had searched for the old shaman to no avail. The pain in his gut, it had driven him onwards against his better judgment. Was this why he had felt compelled to the breaking point? ”Master, I…” his throat was suddenly unable to do more, tears flowed freely from his eyes. The spirit, Raghnall’s spirit, looked solemnly upward into Rhylen’s eyes, a great misery emanating from the black pools that were the ghost’s eyes.

It extended an ethereal arm towards him, a gesture the old man had often done in life; a request for his apprentice to kneel in submission so that the wise shaman’s wisdom could flow into the child through words. Out of habit, Rhylen fell to the ground before the now looming spirit, his weapon forgotten, his breath coming in great wracking sobs. Staring at the half formed feet of his Master, Rhylen suddenly felt the cold pang of realization as his head was unceremoniously thrown back and a malevolent face stared back at him. The face then morphed into a tide of Soulmist and pressed itself coarsely down his throat, cutting off his breath.

Panic drove Rhylen to his back, and as he ineffectually clawed at the fog that had consumed him, his vision grew dim, the pain in his lungs numbing with the rest of his consciousness. His last thoughts were of Evarrette, who he could see through pained eyes, her face growing darker by the moment. He silently wished that he could have told her to run. And then all was black.

[Evarette Karmine]

For a fleeting moment, Evarette dared to hope it has all been some kind of misunderstanding, perhaps some ruse played out by some one who knew Rhylen. She watched him fall to his knees, auburn brows pulled together in an expression of consternation as she struggled to hear the words he shared with the darkness...

Her skin began to prickle, and that was when everything went wrong.

Rhylen convulsed back, and Eva gasped, a strangled cry died on Eva's lips as she stumbled back. In her haste, she kicked aside the pot of tea, flinching as the stained water hissed over the coals, creating a billowing plume of steam. Ivar's whinny rumbled from the darkness, and Eva fled to his side. She collided with his dark shoulder, grunting with the impact but unable to utter an apology in her panic. Reaching down for Ivar's yvas, she dared a glance in Rhylen's direction...her sapphire depths glistening and wide as they studied his contorted figure. He was taut as a bow string, fighting whatever it was that consumed him.

It took moments to get the yvas around Ivar's midsection, snatch up her satchel, and pull herself atop Ivar's broad back...but it felt as though time had slowed to the consistency of quicksand, and the harder she struggled, the more sluggish and clumsy she became. Her tent, her bedroll...these were things she would have to return for, if at all possible...

Finally, from atop Ivar's dancing frame, Eva nudged him around to face Rhylen's crumpled form once again...The Nightwalker surged beneath her, clearly distraught and ready to be on his way. Eva clutched his thick coils of mane, Rhylen's words burning in the back of her mind...Fly from here. What else could she do? She drove her knees into Ivar's sides, but he needed no further encouragement. Pivoting, he stretched his thick frame out and thundered away into the night with Evarette crouched over his great neck and huddled against the piercing cold.

((OOC: I s'pose we shall end it here?...Unless there is another tidbit you wish to add?))

[Tundris]

Rhylen Experience: +2 Reimancy (earth), +1 Storytelling Lore: Drykas Philosophy: Sacrificing Oneself for the Safety of Another Additional Notes: Lost control over self - is possessed by a spirit. Lost Thalla and possessions. Evarette Karmine Experience: +2 Riding Lore: Lore of Drykas History: Strider Bonding Lore of Speedy Departure Additional Notes: Lost tent, bedroll, and kettle. Founder Note: Intriguing! Can't wait to see what happens with Rhylen, and Thalla! I wonder if curiosity will lead Evarette back to find Rhylen!